My Funny Farm - Chapter 1 – Rule of Thumb – Part 2 of 2

 My Funny Farm

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 1 – Rule of Thumb – Part 2 of 2

 

Like it or not, the family had me on lockdown.  My son James and my daughter Ashley made strict arrangements for someone from the family to always be around.  Mostly that was easy since Emily and Jared were in the house with me.  But when they weren’t, if someone else from the family couldn’t be there, they hired kind of a…babysitter…to make sure I didn’t try and off myself again.

Mrs. Lowery was a middle-aged woman who had lost her husband and needed a parttime job to help her get by.  Em and Jared found her.  I simply didn’t see the need for her, or the need to spend the money for her to come in and sit around watching my TV, while I tried to do my best to ignore her.  Another major irritation in my life.

But between my two kids and my three grandkids and their spouses, they all did their best to keep me from ever being out of anyone’s sight for more than two minutes.  Like it or not, someone was always around me.  Just going to the bathroom became a chance for me to be away from their watchful eyes for a few blessed minutes.  But then, they never let me stay in the bathroom very long without checking on me.  I had traded one major irritation for a worse one.

Like it or not, they forced me to see a psychologist, Doctor Tonya Clive.  And to make sure I got to my appointment, Emily drove me.  In fact, she not only drove me, she went in to talk to the woman with me, making sure to tell the doctor every little thing she knew about me, including the porn she had caught me looking at once.  I was so angry at her for telling the woman doctor about that.

“I’m a grown man, and alone!” I argued.  “I’m not hurting anyone looking at that stuff!”

“Did I say you were?” Emily countered.  “I don’t care what you look at.”

“Then why did you have to bring it up?  It’s embarrassing!”

“Is it as embarrassing as you slashing your wrists and trying to kill yourself?”

“I don’t consider that embarrassing at all,” I countered.

“Why do you feel like the porn is embarrassing?” Doctor Clive asked me.

“She told you what kind of porn I was looking at,” I told her.  “Wouldn’t you find that embarrassing?”

“Then why do you look at it?” she asked.

“Because I want to!  So what?  I like it, okay?”

“Fine by me,” she told me calmly.  “It’s you who seem to be upset over it.”

“Well I’m not!  I’m just pissed because…she brought it up.”

“Okay,” the doctor replied.  “But maybe that’s a good thing.”

“Good?  How?”

“It might give us a tool we can try.”

I shook my head.  “You lost me.  What are you talking about?”

“I’d like to try an experiment.”

“Does it involve dangerous chemicals?” I quipped.

She ignored my comment.  “Try this,” she said.  “Take your thumb and stick it in your mouth, and suck on it for a few minutes.”

I looked at her like she was crazy.  “Do what?”

“Suck your thumb for me.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Because this is an experiment.  Try it.  Please.”

“Gramps!” Emily said.  “Just do it, okay?  She’s trying to help you.”

“And what if I don’t want help?”

“Then do it anyway!” she told me sternly.

“I still don’t see a reason for it.  It’s just stupid.  Just because I like looking at some sissy baby porn, you want me to suck my thumb like a dumb baby.  Well I’m not!  It’s stupid!”

“Gramps!  The doctor is trying to help!”

“That’s true,” the doctor added.  “Trust me.  This isn’t about anything embarrassing at all.  This is simply an easy experiment to see if it helps how you feel.  Please, just give it a try.”

I was skeptical to say the least.  Not to mention, sucking my thumb in front of my own granddaughter wasn’t exactly on my list of non-embarrassing things to do.

“Gramps!  Do it!” Emily ordered again.

I sighed.  “This is so dumb!” I muttered.  I brought my thumb up near my lips, put an angry expression on my face, and stuck the thumb in.  Then I glared at the doctor, just daring her to say anything about it.

“Now close your eyes,” the doctor told me.

I was surprised, but I went ahead and closed my eyes.

