In all the years I’ve done dental studies at the university never have I had a negative experience until Friday. Friday I went in for a repeat of the study I did about 3 months back. They used the same machine in the same office. Everything was supposed to be the same but this time I got a student dentist surely once an apprentice to Osama Bin Ladin. The chair she had me in was tilted so far back that my feet were above my head. She had my jaw pulled so far that I tapped her hand and said, “Um…my skin only stretches so far.” She said nothing. The person observing said, “Sometimes she forgets there’s a human being in the chair.” I said, “She had my jaw half across the room.” The student continued.
She had to be told to use the mirror to look at my teeth. She had to be told to use the lamp. When she used the little dental mirror to look inside my mouth she pushed with it so hard against my cheek that it hurt. The dental mirror should not hurt. Okay so now I’m kinda shaky because here’s a woman inside my mouth, it’s hurting AND to top it off one of the workers who happens to have my birth name kept getting paged. Even though she never used a needle the student dentist was really testing my PTSD issues. My mother used needles in my mouth. While a dental mirror isn’t a needle it sure as hell hurts when Bin Ladin’s apprentice is pressing it hard against your jaw. That on top of the worker getting paged pretty much non-stop while the apprentice dug around in my mouth was just a bit much. I figured we might as well top the appointment off with an MRI where the friggin machine sprays dye in my face. Shit, lets just make this a PTSD party. Let us not forget this was also the day of the earthquake. Why I haven’t started drinking is beyond me cause that was some motherfuckin bullshit right there.
In all the years I’ve done studies at the university never have they gone down this path. I’ll keep doing the studies because the money is good. I just have to remember this is rare.
If you do these studies don’t worry, they’re not usually like this. It won’t happen unless of course you go to the Al-Quida Family Dentistry office near you. They’d better be happy they paid we twice as much this time as last time…. the bastards!!!!!
Destiny
Yup, Indiana felt the earthquake but everybody here’s okay.
Food does not make this better. Cigarettes don’t help, music touches and I don’t want to be touched. Painting helps little but I can’t focus enough to finish anything. All I want to do is go to sleep. I’m pissed, just majorly pissed and I can’t even bring myself to cry.
There is a joyful me, one who was thrilled to death about having a fantastic sales week, 56 pieces in all. I wonder how she keeps herself separated from the rest of us who care about that but are overshadowed by anguish. It’s not that I don’t care. I like the fact that people want our art in their home. It’s just that right now I am pissed and tired and frustrated and running around like a chicken with my head cut off looking for soul food, something to cut the pain. It’s just not happening though. Nothing helps.
I feel lost right now and I need to find my way back.
It seems hard to imagine that a woman would sexually abuse her own child. We hear about it more. People are angered when they hear a woman has beaten, neglected, starved, abandoned, murdered or sold her child to an abusive mate but they’re shocked when they hear women sexually abuse. Many people give excuses of mental illness to female offenders and that just infuriates me. When a conversation about female offenders comes up the first thing that’s said is the obligatory “This is horrible, that poor child. They should jail that woman.” Then ..then come comments of rationalization. They’re not trying to excuse the fact that she’s sexually offended a child; they’re trying to wrap their brain around the concept of a female predator. It’s not hard to do that with a man. We give them no excuses whatsoever. But women, it just doesn’t set well in our heads that she herself would violate her own child or someone else’s child. We don’t even bat an eye when it comes to violence by men but our eyes are wide with shock and sometimes even morbid fascination when it comes to violent female offenders. When I say violent female offenders I also include serial killers and pedophiles. Morbid fascination. Wow!
Continue reading ‘Female Sadists - Therapy Discussion 1of2′
My therapist and I got on the discussion of the believability of my story because while some are willing to accept that women sexually abuse it is even harder to take their mind to a place where they understand they are also sexual sadists. This is where the discussion turns graphic. I told him my mother could not climax without offering some sort of pain. She could not “just” sexually abuse us and climax. She had to bind, mentally tortured and physically assaulted us for there to be any arousal. She may not even sexually assault us but finish by masturbating. But that wasn’t the end of it. When riding in the car she would recount stories of what she did to us. It may not be about what she did the night before or what she was going to do, the story might be about what she did when we were younger, about when she hurt us three months prior, a year prior. She’d go over the stories in detail, reliving each and every second with pure unadulterated evil. She’d also bring up her acts at the dinner table. Sometimes she cooked at home and that would be the discussion at the table. If we watched TV together, which we didn’t often do, she might interrupt the show with these details because something on the show reminded her of what she’d done to us. I’d sit there watching the show, trying to tune her out as she chattered on in strict detail about her sexual sadism.
Continue reading ‘Female Sadists - Therapy Discussion 2of2′
I’m feeling kind of closed off, isolating a bit I’d say. The last two week watching friends struggle has been difficult but then there’s my stuff too. I don’t know, I feel like I want to shut the PC off and just go to bed.
In therapy Dr. D and I again discussed the picture I drew of myself as a little girl showing what I might have felt like had I been afraid. We talked about how I don’t really remember being afraid. Now that I think about it I can remember 3 specific incidents where I was afraid but mostly I remember being angry, feeling like a deformed misfit in that family. I remember a lot of pain but I don’t remember feeling a lot of fear. I felt sad, alone, hopeless but afraid isn’t something that comes to mind when I think of my childhood and early adulthood. Perhaps I was too busy thinking instead of feeling, planning to stay one step ahead of her instead of feeling. Well, I felt but I guess fear didn’t show up too often. I felt ashamed to be me. I felt disappointed in myself for not being able to please my mother. I felt ashamed of being what I felt was a disobedient and wild daughter. But fear? I don’t know, not that often I don’t think, not that I recognized anyway.
