If I had a dollar for every female that approached me with accusation of needing attention, I would be able to erect my own mega church. The most hurtful thing about that declaration is that it couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, I know from working with so many teenagers that their mothers have a problem with me because I’m influencing their child in a more positive way than they can. When I was at the gym a few weeks back, I met a man who apologized for taking the bench that I sat my barbells on. He said he saw me coming because it was hard to miss me. I thought he was quite handsome so I said to him, “I’m gonna take that as a complement instead of the normal devaluing of my character that most women would mean if they said the same thing”. I corrected myself and said specifically, “Christian women”. This guy was great because he jumped into sharing his own inner healing journey of giving himself attention even if others don’t understand it.  He referenced Julia Cameron, and her many books that require us to address the fears surrounding what other people think. As he was speaking I could see in my minds eye some of Miss Cameron‘s books on my shelf in my therapy office. After we said goodbye, I rushed home and made a beeline to where I knew the books were. I was shocked that I hadn’t even cracked open the cover of any of them except the journal. Her journal is titled, “The artist’s way”, and is full of blank pages for me the reader to write her own excerpts that are met with a quote on each pages end.  I had started it five years ago when I first moved into my current apartment and listed my goals that would bring me through until this very time. I couldn’t believe that so much about where I find myself today, had begun on the pages of me trying to hone my craft of writing. A very poignant message in the quotes that pepper. the pages of each canvas is the reference to getting sidetracked by crazy makers. I could see my newfound friend at the gym stating the revelation he had with a smile, about all of the crazy people who distracted him from his dreams, and it hit me hard.

With all the comments from women who told me I was trying to get attention, came an oppression of shame that insinuated I was THE crazy maker. I knew their tone and statements were meant to sting, and a smug laugh or smirk always had me shrink back and question what I was doing wrong. Each time it was a very similar shock in the same ways my mother used to provoke that response in me. It was harsh and painful and many women have cycled out of my life with various approaches to executing power over me because I was willing to go low for their approval. If I had another dollar for the older women that I gravitated toward who were kind to me until their daughters got jealous, I would be able to build an orphanage and house hundreds of other rejected young ladies.  It seems that the most insecure women pounce on those they feel threatened by and because I didn’t want negative attention at all, I would feel defeated and often leave the situation so they could win the competition. I guess they were challenging my tenacity because up until a run-in with them, I was focused on using my writing as an art to educate and heal others.  They were the crazymakers, not me, yet they were used through the suggestion of satan to plant seeds of self-doubt.  I literally picked back up where I left off five years ago in this journal and it has been a rush of excitement as I have been able to pinpoint the two classic crazy making types that I have entertained.  

The first crazy maker is easy; It’s a woman who brings drama and commands the room. She commonly talks over me, has a story that is more important to share than mine and I feel the energy has been sucked out of me like a rake scratching over burnt leaves.  Their is no reasoning in the conversation because of spiritual dominance that she subscribes to which justifies her behavior.  The other crazymaker is far more deceptive because she never objects to anything I say, she nods in compliance but quiets me with one smug look.  The opinions are racing through her mind a mile a minute, but her facade of false composure makes her feel superior and her silence makes ME feel crazy.  As I was scribbling my complaints down of these two personas I attract in my relationships, I felt valued when the author claimed true growth comes after expressing everything in writing regardless of how negative it sounds when you read it back.  If I had yet another dollar for all the crazymakers who corrected my speech because they deemed it too negative, I would be living in a mansion the size of the state of Texas.  And that has always been the narrative of ALL the crazymakers in my life, somehow they know more about me than I know about me, and they will make it known either through spoken word or not.  I don’t know which is worse because it always dismisses the heart of my connection to them in the first place.  If I were to reflect on the relationships that made me feel unwanted, ignored, less than, needy or negative, I can honestly say it is because my transparency was too much for them to handle.  I know that the “crazy” they could not contain inside of themselves had to be compared to the artistic expression I allowed to shine without even realizing it.  I am certain now more than ever, that I stumbled upon all of the crazymakers in my life so that they could point me back toward the path of self love and acceptance.  It has been hard and sorrowful to change the trajectory of where friendships were going to where they have ended up, but I can trace each step back to where I felt a shift and kept pushing forward against the check in my spirit each time.  Maybe Ill fall down again and get a few scrapes and bruises, but I pray I won’t let the words or lack of the them make me hurt like they used to.