Insanity's finer points

My grandmother on my father's side was in a state institution for a large portion of her life and then later in various nursing homes. I never really knew exactly why. I only know the bits and pieces that my father told me. My grandfather was a controlling, abusive and non emotional type person. He didn't talk much but he sure wielded an iron fist when he was angry.

I barely remember him. He died when I was five years old. He was a frail little man then. I remember thinking that it was impossible that little old man could've been so mean but my father said it was so.

He was gone a lot my grandmother had told me. He always told her that he'd write when he had found work. He traveled the area looking for any kind of a job he could find. He worked mostly in coal mines and hard labor such as that.

My father was born in 1934. They never had anymore children. I found that to be very odd because back then people always had large families. My dad was an only child and if you asked him if he knew why, he would just look away and change the subject.

My family was always shrouded in a veil of secrecy. I never understood any of it and I still don't to this day. They are all gone now. My grandmothers, grandfathers, my mother and my father. They have all long since passed from this earth. I tried to get answers but I met up with one after another person that wouldn't talk. It seemed there was a story there, but no one was willing to tell it.

I never knew my father's family. He wouldn't go near them. I only met his Aunt Jenny. She is a Cherokee Indian and she is as feisty as they come. But even she didn't really offer much in the way of explanations.

I guess back then, that was the way you behaved. You kept the bad things to yourself. You didn't talk about them, you didn't try to decipher them. You just kept them tucked away inside. It wasn't anyone's business.

I remember traveling to Athens, Ohio as a young girl to visit my grandmother in the institution. It sat on top of a huge hill. It was away from everything else in town. It was a frightening place with huge iron doors that shut loudly behind you. Each corridor was a series of doors and hallways. It seemed as if you were never getting out. They were endless. Then the wards themselves where like a big open room with rooms off to the side; much like what you saw in the movie, "Girl, Interrupted."

I remember one visit rather well. Grama wasn't herself. She didn't even seem to recognize us. They told me later that she received frequent shock therapy treatments and would go into a sort of hibernation for weeks afterward. I wandered around the ward and saw a woman who had a baby crib and a rocking chair in her room. She was sitting in the chair, rocking and cradling her arms as if she had a baby in them. Later, when I was older, the explanation was offered to me that she had lost her baby and then just never recovered. I remember thinking how sad that must be to be trapped in your own mind like that.

That place terrified me but you did not divulge such things to my parents. Even at five years old I remember thinking to myself not to cry. I had to be brave or daddy would be angry at me. I had to be good or mom would cry. Mom cried all the time so that wasn't something I wanted to cause her to do more. But I was afraid and I was glad when they said grama didn't live there anymore. I never wanted to go there again. To this day, I hate hospitals and that type of a setting. It reminds me of that place. That awful, frightening, scary, sad place.

And so this leads me far into the future. This brings me to where I am now. My children are grown and unhappy with me. Every failing their life has brought them of course is my fault. I wasn't this or I wasn't that. And I look back and think that maybe I'm a little bit like grama. Maybe I have my own little insanity going on and just didn't realize it. Maybe we all do.

I realize now that my thoughts race sometimes and what I felt ten minutes ago might be the polar opposite of what I feel now. Sometimes I become inundated with the thoughts and memories from the past that are so strong that I feel like I'm struggling to break away from them.

I think I've lived each and every day thinking that this might be the day that I end up like grama. That's a pretty scary thing to think you will end up inheriting. Now I realize that insanity isn't really inherited, but I know that chemical imbalances and mental health issues can be and since I don't really know what happened to grama, I guess that's worries me about myself.

Maybe the best part of insanity is the sanctity that you find inside it. You can submerge yourself within your own mind and stay there for days. No one questions you. No one tries to sort you out or seek you out. You are unreachable. It's like shutting the phone off and locking the door and refusing to acknowledge anyone else in the world exists. It's the eye of the turbulent storm that rages around you. It's almost a welcome break. It shields me from the outside world when it becomes too much to bare.

I don't know if I'm truly insane. I just know that sometimes I think things that just don't seem normal but then again, I can't hear anyone elses true thoughts so I'm not sure what is normal. Maybe everyone feels and thinks exactly like me. I'm guessing they don't though.

I'm not ever going to be mother of the year. I wasn't the best wife in the world and I don't imagine that anyone would claim I've been a wonderful girlfriend either. I'm difficult, moody, easily angered and high strung. I tend to be dogmatic about some things and in other things I'm just benevolent.

I have however always tried to be a good, moral, decent, honorable human being that helps others in any way that I can. I believe in God and I try to live by the ten commandments. I apologize when I'm wrong and I fight fiercely when I'm right and I'm not too egotistical to consider that even when I think I'm right, I might not be. I have strong opinions that I stick by but I also admire and respect other peoples opposing opinions. I try to do a good job at work.

My biggest fatal flaw would be that I expect too much from myself and I always try to be perfect for everyone. I feel like I can't ever let one person down. If I do, I fail. That's a big hat to try to wear everyday. It's a tall order to try to be everything for everyone especially when the only one that you are neglecting is yourself.