Kiss kiss
Art on a white T-shirt
March of Clowns
Faith MMagdalene
Three Shots
Category: Major Depression
Paranoia, Fear, OCD and Art
My caregivers take me in the community regularly. They assume their presence is enough to keep me calm and feeling safe and grounded. I’d say the statement is 75% true. My anxiety after being stalked has risen. It wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t a game. It was a lot longer than a year! And it was violent and intense! I’m happy to be safe now.
I’m not paranoid in my new home any more than I’ve ever been paranoid. I don’t think being stalked changed that level. I’m back to my old fears, obsessions and compulsions in the new place. Like always I’ve kicked into my coping skills.
Reality check – Can I validate my fears? Are they in the realm of possibility?
Grounding. Remind myself of who I am and that I’m safe. My name is XYZ. I’m X yrs old. I’m safe now! I have an friends, an apartment and most of all a future!
Stimulation / Distraction. It’s time to switch the channels. I have a small vile with me that has the tiniest little bit of lavender in it. It’s my on the run aromatherapy. I also carry a small scratch pad to sketch in because art works for me. Earthing, sitting by the fan or just going outside can help eleviate stress and get it back down to a manageable level.
I would not normally suggest using a tablet at the table in a restaurant but I do it regularly now. I’ve done it in line at Ross because the line was long. The new Five Bellow needs to open more registers but this entry isn’t about that LOL. I sketch at any time, any place in order to control the anxiety, especially if I’ve already tried lavender.
Usually by this time the CNA has picked up on my sketching and starts to ask questions. She kicks into CNA mode and we move to the side for just a bit.
There are times when I can catch my breath and we can proceed but other times I just want to go home. In the car my pen moves like crazy.
OCD Getting all my teeth pulled was the single best thing I could have done. The tooth brush was simply too much.
Bidet. Yeah, should have done this a long time ago, too. It’s difficult to use the restroom. Difficult to clean up especially if there are issues.
The disorder is not fun. I’m trying to manage. I see the new psychiatrist August. That feels like… is... forever.
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; paranoia is her guide.
Please see my Etsy shop for this raw art original.
Faith
One Shot. Roll On.
Today part of me just mourned the loss of the old CNA that I really liked, the one who said I’m not disabled. It was short lived. I’d rather go without the toxicity thank you very much!!!
This head is tired.
I spoke with the owner who reassured me that she’s looking for a quality aide for me, not just anyone.
I’ve bombed on the meet and greet twice bc I gave too much info about OCD and scared qualified candidates; one I didn’t much like but would have worked with, the second I really, really like. Can I get a do over?
This whole one shot thing is horrible! You get one short interview with a person to see if you can work with them.
I’ve forgotten how the regular employed world works. You go to interviews, sell yourself in an hour then leave. One shot! Gracious! Oh my brain.
I’m trying to get it right, trying to do everything right. Why can’t I get it right?
Today I had to remind myself of my self worth because it recently tanked. I don’t assign my self worth, God does. He loved everyone enough to allow his son as ransom, including me. So get up Faith, shake the dirt off your shoulders.. and roll on. You got this.
desperate
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
The Whole World is On Fire
This company, CICOA, that serves the elderly and disabled to find so called care companies to come in the house has now been told that I have DID. They, CICOA, told the doctor if I wanted care I’d have to give them both psychiatric and medical diagnosis. I was not asked about this.
The company was told I have DID. They passed it along to the under educated care companies who pass it along to their caregivers! Are you joking? Are you joking!!
No matter what company I go to they’ll know I have DID, the caregiver may know as well. Everyday people don’t need to know this.
In Indiana, most of these places aren’t run by medical professionals but by well meaning individuals who saw a need in the community. But well meaning doesn’t mean you know what to do or not to do or to just leave it the heck alone.
I told the CICOA worker that I spent years, years making sure my DID didn’t get out but nope, here we are, you guys couldn’t let it go. I said, so now that you know, who is educated enough to manage it? None of you! Not a single person in that building has the slightest bit of education to manage my disorder. She said, I have a bachelor in psychology. What’s that supposed to do? If you have a BA then you should have known to be more careful.
Curiosity killed the cat. The cat is me.
It matters that uneducated people are going to have this information and that I’m going to AGAIN hear how I need to just pray the demons out, spit them out, excercist, oil, rituals and that I have demons. I won’t go through it. I won’t go through it again. I may not have to bc I gave CICOA quite the unedited tongue lashing!! They may kick me out of the program. I really went off.
