As I finished an image for My Face My Art a cruel voice in my head reminded me that I'm worthless. My gut felt heavy. I wanted to curl in the fetal position and face the wall with my back to everything; anything that might be damaged by my existence.
If this feeling could be weighed, one person couldn't hold it.
I didn't review the images on a day where self image was greater than zero, perhaps I should have. Still, I look at some and think they aren't that bad. They show how much my eyes are becoming a problem.
I would search to find words that contradict the negative talk but I don't really want to. ...continue reading →
The video is a quickly thrown together sound bite with several art pieces that fit the topic. Death of my brother as well as sexual abuse, suicidal ideation and self harm (cutting) are discussed along side art stills. Close to the end of the video one photo of a box of crayons is seen for several seconds, then the video ends. That crayon photograph marks a detailed discussion of first being abused.
Life without Crayons
No coloring books
No cousin to first touch as I held gray
to fill in a cat who chased
but never caught the mouse.
No crayons would mean no dowel rods on my three year old body because
liberties were taken.
Life without crayons would never ask if
dowel rods broke before my mind had to.
Life did change that day. She saw me differently. Whatever she didn't beat out of me that day made her violently mad until I left home.
i feel so broken, exhausted, shredded. i need a mental vacation, somewhere out of my body and its inferno. that thought plagues me, i have to escape this.
they say when a person says they want to commit suicide that it's a cry for help, that they don't really want to die. that's true. i cried as loudly as possible. i'm not okay. help me. i'm not okay.
February is nearly over and i'm still here. i nearly didn't survive it. had it not been for answers to my calls for help i may not have been here to look people in the face and say, i'm fine.
what a ride this has been in a body with no armor traversing through emotional warfare. the disease let my body live but left my mind to rot. (eyes open at this point)
i took the diagnosis of CRSD very hard. i'd never heard of it. it made sense to me once it was explained. but i promised myself i wouldn't look up information on it. i promised i wouldn't study it because i want to be able to give the doctor a report from me and be able to say 100%, this is from me. I didn't read it somewhere. I'm paranoid about not being believed.
7x10 art journal. Escape my skin, oil stick and ink
I often feel defeated. I run from head, I run from my skin, always in fight or flight.
Dove - pencil on paper, sketch 7x10
I will smile. I may crack a joke but behind these eyes is a woman who is so tired that she just wants to put the covers over her head and cease to exist. Please, I don't want to do this anymore, let me go. I don't want to laugh with you anymore and I don't want to rise to the occasion anymore.
Just Like Her - 7 x 10, art journal
February 14th is his birthday, him, that boy who dared to take his own life and tear out the hearts of others. January 28th, I'm a hypocrite. There is no plan, no action I'm going to take it's just that it's heavy on my heart and I'm tired.
*** This is not an entry saying I'm going to kill myself. I know this subject is uncomfortable and it's scary but I will not manipulate nor will I ever write an entry saying I'm going to kill myself. I want to be very clear that I'm talking about feelings, not actions or a plan. Like I did before, I will walk in the hospital if I feel I am not able to remain 'safe' with my support system. Like every other subject, I am expressing and processing in a raw, unedited way. Journal entry titles will give a good idea of major topics discussed.
A short hospital stay was needed. I'm home recovering but I'm not to go anywhere. I was grateful that 3 from my care team responded after hours, including over the week end. They got me all squared away .... not to mention super drugged.
I said I wouldn't take narcotics unless its absolutely necessary. Well, it was absolutely necessary. Several days of going through that crap was enough! I'm still very tired, still not keeping anything down and still feel like crap but I don't hurt nearly as badly as I did. I'm down to a 7, which I hardly ever see even with this much stuff in my system.
I'm sleeping a lot, at odd hours as usual, but its good sleep. The elders from the Hall have been very helpful, so have the sisters.
Here's another My Face My Art piece created here in bed. She's wearing Nesting Place 2 on the left side of the screen and Reed 1 on the right. Also to the right of the screen there's a tiny bit of texture from the small drawing New Dimensions.
Back to sleep I go. I talk to Dr. D on the phone tomorrow afternoon. He was one on my care team that responded after hours.
I went to the doc today. The new diagnosis means I'm listened to, strange feeling.
I'm going to say the same thing I've been saying and I mean it just s much as the first time I said it. I hurt. From head to toe, I hurt.
I do not want to roll over and get out my Purple Pack of supplies that'll help me make it through this. I feel too tired, but I'm going to do it. I'm going to let myself cry. I'm going to let myself melt into the mattress warmed by the best blanket on earth. What a God send, that electric blanket.
When everything went to 'hell' in a hand basket I didn't panic, I didn't start screaming and crying.
Three people have died unexpectedly in the last week but during the chaos, the conversations back and forth, arrangements, I spoke with my normal voice. My family knows not to expect me at the memorial. They don't have to wonder if I'll show up, I calmly explained that I will not. The response was ... interesting. I can't say if they were offended or not. I can say that the conversation wasn't argumentative in tone....in tone. It always feels like a struggle with my Aunty C, always. Aunty S seems a little more laid back than I remember. My sister still won't speak to me.
When there was abuse going on in front of us the best thing to do was not react, stay calm. When my mother was on a crazy trip..............it's not right for her to be gone, ya know that, it's not right........
This particular piece in the My Face My Art Collection, has a specific theme. I wanted to convey the general feeling of being disturbed and strangled. This piece involves not just Lupus but mental illness as well.
Just because a person has one life difficulty, it doesn't make them exempt from the others. Strangle Hold addresses a physical and mental battle.
Sometimes I feel as though I'm winning the battle, other times I'm in a strangle hold.
I showed a friend a photo of this painting and her first response was, wow, there’s a lot in there. She commented that there were images from corner to corner. I said, yeah, not a single corner left without a mark or image. I then added, it’s like a snapshot of my brain. That’s how the painting was named. A simple conversation brought forward the purpose of this painting. It is a private moment caught on canvas. It’s a snapshot of my mind.
In therapy a person is encouraged to find a healthy outlet for their anxiety. On occasion I need to do something physical to work it off, other times I just need to lie down alone in the quiet. More often than not I need to paint. I need to paint with no expectations, whatever comes out comes out and that is the final painting.
I realized this piece would be full of motion and colorful turmoil because anxiety fueled my brush. As a matter of fact, half of the painting was finished in one night, it took 4 days to complete the rest.
The last two days my brush moved with ease and more peacefully because the color purge was nearly complete. I’d worked off my anxiety and successfully used healthy coping skills.
This painting was primarily done while in bed. It's not the easiest thing to move around in a TLSO brace, but one learns to do the impossible when it's needed. So yes, the vast majority of the painting called Snapshot was created while in bed. Lupus and Fibromyalgia with other complications can often knock me off my feet, but with the help of friends I am able to regain my strength and continue in my occupation as an artist.
Title: Snapshot Art by: Faith Magdalene Austin Medium: Acrylic, ink, watercolor paper Size: 15 × 22 Finish: signed, unsealed, unmounted Style: Expressionism, Figurative
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