Ma, I've Got Meself Locked Up in the Mad House

by Martha Long

  He marched off, with me following at a trot. Jaysus! I can’t read him. This could go either way. For sure, he must be thinking of letting me home, I hoped, following him for miles.

  He stopped at a door, opened it and stood back to let me in. My mind was made up. OK, Martha! You’re in charge! I walked in slowly, feeling much more confident.

  ‘Do take a seat,’ he said, waving his arm to a comfortable armchair. Then he sat back in his own chair and studied me. ‘Yes, yes. You are certainly looking much better. Your hair is beautifully groomed!’ he beamed.

  It should be, I thought. I had to sleep in head-stabbing rollers to get this look. I was wearing a long green-velvet skirt, which flared out behind me when I walked, with a long embroidered linen petticoat just showing underneath – very elegant, Victorian – with a white-linen blouse and a black belt around my waist. Yep! I’m looking very nice, if I say so myself, I thought happily, watching him taking me in from head to toe.

  ‘Why did you allow yourself to fall so far?’ he asked me.

  ‘I don’t know. It was gradual. I withdrew more into myself. I was still recovering from a major operation. I nearly lost my life a few times. It came as a shock when my daughter left so suddenly. Everything in my life seemed like it was falling apart. But I didn’t see it. I had no insight. I didn’t really listen to myself. I was always used to difficulties in my life. I just saw this as one more. So I thought I was coping, taking the dog for his walks, but I was really becoming more and more deeply depressed.

  ‘I saw my daughter’s decision to live with her father as a rejection of me. I could have read it differently. Just a simple case of a girl wanting to spend time with her father while she was still young. It was a new experience for her. Perfectly understandable. I could have gone on and relished my new-found freedom. I had earned it. But in my state of mind . . . Well, not only did I make it into a hell for myself but I caused her a lot of pain. We have a very deep bond. It really must have pained her to see I took it badly.

  ‘Our last visit ended badly. Naturally, there was a lot of tension. We were both walking on eggshells. It blew up! So this was all down to me. I was now carrying my head under my arm. Feeling rejected. I turned the rejection into believing I was no good. Nobody would really want me. I was nobody, just useful for looking after other people who needed me for that. But I had no inner resources for looking after myself. I had no conception that I could or should do that. That I was important for just being me. I am not programmed in that way. To myself, I am worth nothing.

  ‘I have existed and felt my worth according to how much I have to offer other people. The harder I work for them, the better it pleases them – that is my reward. Looking at it, I suppose I am a modern-day slave! I can’t exist just for myself. There is no worth in that for me. I think if I had a close relationship, I would see my self-worth mirrored in that person’s affection for me. But I made a mistake when I was young. I never wanted to repeat that. So I poured all my love into Sarah! I could never trust another man. So really, my problems are deep, but I don’t want to start opening a can of worms, bringing up stuff that would destroy me. So I will just have to muddle through.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said after a while. ‘But what I don’t understand is why you just sat and let the train run over you. Most people would move.’

  I thought about this. ‘I have always been alone! It is not in my make-up to ask for help. I don’t understand that concept. I have always had to be self-sufficient. Very few people reached out a helping hand in my formative years. So I don’t expect or even think I can get help. For that you have to have a close relationship, a friend, or someone who cares. I didn’t have that. So I am limited by lack of knowledge in a lot of ways. I don’t trust the authorities. I have no trust in doctors, especially when it comes to emotional pain. Drugs don’t help. Talking doesn’t help. They can’t take away the pain! So when the pain of loneliness, rejection and too many knocks became too much for me, I ended up paralysed. I was not able to get to my feet. So this is where I ended up.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I think you must have someone to talk to. You need to be able to share difficulties. You can’t bottle them up. So I would suggest to you that you find some way of developing at least one person you can talk to. We all need this. OK?’

  ‘Yes, I agree. Thank you, Doctor.’

  ‘Now! I am going to allow you to go home for a weekend. Would you like that?’

  I was hesitant. Going home? Back to the house? On me own again? Yeah! Home! The reality was just dawning on me. A sudden fear ran through me, getting the last picture of myself there. No! No, I’m not facing that! Go back to that house again? Not in a million years! But how come only a few minutes ago that is exactly what I just wanted?

