Part 1. Madness

Insanity was to my childhood what water is to a fish—constant, enveloping, and paradoxically suffocating, even when unseen.
It was a presence that permeated everything. Even in its absence, I felt it in the silence it left behind.

The world I knew was one of fragmentation, delusion, and stagnation. My family—and my reality—were shattered by my mother’s illness, which kept her in and out of hospitals and institutions for ten years.
To protect myself, I disassociated from that world. But in doing so, I also stopped developing—emotionally, spiritually, and intellectually.

That is not to say we didn’t laugh, smile, or play. We did all of that. But it was always against the backdrop of my mother’s cries and fears.

These vignettes are fragments of that world. On their own, they don’t offer a complete picture. But together, they form something like a film—disjointed, jerky, full of jumps. Then again, that’s how my life felt: like a roller coaster ride.

It wasn’t until I escaped that nightmare that I awoke to a world I had never known—one filled with trials and obstacles, yes, but also with love, laughter, and play; with wonder, mystery, and awe.

Examples of my figurative expression can be found here: Albert P. Carpenter and here: Albert P. Carpenter