I spend a fair amount of time wondering whether I am mad.  Usually when people disagree with me vehemently, or when I wonder whether I am imagining the aggressive undercurrents that I sense in another person.  Wondering whether one is mad seems inescapably normal to me.  After all, none of us know what it’s like to live in someone else’s head and so we all have a funny idea of what not being mad feels like. 

I usually conclude that I am not mad, but only after a lot of very anxious soul searching.  Only very occasionally do I get sweet, objective, external confirmation that I am not mad.  A friend who knows me very well gave me this card today which makes me smile whenever I read it.  She saw it and thought of me, and bought it for me.  I’ll pin it above my computer, I think, next to a lump of the Berlin Wall.  I can cope with being Nice Mad.


(card from a brilliant series by Edward Monkton)