As a young girl, when my dad called me “crisse de folle” (effing crazy), it was the most painful thing. It hurt because when he said it, he was filled with anger and hatred. He hated my mother and I resembled her so much that he took it out on me after they divorced. I was eight years old.
Today if you tell me I’m effing crazy, I take it as a compliment. I am effing crazy! I’m crazy about butterflies, hummingbirds, sunsets, the lake, music, acoustic guitar, the arts, and dancing.
I’m crazy in love with my son, my mom, my brother, my friends and my extended family. And most of all, I’m effing crazy about the fact that I’m getting my health back after an eight year episode of being sick. It’s a slow battle uphill, but at least I’m climbing! One little step at a time.
So, to all of you who judged me, misused me, abused me! Eff you! I’m crazy and I like it!