In defense of emotional basket-cases

I've had this thing lately that runs through my head: what about people who are mental?  Crazy?  Emotionally unstable?  I have this real feeling of injustice towards them because it seems like life goes on without them just because they can't seem to get it together.

Partly this is a confession, as well, at perhaps some anger directed at God for feeling like maybe he's okay with the fact that some people can't handle responsibility (and are thus deprived of coming into their full humanness) and that he's content to let such people fall by the wayside.

In case you haven't figured it out yet, this post is autobiographical to a degree yet-to-be-determined by how long I can hold out before ending up in the quack-shack.

Sometimes it feels melodramatic to me to make such statements about my mental health.  At other times it seems as if I'm not quite capable of joking, as some people do to cope, about going crazy, and enjoying the joke.

Do I feel like God needs to somehow prove himself or his record on this to me?  As far as my record goes, I think I've pretty consistently been able to unmask my own ironies that disguise themselves as justified ranting and raving at the Almighty.  Which is to say, it kind of comes down to an issue of patience with me.  God never seems to be in much of a hurry to prove himself to me on the things I think are important.

I don't think that means I can't be a little bitter over our culture's worship of self-confidence and how it drives people just struggling not to lose it to appear as if they can conform to the popular idolatry.  Or at least, a little bitter over what I perceive as the church's possible complicity (to whatever degree) in this crime.  Really, maybe I'm just bitter because I know I'm not just the president, I'm also a client.

I mean, am I wrong about this (the cultural pressure to become someone that you and everyone else can worship)?  I seriously wonder if crazy people in other countries are nearly so famous in their cultures as we are, I mean, the ones here are in ours.

This may be one of those posts that far exceeds my normal levels of, "where in the world is he coming from?"  If none of these thoughts make any sense to you without the context, I'd be glad to share more of why I think I'm marginally insane with you some time soon.  Seriously.  After all, misery loves company, whether or not the feeling is mutual.