Continue reading ‘Fear - Therapy Discussion’
A second friend of mine is dealing with a domestic violence issue which to me is yet another indication that this form of abuse is ramped. For the last few days as her husband sits in jail, she’s proudly taken steps to get help. She is not trying to handle the criminal abuser on her own. She has reached out to the community, to legal agencies and to friends. What a show of strength and courage.
Because this is the second time in two weeks that a friend of mine has been in a domestic violence crisis I feel the need to get some links together for other Indiana women in this situation. I’m going to do a page on this journal with extensive information on shelters and resources in Indiana. This will not be a page that links to other links, that’s quite frustrating when a person is looking for help. I will link to specific pages that give names, numbers and locations as well as offer resources on how to sign up for free self defense classes or obtain a free restraining order in Indiana. I hope to have this page compiled within a few days. One very different thing I’ll do on the page, to benefit those out of state, is put up my search queries. All the survivor will need to do is change the name from Indiana to the state they live in or wish to reside in.
Please remember, rich and poor alike abuse and fall victim to abuse. Rich and poor alike have equal opportunities at the shelters that will be on the page. And, rich and poor alike need safety. This includes men. Resources for battered men will be included on the page.
If anyone has resources for battered men (men as victims of domestic violence) please leave a comment and I will include all appropriate information on the list. If anyone has domestic violence resources from any state (for male or female) please leave a comment and I will link to all appropriate information.
Sundrip has undergone a few changes as far as its template goes. The new template allows for drop down menus. Once the Domestic Violence Resource page has been completed it will be in the drop down menu under My Time To Heal.
Thank you
The Domestic Violence Resource page is coming very soon.
Love Does Not Hurt-Sunday, April 13, 2008-12:50AM EST
I’ve been called Little Duck since I was a child. I even use the name on my email address. Although my family called me that in a derogatory way, saying I have lips like a duck, I stuck to the nickname. I stuck to that nickname but abandoned, tossed out, threw away and tried to forget my birth name. Why did I keep Little Duck but legally change my birth name? When I think of a little duck I think of a lovable little animal, something to be concerned about and protected. You’d never want to see a little duck playing in the street or lost from his mother. Seeing a little duck that way would make you want to pick him up and take him to safety, take him home and nurture him then set him free. When I see stuffed bright yellow stuffed animals with big over sized yellow beaks I smile. They’re adorable. So despite the initial slight in calling me Little Duck it turned out to be a heartwarming name for me. So I kept it. I like it but the other name had to go.
I told my therapist that I remember the first time someone called me by my new first name. I got up to walk away when she called out to me. I turned and smiled not just an upturning of lips but a full heart and soul smile. I knew I’d chosen the right name. He asked why I chose the middle name of Magdalene so I explained to him that Mary Magdalene is a wonderful example of hope. Since changing my name was for the purpose of hope it seemed fitting to add her name. I then said, “It would be so wonderful to sit down and have a cup of coffee with Mary Magdalene.” That’s when therapy took a turn, when I felt the most excited and almost giddy that I’ve felt inside a therapy session. Usually it’s emotionally draining but not this subject. We were talking about my favorite sister in the world. What could I feel but encouraged and hopeful?
Continue reading ‘Talking To Mary Magdalene’
Today is in stark contrast from yesterday. I woke up feeling refreshed, almost peaceful. Funny the difference a day can make.
This painting is called Daydreaming. She’s similar to the painting Rainbow Child.
Please visit the Innocence Gallery on Sundrip.com for more paintings celebrating the imagination, wonder, play and song of childhood.
Wow, my therapist about threw me for a loop in our last session. He tossed something at me that I wasn’t expecting. I rather freaked out on him a bit. He explained himself as I sat there quietly, frightened, angered and in the “I knew this was too good to be true” mode.
We talked about how part of me really can’t stand Blossom but another part of me wants her company. I said that most of us can’t stand the girl but Destiny has “some use for her.” How horrible to say that but it’s true, part of us really just want to sleep with the chick. We felt horrible saying that about someone we detest but it is true. Then he said something about how Destiny is part of me and that when I mention a particular alter feeling one way he thought it might be important to bring up that the alter is part of me. I guess I thought he was telling me that he wanted me to think of myself as whole instead of divided and not continue to mention DID in therapy. Of course I went on alert. I mean, my goodness. But what he meant was that he wanted to let me know that even singletons have mixed feelings and that by saying “I” feel a certain way I can begin to integrate emotions instead of split them off. That sets so much better than what I thought he meant. I thought for sure he was about to tell me that switching was off limits. I figured from there he’d give some magical pill to make me a singleton. Thank goodness he didn’t lose his mind and tell me to act like a singleton when in his office. It really threw me. He didn’t tell me to use the word “I” instead of “we” or that I couldn’t talk about insiders. It’s not what he was saying at all. He was only saying that he wanted to point out from time to time that when I have conflicting feelings it makes me like everyone else, multiple and singleton.
Continue reading ‘Self Destruction: Therapy Discussion’
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