The People Behind My Eyes

My head feels a little more stable than it was a few days ago.

I got a letter from my GP saying he will no longer work with me. This is the GP that made it very difficult to show up to appointments because he acted like he didn't want to be in the same room with me. I've talked about him a lot on this blog so I won't recount all the difficulties but I will say that it's a slap in the face.

I will also concede that I was wrong to leave the type of message I did. It was forceful. I asked her to explain why she can't get my meds right, the meds I've had for several years. I said, you first made a math error but now what's this error? I wasn't polite but again, I didn't yell or name call. I asked why they talked to my dentist when I didn't sign anything saying they could talk. I remember leaving that message and I remember thinking that I couldn't stop talking. I could see myself very animated but I couldn't stop. I won't say if it was a medical situation or mental health because I don't know. I don't normally leave confrontational voice messages. I don't normally call the nurse on her crap without tact. I feel like I got kicked out for doing that and it makes me angry that for two years I dealt with his attitude but he couldn't manage to recognize my issue. ...continue reading

Sleep, sleep and more sleep with itching in between.

I have a pretty extensive reaction to the urushiol contact. Both hands, neck to the hair line and on top of one shoulder have all have a poison oak rash. I'm staying on top of it. I feel there's improvement. Of course this is a problem but I'm still not tripping out about it.

So, yesterday I took out the trash and passed "the tree", the tree where I found a tiny little snail. I had to pop over there and take a look. I now have 2 microscopic garden snails in the terrarium home. (insert happy dance)

Both snails are so, so tiny. I hope they'll live. They hurried away into the moss jungle when I put them in their new home. I do hope they get stronger. They've got names. They're Uru Oak and Shiol Oak.  🙂 I found the tiniest, itty bitty little acorns that I added before I found the snails. Their home is so cute and ready to hold them for a long time.

Oh yeah, my pill bug colony is doing wonderfully. The small cricket farm is doing well as is the worm compost pile.

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I arrived at the dentist office and had two teeth ripped out of my face. Right now I have a headache behind my right eye and in my jaw, the same headache that brings me to tears and that isn't touched by 10-325 Vicodin.
I've put cold packs on and have laid in the dark. Mary Jane wants nothing to do with me a I turn this way then readjust that way. As a matter of fact, she's asleep in front of the mirror. Talk about vanity. She's sleeping next to an image of her furry self. I'd like to sleep.

Out of frustration for the pain I decided I needed to get out of the house. This is the type of pain I want to run from. It's gnawing, aching, pulsating. It dies down then increases to fill the entire right side of my face and on to the shoulder. I was put on much stronger antibiotics. The extractions hurt so badly!!! The dental situation wasn't done by my regular surgeon because this was an emergency appointment.

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The highlight of my week has been to getting poison oak. I'm not upset about it, not really. I've got it on my neck and under my chin as well as on my right hand. I've been doing alcohol rinses and so it should calm down pretty soon. I was outside looking for a garden snail, but I can't find one anywhere. I want a garden snail as a pet for a terrarium I have all set up for it. I can't find a snail but I did find poison oak. oops.

I have one emergency dental appointment tomorrow to manage some of the issues that have come up. Tomorrow I won't see my regular dental surgeon but a different man and his nurses. I'm nervous about this because I won't know them. Having a familiar face in the room is helpful. At least with this appointment we fast track the dental saga as a whole. It's possible I'll only have two more appointments with my regular dentist after this.

My body is not managing the saga well at all. I'm very, very tired. The emotional stress of going in slashes at my ability to function during for days after the appointment.

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Emery spoke up. She told Dr. D about what happened outside the restroom window then read him the piece of writing we did to release anxiety concerning recent violence and past violence. She read the entire story and cried while doing so. (Here I am again sitting up after hiding my face in my hands.) Reading that story to myself is one thing but reading it out loud felt even more intense. He agreed it was an intense and emotional piece of writing. He agreed that I made the right decision to stay secured in the apartment while yelling for the people to stop fighting. He understood the trigger.

As if there aren't enough therapy assignments, I am to paint the emotional response to my brother being beaten at age three as well as my present day emotion concerning his death. In all, there are 4 paintings whose design is to help desensitize trauma.

