Sundrip Journals
There are a ton of reasons for why the story about killing my mother was written. To try and explain them all would be too hard and take too long but I was able to sketch a few key reasons for my anger and the grief over the situation. This is a two page spread expressing one major emotion: grief.
The very first picture is about watching my mother hurt by her own family, particularly her mother. Continue reading ‘All The Many Reasons’
Sometimes memories come out of nowhere. I was in bed when I opened my eyes and thought, my mother walked around the house with a pacifier in her mouth. She had a clear teething ring with little boat and fish shapes inside. She said the teething ring made her bite stronger. Her pacifier was blue.
written 1-21-11/11:12pm est
There have been two things on my mind lately, one is a statement my mother made to me and the other is one of her obsessions.
For some reason this same statement keeps playing in my head: “I’ll always love you. I’d love you even if you were gay, on drugs or a murderer.” I have no idea why that statement said to me so long ago keeps playing in my head.
There’s an old journal entry discussing how my sister used to have me pretend to be a doll but I can’t for the life of me find it. I just spent an hour trying to find it. I refuse to look anymore. Why did I try so hard to find that entry? I worried what I’m about to say will be seen as a lie if it’s not verified in some way. Goodness, I worry so much about being seen as an attention seeking little liar. For this reason my head swoons sometimes before and during journal entries like the one I’m about to write. So I can write this thing sometime today I’ll just say this, a doll I had looked exactly like the inner child doll I purchased a few days ago. I wasn’t allowed to play with her back then for several reasons, one of which is that she too was made in Germany in the 1930′s. She was an antique. She sat on the dresser, period.
Usually I have many negative things to say about DJ but this entry is hugely different. Friday morning my head was everywhere with fear that my mother would show up Christmas Eve. Since she can’t contact me by phone I’ve been worried that she’ll show up. Yesterday morning the fear factor kicked in enough that I had a difficult time getting myself grounded again. I put a call in to my therapist but I wasn’t sure when he was going to be able to call back so I turned right around and called DJ upstairs and told him I was scared out of my mind. I could hardly talk because I was crying so hard. He told me that everything would be okay and that I’m safe and can go to sleep now. He talked to me for a few minutes then I snuggled on the sofa with Gus and Mary Jane for what felt like the entire day.
It’s been two days since I had this dream.
My mother and I went to an intimate dinner together. We went to the type of restaurant where dates go for solitude, quiet and good wine. Instead of our table being far off in a corner we sat sort of in the middle of the restaurant at a small round table for two. When the waiter came to bring my food I noticed maggots in my baked potato. My mother’s food was just fine. She ate and waited for the check. When the check arrived I pulled from my bag a small maroon colored change purse and offered to pay. When I opened it up gnats swam by the hundreds in some sort of nasty, brown and wine colored soup. I looked over at the maggot filled potato then back at the gnats, not in shock but with interest. I woke from there.
He isn’t happy with me, not at all…..not happy with me at all. Things get really bad when his stuff comes up or when Dr. D addresses him personally. I want to talk to Dr. D really bad.
This has been in my head all day long. It’s been in my head while feeding the dog, while caring for the fish and the toads. No matter what I do or where I go I hear self condemnation.
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