I’ve been called crazy more times in my life than I care to mention. Mostly by boyfriends. Mostly as a form of insult.

But what does crazy mean? I’ll tell you what it means. Or at least what it means to me and why I was labeled as it.

I have stormed out of restaurants before because I was angry at the person sitting across from me at the table. I scream out of moving cars and wave at strangers as a form of entertainment. I cry hysterically when my heart breaks. I curse and I chase after people I love. I call a million times when I frantically want to get in touch with someone who doesn’t want to talk to me.

If all these things make me crazy, then yes, I’m crazy.

I take photos of everyone. And everything. I point the camera at strangers to capture their awkward reactions. I flip off grown men when I’m having road rage. I’ll make you stop the car to take a picture of the sunset. I’ll make you stop the car so we can save an animal. I want everything just right.

And, yes, I have checked my boyfriend’s phone while he was in the shower because I didn’t trust him. I have also snuck out of the house with no shoes to get to the person I loved in a fit of desperation. I have told people off when they deserved it, regardless of their status. I have told people off when they didn’t deserve it. I have stayed up until 4 in the morning talking because it was more important to get my feelings straight than it was to get sleep.

If this makes me crazy, then yes, I’m crazy.

However, I don’t look at ‘crazy’ in a negative way. Some of these things I should never do again, but they don’t make me a bad person. They don’t make me insane, as the term crazy sometimes implies. They make me passionate.

Every feeling that I encounter hits me like a brick. I feel intensely and all outcomes matter to me. As much as I’d like to say that I’m some laid back chick who doesn’t care about anything; I just can’t. I care so much. At times this is debilitating to making progress, but overall I love that I am this way. I know it will end up bringing me closer to living an authentic and active life one day.

To some men, being crazy means that I will call them out when they are playing me. I’ll tell them what I want and how I want it. According to some, this makes me bossy. I’ll demand respect and straightforwardly tell them what is bothering me. So, yes, if being crazy means that I’m not a passive victim in any of my relationships throughout my life then I’ll wear the label ‘crazy’ on all of my sleeves.

I’m crazy, or passionate, or wild. I love of all of these terms to describe me. I’m a work in progress but I love of the way I stand up for myself. That’s not something anyone can ever make me feel crazy or bad for doing.