In order to motivate myself to move past this creative slump I’m in I go online and look at really bad sunflower art. By the time I’m done my eyes are all but bleeding. When I see some sort of grandiose muck up of a perfect flower I want to yell to the artist , “Oh my God, what have you done?” I’ve found that this extreme form of motivation works wonders for me.
Monthly Archive for February, 2010
Page 3 of 4
Weapon of Choice
Where the pen is mightier than the sword…
By Jennifer B Worthington
Let me tell you, I just got a glimpse of Jennifer’s book and I’m blown away. If you appreciate raw, open, honest, lay it on the line with no sugar coating type writing then this is the book for you. In addition to her wonderful poetry she has her own artwork which also speaks very loudly.
Dr. D told me on Wednesday about a new chronic pain support group at his office that he thought I may benefit from. I’m definitely interested BUT I’m worried too. I’m worried about my ability to sit in a room with several people, perhaps in a circle where I feel totally exposed. I also worry about the size of the room and where my seat is in relation to the door. I want to sit far away from the door but in sight of it. I figure the person who sits closest to the door is the “first to get got.” If I’m far away from the door it’ll take extra effort to get over to me. By that time I’ll be good and mad and ready for their stupid ass!!! I don’t want to be by the door but I do want to be in sight of it.
Because of the snow I was unable to get in to his office to talk to him so we had our session over the phone. We talked about the movie The Tie That Binds and how I was uncertain which part of the little girl’s behavior was real and which part was Hollywood made. The little girl talked to her dolls and confided in them. Dr. D said little kids do that with their toys. That made me sad because I never did that, it never crossed my mind to. I mean, I didn’t have dolls but I wonder if I had them if I’d have talked to them or slept beside them. Would I have named them? Who knows.
We talked about how children identify themselves as children because they’re under the authority of adults. That’s not the only reason but that’s one of them. I commented that maybe the reason I never saw myself as a child was because my authority figure was a bit different. I didn’t have a set bedtime. I missed school whenever she felt like picking up and going somewhere just because she wanted to that day. I didn’t do a load of laundry, a sink of dishes or many household chores until my sophomore year in High School. Past the 2nd grade I wasn’t required to clean my room. I didn’t have the regular limitations or guidelines other people my age had. What I had was a regimen of “vitamins”, “trauma training” and incest. I didn’t learn to cross the street on my own until my sophomore year which is the year I went to live with my English teacher. What an awakening that was.
There’s too much in these paintings to try and explain everything. I think the 
overall theme is anxiety, rage and grief.
When Dr. D saw this one here he didn’t notice at firs that it’s a human head vomiting up flowers. The head is tilted back and is strangled by a golden rope as flowers “grow” from it’s open, strained mouth. He said it’s disturbing but very well describes how hard it can be to manage what I feel. He said to keep writing, keep drawing what’s in my head and dreams because the work will pay off in healing. God, I hope so. I’d like to try and do a digital version of Flower Pot. I like that it expresses the feeling of being overwhelmed in an accurate but grotesque way. Grotesque is important since there’s nothing comfortable at all about how I’m feeling.
My therapist and I discussed the hanging people. I tried to explain to him that they aren’t suicide gestures but an illustration of how overwhelming emotion can be sometimes. My thoughts and emotions sometimes feel so powerful that it feels as if they could kill me. This is not me hanging but emotions strangling me. One of the things we talked about too is how the figure has evolved from a simple dress-like figure to one with hands and feet to one with distinctive clothing. I commented that perhaps the emotions are getting a little clearer and less generalized. I hope that’s the case. I hope things get clearer in my head.
***comments are off***
It doesn’t make sense to me. I’m annoyed, angered, exhausted by the whole thing. I also know there’s no way on earth I’m going to be okay with starting over not when I fear being tossed aside again when the wind blows slightly off course. That pisses me off, it does, to feel thrown away over the …..(no more editing my thoughts) I feel thrown away over the most stupid, minor bull shit of which only half was my fault. I just want to scream, we aren’t in a fucking fairy tale, guess who screws up? Yup everybody and I figure unless there is some huge crime committed that can’t be resolved then one shouldn’t have running away at the top of their list of ways to resolve issues. It pisses me off that….it’s wrong is all. It’s totally wrong. Because there’s an issue or two it doesn’t mean someone has to leave but I’ll be damned if that isn’t exactly what happened. So yeah, I’m frustrated, I’m angry and maybe even a little bit bitter.
(Gratitude Entry-The Good Stuff)
The other day at therapy an elderly woman said to her husband, “It’s too much. It’s just too much.” Her husband held her hand and said, “I understand you’re afraid.” It was one of the most tender moments I’ve witnessed in a very long time.
A young black boy still bandaged up from his Cochlear implant surgery walked down the isles of Wal-mart with his older brother. It was obvious the older brother was very protective of him but he smiled when a young white boy signed to his little brother from across the way.
There was the tiniest little girl slumped over in a chair sleeping while dressed in her over stuffed pink snowsuit. Her little snore sounded like a kitten’s purr. It was the sweetest thing ever. She was so tiny. A lady in the waiting room asked her mother, “Where can I get one of those?” I think most stores are sold out of Pink Purring Girls but the shelves are fully stocked with Tickle Me Elmo.
Big, beautiful snowflakes have fallen since early this morning. It’s cold outside but undeniably beautiful.
I sometimes think to myself, God must be one proud Artist. He sure knows how to paint the best pictures. No wonder he looked down and saw that it was good.
J of A
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