There’s just no easy way to talk about this, but our counselor insists we discuss this openly and frankly.
This morning we admitted Jennifer into the Dallas County Institution of Mental Illness. For those that are worried, let me assure you that Jenny is safe, and with your prayers, she will soon be happy. She is not in any danger, and her “condition” never significantly endangered our children.
Now that we got that out of the way, a brief recitation of the facts is in order. In late 2000, Jenny’s family began to grow concerned about her mental welfare. The brutal Idaho winter teamed with mountains of course work to cause Jenny temporary blindness in both eyes. Doctors thought it would wear off within a week; instead, it lasted deep into the spring of 2001. When her sight returned, she discovered that the man that just engaged her was not, in fact, the first man left off TIME’s “Sexiest Men Alive” list, as he had suggested. Moreover, her newfound power of sight revealed that his extra girth was not due to an “extra fluffy jacket.” But in her vulnerable state, she stuck with him.
Her family ordered a psychological evaluation as a precondition to her father granting permission for her to marry. She failed to show up to her appointment. In 2004, the dean of the school called Jenn into his office to suggest that, with her degree and exceptional resume, she should consider moving on to greener marital pastures. She responded with a 2,000-yard stare.
In 2006 a professor at BYU Law pulled Jenny aside at a BBQ and informed her that cutting edge legal theory suggested that an annulment was still possible since it would not be difficult to prove that a reasonable person would not have married me under normal conditions. In 2007 a new bishop counseled Jenny that the best solution to her troubles might in fact be to remove the source of all her problems—her husband.
Through the years friends, family, a few random strangers (including a few men at the discotheques Jenny frequents, whose names are usually of Latin derivation) have politely questioned Jenny’s sanity. This week, the struggle ended.
This morning Jenny woke up in the middle of the night, got out of her twin bed and walked over to mine, with her blankie in hand, and asked me to find her 72-hour kit, her lip gloss, and her poster of Taylor Lautner, and cart her over the hospital.
“I’m ready,” she exhaled, exhausted.
Thanks for all y’all’s understanding during this trying, yet hopefully curative, time.