There is no update on the eviction threat or my sister. There's a temporary resolution to lack of transportation to see my therapist.
As always, I think of my sister every single day, just not every single second of every day.
I realize I focus on my brother's death more than my mother's. It reminds me very much of being a child who felt it was too dangerous to be angry with the abuser so she chose the safest route of blame and anger.
I can't touch my mother's dramatic exit without trembling. At least there are words to describe how I feel about my brother. I wasn't prepared for the changes his death would make in my life, but I'm not short on words, not by far. I could easily fill the heart of a violin telling him how it feels to be left this way. ...continue reading →
I told Dr. D that I realize I don't trust as fluidly since my brother died.
There is a sense of betrayal by him because of committing suicide.
I vomited out my heart the day he died.
We talked about getting some old violin so I can write him letters and put notes in there about things I remember we did together, about when he discovered he was HIV positive and when he picked up and left the state, did his thing with music, went to Spain, went back home to New York and died. There's a lot I'd like to write and put inside the heart of those strings.
My favorite instrument is the cello. I'm a strings girl. He was a violinist.
I want to tell him I was at his recital when he was 15. He gave it at the Children's Museum here in Indy.
I want to tell him I'm proud of him for not accepting that a man with large hands can't play the violin. He grew to 6'5. When he began to struggle he hired a man to help him learn to play at his size. He loved the violin and he was bound and determined to play and play well.
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.
Today's therapy discussion focused on family matters: mother's thorough brainwashing and effective divisive tactics, scapegoating, emotional boundaries between myself and all birth family and a recap of nightmares from a few days back. After writing this entry I was reminded of the paintings "Resilience Tree," so I included them in the entry.
I was awake all night and until around 10:30 this morning. I had my session to go over the graphically violent and blood dream about cannibals and going to a psychiatric prison for the mentally insane because I was guilty of murdering my child self, the inner child of my sister and the inner child of my brother. I'll pick up more on that topic later.
We talked about the complete lack of protection from my mother: physical, emotional and spiritual responsibilities were ignored or out right withheld.
I was nervous, again. Dr. D said it's normal for a person to feel some anxiety when going to a session, even when they've been in treatment a long time. We talked about the Passion Flower tincture I made and how effective it is. I keep forgetting to take it though. I still scribble to ease anxiety.
We talked about the two dreams and what I think they might mean. I told him that the dream where I was on the outside of the car while my mother and sister were inside reminds me of how I usually felt like an outsider in that family. I hated them for what they did and said. I hated secrets, most of all I didn't keep to the rules of Master and servant the way my sister did. After paying severely for running my mouth one would think I'd learn to keep it closed but nope. Sometimes I was annoyed or out right disgusted by their pretense and let it show on my face or I rolled my eyes and said, "Oh please!" I paid for it. I understand that death in dreams isn't always negative. In this case we all three died after recklessness by my mother. Recently the 'death' of hope that my sister and I will ever be anything other than relatives has settled in. That death means life without hoping in ghosts.
I updated the Featured Art Gallery page. This month’s feature will have a color theme. Color is important in my therapy process. Since Sundrip is about the art and artist trying to thrive it only makes sense I’d have an Art Therapy Gallery and speak openly about the role art has in my healing.
The last feature spoke of the color blue and it's meaning. This feature will focus on the color orange.
Orange in art therapy or art created as therapy symbolizes fleeting courage, self doubt, ambiguity. What I mean is, I'm faced with conflicting emotions or I am going to take action but I'm not quite secure in my steps.
Orange is a color that slides back and forth between red and yellow. Red in my art therapy stands for empowerment and positive self esteem. The other side of that is yellow which is for shame and all acts of depravity. When those two collide there's a struggle to stabilize and sort out how I see myself and my situation.
The video is a quickly thrown together sound bite with several art pieces that fit the topic. Death of my brother as well as sexual abuse, suicidal ideation and self harm (cutting) are discussed along side art stills. Close to the end of the video one photo of a box of crayons is seen for several seconds, then the video ends. That crayon photograph marks a detailed discussion of first being abused.
Life without Crayons
No coloring books
No cousin to first touch as I held gray
to fill in a cat who chased
but never caught the mouse.
No crayons would mean no dowel rods on my three year old body because
liberties were taken.
Life without crayons would never ask if
dowel rods broke before my mind had to.
Life did change that day. She saw me differently. Whatever she didn't beat out of me that day made her violently mad until I left home.
I updated the Featured Art Gallery page. This month's feature will have a color theme. Color is important in my therapy process. Since Sundrip is about the art and artist trying to thrive it only makes sense I'd have an Art Therapy Gallery and speak openly about the role art has in my healing. That's scary though because I worry people will see the art has come from so deep that they won't want to hang it on their walls. I've thrown around the idea of backing off explaining some of the art as I do but that's not going to happen.