Conversation with Dr. D
Dr. D: How did that make you feel?
No One: Guilty, I felt guilty.
Dr. D: Why?
No One: Because I felt relieved that I’m not the only person in the world that’s been chained. I’m not by myself.
Dr. D: (with an understanding nod) Yeah.
No One: When I was younger and I heard my sister crying or begging in the other room I felt relieved. It was her turn and not mine. As long as she screamed I was safe. When she stopped it was my turn.
Dr. D: (with an understanding nod) Yeah.
Conversation inside my head:
I can’t believe you’re telling him this. You shouldn’t tell him this.
I’m done. I’m ready to leave. Lets go.
We can’t just get up and leave.
Lets go.
Can we lay down.
We can’t lay down here, we’ll look stupid if we double over now. He’ll ask why.
Then you’ll start telling him everything.
Be quiet you guys. I think No One stopped talking. How long have we been quiet? Does anyone know how long we’ve been quiet?
Does anyone know what happened?
We’re okay. We’re okay. We’re okay. I’m okay.
I want to go home.
I can’t remember when it was. I suppose I could go back and look in my blog but I don’t really care to. A bit ago the mother called me all week end long. I finally got her number blocked and the calls stopped. Last week end it started again. She called from a different number but since I recognized the name I didn’t pick it up.
I think since the first call I’ve been feeling a bit anxious and even rebellious. My mother would be so pissed and embarrassed by some of the things I’m doing. Truthfully, that’s why I’m doing them. I guess I just need to throw out to the world that I can and will offend the very person who made sure I’d question my every move.
Do I actually like the newer paintings I’ve done featuring black children of the “not so politically correct” style? Yeah, I do. But what I like even more is the thought of my mother squirming because I posted these paintings for the world to see. (One such paintings is featured here) It feels like I’m saying, “Guess what? I’m going to embarrass the crap out of you and not give a flying flip about it.”
I want to not care what she thinks. I want to paint for me and not because my mother would hate it or chuckle when she sees it and mock me for having the nerve to explore different subjects. Argh, that mocking chuckle that pretty much says, “oh you’re a fool” it’s like a razor blade going down my spine very slowly. “You think you’re something.” Yes, mama I do. I think I’m an artist.
One of the things I like to do that’s a bit of a risk is put colours together that don’t match and have no business every being in the same painting together. Mrs. Jones and Bebop The Cat is a painting where I took a lady I use to know, her cat and a bunch of patterns and tossed them all together. I expected the fashion and design police to beat down my door. It never happened. This lady should be arrested for her hair as should I for painting it. I’m an accessory to a hair crime. 
I think it’s safe to say when it comes to my work I’m not afraid to use colourful force.
The one thing that stands out for me about the this painting is how the woman’s hair in the shape of a sun. Her hair extends out like short little sunrays. I like that. There may be colour in chaos around her but hope revolves around and even beams from inside. I need that, I need hope. So even when I paint with a brush slanted towards offense I still have each stroke move towards hope. Hope is like healing oil smoothed over razor blade cuts.
J of A
I usually purchase something for myself each month, that’s not a secret. This month’s purchase is a handmade art roll up organizer by Beautiful Dreamer. It’ll be perfect for carrying a few art supplies in my bag.
There are numerous things you can do with these. Carry pens and pencils, knitting needle organizers, purse organizers, baby items, the list goes on. These make nice gifts but I’m keeping mine for myself. There are other roll-ups here that are absolutely stunning.
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Also listed are several of her other handmade items such as handmade one of a kind Redheaded Stepchild dolls, her classic softies and a lavender infused teddy bear. Her newest line is something every parent knows is needed, something to keep a hold of your baby’s binky. She’s got Binky Buddies. These are handcrafted soft toys for your baby to hug. Each buddy comes with a binky and a ring to keep the binky attached. It’s like two kinds of comfort wrapped in one. Tell me that’s not too sweet for words.
You can find more of Beauty’s work at My Backyard Fort and on Etsy.
Austin
I have a theory, if you’re going to purchase items this year as gifts why not purchase from an individual? Make your purchases count for a household instead of a corporation. Buy from someone you are familiar with. Buy handmade.
(These photos were posted with permission)
(This is my random Friday entry which is a bit late)
As strange as it may seem, it was hard to come up with a list of things I needed and wanted as a child without tossing in the fairy tail view of what a child wants or the Dr. Spock version of what a child needs. It was difficult to individualize wants and needs. If you asked me what “a child” wants and needs I could list 100 or more but individualizing the list is more difficult. These are in no specific order. The last list has 2 entries with an (*) in the front. They were things I wanted but didn’t get, however, they in themselves are not forms of abuse.