I spent so long holding that secret together and it’s over because J is nosey and gave a form requiring my mental health diagnosis. All that happened on the heels of my CNA getting fired by me yesterday morning, the CNA I liked so much.
We’d begun fighting, outright arguing daily. I’d apologize, she wouldn’t. I started to worry about a few things I couldn’t prove but was suss of.
The last argument was when discussing going to the grocery store. I said I’d like to go to the pet store first because it’s less energy than the grocery store. She said, I don’t want to double back. I said, but as a disabled person it’s easier on me to do the easier thing first. She chimed in with, I have plenty to say about you being disabled but we don’t want to have that conversation.
It hit hard. I was dazed. Seconds later I said, yes, we need to have this conversation. Long story short, the Certified Nurses Aide believes she is qualified to cancel out all doctor diagnosis for her punny, sad, opinion. I’m amazed! Amazed. There was no way she was working here if she didn’t even believe I’m disabled. My goodness.
As angry as I was that I had to fire her, I did forgive that stupidity. She can never work for me, but forgiveness is offered to the CNA and her ridiculous actions. Why? So I can leave just a tiny bit of peace in a world that is very short of it.
As for CICOA there is no such forgiveness…. This dumpster fire is part of the rest of the world that’s on fire. Cause if you hadn’t noticed, the whole world is kinda on fire right now.
Michael Joseph is ok but not great. He’s sleeping a lot. He eats well. Still drinking. He’s clingy then he goes back to hide under the bed.
I took a photo yesterday bc I just turned a corner in life and I know it. I’m not sure what’s around the corner, but I didn’t just turn a corner in life. I could feel it coming for a minute.
Faith Magdalene
Why So Much Anxiety?
Anxiety comes over like waves. One minute my head is above water, the next I have waves of debilitating anxiety. It washes over me so that all I want to do is go to bed with the covers over my head. I don’t feel like I’m coping. I wish I could go to the hospital inpatient for medication management. This is over my head right now.
I’m not suicidal but I’m not ok either. I’m thinking about going inpatient though.
Dr . D is displeased that I can’t rely on my CNAs to remind me to eat something between 10 – 3 while she’s here. She just wants to concentrate on her agenda for the day which doesn’t include reminding me to eat or giving 3pm medication prompts. She reminds me to take 9am meds but the rest of the day there are no prompts. It doesn’t matter who comes here, they aren’t going to do prompts. They aren’t wired for it. This CNA only wants to do some of the housework while outright ignoring the rest, but she’s honestly about the best I’m going to get.
I feel like I’m constantly irritated with a friend of mine. The other day she was fixing the doors on my big terrarium. In the process she needed to adjust something, who knows. Well instead of asking for a screwdriver she picked up one of my spoons for tea and started working with it. I said, no, I don’t think so. I gave her a screwdriver and just shook my head. THEN I went into the kitchen to get in my little oven only to find that the oven was unplugged. I plugged it back in. She said she unplugged it to plug it a small tool. I said, you need to ask questions. Where should I plug this in? Do you have a screwdriver? ….. smh. Don’t just start doing stuff on your own bc it’s not going to go well.
Those two things may not mean anything to others but I don’t appreciate people doing whatever they want with my stuff. And to use one of my spoons for tea like a screwdriver and to pry something off? No ma’am!
I’m also irritated with her bc she takes stuff I’m throwing away and puts it in her attic saying she’ll keep it “just in case I change my mind later and want it back.” I guess I’m not even able to make decisions on my own. Like I need her as a safety net so I don’t throw away my stuff. She gets on my nerves with that crap!
I got rid of a table. Instead of putting it in the trash she said I might want it later so she took it home with her. It’s like for some reason my word means nothing! She gets on my nerves with that crap!
So in addition to anxiety I’m irritated with people. I’m irritated with my CNA for wanting to fight the people at KFC and for threatening to throw a drink on an employee. I’m irritated that stuff goes from zero to 100 with her and employees.
I’m just irritated and very anxious!
At War With Myself – Disordered Eating
Content – Disordered eating. Binge eating, no purge. Shame. Hopeless feelings. Anxiety. Inpatient for medication management.
I had therapy today where it was decided that I’ll have a short set time with extra home care. I’ll be adding a 3 hr day to Saturday until the beginning of the year.
