Pain. Graveyard. Art. CNA. Hope.

CONTENT – Mention of abuse and how it felt to be watched.

I mean to tell you, I’ve been in so much pain that I just started crying at the store. I tried to massage my vagus nerve and noticed the left side was hurting the most. That made sense.

My left hip was killing me and I wanted to take off my left knee and put it in the cart, anywhere but on me.

Once I got home and fell asleep I was in so much pain that I dreamed I was trying to fly away from it. It’s safe to say I’m not doing that well pain wise.

The Little One (CNA) is doing well. Joe is relaxed when she’s around. He likes her. He tries to sit in her chair when she gets up. It’s too cute.

I’ve finished the art piece The Deluge. I’ve completed “A History of Eyes on Me” but I think I’m still expressing in art what it felt like to have my mother and uncle watch me dress, shower and use the restroom so much. More art is popping up full of eyes. Sometimes the eyes are my PTSD where I’m watching the world and other eyes are paranoia.

I felt like I’d been walked on with their eyes. They trampled all over my skin, every inch, like bees. I couldn’t get them off me nor should I outwardly try, for fear of punishment. So my skin just got walked on with them silently hiding behind a half closed door.

I took the original “A History of Eyes on Me” out of my Etsy shop so that the original is no longer for sale. But I left large prints and even mini skirts of the painting in my Redbubble shop.

Another thing happening in therapy is that I’m writing issues on rocks, wood or paper that I need to let go of, that I can’t do anything about. Then my CNA and I will take them to the graveyard next to my house. We aren’t going to dig holes bc that might not be legal besides, there might be uncomfortable questions.

• Cop – Excuse me ma’am. What are you burying?
• Me – The memory of my failed marriage and the name of that man!
• Cop – Well then, carry on!

Yes, I am putting his very name on a rock and taking it to a graveyard. I surely am. There will be things I just need to let go of so I’ll symbolically give them a funeral.

Dr. D has always said to put memories in a box and bury the box in my imagination. I’m sorry but that means nothing has been done. I can’t buy in to that. But I can buy into leaving a list, a few rocks or whatever at the graveyard to symbolically rid myself of them. We may even toss the rocks over the bridge, into the river.

I love that Little Bit’s mom is a vegetarian. My CNA isn’t afraid of foods that don’t resemble Burger King or noodles. It’s pathetic how short sighted people can be but with her mom being a vegetarian she’s accustomed to many of my vegetarian meals :-). I naturally lean that direction. Do you know how long I’ve wanted a simple mushroom, spinach and sun dried tomato pizza with fresh basil…? Yeah, for a good year. I couldn’t make it myself and I wasn’t about to ask anyone for it so I could get laughed at and made fun of. I don’t like when they make fun of my food. Now the child of a vegetarian has been dropped in my lap and I’m like what in-the-lentil is this?!! Heck yes!

So, that’s where I am for now. There’s pain. There’s art. There’s a sweet caregiver and I’m pretty sure there’s hope.

Until soon,

Faith