Monthly Archive for August, 2009

Gratitude Monday: A Little Joy Goes A Long Way

Published on August 31, 2009 in Gratitude Journal. 4 Comments

These are a few of the things that pleased me this week.

On Redbubble I saw several new paintings and a photograph which caught my eye.
Elderly twins in Nice were photographed by Marsbub and titled Two.
A wonderful cubist flare painting called A MAN by Alexander Sokht.
A beautiful graphite and watercolor painting of Donna’s Mask by artist: D Jones.

I watched an elderly couple play golf across the street. They appeared to be in their 80’s but they pushed their golf bags and took the course on foot as if they were thirty-something. It was sweet as well as impressive.

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Fishers of Men

Published on August 30, 2009 in Abuse, Art Therapy, Dehumanize, Emotions, Fear, Female Sadist and PTSD. 0 Comments

Fishers of MenI knew what to expect from her physically. That was never subtle. It was in your face bold, no misunderstandings. But when she spoke she could confuse me and twist my mind before I even knew she’d done it. She’d ask questions when I was at my most vulnerable. I took the bait more than I’d like to admit. Perhaps I needed to trust even if it wasn’t safe to do so.

It’s difficult to remind myself that I had the mind of a child but was treated as if I were an adult. I see in my mind’s eye an adult being abused. Even in my dreams when I’m being abused I see myself as an adult. This adds to the humiliation of it all. This photo shows an adult body with a child’s head and hair style. She’s wrapped in lines and has a fishing pole going through her mouth into her skull and through the back of her head. The fish is swimming right for the bait.

In my art therapy yellow often symbolizes cowardly qualities. Blue is self worth, red can be strength and or extreme emotion. Green symbolizes youthfulness and innocence. I think it’s interesting that her hips are girded with blue and the top of her head is stained with it right where the pole exits. Her shoulders are tented with blue but not her hands. It’s also significant that the yellow in this image is in the shape of a figure standing in the same position she is. I’m not sure if the shadow person is me or if it’s my mother and her cowardly acts.

Title: Fishers of Men

The Art of Running

Published on August 30, 2009 in Anger, Anxiety, Depression, Emotions and Secrets and Confessions. 0 Comments

The Art of Running

Details: Dog figure with human eyes and nose with flowers growing from his mouth.

Title: The Art of Running

The Supplanter

Published on August 30, 2009 in Grief Sadness Loss, Letters Home and Relationships. 3 Comments

What I want to know is this, how difficult was it for you stop fighting to see your children? I know  she wanted the divorce (or so she said) and that she refused to let you see us. But I want to know, how hard did you try to see us?

Your marriage to my mother lasted 3 years. It took only one year to divorce her.  My marriage to her lasted 20 and took 10 more to end it.

As an adult I found out that she lied about you. Most everything she told me save your name was a lie. You’re not an alcoholic. You’re not a con-artist nor are you a lazy, good for nothing bum. When I stood before you I saw a tall man with clear eyes who aged appropriately. It looked as if life had been good to you. You remarried and have a little dog in a cute little house on a good side of town. The place was clean and well lit but noticeably void of color.  Though I found that tiny detail interesting I didn’t let on, I just stared dead into your eyes and hung on your every word. I soaked up that moment like it was the last one I’d ever have.

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Amy Smiles

Published on August 27, 2009 in Dissociative Identity Disorder, Morton's Pride, PTSD and Relationships. 0 Comments

She’s five years old and twin sister to Amy Pink. Both of their names are Amy. I have no clue why. Here’s the thing, for some reason Amy Smiles keeps popping out unexpectedly. Last night she was out while talking to a friend. I can’t remember how long she said Amy was there. I just remember being totally exhausted after it. Then today in therapy she was out almost the entire session. This isn’t a regular occurrence so I was sort of concerned by it. I was concerned too because I was so far away and couldn’t get back. It was as if she was stuck forward.

After therapy I decided I didn’t want to cook so I drove to pick up a bite to eat. She came out  behind the wheel. This isn’t a good thing. My little one’s are NEVER to come out in the car and they know that. Also, when this friend called it was Amy who picked up. She knows very well she’s not supposed to pick up the telephone, EVER. The only person who answers the phone is Joan.  I don’t even answer it. It’s always Joan. It’s set up that way for a reason.

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In Fertile Soil

Published on August 25, 2009 in For the Record, Letters Home, Mental Health and Relationships. 6 Comments

As a child we moved almost every year, sometimes twice each year. By the time I finished high school I’d been to 14 different schools. We moved a lot! Mostly we moved to avoid social services but there were other reasons too, many of which I don’t care to go into at this time.

When we moved it was usually a grab and go kind of thing. There was little or no warning. It wasn’t uncommon to have as much as one weeks notice or as little as one hour to get our stuff together and leave. After awhile I realized where ever I lived I wouldn’t be there long so there was no need to get comfortable. This isn’t going to last, don’t get comfortable. When I let myself get comfortable in one spot I set myself up for disappointment. I then feel foolish for allowing myself the grace of feeling settled in. This won’t happen again, I tell myself. I began to mentally prepare myself for a sudden leave by surveying my belongings to make a mental note of what I felt I could leave behind without becoming heartsick. If I had to do a grab and go I wanted to do so with my most prized possessions. I learned not to get too attached to one particular item because tomorrow it may not belong to me anymore. Tomorrow it may be in a pile somewhere with other things discarded as worthless. A beautiful telescope left behind, who cares I didn’t like it much anyway. The best teddy bear in the world, given to me by my great-grandmother was taken from the car we lived. Don’t get attached again, not like that. It happened again only this time in adulthood.

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Preparations

Published on August 25, 2009 in For the Record, Medical and Relationships. 3 Comments

I’ve been preparing myself for an eventual move. I don’t know when I’ll be able to move but I am at least making plans so that I can move without too many difficulties. Dr. D asked me today if I’m actively seeking other housing and I told him yes. Even though I’m looking for a place I know very well if I don’t find a place by the end of September then I’ll be here until the end of winter. I will not attempt to move in the middle of the winter. According to my lease with Fife I have to give him a 45 day written notice. I intend to do that. If I were to find a place and agree to move in then that puts me in the middle of November which for me is about the time I start hibernating. It’s a long story why I hibernate but I’ll  sum it up with one word: health.  If for some horrible reason I’m still here at the end of winter then I can start looking for a place and have clear until early fall to find a place. I’ll keep my fingers crossed that it doesn’t take that long.

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