More or Less Maddy

by Lisa Genova

It’s a familiar, dreaded houseguest come to visit, a hated, sleazy distant cousin from out of town who shows up unannounced and overstays, sometimes for months. And there’s nothing she can do but open the door and let him in.

But this chose her. Without her consent, like an arranged marriage, till death do they part. She wants an annulment, a divorce, an open window onto a fire escape, a new doctor, a time machine. Some way out of this.

The invitation requesting her presence at a normal life has been rescinded. In its place, she’s been invited to an abnormal life, the box for WILL ATTEND already checked, leaving her no choice.

She misses her favorite jeans, her clear face, her steady hands. She misses who she was before her diagnosis. She misses herself.

“Let me tell you something. You start before you’re ready. You jump into the fire. That’s how you cook your craft.”

She didn’t want to hurt his feelings or make him feel rejected. It was easier to acquiesce than speak up and risk inviting conflict or being labeled “difficult.” No one likes a girl who is difficult. And above all, she had to be liked.

The language of this illness is a curious thing. Some people will say she has bipolar, while others will say she is bipolar. It’s a subtle distinction in wording, a linguistic sleight of hand, but the difference in meaning feels significant.

Her mother wanted a normal life for her daughter because she believed that in normalcy, her daughter would be safe. But as they’ve learned, normal isn’t real. What passes for normal in Vegas isn’t normal in Connecticut. And even a culturally approved, traditionally “normal” life doesn’t inoculate anyone from hardship or unhappiness.