My Schizophrenic Grandma

A Story about Grandma Crazy
Recently my Grandma has been diagnosed with, well to put it simply, being crazy in the head. I know I should be more sensitive but looking back at my childhood with her I see how certain experiences with her have shaped who am I today. I wish that I could say they shaped me into being a great woman or wise woman but I find that the things I experienced with her have made me skeptical and insecure. Qualities I have to learn to control as to not let them control me.
The sun rose and set in my Grandma and Grandpa, MawMaw and PawPaw. Ok, honestly my PawPaw! He never got upset with me, always rescued me from mom and dad saying no and would drive to Illinois to get me at the drop of a hat! I think that was the best part. Even when I was young I knew my grandpa was a hard worker driving trucks for long hours and the fact that he would still drive all the way to pick me up was something I never took for granted. I knew my Grandma loved me even though some of things she did were a bit odd. One time she bought me Mrs. Pott’s clip on earrings. I LOVED them! Yet as much as I loved them and loved her for buying them for me I could never bring them home. This was the way it was with all my stuff. I could never bring them home. Even though, up to that point, she had never been crass with me, I knew on the inside I never wanted to even attempt breaking that rule because she scared me.
I don’t remember any weird experiences till around 9 or 10 years old. It seemed around that time my memories of Grandpa seem to fade. He became more of a passing shadow in the house spending more time out in the barn alone than around my Grandma. I didn’t think it was strange though. I just assumed he liked to smoke and tinker around in his own space. I understood. Not having any siblings close to my age I grew to like my personal space also. When Grandma and Grandpa were together they were not kind to each other. Grandma picked on him. Telling him he really needed to read his bible more or that he put his cup on the counter that was reserved only for folding clothes. Grandpa always seemed defeated when she was around, like a puppy with it’s tail between it’s legs. Sometimes, rarely, he would stand up to her and fire back but that never made any progress and eventually he would retreat to his retreat, the barn.
It was during these times alone in the house with Grandma I look back and realize that she didn’t act like a grandma should. Not that kids should have free reign in their Grandparents house but at least they should feel loved and most of all safe. I remember one morning I woke up and she asked, “Crystal, how would you like to go shopping? You can pick out any outfit you like!” I was over the moon! She was not one to go and spend money on anyone. Gifts were mostly reserved for Christmas. At which time she would go in the basement and pick out years of hoarded free samples and sale items bought and saved for no specific person in mind.
I was so excited as we pulled into the shopping center. We were there all afternoon. I picked out a ton of outfits, none of which she approved of. After hours of shopping we agreed on an outfit and I couldn’t wait to get home and show mom and dad. Hopefully they were picking me up because I was sure I would have to leave it at her house. We were all set to head to the registers when she turned to me and said, “Now what I want you to do is go get this 2 sizes smaller. This will be your “goal” outfit. After you lose weight you can wear it.” I felt a rush of all different emotions. At first I was confused, then angry but mostly embarrassed. I couldn’t have been more than 10 or 11 years old at the time and I was not fat! As a matter of fact I have searched every family picture and I cannot find one single photo of me being fat ever. I never told anyone this story, not even my parents until just this year because I was so humiliated. I still can’t figure out what possessed her to say and do something so out of the blue with no rhyme or reason. Something so hurtful and lasting. I was forever aware from that moment on of my body and it’s supposed “unacceptable” state. To this day I have never felt confident or acceptable in my body.
Grandma always had silly things she would do. I never thought twice about them. She would run the kitchen faucet for a split second and flick her finger through the stream of water and shut off the tap. She always stared out the window whispering to her self as she did it. She also talked to herself under her breath throughout the day. I thought for many years that she was just running through her to do list out loud until I started to listen more carefully. She was carrying on a conversation with some invisible being. I never quite understood what she was saying but most of the time she was arguing, fighting or contemplating something with this person only she could see.
A story that haunts me as much, possibly more, than anything she did is the nights she would wake me up to pray. She would wake me out of a dead sleep to pray at 3AM. Grandpa was never around for this. I assume he was asleep. She would tell me that we needed to pray in a tone so urgent I always thought something bad had happened. We would get down on our knees in the living room and she would being to pray so fast and frantic I could barely keep up with what she was saying. I am not a superstitious person. I am the definition of logical, everything that I have experienced has had a rational explanation, except for these 3am prayer sessions. I would crouch down as close to the floor as I could get and bury myself as deep as I could into my Grandma’s side. There was some evil feeling in that house and specifically that hallway. It wasn’t a person just a cloud of black, evil hopelessness that watched us, sleuthing around, waiting. I don’t know what for but waiting and watching. I know it sounds crazy and I’m sure that there was never something even there but the way she prayed and the tones she used scared me and I will never forget those prayer sessions. To this day I hate 3AM on the clock!
The reason I began to truly know that my Grandma was no longer someone I cared to have a relationship with came one summer camping trip. We were packing the camper late into the evening. She always did things late at night. As a matter of fact I can’t think of one time I ever saw the woman call it a night and actually go to her bed. I believe I was around 14 years at the time. She asked me to get a jar of spaghetti sauce out of the cabinet. I looked up and down that cabinet and never saw a jar. She yelled at me like I’ve never heard her before. “Now Crystal, I told you it is right under the top shelf!!” She told me to get out of there she will do it herself. I went to the room I was staying in and did not come out the rest of the night. Grandpa was in the barn so he had no idea of what happened and I never told him. I know it doesn’t sound like a big deal but the way she went from sweet and Grandma-like to hateful and even using a different voice scared me and deeply hurt my feelings. There were two other of these same incidences on the same trip that turned me away from her. The final straw that trip was her telling me that my Dad and family were going to Hell when we died because we weren’t real Christians because we did not read the King James Version of the Bible. Grandpa pulled me aside that trip and tried to explain that I should take everything Grandma does with a grain of salt. I felt for the first time that Grandpa was no longer a safe person. That he would not stand up for me. I cried myself to sleep every night till my parents got to the campground where I spilled all of my stories. Dad confronted Grandma but she played the kind Grandma card with him.
I no longer wished to spend time at their house anymore. I went for the holidays where I mostly smiled and avoided talking to my grandma. As time went on I buried all those stories and more. It wasn’t until last summer after Grandpa died I felt it would be right by him to call her and check in on her. I remember the last phone conversation I had with her was great! We talked about my pregnancy and the fears and worries I had. We talked about my son Jace. I felt for the first time since I was very young that I had a grandma again. It was all short lived. She began to lose it. Claiming my Uncle was breaking into her house and bugging things. It became such an out of control mess I decided it was better to leave her alone so that I was not pulled into any of her hallucinations and accusations.
This past month was my breaking point. My sister went to lunch with my grandma, Mary. My aunt was there also. During the conversation Mary asked my sister how I was doing with my weight, in front of my aunt. My sister did a great job at redirecting but none the less all these years later she finds the one vulnerable part of heart and stabs through it as hard as she can. It for this reason I no longer care to have a relationship with her. I understand she is sick but she will not admit it and help herself. She will no longer hurt me. I now have no grandparents left and this is very sad for me.
The shining light in all this is my parents. If you could take a minute and dream up storybook grandparents then you will see my parents. They already in two short years have out down what four grandparents did in a lifetime. I am thankful that my children will experience love, confidence and security when they are left with their grandparents. That no matter their physical size it’s the size of their heart that matters.