PTSD – Page 5 – Faith Magdalene's Sundrip

Words to yourself matter, choose them wisely

Posted on October 2, 2022October 2, 2022 by F.Magdalene

Over a week ago I saw my nurse practitioner. We talked about the PTSD from the hospitalization in 2018. I told her that I just can’t paint anymore. I added, “When the legs failed and my foot was amputated, so too was the art in me.” Well, I’ve said that before. I’ve been saying it for nearly two years, but that time I truly heard myself say it and I knew I believe it. That’s a problem for me. Don’t tell me I can’t do this anymore. I was mad at myself. How dare I speak to myself that way?! I can’t be the person I was born as? I won’t accept that.

Point blank, I was born an artist. That art comes in many forms; culinary arts, painting, making dolls and creating terrariums. I’m driven to make things in an artistic way. The only way I stop being an artist is when I stop breathing. It was close back in 2018. Even still I want to be in an artsty urn. It’s already been chosen cause y’all can’t put me in any ol’ thing. I’m just happy I’m not in said artsy urn right now.

When I realized I actually believed that I can no longer paint, like I said, I was mad. Later that evening I got out my paints and started painting. While painting I remembered saying something very important to myself – It doesn’t matter if it’s good, just enjoy the process. That’s the moment things changed.

It doesn’t matter if it’s good! I was willing to have the art piece fail and that is significant. Before getting new depression meds and having a little more clarity, I was too afraid to fail. It felt like I was a failure instead of the art piece not working out. But this time I didn’t internalize its possible outcome. That’s how I know I’m in a different space. I was able to separate the two. I’ve been painting for over a week now. I’m risking a bit more and it feels good.

I didn’t die in 2018. I’m still an artist through and through. Regardless of any amputation, there’s no way to amputate my art. I can’t tell you how relieved I am. I worked hard to get to this day. Oh my goodness I worked hard from the day they told me I wasn’t going to make it until this day. I’ve worked hard. It hasn’t been pretty, at all. Some things I messed up beyond fixing. I know I’ve hurt people by spilling anger or responding while unhealthy instead of just walking away. Why did this happen? Because I’m a speck of dust like everyone else and I do and say reckless things. But I am not a vicious person, just a profoundly imperfect one battling mental health and physical health.

I understand something now. You’d think I grasped this four years ago but I didn’t. I understand that I didn’t die in 2018.

My entire life changed. I can’t walk anymore but I’m alive. I’m extremely limited, but I’m alive! The person I knew myself to be left the hospital and the nursing home, then moved here. I don’t need to be afraid to live.

I was living this life of “why bother, I’m just going to fall over dead anyway. ” I was afraid to live, make attachments and risk a little because I just didn’t want to lose anything else. I feel like I lost so much in 2018 that the thought of losing anything else was unbearable. I was afraid to live. I’m in a better spot but I’m not OK. There’s so much more physical healing and emotional healing to do. I no longer worry I’ll have to endure it without my art.

What I’ve learned is that I believe the words I say to myself. I know you reap what you sew. If I plant tomatoes I get tomatoes. It works that way with words too. I was planting fear in my garden and that’s exactly what I got. Words matter. What I say to myself matters.

Art work – The painting changed quite a bit from when I started. It’s a collage now. And true to form, I’m working on multiple art pieces at once. My studio mascot Joe Schmoe is helping with quality control. He’s such a good studio cat and mascot.

I’ve been putting art in people’s homes since 2007. My 2023 art goal is to fill my own walls with my artwork. It’s time I did that. I’ll give an Etsy update soon.

Speak kindly to yourselves,

Until soon,

Faith

Stand and wait

Posted on July 8, 2022August 4, 2022 by F.Magdalene

I will wait

I know how it feels to be so broken that it felt as if I’d die where I lay. But it’s true, if you hang on for one more day the urge to act in a permanent way will not be as strong.

When I couldn’t pick myself up, even after the wait, I reached out and my friends reached back. I’m grateful for that.

