
A vintage electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) unit at the HCMC History Museum in Minneapolis, MN.
An excerpt from a book I’ve been reading lately, The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression:
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A vintage electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) unit at the HCMC History Museum in Minneapolis, MN.
An excerpt from a book I’ve been reading lately, The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression:

"U155 at Tower Bridge, London," 1919

"Bands of sheep on the Gravelly Range" by Russell Lee, 1942.
Lately, I have had a longing to stay curled up, under the covers, in a comfortable coffin with my cat. I have a serious and persistent attraction to sleep. I have had a curiosity towards life that has partially receded and is presently replaced with numbness and flight as a response to most everything.
I have been trying so hard to be sane, and was enthusiastic about treatment just a few weeks ago. I was willing to let professionals take ice-picks to my numbness and try to chip it off me. Maybe it’s worked, but I am not interested in handling it. I walk the halls of outpatient psychiatry wishing I were on the inside–locked in, drugged up, and put out of my mind.
Last weekend, I read Jim Knipfel’s Quitting the Nairobi Trio. It’s a memoir of his experiences in the psych wards of Hennepin County Medical Center back in the late 1980s. It was funny, intriguing, and entertaining–aside from the nonsensical hallucinations he’d often begin chapters with. They were confusing, often having little to do with anything else in the book, and served more of an insight into Jim’s haphazard subconscious.
And a quick link drop: