Borderline, Ohio

This site is, for now, anonymous. I am a writer and teacher living in the American Midwest. This is a story of mental illness, but it is not a story of redemption and resolution. It is a story that will be relatable and therefore cathartic to those in similar circumstances.During the worst years of my mother’s verbal abuse and psychological control of me and my family we felt helpless, lost. We searched in vain for books, articles, or websites that might capture and make sense of our circumstances. When I would no longer put my wife on the phone, as my mother demanded, she told me to write down what she was saying and then, when she doubted I was doing this, to record her so my wife could listen. I did.These are some of those tapes, from 2008-2010. They are raw, authentic, undoctored, painful, short samples from lectures, conversations, tirades that lasted anywhere from a few minutes to over an hour. Her words were like radiation, lasting long after my initial exposure and if any of them seem absurd or darkly comical, they were not at the time. They hurt, and they still hurt.There are several overlapping and interlocking themes that emerge here: the disintegration of what had been a close-knit family as a result of untreated mental illness; how sweet memories of the past were weaponized and turned into counter-narratives; and the killing effect of my mother’s words on my own writing. But this is also a story of the American midwest and a particular zone called Ohio.This is a year-long project with new episodes, images and commentary posted here each Tuesday and Friday by 5:00pm EST.Transcript:"I'm sorry for you that you have a wife that is not stepping up to the plate. Last Sunday we had fun, if we stayed within the perimeter of conversation that was allowed. Tell that to Mick Jagger. Tell that to . . . Janis Joplin. Tell that to . . . I mean I'm trying to . . . Hopper. Dennis Hopper. Tell it to Peter Fonda. Tell it to Jane Fonda. Tell it to anybody that represents our generation and we're gonna laugh at you, Nicky, because we never stayed within a box."

A family tragedy is one thing--in this case the death of my sister in 1975, when she was seven, of a brain tumor. How that death, which had created such a strong bond between my parents and I, was eventually turned into a weapon, is another thing altogether. And what of my writing, the fact of me as a writer, which had always been a source of pride for my parents? That was turned against me, as well. And what of The Planet of the Apes TV series from 1974? You'll have to listen to find out . . .

A screaming lecture a la Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? And why did we continue to take it? Why were we silent?

An audio clip from a 2009 phone call that shakes the writer's sense of who he is. Plus punk, Billy Graham, and a whispered condemnation.

How, as a writer, I kept trying to create in the blast furnace of my Mom's attacks on my work.

Was I the archangel of punk? According to my mom I was, and there was hell to pay. The full audio of my mother appears from 5:05-5:45.

Was the Clint Eastwood reference threat of violence real?

At a time when no other framework for understanding my mother makes sense, the philosopher Julia Kristeva steps in to help.