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Dr. D started off the session with, did you know there's going to be an eclipse today? He said, I wanted to let you know because its going to get dark. I didn't want it to catch you by surprise. It would have but I would have figured it out I think, maybe.
Michelle 2:13 pm

We talked about how my sister lived with my friend and her husband only three miles from me. She lived there for a year. A year! We went to the same grocery store but never ran into one another. How is it possible to be that close to me but not see me? Dr. D asked what about this knowledge is so upsetting. It's the magic, ya know, the wand that tosses out fairy dust that makes her see me in a different light. If she could just see me from time to time maybe she wouldn't hate me so much. Its the fantasy of her changing because I need her to.

What a vicious thing to tear family apart by abuse and lies. That is a crime that keeps offending.

We talked about how to move past how I think about my sister, how I think about my needs from her. It all starts with my thinking. If I change my thinking I can change my actions. Maybe I'll stop longing for her so grievously.

First and foremost, I have nothing to prove.
I'm not disgusting or dirty. I've not committed a crime to say the opposite. I don't have to convenience myself of anything. It is well established that I'm lovable. That was one of the biggest and most destructive lies they told. ...continue reading "Therapy Review: Prove Yourself"

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I'm still on the hunt for a psychiatrist for better med management. I'm using a few different resources to manage the depression and anxiety now, one resource being art.

I doodle because it makes me happy. I doodle because I'm anxious. I doodle because I'm bored. I'm a doodle bug.

These were done while in bed. Some are in my art journal while others are in altered art books.

It's been difficult to move around so I've stayed close to my the bed. The watercolor pens pen is so helpful. I can move beyond colored pencils and crayons. I still use those but I like having watercolors, too. ...continue reading "Doodle. Art and Anxiety. Creative Endeavors."

Content: Self image. Sexual abuse w/ frank speech at times. Discussion of the mother forcing a gender role for the purpose of abuse, hatred of men, degrading women, the mother's sexuality. It's a heavy entry, one difficult to write.

Page 2 of Miss Eyes I Want to Be UsefulWe  started off going over art pieces in my sketchbook. We talked about which color I've used most and changes in how I depict figures. One art piece not posted was drawn to signify how pervasive sexual abuse was in most aspects of my young life.

Dr. D asked why I add heavy markings below the eyes. I said its all about color significance and my own symbolism. (see art therapy gallery) When I put blue under the eyes I'm trying to say that no matter what I'm going through or how negative I feel about myself, I understand on a different level that these thoughts are based on lies.  I'm able to better see that my self image isn't based on reality but abuses as a youth and young adult. ...continue reading "Therapy Review: Identity. Gender. The Mother’s Sexuality"

Spark
Double Therapy Page

Spark: Fire and Water now has a wall of its own. Soon it will be safely packaged up and sent on its journey.

Spark: Fire and Water is an art journal, two page spread that was offered in my Etsy shop.

Sparks of color fly as her eyes open wide to take in and hold all that grows around her. A signature of Sundrip is to have many hidden faces and objects that are seemingly random. This journal piece most certainly has the Sundrip signature along with bold chaos in color.

What will you see in this raw, collage art? You will see fragmented flowers, hair like waves of the sea, a blue girl. You'll see lines cross, curve and circle around holding tiny human figures. Crosshatch and stripes meet checkers and poles, then bring your eye back to the girl in the middle with doodles on her lips.

Two page collage and drawings in my art journal.

Faith

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The Last Laugh II: Jester - availableI was thrilled to see that two of my art pieces got a new home today, one of which is from a Jester series called "The Last Laugh".

The series illustrates the role I was cast to play while growing up. A Jester or clown puts on a false face, parades around and makes a "fool" of himself to get a laugh. He distracts people from the real world around them and for just a tiny bit they forget. I hate clowns for that very reason and yet I feel compelled to paint them.

Every line spoken were words not my own. They haunted me and concealed my real voice and my real face from the real world. The story of my life today is a simple one. I only play the role that is me.

...continue reading "“The Last Laugh” Paintings"

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He asked about my depression. I was honest. I agreed that I need to find a psychiatrist because the depression isn't something that's getting better. I have days where I don't feel so heavy but this depression isn't getting any better. Where do I find the energy or drive to search for a psychiatrist.