I really have a hard time keeping myself together. I’m close to needing inpatient. I’m trying to get around that.
I burst into tears 3 times Friday, out of nowhere. Thursday I was so anxious that I felt like I needed complete quiet bc I was so overly stimulated. Every sound assaulted me. I couldn’t sleep until around 6am. My head has been all over the place.
On the 8th I’ll go to see how my eyesight is doing with the Pseudotumor cerebri. Peripheral vision is gone on the left side. There’s a large blind spot in the middle of the left eye. I have some issues on the right, mostly fatigue, I think. Def worries me.
I was supposed to lose weight so I can avoid a spinal tap. Instead of of being thinner for my opthalmology appointment, I’ll return 30 lbs heavier. How will I explain that? I have to take the psych meds and I have disordered eating. It’s not going well. I know my eating is disordered, maybe even addiction level. I have the pull of increased appetite from those 2 meds and then my disordered eating.
The difficulty is that I can eat and eat without feeling anything. I’m not satisfied nor am I hungry. I’m empty. As cliche as it sounds, I keep trying to fill a hole. So I keep eating, mostly sweets. Binge eating is a problem. The other day I ate six apple fritters in less than 30 minutes. The day before I had twelve strawberry pop tarts in about an hour. No other food those days bc I didn’t remember.
Eating to sooth emotions is a problem. Baked goods make me feel better. Coffee and tea make me feel better. It’s like I’ve got to put something inside myself, only once it’s been eaten the soothing is gone. 1) I can’t tell that I ate or drank. 2) I’m back to whatever I was feeling that caused me to turn to food. It’s a vicious cycle.
After the 12th all my teeth will be pulled. I’ll wait for them to heal before getting full dentures. Eating will be difficult. Having disordered eating at that time worries me.
Now that I have a steady CNA and now that Dr D works in a building that is handicapped accessible, I can go see him. I’m just embarrassed! I’m embarrassed about seeing the ophthalmologist this coming Friday. I’m embarrassed to see my primary doctor. I’m embarrassed to see my psychologist.
I thought to myself the other day, there’s very little understanding offered to people who are overweight. At least some understanding is offered to people addicted to street drugs. Fat people are blamed and mocked as if the reasons for my addiction are any different. Life hurts. Same story, different poison.
I feel lost with my eating issues. I keep thinking I’ll get a hold of it. Add disordered eating to the pull of medication side effects from seroquel or my Pregabline and I’ve got myself an inner war I’m quickly losing.
Joan
Slow Moving and Art Updates.
I woke around 9am but I didn’t get up until 1 pm. I just couldn’t get going.
Yesterday was a full day in that we went to Michael’s craft store, Hobby Lobby and Lowes. I got a sunflower stash at Michael’s, all 4 of the large sunflowers total $10. Score! I’m physically exhausted from that but it was great.
I’ve been trying to figure out why I’m so afraid to sleep. I’ve even wanted to sleep with the light on. I’m uneasy and even afraid at night. I have no reason to be. I’m not a kid anymore. I’m under my own roof. Yes, the fear is strong but it only lives in my head. It’s not based on 2023. The fear is from a few years past and when I was young.
I fear laying down flat and suffocating. I didn’t fear laying down flat until the 2018 events. Now I panic and can’t breathe.
For me, the most trauma is February 12th when it all happened. May 7th when they amputated my foot and August 25th when I moved into this apartment. It’s funny, I don’t remember the date of the thrombectomy. That’s the heavy duty surgery I did. So yeah, I’ve got some PTSD stuff going on right now.
It’s also noteworthy that I’ve been switching personalities a lot. Honestly, the only person who should be out with our caregiver is Jordan yet little ones, Joan and Maureen have been out, too. The anxiety levels are very different.
I love that she takes me places. I love that she hasn’t missed a day nor has she been late the whole 4 months she’s been here. We’ve clashed but we’ve not quit on each other. She flipped out once and said some horrible things. I hope she doesn’t believe what she said …….. We primarily get along well.
Today I want to isolate. I want baked goods and endless hours of tiktok. That’s what depression says I want. Well, I’m up now. The tea kettle is on. I’ll sip Earl Gray, change my clothes and fight a little bit.
