Crazy-making Games. Games-Part Two

Crazy-making Games. Games-Part Two

Crazy-Making Games     Games-Part Two    Games were big in my family when I was growing  up.  Some were fun.  Some were educational.  Some were what I call crazy-making games, where my perceptions of what was going on were told to me to be totally difference than I understood what was going on.  That I was the one whose perceptions were wrong.  That I was crazy.  That I was the one who was confusing good with bad.  And I felt crazy.

As I grew to adulthood,  I began to refer to these crazy-making games as mind-fuck games.   I have no idea if anyone else uses that particular turn of phrase to describe their childhood experience of life.  But it fits for me.  I used it when I felt someone was intentionally fucking with my mind. Or that’s how I saw it anyway.



Now, I was genuinely mentally ill for a good chunk of years.  That’s not the kind of crazy I’m talking about.  I’ll accept being called crazy in a joking way by someone who’s been there.  But I can’t handle being told my thinking is crazy by someone who’s never been there.  It triggers almost a rage in me, even now when I feel like someone is screwing with my head.  When someone tells me I’m off the wall, that what I’m saying is crazy, I’d feel it as crazy making.  And if they talked that way to me when they knew I was fragile, that’d what I call a mind-fuck game.

At an early point in my recovery I became aware that I sometimes played what I considered to be crazy-making games with other people.   That was a sobering time for me because I knew how awful it felt to have someone mess with my head.  Now it just felt like with my games, that I was just lying to them.  It did not feel good at all.

One time I intentionally with full awareness played mind-fuck games was before my last and most near-lethal suicide attempt.  I intentionally lied to my family and friends, so careful not to tell the truth to them, about my up-coming suicide plan.  The trickiest one was when I went to see my then Psychiatrist.  I  saw him just 2 days before what I believed was going to be my last day on earth.

I went to see my Shrink and being the smart and educated person that I was, I knew the signs that someone was suicidal and I just didn’t do or say those things.  I was successful but I felt like I was playing a mind-fuck game with him (and with everyone else), when in fact, he had no idea there was anything other than a normal session happening with him.  It was all very twisted in my brain.

The whole topic of games (other than games like cards or Scrabble) has been a sensitive one for me for as long as I can remember.  But I understand now that my mind-fuck games were and are created in my own mind.  For me now, it’s just a form of lying. I’ve mostly left that part of myself behind.

Did any of you have ‘games’ play an unhealthy role in your life?

Let me know.  The comment form is as always on the Contact page.

I wish for you a wonderful week,




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