My Life with Crazy People

I’ve always been surrounded by crazy people. Now, I’m not talking about the severely mentally ill. No, these are just crazy people and there are all types. On my short list are the addictives, the manic-depressives, the self-aggrandizers, the passive-aggressives, and my favorite...the eccentrics. Crazy people can be great. They are, after all, really fun. They’re unpredictable. They’re unfailingly smart. And they are everywhere.

The trick is not to marry them or hire them. And I have a rule: only 2 crazy people at a time. More than that and it’s too tiring. They wear you down. They are just too much work. But the crazy people that are really tough are the ones you were born into. They are a whole new order of magnitude...not just crazy people...these are your crazy relatives.

I’ve been trying to write a book about my crazy family. It’s a great story. They really are remarkable, special and unique. The wackiest, most poignant, most incredible things have happened. It’s better that fiction. But here’s the problem. I can’t seem to get through the book because my crazy family keeps getting in the way.

For example, right now my Aunt had to go away for a while and she left me with two 19-year-old elderly cats that shed the equivalent of a down comforter every day. One is deaf and meows at the top of its lungs because it can’t hear itself. One leaves little bits of poop and pee around because it’s too old to make it to the litter box. So while I’m dealing with my anger about that, it’s a little hard to settle in to my office and bang out a book about my crazy family. It violates my rule. If I add up the real crazy people in my life and the slightly fictionalized crazy people in my book...that’s more than 2 crazy people. And I get worn down. And suddenly I find it much more important to do something mind numbing...like play Tetris or worry or clean the house. So at the end of my day I’ve done essentially nothing. And it’s all because of crazy people.

Now here’s the biggest truth about living with crazy people. None of them are aware of the effect they have. They don't notice that the gravity created by their persona and the material things that they surround themselves with, sucks other people into their vortex. In their vortex you have moments of alarming clarity. You suddenly realize you just wasted a whole day of your life enmeshed in some crazy piece of their crazy lives, usually taking care of some material object or need they have. And then when you get straight and realize you have just got to put some distance between you and them, they get mad. And then they think you’re crazy. You rarely win with crazy people.

So I have a new tack. I experience crazy people episodes every day. Whether it’s volunteering at my son’s school, buying a cup of coffee at Starbucks, answering a phone call or visiting my mother. So maybe if I write some of them down they will grow to become a collection of vignettes called “My Life with Crazy People.” And that can be the book.

As for me, I make no apologies. I’m not crazy. Really.