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Girl Inside

Art by: Faith Magdalene Austin
Art Title: Girl Inside
Media: Watercolor and Acrylic on 98 lb paper
Style: Raw, African Americana, Folk Art, Black Art
Finish: Sealed, signed,

Here's a close up look at this very emotional piece of a girl with someone else inside.

SUNDRIP - Art for Life
www.sundrip.etsy.com

2

I felt ugly talking to Dr. D today. We talked about binge eating and how my diet isn't the best. I have a terrible sweet tooth but I also eat to sooth myself. I hope it counts for something that I didn't binge the other day. I'm not a fat slob failure but I certainly feel like one.

We talked about the amount of anxiety that I feel, still. This was going on before the medical event and has picked right back up. It's been difficult not to cut but I reluctantly admitted to scratching in order to relieve stress.

We talked about the hug from The Surgeon. He was surprised I liked the hug. I told him I get about 10 hugs every time I go to the Kingdom Hall. I like them. The hug from The Surgeon was healing, especially since I won't see him again. I like the spider plant starts I got from them, too.  ...continue reading "Therapy Review: Ugly. Self Harm. Weight"

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(sigh) I saw The Surgeon for the last time yesterday afternoon. I didn't expect him to hug me but I'm glad he did. I gave him his painting and as expected, I cried at the end. As a matter of fact I got in the car, went to the store, purchased 4 pints of ice cream and a dozen donuts to sooth those tears. Strawberry and Death by Chocolate seemed like good band-aides. I ate a few of the donuts but left the ice cream lot untouched in the freezer.......This is all so painfully unnatural.

I have a hard time letting go of him right now so I was given 3 spider plant starts from his office. How cool is that? His office is the one who gave me the push to set up my 3 gallon Betta 'bowl'. They've got a set up on each desk when you first walk in that are gorgeous. I so want to do a second Betta set up. Anyway.... ...continue reading "Surgeon. CNA. Spoiled Me."

2

TakenMy physical wounds have healed faster than emotional wounds. There's a real fear that time will pass, I'll 'look better', and people will forget that on the inside I'm still struggling.

When all this first happened and for the entire 5 months, friends leaped to my assistance. I had more visitors than I knew what to do with. 🙂 I felt loved. Now that things are going back to my version of normal with Lupus, I fear being left and yet I know the fear is unfounded. My friends love me and I know it, and I know that they were there for me before all this happened. But there's this fear that all the love and attention is going to stop, and I'll fade right into the background and be forgotten. I like the feeling of being loved. It's not entirely new but its new enough that with a taste of it I don't want to let it go. ...continue reading "Don’t Forget Me"

Content: Aunt tried to kill herself. Brief discussion of cocaine. Death.

The gist is that my aunt refused to call me by my name, called me everything else. I refused to answer. Then she called me a 'bitch' so I gave her a full account of how much I hate her. I reminded her that she has "everything" others work their whole lives for: a boat, house, vacations, good job, yet she's unhappy. I went as far as to tell her that even though everyone else knows it, she's in love with someone who doesn't love her back and that's the real reason she's unhappy. I said she should let his gay self go and find a straight man. ...continue reading "Dreams: Burying Fantasies"

2

I knew who i was this morningIt's been one of those days where all I've done is sleep and paint. I got in a good meal, sat down at the table with candle light and everything, yet my heart is desperate and forlorn.

I want to cut. I wont but the desire is there to shred my arms up.

When I don't paint I don't cope. Painting is a huge coping skill for me. Now that I've started painting again I've started feeling more. I felt a lot before but was sort of holding up a wall to shield myself from it. ...continue reading "I’m Not Crazy Yet"

Saturday at 2pm I'll move to the new place. I'm excited but I won't have the internet for a few days. In the few days off line I hope to set up my art table and supplies. I need to see my belongings again. It'll mean a lot to see my stuff. It's hard to explain why I look forward to seeing gadgets and odds and ends, but I do. Part of the things that were thrown away for various reasons, were all of my bound books, including my Shakespeare collection, Maya Angelou book and poetry collections as well as my cookbooks, some of which I had for 20 years.

They say 'things' can be replaced but they forget to add that we will mourn these 'things' for awhile. All my dried flowers, including sunflowers were tossed by the person who cleaned out my apartment while I was down. Every dried rose I have is gone. It hurts. I have every last one of my dolls and every single piece of jewelry, every leaf of tea and every single piece of artwork and art supplies. Those items are sacred. I feel like my poetry collection fell in the category of sacred, but l wasn't there to say so.  ...continue reading "The Move"

2

Someone to Watch Over Me
Someone to Watch Over Me

I asked you to do the surgery. You said you could or a colleague but I trusted my life in your hands. It felt like there was so much at stake, more to lose than body parts. I can't explain how afraid I was that I'd throw a blood clot or bleed to death. I was so scared I kept calling to my mother!

I had a dream about her last night. She was a helpless infant in my arms. I rolled around in my wheelchair with her head on my shoulder. I made sure she was safe and warm. Safe. ...continue reading "Not Cut and Dry"

There's something about having another living thing making noise that helps me feel less alone. Skip to 20 seconds for the start. His big performance is at 55 seconds. This is what Clyde does while doing his service dog duties of laying on my legs to help with the pain. He falls asleep and snores. Gotta love it.

There was one night when he snored so loudly that he woke me. I was groggy from medication and not clear who was snoring. I had to talk to myself to bring me back to 2017 where I do not sleep in a room with my sister. Usually his snoring doesn't trigger it, it makes me feel safe but some of the content of my therapy session concerning abuse got mixed up in current reality and grog. ...continue reading "Snoring. Dreaming of Flashbacks. Losing Mary Jane."

Family tree on my backColors speak louder than wordsI've thought a lot of my mother lately. In therapy Friday afternoon we talked about traveling, the orchestra, theater, opera and all the cultural things she loved. It's a strange contrast between the tyrant and the artist but there was in fact a contrast, one I loved. I recall my mother singing around the house. I knew when she sang it would be a safe day. For some reason when she sang all the vile went away.

One of my mother's favorite animals is the African Elephant which is why I purchased a notebook with one on the cover. I also liked the quote which says: Colors speak louder than words.

The loss is incredible.
Grant mercy please.
She left deep wounds, many questions, but no answers. I have to find resolution in wreckage.

In the notebook I've written letters to my mother, some kind, others telling her exactly how I felt living with her. These letters and drawings are just another step in healing from the war god I called mother. ...continue reading "Mother’s and Grey Elephants"

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