Things I had as a child:
- Pentax K-1000 camera and a large selection of attachments
- A Jukebox with flashing lights, red, green and yellow
- A red unicycle
- A red robot TV and radio combo
- Large Telescope and a microscope
- Discovery card subscription for animals and space
- A magazine subscription to Photography Today
- My own bank account
- Shopping trips and out of town stays
- Encyclopedia Britannica and World Encyclopedia sets
Things I wanted as a child:
- My big sister to play with
- To see my mother laugh and hear her sing
- * Dinner at home around the table
- Regular clothes that didn’t make me stand out as different (clothing not for show)
- * To wear pants instead of dresses
Things I got that I wanted:
- Saturday nights at the drive in for a double feature
- A movie projector and art projector
- Gymnastics and swimming lessons
Things I needed as a child but did not get:
- A pure hug with no strings attached
- Room to be an individual (for it to be okay that I needed quiet and calm not loud and lots of activities)
- Truth
- Leadership, protection, freedom, boundaries with room to move
- Roots, stable housing without always moving around or running
- Hope, reassurance, encouragement
- Life skills (other than pure survival) and basic understanding of the female body
- Black history, who am I, who did I come from, how did I get here and where do I fit in now?
- The chance to be seen as innocent
Random Friday: Wishes, Wants and Needs- Friday, December 05, 2008
In therapy we talked about how my mother spent a lot of time making sure I wasn’t seen a human. We talked about how she used the ideas behind the concentration camps to strip her children of identity. This stripping had a two fold purpose. It made us feel like nothing and broke our spirit. It let her see us as nothing which allowed her to do the things she did. If she could dehumanize me and keep my spirits broken she could hurt me and live with herself. It was a way of controlling me while letting her let go of her conscience. It was an incredibly hard session. When I left my skin was crawling.
I got into my cab and came home. When I walked in the door I was greeted with a question. “Are you hungry?” I sat my bag down and walked into the kitchen. While I was gone Fife Senior baked a small turkey, made dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, fresh yams, cranberry sauce and a small pecan pie. What of veggies? None. He said he’s allowed to skip veggies at least once per year. “Three starches, oh yeah!” He looked like a big kid getting away with something.
Continue reading ‘Someone’s Daughter’
I get nervous when the house is a mess. I shut down and stop doing the basic things. My head falls in my hands and I rock. I can’t move or breath. I have to leave. It blows me away to think I left here to find peace. I shake my head because this little haven of mine is where I run to not from.
In the last few days I’ve been trying to get this little place I call home back in working order. I still want to sleep and forget everything but today I got up and did my carpets and dusted. I finally got some dinner in me (more pizza) and then watched a bit of TV.
It’s quiet here and has been for a few days now. It’s not comfortable yet but it’s quiet. It’s on it’s way back to the normal level of craziness instead of the dog filled, anxiety ridden shack it was.
I need to take my torn flower and put it back together again. Reconstruction is in order. I look forward to it.
fma
Last night I watched a show I’ve never seen before. My TV stays on CBS because the shows I watch are on there. I have no idea what else is on but last night FOX was being watched by a neighbor while she was here. There’s a show called Terminator (I have no real idea what it’s about) but during the show two teenage kids talked about being in foster care and how their foster parents didn’t call them by their given name but by an insult. The young boy was called something like “loner weirdo” and the girl was called “the delinquent.” The girl said her parents would say, “The delinquent got a C in math.” or “Should we take the delinquent to see Bruce Hornsby?”
When I heard that it struck me because I thought this kind of thing was exclusive. My brother was called “the burden” by my grandparents and by my mother. I was called “the bitch.” I wonder if this is something others have experienced? I guess I thought since my family was really good at making us objects that it was pretty exclusive to them.
The other day when Princess Fife called me a bitch there was fire in my heart. There have been many times I’ve been called out of my name but each time feels like the very first. It feels like I’ve been stripped naked and it takes a little bit for me to feel dignified again.
When I showed up for therapy yesterday I got hugs from some of the clients that hadn’t seen me in a bit. That was really cool and much appreciated.
fma
I was trying to be quite. It’s 2AM and Fife Senior is sleeping. Here’s how being quite played out…..I’ve got pizza in my hand and I’m headed back to my area. I knocked a pan to the floor. Of course it bounced a hundred times before the final spin and settle. I picked it up and dropped my freshly made pizza on the floor. A few curse words slipped out in a not so silent way. I got two more slices and headed through the laundry room back to my area but on the way I bumped into the washing machine. The lid slammed shut so hard it surely was heard 3 states over. I’m almost home, just a few quiet steps more but nope….. I pretty much fell through my door into my apartment. Thank goodness the pizza stayed on my plate. I think I should call it a day.
And….. I think I should stop trying to be quiet. Clearly it doesn’t work for me.
Austin
There’s only one person in my system that can and will over-ride the pain and physically wrestle a dog to the ground that went off on us because of food aggression. He didn’t break Ladybird’s neck nor did he punch or physically harm her. He subdued her and held her down until she stopped squirming. Brody looked at Morton like he was out of his mind but he stayed under the table and didn’t move. Halo was steady chewing at the shoe strings that came un-tied during the scuffle. I said forever but forever stops when a dog decides it’s okay to bite me. She nailed me dead on the arm too. I’ve had enough, really I have. She’s in the crate for the remainder of the evening other than going out to use the restroom.
Continue reading ‘Morton’
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