crazy

I like to refer to my disorder as my "crazy".  I do realize that's not a particularly politically correct term but it works for me.  I treat it as another entity......sort of like my imaginary frenemy.  For much of my life, my crazy and I were in constant battle for domination but in recent years, we've reached a peaceful truce for control.  Maybe we're both just getting old and tired of fighting.
I bring this up because, like you, I'm often rather frightened by the "crazy" lady walking down the street, pushing her doll in a baby carriage, while cussing and occasionally screaming to herself or the world.  But really.....the difference between that lady and myself is minimal at best.  We both (one would assume) have some type of biological imbalance and were it not for the love and support of my family, most especially my mom, I could have easily gone in her direction.  Just because we each have our "crazy" doesn't mean that she (or others like her) won't scare me but I probably do view her in a slightly more empathetic way than others might.
We are all just one biological malfunction away from illness.....whether it be psychiatric or physiological.  No one chooses to have their "crazy".  For a long time, I was under the misconception that I should somehow be able to shake myself out of it......that it was a sort of mental weakness on my part.  It's difficult enough to navigate through the myriad of twists and turns associated with bipolar disorder and to do so weighed down by guilt and embarrassment can be completely self-defeating.  To this day I still lie when I fill out those personal history forms at the doctor's office.  No.  No history of psychiatric treatment.  Nope.  In my defense, I'm not on any medication any longer so there is no danger of conflicting pharmaceuticals and on the rare occasion when I might need to take medication, I do always note the possible side effects.  Maybe one day I won't feel the need to lie and hide.  I have finally stopped doing it in my personal life so there is always hope.
There is a John Prine song about aging called "Hello In There".  It makes me think about anyone who is somehow trapped.....either inside a body or inside a mind.
"So if you're walking down the street sometime
And spot some hollow ancient eyes,
Please don't just pass 'em by and stare
As if you didn't care, say, 'Hello in there, hello'"