I'm nervous about using the FB account I've got because it was the one I used to contact my sister and other family members. I'm not comfortable with that account at all.
I'm not a fan of Facebook because it shows me the real face of people. If there was ever a question about how far and wide hatred is then FB settled it. I don't need to go into the whole issue of FB because many understand just how hateful things get on there........
I don't want to do anything open like I did on my other page. Since I'm not willing to post my own art on this page I have to ask myself, what's the point? Fish groups, insects and frogs are the only groups I go to FB for anymore. I want to delete stuff and just leave it empty.
I just don't want any contact with anyone in my family, they know the FB address I currently have. They all know that address. Yeah I have them all blocked but that's not protection.
I just don't see the point of using FB if all I do is hide. Using that address makes me nervous. It's insane how much time I spend hiding. I've blocked all my family members as best I know how.
Perhaps it would be better to focus on other areas such as Flickr and maybe do more YouTube videos of my art. I did a video recently and put it on my Flickr page. My video skills need more improvements but that seems doable. I'll stick with silent art slide shows but I realized that framed images don't do well in videos.
Heartbeat is in my sketchbook. She's 7 x 10 in ink and pencil. I'm going to have her enlarged before further work. Her heartbeat comes from her temples and stretches out to form the surface of the earth. Trees and flowers grow from her heartbeat.
She Realizes Her Totality
This is a half sheet pencil drawing with the same lines at the temples only the heartbeat lines go down and the face is divided. This piece is in my private sketchbook. I want a little bit of color on her but I don't want to do her in full color. I want it to be watercolor and to get it right I'm going to have to practice which means getting her printed so I can practice on something other than the original drawing.
There's a blog magazine I read called What's your grief?. It helps me process some of what I feel in a more tangible way. Recently I saw an entry called 64 Things I Wish Someone Had Told Me About Griefand immediately honed in on number thirty, “The last 24 hours of their lives will replay in your mind” and 36, “You lose yourself, your identity, meaning, purpose, values, your trust”.
I knew I'd go all over the emotional scale with grief. I knew I'd be in disbelief. I knew I'd sit shocked and trip over myself. I knew I'd bargain, that the world would look different, that I'd have memories so real it felt like I was standing there with him again. I knew these things, but I didn't know my ability to trust would be tested. I wasn't expecting that. I wasn't expecting to feel betrayed by the entire world for having the audacity to continue on without him. I was offended. How could you? How could you possibly keep spinning as if nothing happened? It's an insult.
I've learned something about the media while watching the Supreme Court in the Russian Federation. I've learned the importance of knowing your media sources and recognizing bias in individual journalists. When reading articles on several major media outlets I noticed huge misrepresentations and out right falsehoods reported about Jehovah's Witnesses. I've seen half truths and 'bated wording' that give a false impression. Seeing such articles has made me more aware of journalist bias in other areas of the news.
I'm writing today about the decision the Russian Federation has made against my spiritual family. Although the Supreme Court of the Russian Federation banned Jehovah's Witnesses and criminalize our activities, I have never been more proud of carrying his name or worshiping with his people.
I'm pleased to have been part of the letter writing campaign in response to the court case, and I look forward to supporting my brothers and sisters in Russia any way I can.
A few short days ago, all buildings, bank accounts and properties were seized by the Federation. Anyone worshiping as one of Jehovah's Witnesses can receive anywhere from 5 to 20 years per 'illegal' act of worship.
I've watched the video reaction from the world headquarters of JW's in New York and am solemn concerning the decision, but encouraged by the faith my spiritual brothers and sisters have shown in Russia and across the globe.
Today I begin the process of bottling up tinctures and oils used to help with Lupus and Chronic Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy. The tinctures help ease pain, decrease inflammation and strengthen my immune system.
Today I'll press out the lavender infusion and bottling that before I start on tinctures. The last thing I want is to cross contaminate lavender infusion with turmeric tincture. It's not a good mix. The Passion Flower tincture is the one that helps ease anxiety and aid in sleep.
The homeopathy care plan I have is a good one, but there are times when I don't take it even though I should and I can. I've always done this. Even though I am fully med compliant I hardly ever take extra meds, even when they're prescribed. I've been given a medication script to knock me out when my pain level reaches a nine. I've been told how to take this med but it's hardly ever done. I've been given medication to assist with anxiety attacks and assist with sleep but it is hardly ever taken. Why? Why do I continue to deny myself comfort or an easier course?
