The People Behind My Eyes

We talked about how I see myself. The image I posted a bit ago about me in a flashback he said was a powerful image that shows what it still feels like years after being away from her. The first image shows a very full and confused head, the second I explained has hands as hair. It depicts the open season it was to touch me, to get inside my head and make sure I didn’t ever think myself worthy of anything but pain. The third image is certainly a DID drawing as is the fourth. The third one called “Survivor’s Song” is more of a lamentation, a dirge than a sing along song. The fourth image is called “Three of Me”. Two of the heads have their eyes closed. One has them open but she still is denied the gift of sight. Each head attaches to one neck and then springs off into a vine which leads to a flower where the heart should be.

We also talked about how I was denied a relationship with my sister. It never came out of my mouth that I both miss and hate her. The very first picture is of her bending forward but still with the “Look on the Bright Side” attitude. The other three images are of me in different stages. What I noticed about them is the flower each girl holds. The flower is fully developed in my sisters image but it’s contorted in mine. My body is mostly thin and awkward but hers is nearly whimsical. The eye in the middle of “Looking Inside” symbolizes the numerous times I looked inside myself and asked, “What’s wrong with me?” The one called “Skip Pretend” is rather disturbing as the child is laughing and crying while skipping with her balloon. The second balloon in the same picture is of a little duck with a balloon string hanging down, no human is holding it. The fourth is named “Jackass” because that’s what they called me, that and Little Duck. They called me “Jackass” because it rhymed with the birth name. So the little girl is shown as a donkey-type figure with a bit in her mouth. She too has a flower but hers is a stick figure flower.

I may see myself in different ways, usually in a bad light but sometimes the image changes from really dark to a complex line drawing, something I’d call art instead of art therapy. But when it comes to the mother I’ve always drawn her the very same way. Her hair is wild, mouth open, teeth jagged and vicious. Images of my sister and of myself have changed over the years but I doubt I’ll see her as anything other than this right here. Forget that she had a beautiful singing voice. Forget that she was very pretty, intelligent, wrote very nice poetry, painted and was very cultured. It doesn’t matter, not when you factor in sadism.

Joan of Arc for Morton’s Pride

Other art therapy pieces can be seen by going to my Art Therapy gallery.