Thursday, July 25, 2013

In Defense of Hot Messes Around the Globe

I got a fair bit of blow-back today in PMs from my Facebook page for my (and I'm paraphrasing here) irreverent, disrespectful and callous treatment of the situation with Amanda Bynes.  And although I don't need to apologize for the nothing I have done wrong,  I would like to say this in response:

Hey.  Don't talk to me about how I've treated the situation with Amanda Bynes.  I *am* Amanda Bynes.  A very, very, very lucky version of Amanda Bynes.  Who had the sense to lose her mind well before the age of Instagram and Twitter.  Who didn't have to get her batshit crazy on in front of millions of people glued to their iPhones lest even one humiliating minute go unremarked.  The final scenes of the trainwreck unfolding in the libraries and lecture halls of a midwestern college town as opposed to racing back and forth between New York and Hollywood, and culminating in a convenience store in Ventura County.  I had to share my nightmare with only a small group in OT, not with a world-wide audience on TMZ.  If you have to go crazy, stay home, because it turns out there is such a thing as negative publicity after all.  Phew.  Dodged a bullet there.

But I'm confident that Amanda and I shared at least one aspect of our respective psychotic episodes:  absolute terror.   What in God's honest fuckhouse is happening to me?  I can't understand it and I can't control it and I AM PETRIFIED.  In case you were wondering what's going on with that "hot mess" (your words, not mine) Amanda Bynes, she is, among other things, PETRIFIED.

While Hollywood mocks, and her family wrings their ineffective little hands, and we decry the stigma of mental illness in our society, and lament how law enforcement's hands are tied, and shake our fists that the person really has to ask for help, and on, and on, and on:  Petrified.  

And I mocked too.  Jeez, Amanda, sit the fuck down, you're ruining it for the rest of us.  Good thing she finally figured out how to drill down to the necessary "danger to yourself and others" clause.   When all else fails, go for the flammables.  Remind me next time to hit the Rite-Aid for lighter fluid early on and save everyone about six months' worth of butterfly nets.  Oh yes.  But to the righteous defenders of the celebrity infirm, lest you think me monstrous, just know that I mock because recognition.  I scorn because empathy.   And I do stand-up on a soap-box because attention. 

Who has two thumbs and is crossing everything crossable that Amanda Bynes can finally right the ship with the support she's finally getting because she finally put the necessary points together to finally take it to Level 5150?   

This Nutjob.  This Nutjob right here.


  1. shared - because you nailed it. and you're awesome! :) thank God something is finally moving in A direction for her.

  2. Fear + psychosic = fear + finitum.

    I have crippling anxiety and it terrifies me, which causes anxiety, which terrifies me, which causes finitum

    Great read. You're a level of nutjob to which I aspire.

  3. As someone with the same diagnosis as you.... When you used the word "Petrified", i teared up. I remember those moments vividly. Having everything in you spiral out of control, no one able to understand the ramblings, incoherent feelings, struggling to maintain normalcy when you are not sure what that is or feels like & so much more.Stand on that soap box Klonnie... i get it.

  4. Exactly. Thankfully my 'crazy' emerged when I was 15 & my mom could admit me. I can't say I was very happy at the time; 'GIVE ME MY CIGGARETTES BACK, FUC*ERS!' But the therapy I received has allowed me to grow up into a much more stable adult. The meds helped too. :-)

  5. Interestingly enough, I had my full on rapid cycling episodes during OT too. The difference being *I* was the Occupational Therapist trying to lead groups of school age children. Between fibromyalgia and rapid cycling, the best thing I ever did was leave the profession.

  6. As an official, card-carrying member of the "Hot Mess Society", I'm also grateful that my multiple meltdowns were only witnessed by close friends and family... as if that isn't fucked up enough.
    Thanks for putting this so eloquently. Much love, Hoare XOXO

  7. Ok so I am over 60 and did not know who the F Amanda was ... my bad ... that being said I agree with thee Ms Klonopin ... I went bat shit in the mid 80s when It was NOT in fashion ... I had to endure housing at what us crazies called The Holy Hilton (Holy Cross Hospital - Brought to you by the Gray Nuns) --- crap what was my point.... oh yeah ... thanks be to Lithium that I did not go bat shit in public ... well, not THAT time.

  8. Absolutely loved your post! I also shared this. I agree that it is about time she is getting her shit together. Great job!!