My insanity knocks on my door early in the morning. I open the door and stall, hoping she won't want to come in, but she pushes past me and parks it on the couch.
"Have a seat dear. We need to talk."
And I realize that I'm not going to get anything done today, because she is like the guest that just won't leave. I should ask her to leave. Why can't I tell her that today is not good for me? I have things to do. And yet, somehow I end up joining her in the living room. I slowly sink down next to her on the couch, and her monologue begins. Dishes wait, my shower waits, and my kids run around crazy in their pajamas as I listen and nod, listen and nod, listen and nod.
"He is never going to change you know. He is going to keep doing this forever. You don't deserve this kind of treatment -- you've been cheated."
Tears well up in my eyes as I look over at her. Her life is perfect. There she is with her 1950's style dress, pearls, heels, and perfectly manicured hair. It's like she stepped out of a Time Life Magazine a half a century ago and came straight over to inform me of all the woes in my life.
"Remember when you used to be happy? Why do you put up with his crap? Why don't you show him! Do something drastic. Leave. Get in the car and leave. That'll show him. You'll be miserable if you leave, but at least he will get what is coming. Did you ever imagine how many tears he would make you cry? He doesn't love you! He is a liar! People don't hurt the ones they love over and over again. Your life is hopeless. He will NEVER change."
She uses the words "never" and "always" like they are going out of style. She has hair that HAS gone out of style. It's curls around the nape her neck in an unnatural tube and it's so stiff it looks like she could walk through a wind tunnel without a single hair going astray. I'm assuming she prefers glasses to contacts because those glasses exude her wisdom and life experience. Those thick, black, almond shaped glasses that snarl, "I am intelligent! You must listen to me!" It's like she hides behind them as she continues her tirade, "What kind of life is this? Call the Bishop, asked to be released. How can you teach a class when you are a wreck. Your life is a sham. Everyone thinks your family is perfect. But you and I know the truth. The truth is your family is falling apart and there is nothing you can do to save it. Give up."
The awful part about her visits is no matter how many problems she points out, she never offers solutions. And come to think of it, she never offers any empathy. And I realize, she has never gone through this. She has never gone through anything anything remotely close to this! She is unmarried, no children, and her lack of experience and intimacy has somehow entitled her to all the right answers. Her world is all hopes and dreams and what "ought" to be. She insists my life should be perfect too.
I pick myself up off the couch and walk over to the sink. She trails me, "You know you are real sucker to stay with him. Cooking meals for him. Folding his laundry. He gets to live it up while he's away and then come home to a hot dinner, a loving wife, and kids who jump and squeal when he walks through the door. Why should he live like a King and treat you like the slave?" Somehow I manage to ignore her to start moving through my routine. I tackle my son to change his diaper and when I snuggle his neck and tickle his round belly his laughter drowns out her voice. She is still talking, but the words seem fainter. I dress my kids, throw myself in the shower, and obnoxiously she starts yelling at me through the shower curtain.
"Have I mentioned he is not going to change? That there is no hope?" She seems annoyed that I'm not giving her more attention. I step out of the shower and pass her by, hoping she'll pass me by and be on her way. As I open my recovery manual and begin to read, it's like I shut the door on her. She can't come in my sanctuary. I feel peace, relief, and hope once again. Words from experts, apostles, and sisters who have walked this path before me tell me that there IS hope. I can change who I am. And I have a Savior who wants to save me!
Some days I walk out of my bedroom and she is gone. Other days she sort of lingers with me and passively murmurs her complaints as I go about my business. I hope that as my recovery progresses, I'll stay alert and keep her out on the front porch knocking. I'll hide under a blanket with my kids and hope that after she peers through the windows looking for me, she'll give up and walk away. But if I'm weak and I let her in, I'll know who she is, and what she is: my insanity. Just as I invited her in, I can ask her to leave. A friend of mine said her grandma had a trick to get rid of long staying guests. When Grandma tired of her guests she started to talk about the gospel. The guests got uncomfortable and quickly made excuses to leave. I think I'll try that strategy next time insanity come for a visit. I let you know how it works out.
