I spoke to Jess many times before getting involved between them and told her she couldn’t let her mother control everything and put a guilt trip on her. I told Jess, “You are the boss of the store, and she must do what you tell her to satisfy the customers. This is our financial future at stake, not your mother’s. If Suda has her way, she will ruin the store.”
The next day Jess was an emotional wreck. She was extremely upset and could not work. She had the talk with her mom, and her mom reacted by putting the ultimate guilt trip on her. Suda told Jess, “When I die, you don’t have to come to my grave, because I know you don’t love me.” It was a vicious and cruel thing to say. Jess did not have the strength to stand up to her mother, and this comment cut her deeply to the core.
Suda’s control was not limited to the store. She stayed at our home and was trying to dictate to me how and when I should eat, whether we should keep certain doors in the home open or shut, how I needed to treat Jess, and many other things. I gave her a little slack because she was Jess’s mom and there were some cultural differences, but that horrible comment about not having Jess come to her grave was way over the top and uncalled for in any culture. I had a talk with Suda and laid down the law. I told her I was not going to tolerate her treating my wife that way and would not allow her to run my home.
Suda went into a rage. It was a purely emotional reaction, simply because I would not put up with her control and submit to her. She cursed my character, told me I was a horrible husband, and said she was sorry Jess had married me. Just two weeks ago, she had told me I was the best man Jess could ever hope for, but now in her eyes, I was a horrible monster. The next day she accused me of having an affair with Leah, a sixteen-year-old girl who worked at the store. Leah was a girl whom both Jess and I had known for a long time, and our families were friends. Leah’s mom even worked at the store sometimes. This horrible false accusation was the last straw.
I told Jess her mother was no longer welcome in our home and must leave. I went on to say I would not tolerate Suda causing such emotional harm to her and that I wouldn’t tolerate Suda’s false accusations and attempts to bring harm to our marriage. I was kicking her out, and Jess knew there was no bargaining with me about this. Jess was extremely upset, more so at her mother for saying those things to me, but a part of her appreciated me standing up to her mother and not letting her mom treat her that way. Jess wasn’t all that upset with me; she was mainly upset with all the problems her mother’s actions had caused.
Jess didn’t want her to leave immediately and instead needed some time to heal their relationship. My mom and dad offered to have Suda stay at their home until she left, so Suda stayed there. My mom and Suda often came down to the store together to help Jess. Jess tried to explain away her mother’s behavior to me, saying it was partly due to their culture, but I said no, not that type of behavior. Her actions were cruel, malicious, and unacceptable in any culture. Suda stayed another month and a half and wanted to extend her stay, but I told Jess that Suda couldn’t intrude on my parents’ lives anymore and that it was time for her to go home.
After Suda left, Jess remained upset about her mom’s actions. Jess told me, “I wish my mother was more like yours.” Jess loved and respected my mom a lot and sought out her counsel very frequently. One of the many reasons Jess held my mom in such high regard was that after we were married, my mom told Jess she would love her as if Jess were her own daughter. Jess was taken aback by this at first and couldn’t understand how my mom could show such unconditional love. Jess asked me once how my mom did this, and I told Jess it was because of my mother’s loving nature and values. I’m an incredibly blessed man to have been raised by such great parents.
A few years later, Suda developed Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s diseases. She forgot the incident between us and thought of me as a good man. Weird how that worked out.
fivE
Prescription Opioids Are Evil
It was 2006, and our marriage was getting worse. Jess’s pride and sense of victimization had reached new heights. In addition to this, her perceived levels of pain over little things ramped up, and she seemed to slipping further into hypochondria. She told people incredible stories of extreme pain issues that didn’t make sense to me, but when she told these stories, people gave her sympathy that Jess seemed to feed on.
We were in church one Sunday, and a man was asking about getting a suit altered. I told him Jess was an incredible seamstress and could do this type of work better than anyone around. Jess said in a stern voice, “I’m a designer, not a seamstress.”
The intensity of her reaction really took me by surprise. We talked about this when we got home, and I tried to find out why Jess was so upset over what I’d said.
Jess asked me, “How would you feel if I called you a mechanic since you are an engineer?”
I said, “I’m a great mechanic, too, and it wouldn’t bother me a bit. I know you would only be giving me a compliment.”
Jess didn’t see it this way, and she went into a rant about how I always cut her down in public and disagreed with her in front of other people. It was unbelievable how her pride had ramped up to such an out-of-control state that even when I gave her a compliment, she took it as an insult to her position and abilities.
One notable incident of her out-of-control pride happened with her trying to advertise with Pageantry magazine. Jess really enjoyed beauty pageants and was giddy when dealing with these women. I went to one local teenage beauty pageant with Jess just to see what it was like. Wow, what a strange world. It’s a whole different subculture of behavior. Jess was a judge, and the other judges were hard-core pageant people. In my opinion, their votes didn’t go to the teenage girl who had the best appearance or talent; the votes went to the girl who acted the best in this weird robot-like ritual of having the proper arm and hand wave, head tilt, contrived smile, and walking style. I thought the girl who won acted unnaturally, and her behavior was creepy.
