Bumbling and fumbling words rolling my tongue like a gutter ball on the side of this well worn lane. I am a fool now. Ignored. Unseen, laughed at when seen. I am a fool; not your fool.
Faith
Or Me
Category: Originals
The Value of My Memories
I struggle to get words to come forward that make sense to someone other than me. I struggle to verify memories. This is now a life of he said – she said. My brain almost doesn’t care as it has come so far down the stretch, towards the end.
When I was younger I wanted to drag people by the heels in public and force open confessions. I wanted everyone to know I. was. hurt. I wanted even more for someone to care about the hurt. Does my life matter?
What I remember the most is fear, abject fear. What I felt the most was cold but here we are half a century later in, “he said she said” and I ask myself why I ever said anything at all?
Hope. I was looking for hope. I remember.
Tea and Snuggle Strength
Joe is a guardian cat. A watching feline. A gentle whiskered friend whom I adore. It’s just that sometimes the psychosis pushes me away from him a little, away from people a little. I want to isolate.
I have to force myself to accept this new mental weirdness and fear. I wear paranoia. I’m dripping in it. I only know to fill my cup and clean my paint brushes. Art it out!
Covid-19 handed me a fever high enough to leave permanent hallucinations and damage, for which I feel shame. But my cat Joe still finds me palatable to love and be seen cuddling, openly. His love gives me a little more strength to keep going.
What goes in your cup of trials and stress to dilute it so you can do one more day ? 🙂
Tea cup art by Faith Magdalene Austin
Awake Stroke Recovery Art
Finishing “Awake” took much effort but it is here, reworked, beaming with color and striking details.
Bellow are my comments.
I woke to a new existence somewhere unknown, they called it a stroke. Now words come like slow snails, or they are kidnapped so as not to form on my chapped lips.
I painted the emotional roller-coaster I felt as I played tug of war with my body, emotions, speech and interpersonal relationships. Ultimately I felt lost, defeated and misunderstood. I also thought I’d never paint again.
Grueling therapy and persistence with paint brushes helped me get to the point where I can say I’m awake. I’m awake to what has happened and the I’m happy the hardest part of it is behind me. Awake is about surviving the body after stroke and making it my new home.
You will find more images and a short video on Etsy. I also accept PayPal.
Thank you for letting me talk. Thank you for visiting SUNDRIP Art for Life.
Faith Magdalene
Another Long Day
I wonder if my cat hates my job every bit as much as I hated my mother’s profession? How many times have I said to Joe Schmoe, “Here I come?” but made him wait a long time in dead silence? How many times have I sworn to take a break? “Really, here I come.” Sometimes he looks lonely. I worry he feels ignored just like I did.
Instead of papers and pencils it’s paint brushes and canvas.
I enjoy brushing Joe and chatting at him. The aides adore him and take over loving on him; and I let them. When they leave it goes back to being me and him in silence.
He’s sleeping in bed with me again. He sleeps by my head, curled up, back to me, in silence. It’s always so quiet in here.
I’m at the table, back to Joe. Right now I can only hear the trickle of the waterfall in the Betta tank. Ah, but what is this? Joe has turned the tide? He came to sit beside me and break being apart in silence. He kissed my hand and lay beside me. I’ve got to go. There’s no way I can do anything but spend a few moments with him just as he is asking.
My heart is smiling. The day has been given a great gift.
Faith Magdalene
The Crooked Tea Cup – Chatter Art
I take pen to paper and near violently sketch, in order to manage obsessive thoughts and counting. The Etsy painting expresses anxiety building that I needed to manage.
I paint what’s swirling in my head, marching, counting or popping. Art helps manage the symptoms and situation.
When focused, I’ll express how I feel in bright colors next to black lines, and upside down flowers without uttering a single word.
This painting is 5.5×8.5 inches on watercolor paper, unmounted, signed, sealed
“The Crooked Tea Cup” – Arrows direct the path I should take;Â paranoia is her guide.
Please see my Etsy shop for this raw art original.
Faith
Behind the Lines
I chose a name that’s not as harsh and doesn’t include the word freak because I’m not a freak.
Here’s the finished piece. Yes, She wants to fade into the background because by nature she’s a private person, now she feels exposed by the caseworker.
Even if some don’t get it, there’s a difference between the private life on the net and private life off line. Yes, for 20 yrs I’ve blogged my personal issues but do you understand I got to choose? It stayed on the net. My closest friends still don’t know I have DID, but this caseworker pops up and somehow gets my medical doctor to sign a form releasing all medical and psychiatric diagnosis. And just like that my caregiver company knows which is terrible news for me.. I want to crumble…. I did… Then I got back up!
At bottom of the painting a thin bone figure swings ropes and lines as she dangles her feet above the cup of tea below.
Please see the entry Sometimes I Feel Like A Freak for the original poem and the follow up entry called A Little Bit Frustrated and it Shows expressing dismay over calling myself a freak.
Please see my Etsy shop for purchase information.
A little frustrated and it shows
I intended to keep the colors brighter like always, shockingly bright, but this time darker colors felt right.
The rainbow was given a darker red and a mustard yellow stripe in a midnight blue sky. The clothing of the figures is in plum, dark red, green and blue.
As I worked I realized the high amount of frustration and anger associated with feeling like a freak; feeling broken if not shatteted. Line after line I drew myself shatteted for the last time! I will not do it again.
I felt so hidden behind the lines, even hidden from myself. I’ve described being a multiple like looking into carnival mirrors. It’s hard to know who is who. Well, I may not always know the who but I do know The Way.
I need hope too. I don’t feel hopeless but sometimes I feel like I’m in prison here. I wish I could leave. This isn’t my home anymore. However, I can’t just up and go in the middle of the night – won’t up and go like that. I’ll move somewhere safe, clean. One thing is for sure, there’s no more peace here.
The painting will be in the shop very soon. Check my Etsy.
Faith
Sometimes I Feel Like A Freak
This is about the stress and pressure from people telling me what I should be doing and me having a hard time finishing projects. Slowly but surely they are being completed, this one too very, very soon. –
Sometimes I feel like a freak but I try to hide it.
I try to blend in.
Say the right things, the right way.
I want to hold my face in the expression allowing emotions of the moment to show, balancing them on my brow and tongue like a real live woman.
I’m not normal. I’m not and the effort it takes to be, exhausts my tired spirit.
Sometimes I feel lost.
I’m lost
as ink scratches on
9×12 pads
roads and hills,
lands of dramatic color and wonder.
With each stroke of the pen to paper you hear the symphony of my madness.
There’s stress in the ink, acrylic and experimental designs. Stress to do it your way.
Change. Spotlight. Museum. Gallery. Gala. Teach. Speak, Lead!
Don’t waste your voice, your voice, your voice, your voice.
The art stops. The freak is seen clearer. And everyone finally goes home.
Faith Magdalene
You can. You will.
I’m pleased to have been able to finish this piece with its color symbolism and Scripture favorites. I like Jonah a lot. It often feels like I’m in the belly of a big fish with no way out just like he was.
I love the original meaning of the rainbow and how it is on God’s thrown as a symbol of peace so I added that to the image.
I know for a fact that hope does not lead to disappointment.
The last part of the image shows three distinct figures, a date and two blue hearts. The black child’s hair is hearts. Of course there are sunflowers. There must always be sunflowers. 🙂
Faith