I'm not your Problem Girl anymore.
And no, I'm not Silent anymore.
Digital art by fma
I posted a photo on my FB page about PTSD but later when I visited the page it linked back to, I erased it. There's probably valuable information on the page so I do not fault it for that. I removed the link because of the memes and quotes....and how they landed this hour of the night. In other words, they didn't do anything wrong......it's just hard right now. I'm ranting, anxious, triggered and tired.
I completely object to the idea of showing PTSD as pretty, the same way I am disgusted by people showing Lupus in a dreamy way. I assure you, when I'm in pain I don't think about purple butterflies with trailing light. When I'm up this late I don't think about anything other than running from the brain vomit produced by PTSD.
I've been up too long, and I'm mad....at everything. I can't get myself to go to bed. It's hot and sticky. My brain won't shut off. Why do I only think to take something for the anxiety when I'm far gone, like this?
I hate this world. I've thought recently of just walking away and living quietly in some place...who knows where......just some place. I'm weary, worn out and appalled by the human condition. I'm appalled by the lack of reason, the abundance of openly hating one another and purposeful harm in action and words. It's like there's blatant behavior to inflame and keep communities unsettled. From top to bottom people seem to want nothing more than to upset and destroy each other. It's hard to watch.
I want no part of loving anyone....or hating them. ...continue reading "PTSD Isn’t Pretty"
She: Where's your daughter?
She, too: She's right here.
She: No, I meant the pretty one.
My Etsy shop has been updated with the watercolor and ink two page spread called "Mind Maze".
I realized the other day that I know very little about my mother's childhood other than the abuse. I know they traveled extensively. I remember the house and was absolutely impressed with the basement and it's many rooms and how it lead to the backyard. There are good memories from my grandmother's house yet very little is known of my mother's day to day childhood life. I know even less about my aunts.
The aunt I will eventually sit down with was bullied at school for her very dark skin with very dark, straight hair. They turned her name into a cruel song game. I can all but see them circling this very pretty, well dressed school girl who is trying to ease through a space between girls skipping and singing about how ugly she is.
Could they ever know their songs would be so heavy on the heart of that child and then the adult? No. They too were children and children just don't get it. They don't get how deeply their sing-songs hurt because they lack the life experience to know how emotions work. Kids live in the moment, they're growing, taking risks like there is no debt to pay, no bruise that won't heal. They were just kids that abused my aunt, just stupid kids. How hurtful stupid kids can be to those with a little bit more life under their belt and a clear understanding of emotional consequences.
My grandmother wasn't wanted so my great grandmother held the infant out then let go. She dropped her and broke her hip. She never walked right again. She was given to a family to raise which left the ugly child at the mercy of my great grandmother. There was no mercy, not even as an adult. ...continue reading "She Never"
This small painting shows a young girl with droopy eyes and blue hanging above them. Cardinals and birds of strange feathers hold her braids like ribbons. Together in the meadow of wildflowers they find quiet solace.
Dorothy is a multi-media collage art piece on heavy card stock. The birds are hand cut and placed in her hair. The painting is 4 inches by 3 inches and has been mounted on black board.
It can be difficult to know what to name some paintings. I sat and looked at this one and began to name the things I saw. Well, there's most certainly a large moon with detailed gold rim, water that rapidly moves and spills onto red earth. In the background could those be trees or the mountains or are there individuals taking time to feel the cool grass and be refreshed by the water? After I named all the natural elements the tile became clear: Elements. ...continue reading "Elements an Abstract Painting"
I started this piece in 2010 but didn't finish it until this 2014. I couldn't figure out exactly where to go with it so I put it up. I pulled it out and returned it to a sleeve at least three times until one day it hit me, I know what to do.
Please let me first explain why she's in the Ugly Girl Collection and why her name is Pamela.
This young girl, like my other Ugly Girls, is different. She's not visually appealing. No one wants to be her. They look at her inquisitively, maybe even with fascination but they also pity her. That is the idea behind the collection, to paint those little girls thought to be ugly, the little girls who hear about their blotchy skin like Pamela has or have adults and children alike point out this and that imperfection within ear shot. Pamela used to hear the giggles, used to see the pointed fingers, but no more. She is strong within herself, but most of all she is kind. ...continue reading "Pamela – Ugly Girl"
Scribbled on the back of the paper she's painted on dated June 10, 2013, I wrote:
She's tall, skinny and lanky. She's wearing second hand clothes and second hand shoes. She knows she's ugly. She doesn't need to be reminded, yet they do, as if somehow it'll change things. Sweet Anna Bell - Ugly Girl.
Verbal abuse is what that is and what this sweet child holds the bruises of. But notice this, her eyes look up, not down in shame. If you look at them closer you'll notice hope shining. She holds her head up. She hopes. The edges of her mouth turn up in a slight smile. She hopes. ...continue reading "Sweet Anna Bell – Ugly Girl"