  I looked down at meself, trying to think. I look lovely! I’m really changed. Nearly back to me old self! I’m much more confident again. Life can be great! I can have a great time. Sarah is now gone. Grown up. Off your hands. She’s happy! You’ve done a good job. Now it’s your turn. Start again!

  Me heart started to lift. Yeah, think of it! I can do anything now. Anything in the whole wide world! What’s to stop me? Nothing! Absolutely sweet nothing. Oh, yes! Time to say goodbye to the old; on with the new.

  I lifted my head with a big smile on my face, saying, ‘Yes! Thank you, Doctor! I would like that very much.’

  ‘OK! Shall we say this weekend?’

  ‘Yes, that would be grand, thanks, Doctor.’

  ‘Today is Tuesday,’ he said, thinking. ‘You can leave on Friday afternoon, OK?’

  ‘That’s fine, lovely, great! Thanks, Doctor,’ I beamed, getting all excited.

  He stood up and came around, looking at me. ‘I think you are looking very well!’ he said, looking all pleased they had managed to put me back together again. ‘You have made great progress. Now, you should keep yourself well groomed. It does wonders for your morale. You are an attractive young woman. Make the most of yourself.’

  ‘Thank you, Doctor,’ I said, grinning at him, feeling delighted me looks were starting to come back. I had gone around long enough looking like a bag lady.

  He opened the door wide, saying, ‘Have a lovely weekend and enjoy yourself.’

  ‘I will!’ I said, tripping off, delighted with myself. Yeah! I’m on the road to recovery.

  I swept into the therapy room, looking around for Blondie. The monk came quietly up behind me. That’s a first! He’s on his own! No Blondie.

  Without thinking, I gushed out, ‘Guess what?’ I stared at him with a grin on my face.

  He stared back, shaking his head slowly. ‘No, tell me,’ he said, giving me a half-smile without opening his mouth.

  ‘I’ve just seen the doctor!’

  ‘You are going home!’ he said, singing the words with his head shaking, then leaning into me with his eyes lighting up, letting a gorgeous smile break out on his face.

  ‘Nope! Wrong!’

  ‘So! What is the good news?’ he said, rattling his head, still smiling at me.

  ‘I’m going home this weekend! Brilliant, isn’t it?’

  ‘Excellent! So now we will expect to see you behaving yourself!’ he grinned, walking off.

  I gave myself an extra polish, getting visions of myself looking dazzlingly beautiful when I get to escape out on Friday. Where will I go? Home first anyway. Then, who knows? I have the whole weekend to go where I like. I stared in the mirror and an emaciated corpse stared back at me, looking shockingly white. Lovely! Put more cream on the face – lather it on. Now for the hair. I plastered the head stabbers, or hair rollers as some people call them, all over my head and put a net over them to stop them falling out. Then I stared back in the mirror. Jaysus! Hilda Ogden from Coronation Street was staring back at me. But I shall look beautiful in the morning. Wait until Blondie and the monk see me.

  I even went around all evening with hot olive oil plastered in my hair. I got a little pot of it from the nurse. Everyone was complaining abou
t the smell. I think that bloody Esther one gave me cooking oil! Anyway, the shine is dazzling! I still can’t believe my good fortune. I’m getting back to my old self.

  I wafted out of the ward wearing a long gypsy skirt, with my petticoat showing underneath of course. Very fashionable! And a lovely white-linen grandad shirt buttoned up to the neck, no collar. My hair was streaming around my back in curls and waves, and the highlights were dancing around my head – it looks coppery. Yeah! I’m looking lovely.

  ‘Esther! Could you let me out, please? I’m off down to therapy.’

  ‘Come on then,’ Esther said, pulling the keys from around her waistband and giving me a sour look. Like she was jealous because I’m all done up and wafting myself around the place, with the meals handed up to me, and she has to work. There’s no justice in that!

  I sailed out the door, waving and laughing. ‘Bye, Nurse!’

  She slammed the door shut with an unmerciful bang, raising her eyes to heaven, looking like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

  I bombed down the stairs, taking them two at a time, definitely feeling my old self again. I could now get down on my own. A trustee! Yep! Things are looking up.