Faith Austin – Sundrip

Therapy Review: Sundrip. Death and Dying

Posted on March 11, 2022May 12, 2022 by F.Magdalene

Content: Self love. Sundrip and social media. Death and dying. Sexual Assault.

We talked about shame and guilt. Guilt is for actions but shame describes who I am.

Self Love. We talked about fear as it relates to self love. I fear saying I’m worth loving because doing so means I have to fully accept that my mother was wrong. To a certain degree I still deny the full impact of her actions and what she allowed.

I know I have self love to a certain degree. I said I love you to myself for the first time ever.

An opportunity for further targeted psychological treatment has opened up to me. I’m not in the mental health space to accept it but the offer stands. The practitioner, aka Hippie Therapist, will allow me to video conference. This doesn’t replace Dr D.

Sundrip. I’ve said several times over the years that I’d like to walk away from Sundrip.com as it is now. I know in my heart I can’t simply shut things down. Sundrip is my baby, but I think it’s time to bring this to a change from what it is now. It has been definitively decided that I’m closing the blog part of Sundrip in five months time. Why 5 months? Three months are too few but 6 is too long. I need to take gradual steps. I’ve set a date.

This is going to be difficult but needed. The world has changed since I started this blog. The internet has changed. Honestly, I fear I have too much to lose by continuing as is.

Death and Dying. We spoke about how I gasp and sit up in bed because of feeling like I’m on the gurney, at the hospital being wheeled to a surgery I wasn’t expected to survive. That was 2018 but it still haunts me. For days I said goodbye to my friends. We wept and supported each other. I apologized for the hurt I was causing by being in that condition. I said goodbye to my long term therapist. I so did not want to hang up.

It felt like I had been given the death penalty and that at 11am (?) I was going to die.

That hallway was long. The room was cold. They asked me to take a deep breath. It felt like I was participating in my own death. I wasn’t supposed to survive that, so I felt like I was asked to take my last breath. Breathe deeply and go to sleep w a 15% chance of surviving. I took a deep breath in and exhaled the name of my God. The anesthesiologist was brilliant and supportive.

When I woke from a surgery done only a few times in the United States, the nightmare wasn’t over. Did I survive a 10 hour surgery only to bleed to death? The nurse held my juggler closed with her hands because I would not clot. Another nurse held the artery in my groan. Other means to stop the bleeding were used too but the main way they got it to stop was to clamp them manually w me awake.

Despite the violence in my childhood, I never begged my mother for my life or for her to stop. In the hospital that day, w the sheets turning red, I begged the nurse to please not let go. She said she wouldn’t. She said to be quiet, turn my head to the left and look up. Eventually I woke up in the arms of my friend. The first thing she said was, I never knew you were this sick. This is Lupus? She held me.

Amazingly, I only have one physical scar from the surgery to get all the blood clots. Despite the foot being dead, I had to wait 2 more months before they could amputate it. The skin began to slough off. That sight is burned in my head.

The recovery room after the blood clots surgery was interesting. My bed was in the middle of the room. It tipped in different degrees, went all the way to the floor and quite high up. I had my own nurse. I was her only patient. I still remember her name.

There was a large area w homey furniture to the right and down a step, other friends were allowed to stay. I was in complete shock and so was everyone else.

Daily, for five months they took my blood directly from the vein, not the IV. I understood why but it still felt like torture. Changing the bandages on my new stump sometimes took 2 hours. It was torture. I felt like I was going to crack.

Dr D and I are discussing possible emotional and cognitive issues as a result of the stroke. We don’t feel that Pseudobulbar affect (PBA) applies to the fullest extent, but we are exploring emotional differences since the stroke.

What I’m aware of at this point is that I’m unable to emotionally or physically cope. I feel like my insides are missing and have been replaced with a dark hole and overwhelming despair. I don’t feel like I can reach inside for strength because I feel hollow.

In 2020 I was assaulted. Where am I safe? How do I protect myself? I’m afraid.

I need mercy.

