the bar exam or get your husband home from the hospital.
Crazymakers hate schedules—except their own. In the hands
of a crazymaker, time is a primary tool for abuse. If you
claim a certain block of time as your own, your crazymaker
will find a way to fight you for that time, to mysteriously
need things (meaning you) just when you need to be alone
and focused on the task at hand. “I stayed up until three last
night. I can’t drive the kids to school,” the crazymaker will
spring on you the morning you yourself must leave early for
a business breakfast with your boss.
Crazymakers hate order. Chaos serves their purposes. When
you begin to establish a place that serves you and your
creativity, your crazymaker will abruptly invade that space
with projects of his/her own. “What are all these papers, all
this laundry on top of my work table?” you ask. “I decided
to sort my college papers ... to start looking for the matches
for my socks...”
Crazymakers deny that they are crazymakers. They go for
the jugular. “I am not what’s making you crazy,” your
crazymaker may say when you point out a broken promise
or a piece of sabotage. “It’s just that we have such a rotten
sex life.”
If crazymakers are that destructive, what are we doing
involved with them? The answer, to be brief but brutal, is