  I bounded into therapy, waving at the nurses in their little boxes. They squinted out at me, and Jam-jar gave me a second look. I winked at him, giving him the thumbs up. He wasn’t impressed and leapt out of his box, roaring, ‘I’m watching you! We want no trouble down here!’

  ‘Yes, dahlink! And I . . . ham watching you!’ I breathed, blowing him a slow sexy kiss!

  He put his head back in, muttering, ‘The cheeky so and so! She better watch herself, that one!’

  The other nurses laughed, getting great enjoyment outa him. Jam-jar takes himself and life too seriously! I thought, laughing.

  I sailed down the room, spotting Blondie.

  ‘I’m over here!’ she laughed, trying to learn to play chess with Seamus.

  ‘Hi, Seamus!’

  ‘Oh, hello!’ he said, looking at me with a glint in his eye.

  ‘I’m off to play ping-pong.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Blondie laughed. ‘Give me a minute, until I grab Seamus’s king. Then I’ll be up with you.’

  Seamus snorted. ‘Spoken like a true amateur! A little knowledge is a . . .’ Then he stabbed her with his queen and cornered her with his rook. ‘CHECKMATE, dear girl!’

  ‘Ahh, no!’ Blondie stared. ‘How did you do that?’ she asked, looking stricken at the board, her eyes swimming around, looking for a way out.

  He laughed, giving her a quiet, superior look, then started setting up the board again. ‘Do you play?’ he asked crisply, rounding on me, hoping to demolish me as well.

  ‘As a matter of fact I do. I used to play with my daughter through many a long winter night.’ My horizon suddenly darkened, sadness sweeping through my chest as the memory of those long, lonely nights suddenly hit me.

  Then I shook my head, thinking, no! Dead and gone! Then grinned, saying, ‘Nope! Sorry! I’m off to play table tennis. Coming, Blondie?’

  ‘Right! I’m off, Seamus!’ she laughed. ‘Thanks for the game.’

  She hurried out behind me, staggering on her high heels. I stopped, pointing down at the heels. ‘You can’t play in those!’

  ‘Course not,’ she said, wobbling on the heels. ‘I’ll take them off!’

  We hurried into the room, and Henry and Rory had beaten us to it.

  ‘OK, boys! Time’s up! It’s our turn now.’

  ‘Absolutely not! We were here first!’

  ‘Yeah,’ sniffled Rory, getting himself a bang on the head with the ball.

  I bent down and grabbed it. ‘Grab the bat from Henry, Blondie!’ I grabbed Rory, swiping the bat before he even knew it was gone.

  ‘You can’t do that!’ screeched Rory, chasing me around the room. Henry was wrestling Blondie. I dived on him, with Rory still on my heels, jumping into the air behind his back and grabbing his bat with both hands.

  ‘That is not playing fair!’ Henry screamed.

  ‘Nope! Life is not fair, Henry. Now out of the way!’ I pushed him to one side, and they both stood sulking against the wall.

  ‘Ready, Blondie?’ I said, straddling the table. I swung the bat gently, getting the feel. I like this game – it’s fun. The bat is light, and it’s all in the hand and eye. Years of playing pitch penny – taking the well-polished and much loved ‘lucky pennies’ off the young fellas as a kid – has trained my eye.

  I stand back, watching the ball fly through the air, then relax, get into position, and my eye darts to the spot where I want it to land, which is the corner of the table, and HEY PRESTO! Blondie is tearing around the room like a blue-arse fly, skidding in her tights after the ball.

  ‘Ah! Come on, Blondie! So far, I’ve beaten you three games to nil! You taught me to play this. Now the student is overtaking the master!’

  ‘I’ll play you!’ shouted Henry.

  ‘Give him the bat, Blondie, and watch me demolish him.’ I was having the time of my life. This game is great. I never played games in my life, really. I had more important things to be doing with my time. Mother of God! I feel like a child, a very happy one. Yeah, I’m having my second childhood!

  I hugged the table, whipping the ball back at lightning speed, slicing it against the corner of the table. A queue was now forming. Kids from the junior section were waiting to take on the aul one. Me! I was now staring down at a pale-faced young fella of seventeen. His eyes were like glass, and he was watching me very intently.