One secure way to feel better is to reach out and do something for others. A friend that knows I’m struggling is sending an e-card, everyday, for a full month. If that sounds like a lot, the same cherished friend sent me a rose every day for 5 months I was in the hospital. She’s truly a gift. So, what can I do to help someone close to me? I’m going to make two small paintings, one for the person sending me e-cards and one for a different person I know is struggling.
I think I feel well enough now to set a few minor goals for today.
- Dust while listening to my book
- Clear off my art table
- One of two small paintings / greeting cards
- Get in a halfway decent meal
Hopefully I can get some more art in my Etsy shop. I’ve got two more on the way.
I’m itching to make dolls again, too. I purchased 3 skeins of yarn yesterday to use for the doll’s hair; plum, burnt orange and honey-flaxen blonde. I want to do the purple first. I keep seeing people with beautiful non-traditional hair colors so I got purple and orange for doll’s hair. I’ll see what my creative side can do with these colors.
Alright, after 2 cups of tea and some typing, I think I’m ready to do part two of today. I feel a little stronger.
Four things I’m grateful for today.
- A friend is coming to help with my hospital bed that’s giving me the blues.
- I feel a tad bit of motivation. I want to tap into it.
- Galaxy Nebula projector that makes being in the dark a bit easier.
- You 🙂 for taking the time to read this. Thank you 🙂
Faith
Artist Thoughts: The Color of Healing
I recently purchased a new dress for the first time in over 30 years. I’d been wanting a kaftan so I purchased a pink tie dye kaftan. That got the ball rolling and lead to dress number 2.
When I was a child I didn’t wear much white because I tend to wipe my hands on my clothes, but unfortunately my family attached my worth to the color white. Here’s what I mean –
In 1992 I was getting ready for a function so I was ironing my white skirt and blouse. As I ironed, my sister kept walking past me saying, “Whore. Whores don’t wear white.” My mother and she were cruel. They wanted me to feel low and loathsome.
My sister was truly a piece of work. I got married in white and I could hear her evil words on that day, too. Fast forward to 2022. Not only am I older, I’m mad now.
I’m upset that my family attempted to harm me in whatever way seemed good. I was shamed so terribly over getting white dirty. It was always such a big ordeal. Living in the house with those two, I knew I was out numbered.
Recently I’ve been trying to reclaim a few colors associated with abuses. I’d been working on yellow for a while. I can say with pride that I have successfully reclaimed the color yellow and restored it to its proper place; next is white.
I’ve been tossing this idea around for a bit. It’s finally coming to fruition. I purchased a long, solid white Kaftan…..to paint in… to purposely wipe my hands on and get it all covered lol. Then of course I thought, what about shoes? So in February I’ll get a pair of knock-off, high top Converse, white for about $20. Converse right now are $115. I’m not trying to make that expensive of a point. Lol
Where the label on the shoe should be, I’ll put a sunflower. To tie the whole statement together, I’ll toss in a white dreadlock wrap and some hoop earrings.
I’m going target a few areas where I have unresolved issues such as over the heart, the lungs and the tassels at the bottom.
Colors of significance will include deep shades of purple bc the purple survivors ribbon is for Lupus, Domestic Violence and Dementia. All of these have touched my life significantly.
I don’t know when I’ll say the dress is “finished”. I do know I’ll wear it around the house to paint in. My paints are permanent and vivid.
A bit of irony – the dress arrived very wrinkled. I absolutely have to iron it before I put it on.
The rest of life is as troubled and discombobulated as everyone else. I’m taking it day by day. I find the world increasingly difficult to manage. I’m worried about the havoc politicians will reek on their world playground during elections. I’m not looking forward to racism being encouraged. Thank goodness I don’t understand the joy people feel when “sticking it” to someone else. But they love it.
While living in excessively violent times, politicians gleefully spit rhetoric to inflame groups and turn people against each other. It’s like it’s a billionaire’s game where the one with the most casualties wins.
Other than that, the frogs are great and so is Joe. The jumping spider is doing well. My CNA situation is “interesting”.
I’m a bit lonely right now though I see people regularly.
Rumination is pretty bad still. My emotions get intense but not like months ago. Sleep is too much or too little. Appetite is zero still, and last but not least menopause is kicking my butt.
At least I’m not as reactive and emotional as I was. I can catch myself sometimes, before I start, but it can be difficult to stop once started. I feel shame because I don’t feel I have the control needed to maintain interpersonal relationships. I’m worried about it. We’re still tweaking medication though.
That’s about the size of it.
Jordan