As I type this I am still very tired and struggling to keep my eyes open. I hope this entry makes some kind of sense.

Reading the story out loud was painful and helpful. I remember thinking, dang, this story is good, too bad it's based on real events. I liked some of the imagery.

He asked if I feel suicidal. I said no. He asked about self injury impulses and I said yes but I've been watchful, proactive in preventing triggers. One major thing I do is make sure my meds aren't close to my bed. They don't sit out in the open, either. I set up each dose in a small clay bowl then put the bottles in a basket with a doll made to cover the basket. The amount of PRN's allowable are in a different little clay bowl. By my bed I have a small container of colored pencils and various kinds of markers. In general I use an x-acto knife to sharpen my pencils but I only use that blade in the studio area. By the bed I use a pencil sharpener. Doing this removes a ready to use instrument for self harm.  ...continue reading

I'm out of it but only because I've had no sleep.
Oh, hey, I painted yesterday. I painted in watercolor. I did flowers of course.

I've fallen asleep standing up or sitting here in front of the computer.
The sleepiness feels more like exhaustion that finally takes over. There's a suction away from wake. I'm not sure if I'm explaining myself well. I'm tired, trying to keep my eyes open but there's this very uncomfortable feeling that sucks me away until I lean and jerk myself away trying to sit back up.
When I fell asleep sitting up I heard snapping sounds, like the sound of a snapping twig. I can hear the people in my head chattering. One female voice gets louder but it disappears as I snap awake. I have no idea what she's or they are saying. ...continue reading

Don't cha love good, cheap eats?marked down from $23.11 to $8.38

Earlier today I put the filling for homemade samosa filling in the crockpot and let it to simmer. I've had a few already and really enjoyed them. I've divided them into little portions for freezing so I can take them out and make more when I want them.

I did all the ingredients prep including making my own Masala and my own curry powder, but I cheated and used a store bought pastry. I think instead of beef I'll use lamb next time.

I've been craving chicken burritos. I need to make Spanish rice if I'm going to do that.... At least my appetite is still good. lol I made African donuts the other day as well as plantain fritters. These little treasures go with my tea time in the evening. I don't need a huge snack, just something nice to go along with late tea.

The other day I found one of my prize sales. I found pork chops for a steal. The original price was $23.11 marked down to $8.38. I love sales like that. I got 9 thick cut pork chops. That's how I get good eatin' on my budget. 🙂  ...continue reading

This morning I woke to no electricity. My first thought was, "I paid that bill. What the heck!!!" Then I thought, crap, I don't have hot tea. As I got my phone to call the electric company to see what's going on, I went over in my mind how to make a cup of hot tea using a clay flower pot and tea candles. BTW - this is not a good heating source for your home. .....um, ... Let me see........ Don't leave the room while its heating, don't use too many candles, do research on how to do this...all other disclaimers apply.

Okay, so, with the tea emergency resolved I called the electric company and found out there had been a storm and that lights in my neighborhood would be back on in half an hour. Liars. lol It took two.

I can sleep through just about anything. I sleep like a rock! I bet I'd sleep through Armageddon if someone didn't wake me.

"Faith, get up!"
"Girl, what's wrong with you waking me like that!"
"Get up. He's back."
"Who?"
"Christ. He's here. Girl, get up!"

No time for tea.

Faith

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Strange Sisters - Young Children in the Sun Well, that was heavy. I felt relieved after writing that story. Reading over it I'm able to see how close I stuck to reality. I'll put this to bed after I process why I said there's a reflection of me in each character in the story Tea for Christopher.

Content: Physical abuse of a young child. Processing the previous entry. No sexual abuse mentioned or discussed.

Christopher
I'm primarily Christopher in the story who tries to manage the unmanageable. I had Christopher leave home just the way I did, an unplanned exit on a night of routine abuse. I couldn't do it another night, not another second. I left Feb 2, 1992 at 10:30 pm and I never went back home. I went to a hotel that evening then got up to go to work. I never went back home.
Just like with Christopher, I did watch my little brother beaten with a dowel rod. Just like in the story, he was held down with one hand by my mother and beaten with a dowel rod until he was no longer even screaming. I walked away and left him with that monster. A few days later he was removed from our home by Child Protective Services. I felt so broken by that loss.
It is safe to say, the story Tea for Christopher was triggered by what happened the other night outside my window.

