I told Dr. D I feel creatively constipated, and I do. I'm struggling with this painting. Her dress isn't finished. It'll eventually be a little girl in a red dress ...continue reading "The Child’s Face. Depression Rising."
Today Dr. D and I discussed saying "no" to my mother and the consequences of doing so. My teeth began to chatter. I was rocking back and forth. I had to get a hold of myself.
Last night I was in the bedroom and instinctively turned to verify she wasn't in the doorway but for just a second I saw her. Obviously it was my head playing games, but for a second I thought I saw her standing there, which is why I turned to look. I had a scarf hanging over the door which created a figure in my peripheral vision. Turning to look isn't new. I have to force myself to not look at the door. I have to tell myself there's no way she's in the house, stop worrying, remember I'm safe now. But that's not enough, I have to look at the bedroom door to ease my mind. ...continue reading "Therapy Review: Control. Gaining confidence."
I often sound like I hate her. I don't. I sound like I haven't given an ounce of forgiveness. I think an important point about giving my mother forgiveness is knowing she never asked for it or acknowledged needing it. She never knew she'd received it.
Several years ago I said I give my mother full forgiveness. What that means is I asked nothing back from her crimes against me. Her debt to me was dissolved. This personal step wasn't an over night process. It was/is a personal understanding and has only to do with what was done to me. What was done to others is a totally different story.
What do I mean when I say I forgive my mother? It's clearer to explain what I don't mean.
- Forgiveness doesn't erase guilt or payment to society for crimes against me and them.
- My pain hasn't ended, it's been redirected and eased.
- Even after forgiveness there is still a lot of work in therapy to complete.
- It doesn't mean there's no anger or mean that the abuse doesn't matter.
What does forgiveness mean for me? It means and meant:
- I stopped asking for justice in my case.
- It meant I didn't want to kill her anymore.
- I didn't want to see her suffer or die the way she died.
- If ever the law decided she must be charged, I didn't want to be the one on the other end of handing down sentencing for what she did to me. That's the key right there. I didn't want to be the one to hand down sentencing.
Acknowledgement from the public, financial compensation, life in prison and even her death can not give back what was so viciously stolen away. ...continue reading "The who, what, when, where and how of forgiveness"
There were only two of us but we had a nice time. We didn't do anything formal, just tea and cake. One can make tea and cake sound stuffy if important facts are left out. I had the tea already and she brought Little Debbie's. It was a nice visit though with some catching up as well as learning about one another.
I'm just now getting to know her. Interestingly enough, her mother was my foster mother making her a foster sister when I was a child. Small world isn't it?
It's sometimes difficult to be in the same room with someone who knows way too much about me, especially since I didn't get to pick and choose what she knows. My sister decided this exposure for me which I find unacceptable and disempowering. I don't know what preconceived ideas she has about me, I only know she seems to like me...and yet I don't trust it. Why? In general I don't trust women. That is first and foremost but there's also the concern of being judged. ...continue reading "Tea, Chat and Trust"
Art Title: Slaw
Art by: Faith Magdalene Austin
Size: 8.5 x 5.5 inches
Media: Watercolor, ink
Finish: signed, dated, heat sealed, unmounted
Style: Outsider Art, Surreal
I think my friend Angie got me started on watercolor pens. I'm happy she did. I all but ruined my first set but have since acquired a new set which I totally love. My next art supply purchase will be a second small pallet I can take with me to therapy. As it turns out, the watercolors have taken on a large role in art during therapy sessions.
Art Title: Cacophony: Head Noise
Art by: Faith Magdalene Austin
Size: 8.5 x 5.5
Media: Mixed, acrylic, marker on 98 lb sketchbook paper
Finish: signed, dated, heat sealed, unmounted, raw
Style: Surreal, Illustration
We talked about the grieving process. I haven't been emotional in front of people, which may make me seem cold to her passing. It's been more private and I'm certain it'll stay that way. I'm running, that's for sure. I need distractions; I have them.
One distraction is the mean streak of Betty. I could go on and on about Betty but why? Until I change it, there's no reason to go on and on. The woman is a constant problem.
I told Dr. D that I'm working on getting different transportation to the store on Tuesday's but that I have real problems in cars. The only place I'm terribly claustrophobic and scared is in a car. I need to know I can get out and I need to know the person behind the wheel won't attack me physically. I need to know they aren't going to start hitting me, slapping me, threatening to drive into on coming traffic, won't scream "I'm killing us all" followed by driving off the road to wreck the car. (Times like this make me think I hate my mother.) ...continue reading "TR: Jane. Pain. Alternative Medicine"
The art piece was created by making lines and loops. The piece has all kinds of hidden objects in the head / hair of the woman. He face is deformed, her head is full and her eyes are crazy.
When you first look at her it all blends together but a longer, closer look shows shapes that form fish, a mask, a horse and other objects. As usual, the colors are vivid. I've added swirls and checks but I started with just loops and lines.
8.5 x 5.5 on 98lb art paper. Art therapy journal.
Today during therapy I drew a large tree. At first I kept messing up. I couldn't get the branches right. After I started really talking I was able to punch out the tree exactly how I wanted it.
Reality is going to kill you.
She takes her trip to the Netherlands and for what, to add it to the countries she's visited. I wish she could visit reality. I wish she could see her true self in the mirror and then fade to nothing from the gravity of her errors, her crimes. I wish she could be crushed by it. She hurt my mother. She really hurt her.
I hate your faces. I hate the way you walk and the way you drive and talk on the phone at the same time as if you're someone we should stop and ask, who is that?
Today you told me I'm worthless, useless. I didn't skip a beat. I didn't strike back. I didn't back down, I just kept on going, as usual.
One of my favorite movies the girl is crying on her knees and says, I'm not worthless. I'm not worthless. She worked so hard to wipe the dirt from herself, to be respectable, but she still fought stigma and the times. Times have not changed, women are still the object valued in dollars and cents, or with our clothes off.
I am not worthless. I've wiped the dirt off my face. I've paid for crimes I didn't commit. Don't say I'm worthless. Don't say anything at all. Slip into the cloud of reality, smell it, taste it. It's going to break you. Reality is going to break you, something should.
The Netherlands. You're going to the Netherlands. Conquer that, too.
I am not worthless.
I am not worthless.
I shouldn't wish anyone dead. I shouldn't check to see if her name is listed among the obituaries, hoping she has finally claimed her spot in the morgue, but my heart is angry right now. I am angry. I woke angrier than when I went to sleep.
Death is cruel to those who are left behind. It tears at us, bites down and doesn't let go. What should have been goes to worms and flies. Death robs us, yet I wonder why she should continue living.
This anger of wishing them dead for what they've done isn't healthy, not even a little bit.