Mad as a hatter. The phrase originated in England when hatters would lick lead pain from their creations. The lead made them mad. Completely insane. Due to lead poisoning passed down through generations, everyone in my family goes mad at one point or another.
When did I go mad? When I was ten. I remember the turning point vividly, sitting alone in my pitch-black room as the large wooden grandfather clock down the hall started chiming loudly, each loud bong ringing through my skull. By the ninth chime, I was running down the hall to my mother's sewing room. By the tenth, my mother's silver sharp fabric scissors were clutched in my small fist. By the eleventh, blood was welling up from a new cut on my arm, a dark stain against my pale skin. By the twelfth, I was completely stark-raving mad. Mad as a hatter.