Mad Women
My life has been inundated with mad women – my mum, my ex wife, my daughter’s mum, a few girlfriends, etc.
Which makes one wonder:
- What is mad?
- Are they all mad?
- Am I mad?
What is mad? It’s very subjective, no? For mine, a primary characteristics is the fascinating internal fight within the mad ones, between rational thinking and a reversion to emotion. For whatever reason, the mad women seem to want to torture the men in their lives by psychological means. Sharing the pain, seems to help them ease the burden. Not only do they not know they are doing it, they certainly are never going to admit it to themselves or anyone else.
My guess is that that they are all born mad, and a small handful that manage to drag themselves out of the mud. There are not many sane ones out there though; I have met maybe one or two only. Why is the condition so prevalent? Well, musing here, there is a direct conflict between their emotions, their purpose and their expectations. All modern socialisation of the female form has driven them into a corner of despair, as they juggle the dissonance between what they want to achieve in life and what they really want to achieve in life.
An easier, Occam-style solution, would be to assume that I am mad, not all of them. I have thought this in the past, but not so any more. I have evidence to the counter, and it is compelling. I am hard on myself, unlike many others. So this conclusion wasn’t arrived at lightly.
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