Bite. 8.5 x 11, paper

This is as good a time as any to post two very intense ink drawings from early in our therapeutic travels. They’re part of the art we’re trying to thin out. The prompt to get them up here came from a journal entry I read concerning protecting one’s self as a child from an abusive mother.

My mother would stand motionless in the doorway until I looked up and saw her. She’d just stand there in the dark waiting for me to see her, then she’d come in. She’d stand behind the door at times.

I still pile things on the bed so that no one else can get in the bed without me knowing it. I sleep in total darkness because in order to come in, you have to let in light from outside. That’s my protection, total blackout. If I see light that shouldn’t be there then I know I’m in danger.

I know in my heart that my mother and her family can’t come in my apartment. They can’t beam in or walk through the door itself. They are not super powerful the way I saw them when I was a child, yet there is fear.

It’s hard trying to stay in the now when the past keeps demanding a presence.

Am I getting any better? I feel like my posts should be how happy I am for being in therapy so long and I know the coping skills and I have this that and the other, life is better … live, love, crap!!!! It’s true that in many ways life is better, it is…….There are still a lot of triggers – I know how to help myself in that regard. There are a lot of stress symptoms – I know how to recognize them. I have nightmares where I wake screaming – art therapy has been invaluable in this area. A black woman better not put her hands on me – I still can’t do that one. I still struggle with women, it’s as if they’re all …her.

Impact - 8.5 x 11, paper

Right now there’s so much going through my head. I am lonely. Morton integrated and is part of the whole of us but I feel alone if not abandoned. Who would leave children age 12 and under to the care of a boy? I don’t desire to rise to the occasion. I suppose it’s my turn though. Joan, Destiny, Morton, Maureen, Milwaukee, Amy Pink, Amy Smiles, Renea – they’re all gone. I don’t hear the giggling of little girls nor do I hear Maureen weep. The other day I could feel the strength Morton had. I could feel his confidence as if it were my own but there is no individual named Morton, not anymore. I feel alone. The oldest among us is 24 years old and she is not able to mange. Our original person, ya know, the original personality has been out in minute increments. From time to time she comes out. I have to say, I’m happy she came out to see a more gentle Robert. Even though I wanted to punch a guy out the other day, I am not the Robert she used to know. Yeah……

I said the past keeps demanding a presence. For me, the key word in that sentence is “a”. The past no longer fully consumes our present life. The past may make a presence, but it can’t stay.

I didn’t make it to bed because I had some phone stuff that popped up.
I hope to make cookies tomorrow as well as dishes for us to eat for the next few days. We need to really eat and eat the way we like to. We like Thai a lot and we like fresh fruit. I look forward to strawberries this coming Wednesday, and Valencia oranges. I found an awesome recipe for Spanish lemonade that I’d like to try. 🙂

Even though I am just a fraction of our core self, the original person, I am sure that each of us is aware that being a Chef is in our blood. It doesn’t matter which adult has been put in charge of cooking, that alter has done knock out meals on a low budget.

I’m happy I ran across her journal entry. I think I needed to get all that out, about our fears, about taking care of child alters who are still afraid, about my own fears and about feeling lonely without alters who have integrated.

Alright, logging off ….. and feeling a bit better. It’s time to turn out the lights.


Related Posts

No need to feel nervous, comment if you'd like.

%d bloggers like this: