Archive for the 'Art Therapy' Category

In the Hospital for SLE and Fibromyalgia

On Friday I went to an art opening with a friend and it was fantastic. I didn’t want to go at all and started to cancel because my pain level was at a 9 and rising. Despite that I went and I’m happy I did. What happened later was that I ended up in the ER because the pain level hit a 10 and I simply could not take it. I said weeks ago that I’d considered going to the ER but didn’t, this time I did. When I got there they looked at my records and asked a few simple questions. They asked how I usually manged my pain. I answered honestly then told them that my usual method wasn’t managing this flare up. He asked when the last time it was I came in for a “cocktail” and I told him it had been awhile. According to my records it was 2 years ago.

No social workers showed up and no questions about my mental health were posed. They asked one major question: What can we do to help you? I asked for a one time cocktail that would relieve the pain enough that I could manage it again. With that I was given a shot of Morphine, Demerol an injection of Prednisone. They then had me swallow two pills for nausea and gave me two percocets. This cocktail could knock out a horse but I was wide awake the whole time.

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Black for Dummies

This entry is a follow up to the pink dryer entry . This handwritten entry goes into detail about how difficult it was to feel as if I belonged anywhere or was seen as anything but an object of derision.

The very first art piece shows a three headed child with the caption, “You can be anyone except who you really are.” This art therapy piece will make more sense if the pages are read concerning being black and how I was told to be an example for others. The example I was to set was insane and rather stupid thus the title, Black for Dummies.

My therapist and I spent a good amount of time talking how during this writing I stumbled upon the understanding that my sister should not be seen as weak for how she handled the abuse. Continue reading ‘Black for Dummies’

Pink dryer and a house under my foot

This handwritten journal entry came about when I discovered why I’d been so triggered lately. About a year ago I got dreadlocks, then I discovered its not as easy a hair style at I thought it would be. I have to twist and re-twist as well as sit under my GE tabletop dryer to speed the take of the lock. Doing this reminded me of all the times my mother took me to the hair dresser. I wish I could say it was a pleasant memory but it wasn’t. In order to deal with the triggers I drew a picture of me sitting under the dryer. I did this WHILE I was under the dryer which means I was drawing myself drying my hair.

One of the things about the picture is that the dryer is shown as pink. It’s not. It’s a tabletop GE Dryer in white like the photo shows.

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Smoke and Mirrors

After writing my last entry and quoting my mother as saying, “Would Mommy approve?” I got a bit irritated (?) so I ended up working off that emotion by writing.

My mother refused to allow us to call her anything but mommy or by her nickname given to her by my father. As an older teen I hated calling her mommy. As I type the word my nose is turned up like it’s the most disgusting word in the world. It feels as if she kept me “little” by using that word. Oh man I can’t explain how disgusted I am by that word. It’s just that she forced it. We had to call her that and she would tell people we called her that. My girls are such and such of age and still call me mommy. Of course we did, it was a requirement. It was a requirement the same as saying Yes Ma’am and No Ma’am. I have no objection to using those terms of respect. As a matter of fact I still say them, it’s just that hearing myself say it to her makes me sick.

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J is For Joan

Dr. D: When you get into situations like that ask yourself, “What would Joan do?”
Me: Maybe I should get a WWJD bracelet.

When he suggested I ask what Joan would do he couldn’t see the …contempt …the utter disgust on my face at the thought of it. OF COURSE a mother issue is involved because the woman actually said to me, “See me in your head and ask yourself, “Would mommy approve?” I will no longer gauge my behavior based on some human figure lurking behind me, over me, scrutinizing my every move.

When I was a child and even now I can picture my mother’s face right over my shoulder. She’s deadpan, as usual so I can’t tell if she approves or disapproves. It was a guessing game to figure out what was acceptable to her.

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Art Therapy: Changes in Black and White

I wasn’t feeling all that calm or collected at the time of these particular drawings which were done with an ink pen or black gel pen.

When I first moved here I thought to myself, my goodness, I’ve gone from the pan into the fire. For a minute that might have been true but its far from true now. For just a moment it was rough.

At first I decided not to do any more end of life foster care for animals or feed newborns. I figured it might be okay to babysit from time to time but I’ll limit that as well. I briefly did foster care for a 15 year old male tabby. His photo is among the sketches. Seeing that boy roll around in catnip was priceless!!! Ever seen an old cat drop about 14.5 years in a few minutes? Yeah, that was pretty awesome.

Some of my issues are the same, which I expected. I expected anxiety and stuff like that but I never expected to end up at my going to my mother’s house.  That blew me away.

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Art Therapy sketches, paintings, etc

I did a lot of painting, writing and sketching while off line. I won’t even bother to explain them. I just want to make sure I get them up here so I know where they are.

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