Journeys of the Mind

By Sheila Hinnenkamp

Journeys of the Mind is a fictional collection of four short stories with the basis of each being a different mental illness. The people in the book intentionally have not been named, because it is the author's hope that the reader will identify them with someone in their own lives. My hope is that Journeys of the Mind will instill empathy in the reader for those who are not classified as normal by society's norms. So take a journey into the minds of four different characters who suffer from depression and delusions, dissociative identity disorder (schizophrenia), Alzheimer's, and codependency.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781504984423

Sheila Hinnenkamp

Sheila Hinnenkamp is a single mother of three grown children. She has had a lifelong love of reading and writing but has earned her living as a licensed hairstylist for twenty-four years, which means she is quirky and artistic. She enjoys making beaded jewelry, crocheting, and other crafts, because she is unable to just sit and not have busy work. Sheila has an AS degree in human services, which is where she became intrigued with mental illnesses, their causes, and their treatments. Sheila is a Wichita native, who has resided in the Tampa Bay Area of Florida for twenty-eight years.

Book preview

JOURNEYS

of the

MIND

Sheila Hinnenkamp

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AuthorHouse™

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Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2016 Sheila Hinnenkamp. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 03/08/2016

ISBN: 978-1-5049-8443-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-8442-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016903833

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

The Journey

Voices

Fading Away

Broken Lives

THE JOURNEY

I am never alone. Ever though sometimes, like a huge gaping jaw that unlocks and swallows me whole, loneliness consumes me, and with it, sadness descends like night; covering me with its heavy midnight blanket, drowning me in the darkness of its depths. The wetness of my tears awaken me and I slip from my bed and creep out into my living room, where I look out into the black night and stare out at the stars. Home, I feel as I look up into the stars, they seem to be calling me home.

The daily struggles to survive overwhelm me. So many people to care for, to ensure their own survival. Everyone pulling me in a different direction. When is it my turn to have someone to lean on, somebody to turn to? Someone of my own to love me. Just love me for me and not for what I can provide for them.

As I stare into the sky a door opens, a portal and I walk through an archway of twisted vines of dark shiny green leaves and tiny white flowers whose pale blue stamens are longer than the petals it pokes out of. I wander into the grey mist and pull my wrap close around me; hugging myself with its softness. Sinking onto the ground, I curl up on the fragrant, dewy grass and find myself once again looking up into a black sky, dotted with stars. My eyelids grow heavy and I am lulled into a deep slumber by the songs of the insects and some far off melancholy tune that floats through the mist.

I awaken, or am I dreaming still? A field of wildflowers catches my sight. Giant fluffy dandelions in pastel colors poke out of the greenest grass I have ever seen. Purple, magenta and yellow flowers as big as my hand gaze lovingly up at the bright sun, alongside giant drooping trumpet flowers in every color of orange form salmon to reddest orange. I must be dreaming, but never have my dreams been so vivid that I feel as if I could taste the flowers. The sweetest fragrances fill my nostrils, each individual scent