Category: The People Behind My Eyes

A Little Light

Posted on by F.Magdalene

The phone rang and it was Mark. I thought, how strange but I picked up. He said, “XYZ Apartments Called. You’re at the top of the list. They said to call them.”

I was thrilled and very pleased with my God because at the very moment of the phone call I’d been packing my apartment. Yes, pulling art off the walls and packing to move. I knew in my heart I was going somewhere. I didn’t know where but I did know He wouldn’t let me down.

Ì was packing when I got the call for the interview which is next week. The move would be at the end of next month. This gives me time to buy a bed in a box and get rid of this horrific hospital bed that failed in several ways. I’m ready for one mattress on a metal box spring. Easy! I found one that’s 18 inches off the ground. The idea would be storage.

Even if this apartment slips away, my application has been approved by two other complexes. There’s light at the end of this tunnel.

My CNA will help me pack. We’re going to use moving bags, totes and only a few cardboard boxes.

Faith Magdalene

Pink Crocs vs Amputee

Posted on by F.Magdalene

I’ve been wearing my shoe without that so called prosthetic I hate so much. It seemed to be going just fine. No issues, or so I thought. Lol

As it turns out a well established spider web was in the toe of my pink cross. There was a small piece of cereal in the web, Lucky Charms. I’m not making this up.

I wasn’t sure what to feel. I was horrified, intrigued, humored and humiliated; simultaneously. I’ve decided to go ahead and do what the surgeon said is an alternative to wearing the prosthetic. I’m stuffing my left shoe. All left shoes get stuffed. I am not walking around with a spider housing addition at my stump. It’s wrong.

The little picture in the photo is a very, very old white sketch on top of encaustic art. I melted Crayola wax, slowly and moved it into position. I enjoy encaustic and print making very much.

Faith Magdalene

African American Female Clown

Posted on by F.Magdalene

More than a clown is about a once voiceless woman, alone in the dark with her makeup. She was just a clown. She painted on faces until finally someone believed believed she’s more than a clown.

Then hope set in. Flowers began to grow, birds sing their morning songs and bumblebees bring in more life. Yes, change, all around her. There’s hope now that she herself believes she’s more than a clown.

Please see my Etsy shop for purchase details. www.Sundrip.etsy.com

Faith Magdalene Austin at Sundrip

Or Me

Posted on by F.Magdalene

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

We are Enough

Posted on by F.Magdalene

It came in the mail. I’m so happy to wear mine!

You are enough. The world is a better place with you in it.

Love, the person in front you.

I’ve gotten one person respond with a heartfelt thank you. I’ve gotten tears, a thanks from a boy who felt confident in his youth. One lady saw a way to make fast money, another said the world is a better place with me in it, too. Thank you for that!

I love this shirt.

Live Free. Create Well. Sundrip.

Joe Schmoe has Passed Away

Posted on by F.Magdalene

Joe fell asleep in death in my arms at age 16, from kidney failure, and other complications. He was a good boy.

Today is a bad, bad day.

The Value of My Memories

Posted on by F.Magdalene

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.

It’s Just a Foot

Posted on by F.Magdalene

I owe you an apology. Please, wake up, I owe you an apology. I said it was just a foot and not worth dying over because I didn’t understand. Tears swell in my eyes. My lips begin to trimble as I stand before headstone after headstone. Wake up! every Granny, aunt, uncle with a leg, arm, hand or foot they let get too bad until it was too late and tell them I was wrong. It’s not just a foot is it? No. Not when it happens to you. Instantly you understand your humanity.

The wind hesitates. I pretend to breathe. I owe you an apology.

I didn’t know the brain would need to rewire. I didn’t know the fear you’d live in of another amputation, or of physical therapy.

“She’s your nurse” doesn’t contain the impact a stranger has of touching every inch of your body at all times, of dangling fingernails over all your belongings leaving nothing untouched, feeding garbage food you can barely taste because life itself is stale.

Sweetheart wake up. Wake up. I touch another headstone. I didn’t know it would be this hard.

For the living

I’m colder than I’ve ever been. I’ve felt more pain and fear in the last 7 years than the previous years of life. Only 2% of the time do I think to myself, I should have died. Most of the time I’m happy I made it but I’m in the crowd that has to say I was wrong to pass judgment on people who couldn’t see the amputation through. It’s not just a foot. I was young. I didn’t know what I was saying. Who am I to say who does or doesn’t have the strength to endure an amputation?

Faith Magdalene

One Cup More: Ginger Apple Carob Tea

Posted on by F.Magdalene

The third cup was delightful!

  • Large piece of fresh ginger chopped
  • Small piece of fresh yellow turmeric chopped
  • 1 green cardamom
  • Cinnamon
  • Ground black pepper
  • Fresh lemon
  • Dried apple pieces
  • Carob chips

Anxiety has been rather high as neighbors try me…. My paint brushes fly in an embarrassing flurry. My heart is troubled. I remember I have coping skills. I have friends and I have anger enough to propel me forward one more step, one more day.

Faith Magdalene

Tea and Snuggle Strength

Posted on by F.Magdalene

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