For some reason I’ve felt a lot of shame lately. Shame for the amount of anxiety I feel, shame for concentrating on only a certain object in my artwork, shame for being a multiple, for my writing for all sort of things. I’m not one to say “I’m not good enough” but that has crossed my mind quite a bit lately.
With this whole faces in artwork thing…. I realized I was trying to put a face to that child I use to be. I didn’t want her to be faceless to be unimportant anymore. I wasn’t sure why I kept drawing faces but after that painting the other day when I saw little me it hit me, that’s what I’m doing, that’s what’s trying to come out. I think I was just trying to put a face to the person that got wiped out by horrible things. I want to count. I want her to count and matter and not be forgotten. I’m not going to post the painting that looks like us a kid. For a bit I was drawing my sister. I just kept drawing her until I figured I’d gotten out what I needed to get out.
I’ve noticed something else, the people I draw have one eye larger than the other. I have a lazy eye (which shows more on Robert than any of us)….The lazy eye thing is another shame point. I’m not usually ashamed of the body I have been lately I have been.
The other day while watching Evita I thought to myself, it would be nice to be hailed through the streets the way she was during her funeral. After a bit I thought, no, it’s not that I want to be hailed that way I just want it to matter that I was here. I don’t want to be so easily forgotten. In the opinions of many Evita wasn’t a good person. She rose from nothing, had everything against her but still became a legend, but look what she did to get such a title. She was not a good woman. I don’t need to be lifted up on the shoulders of ushers who parade my casket through the streets as people toss down white rose petals and slow dance to a dirge. I just need to know I’m not living in vain and that when I do die it’ll matter. I feel alone right now.
My dreams have been about death and dead bodies as well as nasty stuff like human excrement. I have no idea why I dream about human excrement. It’s disturbing though.
Maureen was here again today. She was working around the house when Blossom called. She didn’t even bother to answer the phone.
Shame-Sunday, July 13, 2008-3:09AM EST
I think trying to give a face to that little girl is a positive step. It’s strange how our unconscious minds work.
I’ll email you later.
I feel the same way. It’s almost my worst fear, that I will die and no one will care and my life won’t have mattered for anything.
I think that’s why I’m writing my memoirs, so I won’t be forgotten. So that what happened to me will have some significance.
I know what you mean about shame, and about loneliness….it may be no consolation, but I do know what you mean.
(I too have one eye bigger than the other.)
I always thought you were drawing me
I have one eye shaped different than the other. One is more long and narrow - one is more round - it looks bigger. I have a lazy eye too. I squint a lot and now I have lines across my forehead (I choose to blame that on my vision rather than my growing age!). It was a huge source of shame growing up. It could have been corrected when I was in 2nd or 3rd grade but my parents didn’t make me wear the patch the doctor wanted - because they were self=conscious too.
You do matter - your artwork matters. Your blog matters. WHat you say matters. So keep doing what you are doing - because you are making a difference.
I agree, this blog and your artwork make a difference in the world. Even your work in therapy has positive impact on people outside the Pride. It’s not fame, but it’s not nothing, either.
We get lazy eye, usually later in the day or if we forget to take one of our medications. It’s worse if we look upward, so I find myself, in elevators or other forced group settings, keeping my eyes lowered. I’m embarrassed. All the symptoms of Myasthenia Gravis make me feel ashamed, as if I’m choosing to be weak and “lazy.” :-/