Why Ellen Sollinger Walker's Writing is Important

(...and sifting through old roots)

My therapist likes to bedazzle Crocs—she says it’s a good hobby to soften her anxious thoughts. Sometimes we don't talk about my problems at all, but instead place our dogs in front of the Zoom cameras and complain about how bad they need a trim. We each have poodles, and still not sure the best way to get the brown spots from under their eyes. It’s nice, to not always be sad during therapy and to remember that I am a person beyond my swelling traumas.

We published Ellen Sollinger Walker’s writing on May 19th, 2023. I remember reading her story for the first time, and then reading it again, and again—and far beyond the time we had published it. Condensed, but crucial. The story revolved around a counselor and her patient, and their short lived professional relationship right before he committed suicide. The narrator questions herself in the end, circling around the idea of what she could have done to prevent it, and accepting the gravity behind grief, even when it’s right at your door.

Aaron, the patient, is to himself for the most part. He’s described as a tall young man who keeps the conversation shallow—mainly about his achievements in basketball, all up until a day where he mentions Stockholm. He met a woman there who he fell in love with, they’d read poetry to each other and make love in the woods, her Swedish covered English accent was his paradise, and they melted in the forest. Amongst the love they uncovered in the leaves, was also a tick.

Aaron reveals he contracted Lyme disease, and ever since it’s not only affected him mentally, but had dampened and severed the romance he had. He wasn’t the same person. He came out of it muddied by the woods, the leaves, the closed in sunshine—he mentions the desolate nature of his mind, and struggles with envisioning it any other way.

By law, if a patient were to communicate to their therapists any subtle possibility of considering suicide, the therapist must act upon that statement and alert the authorities. Twigs and Dead Leaves left me asking how many patients had to bury those ideas, so much that they’d rather be buried with their lost cries. I’ve hidden those sentiments, told my therapist, Yeah–I’m just a little sad today, when sad meant that my appetite was nonexistent. I felt exposed by the writing, and I think Ellen Sollinger Walker’s tempo is necessary, especially when it’s sometimes easier to pick up a story than to call a friend for help.

I identify myself as a chatroom kid, and what comes with that is the burden of wanting to express myself through computer screen text rather than eye-to-eye. After my mom passed away, I moved to a new school in a completely different area of New York. It was middle school and I shopped at Old Navy, which meant I wasn’t cool because I couldn’t afford Hollister. Chatrooms were comfortable, and everyone there was a loser, it was just a matter of time before you could meet your loser.

I ended up making friends around the world, working up the nerve to video chatting with complete strangers, all up until I was old enough to move out. Even on video chat, I often had to use my keyboard to communicate to avoid my grandmother hearing me giggle at 1am. This was my safe space and in the weirdest way, transitioned to even being my safe space now. Discord, Reddit, Instagram and the Papers I find myself indulged in, have become my weighted blanket.

I’m close to 30 now, and as I find my way through the heirlooms of the internet, I’ve become more accustomed to translating my online self into my day-to-day self. I’m able to recognize just a bit better, but it doesn’t mean I’ve perfected it. Just because counseling is available to me, doesn’t mean I’ve shrugged off all the impairments that have left my life on standby. In the times where I bite my tongue, I think of Aaron. I think of Ellen Sollinger Walker, and I think of Papers. The faculty of needing to be human, without the clear understanding of what is humane is crippling.

It brings me to a conversation I had yesterday with a coworker. She’s an avid reader, and often picks up allegorical books with strong themes of moral questioning. She talked about Dostoevsky, and how they were able to successfully push discourse on professional achievements being stunted by personal principles. How do we get past that sort of dysfunction? It’s having to move forward within a life that hasn’t been rewired to understand mental health. It’s not always easy to dissect these triggers and imbalances, but it’s owed to us.

I sit and think about Ellen Sollinger Walker, and the stories that fit into their writing. I look at my therapist across a Zoom camera, and I tell myself, Jade—it’s okay to talk today.

-Jade, Founder of Papers Publishing

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Read Twigs and Dead Leaves by Ellen Sollinger Walker