EDITION 9: Embrace your inner lunatic

I've always really admired the goddess Kali. She’s a bit bloody brash isn’t she? Some may say she really just doesn’t give one flying f*ck. Look at her storming around the place with skulls of death thrown around her neck. She’s furious. She’s sassy AF, and one time in a fit of rage, she got so mad, that she accidentally, very nearly killed her beloved. Sorry, not sorry eh Kali?

Between many of my friends, we all have a Kali crush. I mean, there are a lot of beautiful goddesses creatures to choose from. However consensus is that the one who has truly lost her shit, and is not afraid to let the world know, has a much greater appeal.

When I was 17 I experienced for the first time what it was to lose my shit. I had a very clear intuition that my then boyfriend was cheating on me with his ex girlfriend. He of course, denied it. This confusion between my inner knowing, and his claims of innocence created a feeling that I was absolutely going bananas, like I’d gone and totally cracked out. Upon one particularly frazzled occasion, I was driving down a busy road in my hometown with him in the passenger seat. We were having a fiery argument, probably about the fact I knew he was definitely cheating on me. He continuous claims that I was crazy, finally cracked something in me, and I did in fact become crazed. I slammed the breaks down, throttled him with my fists with vicious intent, and yelled him out of the car. He sheepishly disembarked my vehicle, and he was barely out the car as I screeched off in the distance venomously.

The more his infidelity was denied, the more my sanity left me. I did other unhinged things such as befriending girls I thought he was hooking up with (keep your enemies close was my motto), and driving past his house like I was part of the freaking MI5, convinced that if he was refusing to pick up my 75 missed calls, then he was 100% cheating on me in his family home. All sanity went out the door, and it was only until he gave me chlamydia that I finally had a lead past my intuition that could stand up in the court case that was our relationship.

Once I was well and truly out of that shit show, I reflected I learnt that a. I have a keen sixth sense for lies in relationships, and b. that it was totally unacceptable to embrace those realms of crazy when in courtship with another human. Since then I have (mostly) kept cool as a fucking cucumber during heated discussions with my partners. In fact, I’ve kept the unhinged side of myself so on lock down over the years, that one ex once very kindly diagnosed me with a borderline personality disorder. 

Upon recently experiencing a dynamic in relationship which antagonised my locked up loon, I notified my friend Katie that I had calmly sent a ‘conscious’ message to my ex essentially asking to know if he was ‘experiencing any connections with other women’. I screen-shot the message for Katie to read so she could see it came from a very calm and centred place, and she responded telling me I may as well have just written “who the hell are you fucking, tell me right now”. I explained to her that I was really trying to keep my inner psychopath unseen, and she said very bluntly “why do that? I’ve known you were a psychopath for the entirety of our friendship”. Lol (I think?!). 

That got me thinking. In those moments where I decided to breathe for a bit and then ‘consciously’ respond, rather than allowing the primal, wounded piece of me to be felt and expressed, I was essentially suppressing a very crucial part of my being down. The part of me who is a mucky as fuck, wild, scorned, and betrayed wild woman. So often we are asked to tone down our emotions in order to stay acceptable in society. Don’t appear too crazy, too needy, too sexual, too desperate, too out of control. If you do that you’ll never get a decent boyfriend and you’ll end up alone with 20 cats, covered in faeces, cackling to yourself, and spitting at neighbours who drive their car into your designated parking space.

Quite frankly I kinda resonate with that crazy cat woman persona. I’m not saying that we should all begin hitting our boyfriends, stalking, and throwing people out of vehicles. That kind of behaviour will 100% get you thrown into prison, and at the very least charged with a restraining order. However I do feel it makes sense that many of us ladies have an attraction to Kali as she stomps around with that necklace of death around her neck. She awakens a reminder of that part of us that so often doesn’t get given enough air time. The one that doesn’t care for striving to be attractive, successful, together, and loveable. This deeper part of our being calls for all our muck to come forth. These mucky places are just as much a part of us as everything else, and when we can honour our wildness, we can call ourselves back into integration. In turn developing a fuller and more embodied version of who we truly are.

Grace Brown