A Man Named Blue & A Dog Named Cashew

My husband has decided that he wants to be called Blue and he is asserting that he has a dog named Cashew that doesn't actually exist. Yes, I know, this sounds a lot like an identity problem and possibly a psychotic break. However, I think it's more about crossing into his forty's (i.e., midlife crisis), a bit of boredom, and even more about getting under my skin.

My son, husband, and I took a mini-vacation over spring break to visit the Kennedy Space Center. At the end of a long, educational, and fun-filled day, we stumbled upon a wonderful restaurant in Cocoa Beach for dinner. My husband grunted as he considered the specials on the menu and then, with a gleam in his eye and a bit of spittle at the corner of his mouth, he proceeded to describe to me the prime rib special topped with blue cheese and butter sauce that he intended to order. The redneck drawl he affected indicated to me that "Blue" was in the house. Over the past month, my husband has adapted this alter ego he affectionately calls Blue. He insists that if I were to call him by this new nickname that the power of suggestion would cause everyone to do the same. He has always wanted to be a quirky, mysterious character who derives wonder and awe from the ordinary people in the world. Now he has a name for this character.

Our conversation about Blue gorging himself on the fattiest meat of the cow sparked a new conversation about the differences between delusional disorder and schizophrenia. As I tried to explain the difference between the two disorders, I realized how similar and confusing these illnesses can look, even to a counselor. Criteria for schizophrenia includes "bizarre" delusions, like aliens living in the closet and performing surgery on you every night. Whereas, delusional disorder is characterized by nonbizarre delusions, such as having a dog no one else has seen. Just because no one has ever seen the dog doesn't mean it doesn't exist somewhere. My husband has been insisting to myself and our son that we have an invisible dog named Cashew. Now, we do have a real dog named Peanut who considers me the Alpha dog in the family. Therein lies the rub. My husband doesn't like not being the Alpha dog, so he has invented Cashew the dog to be Alpha dog to. He asserts that if he suggests enough to us that we have a "Cashew," then I will accept it as true, get a real puppy he can name Cashew, and Cashew will, by default, choose my husband as Alpha dog and overthrow my reign!

As bizarre as this all seems, this actually is a mini power struggle between myself and my husband, also known to himself as Blue. So, my womanly wiles and psychological training thrust into overdrive. I smiled prettily, as he stabbed his bloody, blue cheese covered cow, and assured him that he is the Alpha male of my heart as well as this whole family. And, as the grease dribbled down his chin, I added, "Honey, I think we should increase the life insurance policy on you, Blue and your dog named Cashew."