“Suck your thumb,” she prompted.  “Don’t just let it sit in your mouth.  Feel it there and suck gently on it.  Go ahead, try it,” she told me.  “Gently sucking.”

Ugh!  This was getting worse.  So I gently sucked.

“Good,” the doctor said softly.  “Now think about all your problems and imagine them draining away each time you suck.  Imagine your life becoming calmer, easier, and happier the more you suck…suck…suck.”

Okay, I was beginning to understand where she was trying to go with this now…sort of.  It was an old technique I was vaguely aware of, despite it being my thumb instead of something else.  But I knew the technique was a good one, so I played along.  After a moment or two, I did kind of feel some of the distress I hadn’t known I was feeling beginning to drain away.

“Keep sucking,” the doctor told me, “and let’s try something.  Every time I ask you a question, you keep your eyes closed, but you take your thumb out of your mouth, answer my question as best you can, then put it back and suck on it again, feeling your stress drain away.  Nod if you understand.”

I nodded.

“Good,” I heard her say.  “And you!” I was guessing she was talking to Emily.  “Don’t say anything!  This session is supposed to be me working with him!  Not both of you.  I shouldn’t have let you in here to begin with.”

“Okay Craig,” the doctor continued.  “Question time.  Remember how I want you to answer.”

It wasn’t exactly difficult.

“With your eyes closed,” she said.  “Tell me exactly why you suddenly decided you had to end your life.”

I removed my thumb from my mouth.  “I miss my wife,” I told her, before putting my thumb back in and starting to suck on it again.

“Is that all?” she asked.

I had to consider that before I removed my thumb to answer again.  “I don’t know,” I told her.  “The house.  It just feels all wrong.  Empty.  And that’s despite my granddaughter and her friend living upstairs.  Without Rachael, what’s the use of living there?  What’s the use of living…period!  ”  I stuck my thumb back in my mouth.

“Missing someone is difficult,” she said.  “When a loved one dies, it can be one of the most traumatic things in the world to deal with.  But it’s something that we all have to learn to deal with, like it or not.  It’s simply…difficult.  And Craig, you’re not exactly young anymore.  You should be very aware of that.”

“I am,” I confirmed.  “I know.  But Rache was always such a huge part of me.  We were always so close.  I don’t want to go on without her.”

“And yet,” she said, “going on…moving on…continuing to live, is the way of the world.  People die.  It’s the way life works.  It has always worked that way.  We have to continue on until it’s our turn to die.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to.”

“No,” she agreed.  “You might not, but that’s the way the world works.  Someone dies, and we have to keep going, despite missing that person.”

“I know…but still.”

“Still, it’s difficult,” she agreed.  “The hurt is there, sometimes even after a long time.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.  "It is.”

“Suck your thumb for a moment,” she told me.  “Think about your wife.  About missing her.  About how lonely you feel without her.  About how much you hurt with her gone.  Keep your eyes closed and suck your thumb, and as you suck, feel a bit of peace seep into you.  Think about all the loneliness and hurt, but as you suck, try to feel a sense of calmness coming over you.  Focus on that calm.  Focus on how good it feels.  Suck, and let the calmness wash all your hurt away.  Suck, and feel good about yourself.  Suck, and let yourself remember how wonderful your wife was, but as you suck, feel nothing but calm and happy about it, even though she’s no longer with us.  Suck your thumb for a few moments and feel good about yourself, and life.  Suck.”

She was quiet for a while, letting me just sit there with my thumb in my mouth, sucking away.  And the funny thing was, her suggestions kind of worked.  Some.  Not greatly, but a little.  As I sat there with my thumb in my mouth, sucking away, I forgot all about how stupid I had to look doing it.  I simply sat there and tried to hang onto a bit of calmness and happiness that was somehow beginning to ease the deep depression I had felt since Rachael had died.  Sucking gently.  Thinking about her.  Trying hard to feel at least somewhat good about things.

