Crazy Laugh

When my mother was deep in psychosis caused by her schizophrenia, she was often paranoid, fearful, angry, vindictive and cruel. She could also be giddy, talkative, sociable and charming. She would walk up to complete strangers and with a big, friendly, although extreme smile, launch into conversations without even an inkling of apprehension or self-doubt in the way a well cared for small child might expect all adults to be trustworthy and always up for a chat.

She could also be goofy and silly in a way that was somehow even more unsettling than her paranoid hostility. Oliver Sachs writes about this silly state in his book The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat, and he goes on to say that a number of neurological disorders can cause this silly state to occur. The reason it’s so unsettling is because the patient has lost an emotional connection to the world so that the world has become meaningless to them, and they have lost a sense of self. It’s almost as if they are not there anymore, and what’s left is a shell that is only superficially amusing but is actually cold and devoid of human feeling. That’s why the crazy laugh is so frightening.
 

I’m not sure if extreme anxiety can cause this specific mental state, but when I’m forced to be in social situations for long periods of time, I get the sense that I’m losing my identity. It’s as if I’m forgetting who I am. And sometimes I will become silly and goofy in a way that’s not really me. It’s a shield, and my real emotions are being suppressed. After a while, it’s not even as if I’m hiding my true emotions because even I lose contact with them. What’s left is a goofy shell. When I’m like that, I need time alone. And I often do nothing but sit and stare for hours before I start to feel like myself again.