Monthly Archive for November, 2009

Page 3 of 5

Puppy Sitter

Published on November 14, 2009 in Gratitude Journal and Pets. 0 Comments

www.4luvofdog.com

For a little over a week I’ve been puppy sitting. The puppy is here during the day when her mother is at work. She’s dropped off in the morning then picked up in the afternoon. Lolly Pop aka Poppy is a 6 month old Pomeranian/Papillon Mix and is as adorable as she can possibly be.

While watching her I think my view of small dogs has changed quite a bit. I actually like this little girl. Her mother has done a great job of house training her and showing her what she can and can’t play with. Even though Poppy has that annoying bark I hate her sweetness and lap dog cuddling makes it tolerable. Maybe that’s why people like these dogs. They have more positives than the negative sound of their bark.

I don’t have a photo of Poppy but she looks a lot like this little one here who is currently up for adoption at this link.

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A Shining Example

Published on November 14, 2009 in Abuse and Borderline Personality Disorder. 2 Comments

Since my TV was updated and I now have more channels I find that I watch a lot more TV which means a lot more commercials. One commercial I’ve seen which has brought up a few memories is the Bosley hair restoration infomercial.

When I was a child I didn’t get hair cuts. I was to have long hair and could only wear pants twice a week. I could choose which two days. While I don’t see forced skirts and dresses as abusive or even feel ill towards my mother for requiring them I do feel the sting of her requirements that my hair be a certain length. Even when it reached the set length it wasn’t good enough. My hair needed to be a shining example for other little girls and their mothers. They needed to look at me and know what they should be doing and how they should present themselves. I was to be an example in speech, dress and manners. I was to be picture perfect and show the world how to be picture perfect, show them how they don’t have to be simple.

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Smaller Than A Mouse

Published on November 13, 2009 in Poetry. 2 Comments

My attention span is short and small.
It’s tiny.
Tinier than a mouse.
Tinier than a minnow in the pond out back
And more fleeting than Florida rain in the spring.
The sun comes out, kisses the earth and leaves no trace
That a single drop ever hit the ground.
In this fashion goes my concentration
Even faster, my recollection of what I wrote and read.

© Faith-Magdalene Austin all rights reserved

I wanted to sit in the living room by a host of candles and read my new book but I’m anxious and can’t retain what I read. I get up and pace a bit, get into this and that then try to go back and read a paragraph or two. The first paragraph is the last one I read so it pretty much feels like one step forward two steps back. There’s no need to force it I guess. It’ll be here waiting to be read when I’m ready to read it.

fma
Friday, November 13, 2009 – 7:41PM EST

Profile of a Sadistic Woman Pt 1of2

Published on November 9, 2009 in Abuse, Female Sadist, PTSD and Therapy. 0 Comments

I didn’t want to watch the Jaycee Dugard story on MSNBC but I was too lazy to get up and change the channel. Am I really that lazy sometimes? Yeah, I am. Once I listened to a radio station for a few hours because changing it took too much effort. I was depressed so something as simple as changing the channel or the radio station seemed like a huge task. I wasn’t willing to take on either.

I didn’t want to watch the show because sometimes I feel the pain of others too deeply. At that moment I wasn’t sure if I could watch this child’s life evolve with a man not fit to live . I feared I’d fall deeper into my depression. It was that very depression that left me immobile on the sofa, unwilling to extend energy to change the channel. Had I even the slightest bit of emotional energy to change it, I may not have learned what I did about myself and my situation. For this reason I’m happy I watched the show.

One thing I noticed right off was how many times she was almost rescued, almost saved from this man. I noticed the blunders and foils and saw many instances where “what if” would fit. But primarily I saw a man whose actions strikingly resembled that of my mother. As the reporter went on to discuss how he kept Jaycee under control I began to note the things my mother and the man had in common.

  1. She had us live in filth.
  2. She changed my name at will.
  3. No one came inside the house.
  4. Isolation.
  5. She described in graphic detail what she was going to do to us.

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Profile of a Sadistic Woman Pt 2-2

Published on November 9, 2009 in Abuse, Female Sadist, PTSD and Therapy. 4 Comments

Once I realized how similarly my abuser and Jaycee’s abuser operated it got me to thinking about how un-special  these people really are. They aren’t one in a million, they’re not gods the way they set themselves up to be. As a matter of fact their so called skill set is shared by other degenerates. What I learned is that my mother has company; she’s not in a class of her own. She doesn’t stand out as different. If she doesn’t stand out as different then she’s not all powerful, she’s not unstoppable. She’s not the 5 foot 11 immortal being I saw her as. As a matter of fact she’s just like every pedophile and predator out there. Watching Jaycee’s story helped knock my mother down a notch. If there’s someone else out there that behaved similar to my mother then my mother is not in a class all her own and unable to be reckoned with. She’s nothing special.

I use the word special meaning she’s not smarter than the others nor did she use a different “skill set” to control and dominate. She did exactly what other sadists did which lumps her in with them. She does not stand alone. I can’t begin to explain the depth of that realization and how empowering it is to know it.

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DREAM: Hand In Glove

Published on November 9, 2009 in Dreams, Grief Sadness Loss, PTSD and Therapy. 2 Comments

I  stitched a white hand and left each finger open at the top. I then wrote on each finger my needs and fear and thoughts. Unlike other plush things I’ve created I didn’t stuff the hand I just left it limp – powerless. I left the fingers floppy – powerless. I left the fingers open on the ends so that it became impossible to grasp and keep a hold of anything at all. I gave the unfinished hand to my mother.

Concrete City

Published on November 9, 2009 in Anxiety, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Fear, PTSD and Secrets and Confessions. 0 Comments

Concrete city, dark, chaotic, unwelcoming. On paper it looks pretty but would you really want to walk in it alone?

Concrete City

My head has its own community, its own chaotic, lost community. Sometimes we appear to be just fine but that’s only from people who have never walked alone, down the streets of my mind.

Medium: Oil pastel, ink on paper