If I’ve been incredibly rude to you or snappy or tearful lately, if I’ve taken offence where none was intended, or I’ve wildly overreacted to something you said on social media, I do apologise. It wasn’t the real me you experienced in those moments: it was the mad brain that sometimes seizes control of me.
The reason I have these episodes — as I keep having to explain to my bemused victims, after the event — is that I’m currently undergoing intensive medical treatment which gives me these weird and powerful mood swings. Known as the Perrin Technique, the treatment — which involves regular massage of the limbic system — has been very successful at dealing with conditions including chronic fatigue syndrome and even, I hope, Lyme disease. Because the limbic system controls your emotions the side effects, as in my case, can be bizarre beyond belief.
Part of me welcomes these episodes because they’re a sign that the treatment is working. But another part finds it quite terrifying that the person I think I know quite well — me — and have done for more than 50 years can so easily be taken over by this raving loon. It’s like suddenly having your plane hijacked by a crazed terrorist; it’s what I see some women go through when they have PMT and also in some drinkers who turn when they’ve had one too many. From the outside, we sufferers of these conditions look the same as ever, but our brains are no longer ours.
One of the problems with going mad is that you’re not aware you’re mad at the time — only after the event. So when, as happened the other day on Twitter, I furiously announced that I hated all Americans because a couple of them had given away some mild spoilers for the final Game of Thrones episode, it seemed a perfectly reasonable and proportionate response.
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