If Dimas had then fallen to pieces in the shower, pouring out through his tears years of hurt and relieving one moment of unfathomable pain, he saw no reason to tell these nice people anything about it.” (page 96)


Do you see what I see? That’s a very dangerous question for a mentally indisposed person to ask of the world.

Think about it. You’re sitting there on your couch staring at a pack of elephants in your den. You ask the world at large, “Do you see what I see?” The world at large replies, “Yeah, you need to dust that fireplace.”

It’s disturbing. It’s discomforting. It’s a sinking feeling to hear stark affirmation that yes indeed you are a loon.

Sometimes it’s better not to ask the question. Sometimes it’s better to just keep your mouth shut and pray that the pachyderms don’t mow you down while you crunch through a can of Pringles.

It’s a common misunderstanding that the secretiveness of many people suffering from mental illness has to do mainly with their wanting to avoid embarrassment. A lot of the time, I think, it’s about not wanting to be confronted with the truth. It’s that fear of realizing just how sick you are that keeps many of us from opening up about our illness.


Perhaps. Or maybe it’s just a case of not wanting to see the forest for the trees, or, in our case, the fireplace for the elephants.

So, you’ll please excuse the potato chips on my den’s floor. My elephants always leave crumbs.

Until tomorrow, the last of The Forsaken Blogs…

Chloe Stowe