  ‘I haven’t got much chance against you kids,’ I said, laughing. ‘You play games in your private school all the time.’

  He didn’t respond but just limbered up along his side of the table, watching me intently, ready to smack the ball back. He was intent on beating me, like his life depended on it.

  ‘Right!’ I said, smacking the ball into the middle of the table. He sent it hurtling back. I dived left, swinging myself around, and swiped it back, slowing down my breathing.

  It came singing back, humming past my ear. I leaned back, throwing the bat to my left hand, and jumped, sending it scorching back, aimed for the corner of the table. My eyes were glued, watching as it sliced off and smacked against the far wall. I was delighted. Game, set and match to me.

  The poor young fella shook his shoulders, trying to understand how he’d lost. I felt sorry for him, watching him shuffle off with his hands deep down in his pockets. It would have done his confidence a lot of good. But this is survival. I need to boost my own hopes, confidence, belief and energy. I need a reason to live, and I’m getting there!

  ‘I have a present for you,’ Henry said, haring back into the room and handing me a little gift-wrapped package. ‘I had my sister buy it for you!’

  I examined the package, while Henry waited, like this was the most important thing I was missing in my whole life. ‘What is it, Henry?’

  ‘A diamante hair slide,’ he said, pointing to my curls, then grabbing hold of them, manhandling and juggling them up and down. ‘I love your hair!’ he sniffed, wrapping my curls through his hands and rubbing handfuls across his nostrils.

  ‘Oh, Henry! You are really good,’ I said, feeling very warm towards him. I leaned into him. ‘Give us a kiss, you gorgeous thing.’

  He went straight for my lips.

  ‘No, no! Naughty boy! On the cheek. We’re not engaged yet!’ Then I gave him a hug.

  ‘Hmm, you smell nice,’ he said, grabbing me in a bear’s hug.

  ‘That’s yer ration of passion for the day, Henry,’ I said, pushing him away and laughing.

  Blondie was roaring her head off laughing. ‘Tsk, tsk! You should be ashamed of yourself, Martha. Cradle snatching!’

  ‘And you should keep away from that Russian!’ roared Henry, red-faced and disgusted because Blondie called him a baby. ‘That fellow is up to no good. I have seen the pair of you go twittering around him, and he is dangerous. I’m telling you! I have been watching hi
m. That fellow has managed to get himself out from behind the Iron Curtain, and he does not want to return. He’s floating around Europe looking for an opportunity, and he will use you!’

  I stared at him as Blondie laughed her head off, saying, ‘He’s doing no such thing. Ah, go on, Henry! You are just jealous. But never mind. You are a grand little fella, and don’t worry, I’ll wait for you until you grow up into a lovely handsome man!’ she laughed, tormenting him.

  Henry grabbed the bat and started bouncing balls off Blondie. She ducked and ran out of the room on her high heels, laughing.

  ‘I’ll be seeing you, Henry,’ I said, walking out of the room, a cold chill running through me, thinking, the voice of reason? Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings. I wonder! Those very words he’s just spoken are exactly what I had been thinking. Yeah! Enough messing, Martha. It might start off as fun, but these things can develop a momentum of their own. It’s all too easy when you are vulnerable. Watch your step, lady!

  I saw Jam-jar making a beeline straight for me and I stopped.

  ‘You are wanted back in the ward,’ he shouted down to me, waving me towards the door. ‘Go up now.’

  ‘OK! I’ll see you later, Blondie.’

  ‘I hope you didn’t get up to anything!’ she said, laughing and wondering what it was about.

  ‘I’ll soon find out,’ I said, heading for the stairs.

  ‘Get your things together, Martha. We’re moving you downstairs.’

  ‘Who, me?’

  ‘Yes, you! But don’t look so worried. You will be able to move about down there more freely. St Elisabeth’s means you are on your way home!’

  I trailed my way like a snail into my room and looked around, then stood staring at my wardrobe. I had this all to myself for nearly the last four months. Everything was in its place. Everything in order. I always have to have that. It makes me feel secure. I can’t stand chaos! It means being marooned, drifting around in a canoe without a paddle, and I can’t swim.