How to Deal with Crazy

I like to think I have experience with crazy. After all, I've been living with it for more than half my life. At times I have truly believed my biggest accomplishment is not letting anxiety and depression crush me into a cube like a cosmic garbage compactor.

Since I have had to live with crazy pretty much anyone who has wanted to be even a semi-permanent part of my life has had to deal with it too. I known people who have dealt with it well. I have known with people who couldn't deal with it at all. The best ones, though, are the ones who don't deal with it at all, but deal with me instead and help me come through it as unscathed as possible.

So, how does one do that, should one encounter someone suffering from crazy? After years and years of research I think I have come up with a short list that may help...

1. Never assume it is about you. It isn't. It's crazy. Even if the person in question is going on and on about how their life sucks, and you are a big part of that life, it STILL has nothing to do with you. Trying to determine what role you play in causing the crazy, or how it is affecting your relationship is for later, not in the moment. In the moment it will just make the crazy person crazier because they will assume they have hurt your feelings, or that you hate them. Both are rocket fuel for crazy.

2. Don't try to force them to stop being crazy. If they could stop the crazy, they would. Telling them are being embarrassing, or unreasonable, or ridiculous, or that they just need to "knock it off" will just reinforce the thoughts they are already having, and prolong the crazy.

3. If you are worried about saying the wrong thing, don't say anything. You never know what a person in the middle of crazy is going to take the wrong way. Sometimes just being there, and letting them know you aren't leaving is the best thing you can do.

4. Let them cry. Sometimes it is the best thing to wash all the crazy away.

5. Let them know you still see them through the crazy. This is the big one, and the best way to make crazy go away fast. Let them know, in any way you can, that this is temporary, that it is something they are dealing with, and not who they are.

There are other little things to do, like making sure they have taken their meds, telling stupid jokes, eating carbs, and making sure they are cool with the term "crazy" before using it (I, myself, have embraced it), but those are the big five.

Oh, and when all else fails, remember, this is someone you care for, crazy or not. Fall back on that to guide your actions, and everything should be okay.

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In The Event of My Death

I am getting to the age where I am attending funerals on a more regular basis. I mean, not weekly or anything, but more than I have in the past. They are funerals for parents of friends, or friends of parents, and, while none of these people are ancient, no one at theses events says things like "they were just so young," or "what a tragic accident." Like most people at funerals, I usually stop thinking about the deceased pretty early into the service, and start thinking about myself. More specifically though, I start thinking about my funeral, and how I really don't want it to be so boring people stop thinking about me, and start thinking about themselves.

To that end, I am laying down these ground rules, to be followed at my funeral/memorial service/shooting of my ashes and/or frozen head into space:

1. Drinks and food will be served before, during and after. No one is going to have to sit through the whole thing in order to get a glass of wine. In fact, I think the whole thing should start off with a drink. Also, if someone needs a nosh right in the middle, I don't want them having to dig through their purse for a stale breath mint. Nope, not at my funeral.

2. No one gets to speak for more than four minutes. Let's face it, brevity is wit; and I don't want my funeral to be anything other than witty. I figure that four minutes allows people who really knew and loved me to share something from their hearts without getting maudlin, or saying something unintentionally mean. It also is short enough that people who are just attending out of courtesy don't feel they are being held hostage.

3. The words "she loved life" must not be uttered. I mean, duh. Of course I loved life, that's why I stuck around as long as I did. Also, I didn't love life all the time, no one does. If anyone has to use such platitudes, they probably don't even need four minutes to talk about me, and should be made to stop talking immediately. Oh, in this same vein, if I die of some horrible disease, no one is allowed to say I "fought valiantly." I know me. I probably fought whinily, and bitchily, so that's how I want to be remembered.

4. No pictures, please. If people don't know what I looked like, then why the hell are they at my funeral? Also, I don't want them to feel like I'm watching them, and making sure they are grieving properly. I mean, I will be; I just don't want them to know.

That's all I can think of right now. I mean, I'm sure I'll have more ideas later, but I think you get the general idea. Of course, in the end, no one actually has to follow any of these rules. They could have a five hour ordeal, filled with Hallmark card sentiments, no bar, and my picture printed on napkins, and there would be nothing I could do about it.

After all, I'll be dead.

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