I picked up two books from mom tonight. I offered to take them to storage. Though she said she would do it herself, she agreed when I told her I wanted her not to have to carry so much. She took them out of her bag, one wet and molding. “I should give you a … Continue reading Two Books
It’s happening. She’s meeting with the psychiatric liaison at the police department, someone who could help change her life. After trying to get her help and mostly failing, it is the best thing that’s happened all year. Still she’s on the street. It is more awful than I can imagine for her and I’m getting … Continue reading Getting Used to This
I have a story inside me and I’m afraid it’s so big it could blot out the sun. It rocks in the ocean of my belly and the waves come out in tears. My face knows this place where I have never smiled, still as stone. I have a story that rings from under glass. … Continue reading I have a story
I keep telling myself this, knowing it’s true, knowing I don’t quite believe it yet. Bargaining, they call it. I keep trying to figure out how to get her well again or at least safe. Right now, it is all awful. We are past the point where she will take shelter voluntarily. If I try … Continue reading Some Things Cannot Be Fixed
I want someone to tell me the right thing. I want someone to tell me do or do not do. I want someone to tell me the thing that is going to fix this. I have the trust of my mother at a time when I am the only family member she trusts. When her … Continue reading I Want a Definitive Answer
Dooley is my family nickname from childhood. It seems most appropriate as a pen name because I will be writing about my family, my mother, her mental illness, and homelessness particularly. I would love to tell you I am embracing anonymity to protect my mother’s privacy. That is part of it, of course. The fact … Continue reading Hi, I’m Dooley.