The timing of this crisis with my sister is one that has been brought to my attention more than once, but I reject the idea that I should see this upset as anything other than coincidence. She hates me, she's not going to manipulate a person she hates by saying she's going to kill herself. She's not reacting to the entries I wrote about letting her go. I reject the idea that she feels anything at all for me so that she would act out because I said I no longer hope in ghosts. People can say what they want, the timing of this is coincidental, but my stand is firm and decisive.
I sent her a letter to go under her door. Her apartment is the last place anyone saw her or heard from her. I sent the letter because I had to. How could I not? When I realized I could possibly contact her I sent a letter through a friend of a friend.
My every waking thought is her but that's not how it was two weeks ago. Two weeks ago I felt ready to walk away emotionally. I felt ready to move forward and let the past stay the way they created it. But today, she's all I think about. She's all I think about.
what I require.
gentle words, soft hands, moss under my feet,
rocks to turn in my palms and run over my fingers.
water to flow and fish to fly
the purr of the cat
and a pillow that doesn't reveal my prayers.
Fish in the air
Fish wish to fly.
They spread their wings in a watery sky.
They dance and dive like sparrows,
hold heat under their wings as an eagle, and
Circle like a crow.
To their dismay, grounded they remain like a laughing, senseless ostrich.
I hugged the lady very tight. She knows my sister. She gave me an update. My sister has locked herself in the apartment and there is still no movement, no contact, nothing has changed. They do know she was last seen in there. No phone activity, no FB activity.
I hand wrote a letter to her. I said nothing negative at all. I said she doesn't deserve to die and that I understand a lot of what she's going through. I asked her to rethink things, to let her support system do what she gathered them to do. She sought out good, solid supporters. I know 2 of them personally.
Of her friends, I asked them to have patience with her. She's a 50-year-old woman who doesn't know what to do with herself. She has to be told what to do and when she's told, she will do exactly as she's instructed. She won't do more or less. The lady kept looking at me like it should be simple for her to function because she's a 50-year-old woman. I said, she's not a 50-year-old woman who has matured. Being on her own is culture shock. She has no clue what she's doing, none. I shared the story that tells exactly how she thinks. I told the story about the garbage bag that my mother told her to get. She got the bag and then waited to be told to put the trash in it. Her friend put her hand over her mouth then said, that's exactly what she does. She waits to be told what to do.
Content: Spiritual abuse. Emotional and psychological abuse, homelessness, covert sexual abuse
Mother taught me that if I do the little things right I'll do the big things right. She taught me that a strong foundation must be laid but that all foundations start with a grain of sand. Their grains packed together to support materials much stronger than a grain of sand standing alone. To build up a solid foundation we must do the small things right.
My mother taught me that I have no foundation and that my presence was like a sledgehammer against her house.
My mother taught me a scripture that says, "By my God I can climb a wall" and a scripture that says, "If a tree gets cut down it will sprout again."
My mother placed walls around me I felt I could never escape. Inside those walls she did her best to root out willfulness, individualism and hope.
My mother taught me that I can only trust her and that I don't have the intelligence to live without her. She said I'd never survive out here in the world, that she alone could protect me.
She said to tell her if anyone ever touched me wrong. It was her hands around my mouth, my neck. She touched every aspect of me and left me ruptured.
My dear mother, my poor mother is food for worms. How undignified. I hate that.
I keep going back and forth between anger and anguish, but I have not felt depressed over this. I realized something some time ago, when I'm angry I'm active, when I'm depressed I'm down for the count. We talk a lot in my therapy sessions about how I respond to my emotions. It appears that anger gets the most physical action. I stand up and gather my guns, my resources.
When I feel lonely I become desperate and irrational. Fortunately I haven't had the feeling of chronic loneliness in many years. Loneliness can break bones.
When I'm embarrassed I kick into humor but humiliation makes me rage against myself which leads to wanting to die. Feeling humiliated is a strong trauma trigger that I don't do well with at all. I stop hearing what's real and want only to bury or destroy that feeling. This is an ongoing issue.
When I'm depressed I stop taking care of myself. Everything seems to be a huge ordeal, including taking out a frozen dinner to put it in the microwave. When depressed I over think everything. The longer I feel depressed the more my environment and appearance deteriorates.
When I feel vulnerable or feel as though I have lost a certain amount of control over my life I begin to obsess. Obsessive thoughts are accompanied by obsessive cleaning and organizing. I start trying to control every little tiny aspect of my environment.