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.
I had a dream last night about Grace. In the dream I was in bed very sick. I called for her. She came with a brother of hers who sat with me and read the Bible. He told me that there’s a friend sticking closer than a brother but that she couldn’t extend to me anymore energy because I hurt her when I left. He asked me if I was ever angry enough to hit her. I said yes. He said he and she knew that and she wanted to remove herself from environments with such intensity and anger. I said I understood. I woke after that.
I’ve never been angry enough with Grace to want to hit her. I’ve wanted to shake her and tell her to get out her situation but I’ve never wanted to strike her.