Her voice was so soft I almost didn’t hear it when she asked, “Craig, how stressful is your life, not counting missing your wife?”

I had to remove my thumb from my mouth again.  Oddly, I missed it immediately.  “Not very,” I replied.  “I’m retired.  I’ve got nothing to do but cut the grass once in a while.  Oh, and pay my bills,” I added.  “Believe it or not, that’s about it, unless something breaks around the house and needs fixing.”

“So you need something to keep you busy,” she suggested.

I shook my head as I removed my thumb again.  “No.  Not really.  I’ve had enough of work and responsibility.  One of the great things about retirement is the lack of responsibility.  In fact, I wish I had even less responsibility.  Now, without Rachael, let the rest of the world take care of everything.  They don’t need me anymore.  I’m old and done with.  Obsolete.  Let me die and get out of the way of everyone else.  No more responsibilities.  No more worries.  Just…peace.”

“I find it strange that you should say something like that,” she said.  “It sounds like you want everyone else to do everything for you.  You want everyone else to take care of you.”

“I’m getting old,” I replied.  “I’m tired.  I’m tired of everything!  I want my wife back.”

“But you can’t have her back, and life has to go on,” she said.  “Responsibilities or not.”

I didn’t reply.

“You feel like you want to turn all your responsibilities over to everyone else, so you don’t have to worry about them anymore.”

“Why not?  I’m ready for the old folk’s home.  Get me out of the way.”

“But if everyone else is taking care of you, then you’re not out of the way, are you,” she said.  “And you’re not nearly old enough for someplace like that.”

“Dying would have fixed that perfectly,” I pointed out.  “And in an old folk’s home they would take care of me completely.”

“Like an old man, or a baby?” she countered.

I considered that.  “Maybe there’s not much difference.”

“True,” she agreed.  “Sometimes, babies and old people both need more care than a normal person.  An old person sometimes has difficulty controlling their bladder and might need diapers the way a baby does.  And if you want to keep comparing, an old person may have trouble chewing and need soft, easy to eat food like a baby would need.  Old people might have trouble dressing themselves, bathing themselves, simply taking care of themselves.  The list goes on and on.  But you Craig, are nowhere near that category.  You’re not that old and you’re certainly not feeble in any way.  Your problem is something entirely different.  You…simply miss your wife.  You feel abandoned, even though she didn’t really abandon you.  She’s no longer with you, not because she didn’t love you, but because she died.  Just like happens to everyone eventually.  She loved you greatly I’m sure, right up until the moment she passed away.  And now you’re left without her, and you’re trying very hard to place the blame for that where no blame exists.  It wasn’t her fault she died.  And you know perfectly well that it’s not your fault either!  Is it?”  When I didn’t answer she repeated that.  “Craig, is it your fault that she died?”

“No,” I admitted.  “It’s…nobody’s fault.”

“Right,” she said.  “Try to remember that.  It’s nobody’s fault.”

She said nothing more, and I sat there for a few moments, still sucking my thumb with my eyes closed.  Finally, I asked.  “So now what am I supposed to do?”

“Think about what we discussed here today,” she suggested, “and we’ll talk more next week.  And in the meantime, I think it might help you if you consider some small way to shake your life up a little bit.  You’re brooding over your dead wife way too much.  Find something else to think about.  And you know what Craig, I think sucking your thumb today may have helped.  You might want to consider continuing to do it,  sucking and thinking about letting it help drain all your stress and anxiety away as you suck.  Maybe do it as much as possible for a few days.  And if you need to do something with your hands while you’re sucking, then you could always consider finding something else to put in your mouth instead.  Even a baby pacifier could work so you can keep your hands free.  Maybe, keep it with you all the time.  And if you need to, what’s the harm of keeping it in your mouth for a while, especially if it does help to keep some of your depression away.  Will you consider that?”

I opened my eyes, but I didn’t get a chance to answer.  “I’ll get him one myself,” Emily stated firmly.  “On our way home today.”