I didn’t find out about the situation with Pageantry magazine until Jess was ranting at home about her Christian values being insulted and their removing wording from her ad. She was livid over this. I asked what was wrong, and she showed me the ad in the magazine. Jess said they purposely had stripped out her mentioning that her faith was instrumental in helping the pageant girls. I started investigating to find out what had happened because, by Jess’s description, it was completely unacceptable for a magazine to alter her ad wording.
What I found was shocking. Jess had missed multiple deadlines to submit her final ad copy for print. What she finally submitted was a total mess. It had looked like a child had written and formatted the ad, with multiple spelling and grammar errors. She had exceeded the space available, and the magazine had been forced to trim some of her wording. They actually did a very good job, considering the unprofessional mess Jess had submitted. I didn’t dare tell Jess this. All I could do was to console her and offer my help in the future. This situation could have been avoided if Jess had done the work on time or asked for help. Instead of admitting her mistake and learning from it, she went into rage mode from feeling insulted and victimized by the magazine.
The situation at the store got worse. On top of all the clutter, Jess created an environment that was dangerous for her and the employees. There were sharp edges all over, with boxes on the floor and stairs. There was so much clutter in the alteration area that she was tripping over junk and getting hurt. Jess was getting bruises from falling or bumping into things. She claimed that she was accident-prone because of all the things that happened to her. Jess wasn’t accident-prone; she was just careless. The teenage girls working there emulated her careless behavior and made it worse by adding to the clutter and creating more safety hazards.
I came there many times and had to get her to clean things up. I lost count of how many times I told her that if one of the girls got hurt falling down the stairs due to the junk piled on the steps, we would be sued and lose everything. Jess’s
attitude was frustrating. This was our future she was putting at risk due to her careless behavior. Jess would put trash in the doorway between rooms with the idea that the next person through would pick it up and take it to the Dumpster. She also piled things on the stairs with the same idea, but she and the girls just stepped over it, leaving the junk. She started doing this at home and almost fell down the stairs multiple times when she tripped on her crap. I put a stop to that at home, and she told me I was being unreasonable and controlling.
We scheduled a big cleanup at the store. There was so much piled-up clutter and useless stuff that we filled the Dumpster. I wasn’t too happy about having to pay everyone to clear out the mess. It should have not been created in the first place, but the cleanup had to be done. Piles of junk were everywhere, making it difficult to work. When I was in the other room, I overheard Jess cutting me down in front of people about this. That didn’t sit well with me, and I told Jess I didn’t appreciate her remarks. She said I had misheard her—she would never say that.
The next weekend I came in to do more handyman work, and the piles of trash were back. Trash was on the floor, between doorways, on the steps. Trip hazards were everywhere. I was pissed. After all that work cleaning up, Jess was still doing it and had created another huge mess in just one week. She knew she was putting all the employees at risk, but she wouldn’t stop her careless behavior. She would never survive in the corporate world and would have been fired over such repeated behavior.
I called everyone, including Jess, into the backroom and gave them all a harsh speech.
“Jess runs the store,” I said, “but I will shut this place down and start firing anyone who creates these hazards. Do you people want me to review the security video now and start firing the people doing this? You all are responsible for each other’s safety, and I won’t ever tolerate any shit being put on the stairs or in the doorway. You are going to get someone seriously hurt or killed falling down the steps with this stupid behavior. Do you people understand?”
There was silence. They knew how serious I was. This speech finally got through to Jess and all of them, but I was very frustrated that I had to be the bad guy since Jess was complicit in causing this issue.
The next time I was at the store, one of the teenage girls came up to me and wanted an apology for my calling her stupid. The nerve of this silly teenager wanting me to appease her hurt feelings was unbelievable. I looked right at her and said, “I didn’t call you stupid. I said everyone’s behavior creating these hazards that will get people hurt is stupid. Are you being stupid, and should I review the security video to find out?”
She was speechless and walked away. I overheard her say to another girl, “Mr. Cole is mean.”
Good, I thought. Now this special little snowflake knows I won’t tolerate her crap. She can’t understand I care about her and everyone else’s welfare. I’ll gladly be the bad guy if that is what it takes to stop them from hurting themselves.
Jess began a discussion with me about wanting to get a Yorkshire terrier. We still hadn’t healed from that previous dog disaster, and after all the hell we’d gone through before, now she wanted to get another dog? No way. I told her it was too soon—we still needed some time, and I didn’t want the hassle of a dog. There was too much hurt going around. Jess went into attack mode and started into more of her you-never-let-me-have-what-I-want routine. I stood my ground and said, “No way. We both have to agree on this.” She said that this time it would be different and that she would take care of the dog.
