How many times in your life have you had to try to justify your craziness? I hate to admit it, but as women, I think we all have come across one point in time in our lives where we can look back and say, “Wow. I really was a crazy person.” I can’t help but to think of Bravo’s Real Housewives of NJ screaming at each other saying, “You’re crazy!” “No, you’re crazy!”

By “crazy” I don’t mean going off the deep end and getting yourself locked up. By crazy I mean stressed. By crazy I mean irrational. By crazy I mean crying over the silliest of things. Been there? Done that? Me too.

What I want to know is … what brought on your craziness? Was it PMS? Was it postpartum depression? Was it a divorce? A new job? There are so many factors that can attribute to the craziness and sadly, the male species sometimes just doesn’t get it. Our hormones are different! We can’t just let things roll off our back the way men sometimes do.

I have had a few crazy times in my life. The first one I remember was about 12 years ago. I was very stressed at my job. I was teaching third graders at the time and I had a few parents who seemed to question every move I made. They were the parents whose children were already making straight A’s, but they wanted A pluses. Arrrgh. I also had quite a few “challenging students” to say the least. In the midst of this, I had just gotten married, I had just moved into a new home, and on top of teaching, my summer job was beginning where I was managing a swim club and coaching swim team. I was already spread way too thin. Then, the unthinkable happened and one of my co-teachers who was only in his twenties had a heart attack at the end of a school day and died. To say it was a shocking event to the entire staff is an understatement.

Needless to say, I lost it. My poor husband who had only been married to me for a short time probably wondered what the hell he had gotten himself into. I just remember crying all the time and not wanting him to leave me alone. Looking back, it all made perfect sense. But at the time … coo-coo, coo-coo.

The next phase was when I was eight and a half months pregnant with my first child. I had terrible nausea, had puked for about six out of nine months of the pregnancy, had that darn sciatica, and was physically about as big as a house. It was June. It was hot. I was still teaching 5th graders who were about to graduate from elementary school and couldn’t really care less what their teacher was trying to say to them. I was ready to be done with school and start my life with my little one.

I woke up for the last day of school and tried my best to get dressed and look presentable for the 5th grade graduation. I only had one maternity dress that fit at this point. I wobbled my way around the room and then it was time to find some dressy shoes. I had one pair that fit and matched but could only find one of the shoes. We live in a home that is almost 100 years old, and my shoe closet was small and dark. I was on my hands and knees with a humongous belly in front of me, sweating profusely and trying to find the match to this shoe. Something came over me and the craziness came out.

I sat back on the floor crying (actually sobbing in hysterics) about the fact that I could not find the shoe. I was going to be late for graduation. I had had enough. I called my husband who was already at work. I am sure when he heard my voice he thought something was wrong with the baby. Nope – just a crazy person who cannot find a shoe. Do you know that my sweet husband drove home from work to find that shoe? (Man, do I owe him!) He found the shoe, put me in my car with a hug and kiss and sent me off for my last day of teaching.

Today I can say at this very moment that I am not crazy, but tomorrow is another day and the crazy woman may sneak out when I least expect it. Please share your Crazy Lady stories so we can have a good laugh at ourselves!