Ruby, the mother
It's interesting that the mother wasn't given a name until about the middle of the story. I realized I kept calling her 'his mother'. I didn't think too hard about a name for her but I immediately rejected Diamond. Now, the name Ruby seems appropriate only because of the color.
Why am I the mother in the story? I see how much my life revolved around creating situations that would appease my abuser while ignoring myself and my needs. An abused child is always at the beck and call of the abuser, there is no time for anything else.
I never told her, but I apologized in my heart for being a bad daughter. Though my mother left us repeatedly (a few days tops) there was a constant threat of being sent to the orphanage where my grandfather grew up. She was neglectful in criminal ways. Abandonment issues are still a huge problem for me. ...continue reading

My style is to just write and only correct spelling once I've completed it. Even the names of characters are made up as I go. I write until I feel I've released enough.

Content: After reading through it, I realized I'm all the characters, all of them, without exception. The story includes domestic violence, child abuse, the death of a child, blood from an accidental cut on the hand, physical violence towards a male teenage child. No sexual abuse is discussed in this quick write. Spaces are added to distinguish one speaker from another. I used a phrase taken from congressional hearings but left out all other sarcasm or humor.

"Christopher, your father will be here any minute, please set the table. Get his tea cups, please." Christopher rolls his eyes and says, "He''ll be here just a minute?"
"Not now, just finish setting the table, please."

He sighed heavily but very carefully pulled down four small, black Japanese cups with a red flower he couldn't identify. He sat them beside four square black plates and utensils he just figured out how to use. He's frustrated.... no, offended. His father will be home soon so his parents can begin their ritual of pretending to be happy. In the blink of an eye the tide will change from a perfect brew to boiling lava spilling from his mouth burning his mother to the core. She lets him and she won't stick up for her son. Her whole world is a man who comes home angrier each night and stays only to start another war. He leaves the carnage on the floor and goes out for the night.

Christopher's mother begins to bring the meal out to the table but upon seeing the settings she gasps and drops the platter. "Why would you do that? Why are you so cruel to me?"
Christopher feels the weight of what he's done and turns his head away from her. "Do it right and quickly!" she demands, but he's firm in his resolve.
"No. The table is set. You wanted a family dinner and I've set the table for us all."

By the end of her teenage son's sentence she has become a quivering ball of tears. "Why? Why would you do this? I just wanted a nice night for once. Help me clean this mess. Help me get this off the floor before he gets here." Christopher's eyes begin to well with tears, his breath is heavier and his heart has moved to his throat, but he leans next to his mother whose tears now mix with the ruined dish. He cleans the broken glass from the floor. Mother is still crying, heartbroken that she won't get it right, again. She can't seem to do anything right. She's a failure, a disappointment, again. As she hears the same old argument of worthlessness, she notices that Christopher's hand is bleeding. He continued to pick up the pieces one by one, leaving drops behind as a witness to his loyalty, to his love and exasperation for the woman he calls mother.

His mother grabbed his hand and looked at him, "You're bleeding. Honey, you're bleeding. Don't you see?" He dropped his head and shook it in disbelief that she for once saw that he too bleeds. "Christopher, what are you doing, go wash your hands, you're hurt." Christopher pulls back and continues to pick up tiny shards of glass. He pauses and says, "You never make special tea for me."
"What? What are you talking about?" She's confused. I mean my goodness, her husband is going to walk in the house and they'll both be on the floor cleaning up her hundredth failure of the day. Her mind is cluttered, she tries to prioritize. Clean this up, get something else, get a reason for the delay and stay calm.

Christopher places the last of the glass on top of the pile of broken pieces. His hand drips a steady stream and shocks his mother back to the person standing right in front of her. She says nothing this time. Still crying she looks at him bewildered then holds his hand, wiping the blood away with her dress, the one she put on for her husband who will come through that door any minute. She wipes away the blood, but can't stop his steady stream of tears. "What's going on with you? What's all this about? Tell me." ...continue reading