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Posted on 28 April 2015
So, my mom’s dolls. Yeah.
I know how it looked. Barbie’s Silence of the Lambs Playhouse.
But, believe it or not, that horror show is an important part of my mom’s recovery. In fact, the whole thing was her shrink’s idea.
The world my mom lives in isn’t the same as ours. It’s full of unrecognizable faces, each one a source of confusion and fear. She knows that she used to trust people — to love people, even. But she can’t remember who. Or how. And so Dr. Drake told her to get some dolls, dress them up as the key characters in the melodrama that is her life, and… talk to them. Listen to them talk to each other. Listen to them talk to her.
To be honest, I’m not okay with it. I mean, isn’t it legitimizing her delusions? Isn’t there an “After School Special” word for that? Enabling?
But I can’t deny that Mom’s better. If you’d seen her before, you’re mind would be as blown as mine.
As for the dolls themselves… Yes, they’re all people you’ve met before. Yes, there were some... violent shenanigans happening. But if this is it what it takes for my mom to be free from the nightmare that her life has become, fine. Anything that helps her focus.
The important thing, now, today, is she’s convinced that somewhere in the hurricane of memories in her mind there is information that could help Stella. That could help all of us.
So, dolls, mannequins, inflatable parade floats, who cares.
Whatever it takes.