Crazy For You

Chapter 1: Introduction

It's funny how we all can find love in the craziest of places. It can be something as innocent as a school dance, a party, the mall, or even your great-grandma's weekly poker game. Me? I found love in an actual crazy place. Yep, that's right –a mental hospital. How did I possibly find love in a mental hospital, you ask? I'll get there. But first, let's set the stage a little, shall we?

My childhood was, well, less than satisfactory. Firstly, my mother suffers from bipolar disease. Her personal illness affects her anger. In simpler terms, whenever she was angry, she was very, very angry and out of control. We never knew what would set her off. What could set her off one day, won't the other. It was a guessing game.

Whenever my mom would have a bipolar "episode," as I call it, she would scream, yell, and threaten. She would call me every name in the book –every name. Yeah, think about it. She's told me she hates me, that I ruined her life, and a bunch of other lovely things. Sometimes, her anger would become physical. She's hit me, choked me, pulled my hair, spit on me. It's been a wonderful ride.

My father, on the other hand, was a pill popper and an alcoholic. However, he wasn't like the regular addicts who would be abusive. Whenever he was under the influence, he'd just attempt to do his own thing. I took it upon myself to take care of him in that state since I was a very little girl.

As you may have guessed, a bipolar mother and an addict father don't exactly mix well. Whenever Mom saw Dad high, she'd scream and get physical with him for hours. That's why I took on the job of taking care of my dad. Since he'd do his own thing while high, he became a big toddler –making messes and never wanted to stay in bed. I'd beg and beg him to just sleep it off. A few minutes later, I'd hear him in the kitchen getting food or a drink. And with him being not exactly sober, he'd make a huge mess. Mom knew he'd be messed up if he made a mess because my dad was such a neat freak. So I learned how to clean up his messes. All the while, I'd see my father in a zombie state. He'd be colorless, pupils barely recognized, very mindless gibberish, falling down, etc. I could go on, but I think you get the idea.

It saddens me to say that my dad was not one of those addicts who finally saw their wrongdoings and turned their lives around. He still drank and from time to time, popped his pills. Xanax was his favorite. He had to have a valve replacement for his heart and still did all of that afterwards. Years and years of drug and alcohol abuse, especially with that replacement, just made everything worse. He eventually died July 13, 2023 from a heart attack he had while walking up the staircase. Whether he died from the attack or hitting his head is unknown. Because of his addiction, the coroner never bothered to do an actual autopsy. She just made an "educated guess." Yeah, I know.

Anyway, I was a complete and total daddy's girl as a child. He also died an exact week before my 22nd birthday. To say I was affected would be a complete understatement.

My family also has the whole "Romeo and Juliet" thing going on. My dad's side, the Feidlers, and my mom's side hated each other for literally generations. Well, Mom and Dad had me and because I had blood from both sides, I received the shit end of the stick from both families. There's also a lot of hearsay about my dad's side being sick of my mom's bipolarness and/or she told them to stay away. I don't know the exact truth, and I may never know.

Kids in a negative household usually look forward to school because it's an eight hour escape. Yeah, not me. I've been bullied ever since preschool. I'd be excluded, made fun of, called names, rumors. I wish I could say the bullying stopped after graduation, but as any real adult would know, not everybody grows up.

Let's go to my love life, huh? My first love was an on-off relationship. Our relationship would be defined by his dad. In other words, he never had a spine when it came to his father.