He asked about my eating. I was honest. I'm eating mostly crackers, peanut butter sandwiches and Cheerios. I stay close to bed. He knows it's not like me to neglect hygiene. Even as I type that I'm thinking about going back to sleep.

My leg is back to normal. I see the new doctor the 22nd. Thinking about these appointments I have this month make me want to go back to sleep. It feels so big. I don't want to get to know a new doctor. I don't want to look at this woman and see a look on her face that says she doesn't want to treat me. I don't want the rejection. What if I get there and she says its better for me if I go somewhere else because I need more care than she can give?

The last few years I've had such a hard time with my birthday. It feels like something is slipping away with each birthday. Something? I don't know what, but it hurts. ...continue reading "Therapy Review: Crackers and Carrots"

I racked my brain trying to think of what it is my sister can't forgive herself for. At first I thought, does it have anything to do with me? I wanted there to be something she felt for me. It's another slap in the face and another dose of cold reality.

It sounds absurd now, to think she feels anything for me other than contempt. Why did I even think she grieved over me to the point of believing she is no longer worthy of life? I guess because I thought I'm the only person who hasn't used and abused her. I'm her younger sister. I'm still alive, the other members of our immediate family are not. Our mother and father are deceased, my brother is gone. It's just me and her.  ...continue reading "Hate in Cement"

I have slept hard and well. I can't complain at all about the quality of sleep I've had lately, not even a little.

I went to the store yesterday and came back home with zero energy. I slept from 5 pm to 10 pm which meant my hours were turned around. I used the time for studying and to get some house work done. As the night went on, I wanted to rest but I felt weighed down with anxiety. Several nights in a row I've held my MP3 player like a well worn teddy bear. I listened to podcast subscriptions and books. I could have hooked it up to speakers but I needed it close to me. I needed a human voice as comfort so I could relax enough to close my eyes.

I used to require a lot of silence but I can barely stand in now, especially at night.

Sometimes when I wake the iPod is still playing. It makes me smile. I guess because I was able to hear something positive the entire evening, something to fight nightmares. The iPod is a generation 4 that I got second hand. I love that thing. I can't run most applications. I can no longer open a page on the web and keep it open, it but I can get the most important things, music and podcasts. This little machine has served me well.

Tonight's dinner was bbq chicken, green beans and mashed potatoes. I later had my 6 oz of red wine. I've done better about my eating but improvement in that area still comes in waves.

I'm going to start to settle in for the night with a nice cup of tea.

Faith

 

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Potential - Glass half full It occurred to me that when abuse is reported the concerned person is saying that the person being abused doesn't deserve it.
The one who reports abuse is saying, this is unjust and I'm not going to sit by and let this happen.
The one reporting abuse offers their strength to the abused and offers their voice because they recognize vulnerability.
Even when done anonymous, it takes a healthy conscience and inner strength to report abuse. My mother had neither.

I understand why my mother never reported accounts of abuse we shared with her in strict detail. She never saw those kids as living beings with the universal right to safety and peace. She didn't recognize their worth. My mother probably never expected anyone to go to bat for me. How sorely she underestimated the worth of her children, too.

I honestly didn't expect  to survive her, but I did. Most days I'm happy I did because there's so much more to see and do.

Faith

Content: Discussion of childhood sexual abuse. Processing a life of lies and abuse that leaves us unable to connect to others. Being raised by a female sadist.

I hung up from my therapy session and tossed it out of my head. These sessions have been too hard to deal with.

The main thing I got from therapy was that I am able to stand back and look at a person's track record and see that person as multidimensional instead of having just one characteristic. The reason that's important is because it makes me better able to see myself as the sum of my experiences without defining myself by just one.

If you ask me, my mother was primarily an abuser. She was a self centered, me first, sadistic abuser. If my mother was an abuser, what does that make me? The immediate answer is, guilty. Was I guilty of being bad and that's why my mother abused me? Can I really back up that claim? Even if my heart fears I am bad, I know for a fact that being abused had nothing to do with who I was as a child or who I am as an adult.  My heart can deny that truth but it still stands firm that it was about her needs not my behavior. No matter who was born to that household, they would have been abused. ...continue reading "Therapy Review: Wildflowers"

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