mental illness
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The Walls Are Deaf, But They Know What You’re Thinking
The one thing you have in abundance in a mental hospital is time. Time to think. An omnipresent clock in the common room to remind you of all of the time left until the next group activity for you to sit and think. Always time to think, which isn’t good for nearly every single beaten…
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Mom
I tried my best. I really did. But things fall apart. My mother was bipolar and wouldn’t take her meds, so the highs were too high and too dangerous and then the lows were dark, prolonged and scary. She fought going into the hospital, but it wasn’t safe-she wasn’t safe. We had no alternative. She’s…
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The Dirty Work
You can throw all of the pills down the drain. It makes for a moment of defiance, of clarity. But does it change the underlying cause? Do you have a plan beyond turning on the disposal and feeling a bit better about yourself? Because now the hardest part comes in: talking about the dread and…
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Your Voice
Lunatics, madmen, crazies. Pejoratives thrown around to denigrate people we think don’t deserve dignity or respect, much less a cursory attempt at understanding. I’ve known so many who have been slammed by these words and much worse, but they persevere through the insults and the misfiring neurons in their brains. They fight to live another…
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Crackling
There is a crackling sound, over there, don’t you hear it? The cars scream by, but it’s still there. A consistent noise I can no longer run away from, then it fades out to silence with the dusk. I have to know what it is. Why it follows me all day long © 2022 Jeff…
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More Than Blue
Grandmother called it the bluesBecause she didn’t want to giveIt any more weight.She thought she could contain it.But it rolls down the generations,Gathering dark energy all the while.It got you at the umbilical, child, andNow you’ve grown and it’s got you whole.Every day a version downgrade fromThe last. The last. © 2022 Jeff E. Brown.…
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Long Way Back
Inside the endless nightI’m prisoner to the poisonous waysDepression has to take rootAnd blackout your days. Insidious and random,The victims are too many to count.Discovering at some dreadful pointThis disorder, this jail, won’t let you out. Giving in to the immense black hollowIs easy and sometimes we do.I’ll try to come back,To be the person…
Writing and Photography by Jeff E. Brown 