Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Michael Thomas Ford

Quote by Michael Thomas Ford

Work

Suicide Notes

This book delves into the lives of individuals grappling with the profound impact of loss, offering a raw and honest portrayal of the emotional turmoil that can accompany the end of life. Through a series of interconnected stories, readers are invited to reflect on the fragility of human existence and the enduring power of memory. more

Author

Michael Thomas Ford
Michael Thomas Ford

Michael Thomas Ford, born on October 1, 1968, is an accomplished author. His works span various genres and are recognized for their unique perspective and profound insights. more

You May Also Like

“I have schizophrenia. I am not schizophrenia. I am not my mental illness. My illness is a part of me.”

QuotesQuoteMental HealthQuote Of The DayMental IllnessQuotes To Live ByQuotes About LifeMentalityQuote Of The WeekSchizophreniaSchizophrenicMental Health StigmaMental DisorderQuotes And SayingMental DisordersMental Health ProfessionalsMental HospitalJonathan HarnischSchizophrenicsSchizoSchizo AffectiveSchizoaffective
Book:Jonathan Harnisch: An Alibiography
Create image

“My mother's mouth drops. 'Emmy...don't say those things Emmy. Remember, we don't talk about those things.' 'Yes Mom. I remember. That's why I'm here, looking like this.' An orderly knocks on the door and announces that visiting time is over. My mother and I look at each other awkwardly, and hug. 'I love you,' she says. 'I love you too, Mom.' 'You aren't telling them too much are you?' she asks, afraid. I sign. 'No Mommy, I'm not.' She's visibly relieved. She leaves the room. The orderley comes back and escorts me back into the main room. I just sit and laugh to myself." (after Emmy's suicide attempt) ~ The Finer Points of Becoming Machine”

LiesSuicideDenialSecretsEmotional AbuseAvoidanceDysfunctional FamiliesSuicide AttemptBad ParentingMental HospitalSuicdality
Author:Emily Andrews
Create image

“Right there in that room, listening to the tape Laura gave me, I decided that I wanted something more than what I’d allowed myself to become. Listening to the voices and piano notes fade in and out, I decided that I wanted to be happy. If I had to fight for things in life, I wanted to fight for something bigger than the right to eat with a fork. I wanted to love and be loved and feel alive. I had no idea how to find my way, but listening to that music wash over me, I felt, for the first time, that the struggle I faced would be worth it.”

InspirationalMusicMental HealthMental Hospital
Book:Giving Up the Ghost: A Story About Friendship, 80s Rock, a Lost Scrap of Paper, and What It Means to Be Haunted
Create image

“His first thought – what felt like his first thought ever, it formed so slowly in his brain – was that she looked like a doll. Just like a doll. Her eyes were large and bright and feline; her hair was chestnut, brushed to a hardwood shine, parted sharply and flowing to her thighs; her lips were cupid’s-bow-cute; her head was tilted to one side on a long, long neck. She had skin that had never seen sunlight, and wore no expression at all. He noticed her. And she noticed, and kept on noticing, him. Stanley looked down for a third and longer time. It wasn’t polite to stare. Not at girls. Or anyone. But especially not girls. Not even girls who looked like perfect porcelain dolls.”

LoveRomanceStaringAdmirationNoticePorcelainAsylumDollMental HospitalPorcelain DollTeenage Crush
Book:Release
Create image

“Eventually I had gotten it together enough to call her. I did so partly to let her know where I was and partly to almost brag about where I was. Whenever I’d get morose, sulky, or stuck somewhere between crabby and suicidal, she was quick to say something disarming or indirectly tell me things weren’t that bad. Laura wasn’t exactly dismissive of my feelings, but I often left our conversations feeling like she didn’t quite get how harsh things felt for me—or at least that she wasn’t willing to acknowledge it. This frustrated and upset me. I spent so much time trying to hide the depths of my feelings and the clusterfuckedness of my life from everyone, except her. The one person I was honest with was often telling me that I was being too dramatic, or overdramatic, or overthinking things, or would I just please change the subject. It wasn’t like she didn’t believe me—it was more like she questioned why I let things bother me so much. In a small way, ending up in the mental ward was a strange kind of validation for me. Being in Timken Mercy proved that when I was insisting that things were terrible, and she kept insisting that they weren’t, they were, in fact, kind of terrible.”

Mental HealthMental Hospital
Book:Giving Up the Ghost: A Story About Friendship, 80s Rock, a Lost Scrap of Paper, and What It Means to Be Haunted
Create image

“Randolph Maddix, a schizophrenic who lived at a private home for the mentally ill in Brooklyn, was often left alone to suffer seizures, his body crumpling to the floor of his squalid room. The home, Seaport Manor, is responsible for 325 starkly ill people, yet many of its workers could barely qualify for fast-food jobs. So it was no surprise that Mr. Maddix, 51, was dead for more than 12 hours before an aide finally checked on him. His back, curled and stiff with rigor mortis, had to be broken to fit him into a body bag.” THE NEW YORK TIMES April 28, 2002”

DeathDepressingEulogyUncaringNewspaperMental HospitalAbruptPatient Treatment
Book:The Devil in Silver
Create image