A few days later, I saw a shoebox full of prescription pills from Thailand. There were painkillers, muscle relaxants, generic Prozac, and a bunch of other pills for mental disorders. What was this woman taking? Her behavior had become increasingly bizarre and out of control. Now I suspected why. She was self-medicating with pills without her doctor knowing what she was taking.
I asked Jess where she had gotten these pills, and she admitted her mother had given them to her. She said her mother had told her what to take and had said it would help with stress. I told her we needed to throw them away; they were dangerous and strong medications that should only be administered under the care of her doctor. Jess said she took the pills only when she needed them and did not want to have pills for mental disorders on her record. That was her pride talking again.
Nothing I said got through to her. I could have just tossed them all, but then she would have accused me of being controlling again. It was incredibly frustrating dealing with her.
A few days later, Jess called and told me she had bought a Yorkie and that it was at the store. Damn it. This was supposed to be a marriage where we agreed on things, but she did not care about my feelings. She did whatever she wanted without considering any consequences.
I was extremely angry and yelled into the phone, “How dare you do this? Don’t you even think of bringing that damn animal into our home, or I’ll cut its head off. Do you understand how serious I am? I want you to return it immediately.”
I wouldn’t have hurt the dog; I said that in anger, but it was wrong of me to say that. I wouldn’t have let it in our house though—I had taken enough of this behavior from her.
I looked through her e-mails and found conversations with a Yorkie breeder. I called the breeder, gave her a history on Jess’s behavior, and said we had not agreed to get a dog and there was no way I was letting it into our home. The breeder was angry, not at me but at Jess, for telling her a completely different story about how we both wanted a Yorkie.
Jess disappeared for most of the day. She came back to the house late in the afternoon and was completely out of it. She wasn’t walking straight; she was confused and couldn’t speak in complete sentences. I asked her to lie down, but she took off in the car. I was extremely worried for her in that mental state and called the police. I briefed them about her state of mind, and they put out a disturbed person report with a description of the car. Two hours later she came back home a little better but extremely agitated.
She started ranting using the same old false accusations about my not caring for her and controlling her and all sorts of other wild things. I couldn’t understand much of what she said, as she was rambling and not making sense. I was extremely worried about her out-of-control mental state and called 911. I was talking to her and on my phone with the dispatcher during this exchange. Then she spiraled completely out of control. She got her .380 Kel-Tec semiauto pistol, held it in her hand, and said she was going to shoot herself.
The dispatcher sent someone out immediately and was asking me to get the gun from her. It took a while, but finally I got the gun. The police arrived, but Jess saw them. She ran upstairs and locked herself in the bathroom.
The police were going to bust down the door, but I told them I could open it. It’s a typical interior door lock that can be opened from the outside with a small screwdriver. When I got the door open, the police tried talking to her, but she was in her own world and could not be reasoned with.
An ambulance arrived, and the police escorted her outside and strapped her down to a stretcher. They took her to the St. Joseph Hospital emergency room in Ann Arbor, Michigan. I took her box of pills and went to the hospital. I gave the nurses the pills, and they were shocked at how many there were. A couple of nurses began writing down a list of all the pills to show the doctors. A short while later, a couple of doctors talked with her, and then they brought in a psychiatrist. I didn’t hear their conversations, but then they met with me alone.
They told me Jess was in severe distress, unstable, and very depressed. They recommended taking her to Providence Hospital for a three-day involuntary psych hold to evaluate her. I asked if this was necessary, and they said yes, especially because she had threatened to shoot herself. They told me either I could give my consent for her to be taken, or they would take the necessary steps to get her involuntarily committed for her own safety. I knew how bad she was and signed the commitment paperwork. This was a really, really ho
rrible day.
Providence Hospital released Jess three days later but with the conditions that I had to show proof of arranging an appointment with a psychiatrist so that she could go through counseling. At first Jess was happy. She said nothing was wrong, and she believed she’d proved that to the staff at Providence Hospital. She said she had to help others there, because they were having a lot of issues. She was in complete denial about her own problems. A few days later, she turned her rage at me.
Jess accused me of lying to the police and making up everything, claiming it was my fault she’d been committed. She denied saying she was going to shoot herself. She demanded I get the 911 recording to hear what happened. I got the recording on a cassette tape in a few days after filing a Freedom of Information request with the Washtenaw County sheriff’s office. I had to buy a cassette tape player because I didn’t have one. Cassette tapes? Really? That’s ancient tech, and it was very surprising they couldn’t e-mail me the audio of the call or put the file on my flash drive.
Jess and I listened to it, and there it was, just as I said: she’d said she was going to shoot herself. Jess stayed in denial and accused me of not understanding her words because the tape was not clear. Listening to the tape only made her more hostile. She accused me of putting her in the hospital because I wanted her out of the house for some reason, and she said she’d find out why. Her ranting continued with her saying she would get me back for having her committed. In her mind, I had done this for some unknown malicious reason.
Tales of the Crazy Page 6