 Nut shell A psychiatrist said something like this to me: "I am a little jealous; you got to go crazy, leave reality for awhile and come back to live among us. I kind of wish I could do that." Year was 1984, age 14 or 15, during a follow up appointment after my second hospitalization in a "mental ward". This post is just a seed to say I want to tell more of the story involving these events. As a young teen this statement gave me pause. Am I kinda cool, like a superhero created through an accident? Or do the REAL people measure me to decide when I, a NOT REAL person, can live or not with them? One thing is sure regardless of what measures are conjured up and scattered around - Every human is human. I was human before, during, and after hospital. Fellow patients, staff, family, passers-by. Yep. REAL humans too. These memories feel like poorly blended nut butter now. Shell, stem, protein, minerals. Crushed and mixed, the Vitamix motor now tired. This is not a nut butter to spread on toast and digest by others just yet. But the urge to figure out how to do this keeps poking at me. If you have ideas on how to package these pages into fruitful seeds, I want to hear them. Thanks for reading. Until later, Lynn copyright Lynn Jodeit Ouellette, 2024 | ___Says it better than I can. |