Faith

Half a Century More

Posted on March 17, 2021March 20, 2022 by F.Magdalene

I started this little painting back in October of last year but I just now finished it. It looks so much better in person than the terrible photograph. This 7×10 watercolor piece has a lot of numbers on it. The numbers are ages that were very significant to me with age 47 being the last significant age on the painting.

The painting shows a young girl who divides the paper. She’s a young me with a split face depicting multiple personalities. Though I don’t know the exact age I split, I’m sure I was fully a multiple by the age of nine. I have a few symbols in the painting like a peanut and a purple butterfly as well as a wheelchair with a sunflower instead of a wheel.

One of the most significant things about this painting is the tree. It is bare on one side and full of colorful leaves on the other. Though they’re fall leaves that are technically dying, the point was to have colorful and lively leaves like seen in the Fall, which happens to be my favorite season.

I call the painting Half a Century More because of what a friend said to me jokingly the other day. I told her I’m about to turn 50 and she said, “Oh, you’re going to be half a century old.” Well I tell you I was floored!!! Wow. Do you have to put it that way? It took a few days to kind of get settled with it but now I think to myself, I’ve lived a half century but I’d like to live a half century more. I’d like to have a lot more art to paint, dolls to sew and days to figure out how to be happiest.

I won’t be 50 until August but I’m so, so exited I can’t stand it. I honestly never expected to see that number. For many reasons I didn’t expect to be here but half a century on and I’m still kicking!

Faith

Lola – Queen of Sorrows

Posted on January 25, 2021March 20, 2022 by F.Magdalene

She accurately represents how I feel often. I wish I could say that I’m okay and that life is good. I mean really, complaints should be few but in general I’m not a happy person.

I named her Lola because in some languages it means Our Lady of Sorrows. It seemed so appropriate.

Lola is my third handmade sad doll. I made her with real hair this time instead of yarn. I really like the look. Lola is in my personal collection and sits where I can see her each day.

Some have described her eyes as knowing and with a story to tell. I just think they look wide and sad, much like my eyes as a child.

I made Lola a little sister named Victoria aka Victory. She’s not a sad doll. As a matter of fact, she’s a doll that is at peace. She’s not grinning but she is full of life and innocent. Victory is also in my private collection.

Now comes Grace. Grace was to be the 4th sad doll but she ended up not looking so sad. I like little Grace.

I like her wine colored dress and the bow in her hair (not shown in the photo). She’s wearing a second-hand Gloria Vanderbilt dress. I couldn’t believe I found that little tiny dress. It’s just adorable. I added a small heart button and put the tiniest, little gold details on it, not much though. The dress is simple which is what I like about it. I added a small piece of gold hair jewelry to her long, braided, yarn hair. Little Grace will be going home with my new nurse’s aide next week.

So while I deal with some sadness and depression right now, I’m out here making dolls and doing my best to manage life.

Faith

Tiny Art. Safe Art.

Posted on June 30, 2020March 20, 2022 by F.Magdalene

Sometimes I paint on a tiny little canvas because it feels less overwhelming and very doable. Larger canvas is hard to manage so I don’t mess with that at all but even at times an 8 x 10 piece of paper is daunting, so I pull out a small little canvas and let my mind play.

Lately I’ve painted sunflower after sunflower. It’s my go to art symbol that represents an array of mixed and confusing emotion with dissociation and multiplicity. One thing I recently learned about the sunflower is that when the sun isn’t out sunflowers face each other and sort of share energy.

The sunflower is the absolute perfect symbol of multiplicity. It’s got all those little lives (seeds) in its head. It can be a larger than life support system for itself and others which I find very, very cool.

One tiny painting included in this entry shows a little black girl hanging on to a huge sunflower. The other is a sunflower abstract. Each painting is on a 2.5 x 3.5 inch birch wood canvas. I used acrylic paint and ink then gave them a gloss finish. These little tiny art pieces would have originally shown up in my Etsy shop, however, they’ve been sold.

In between creating tiny art there is more doll making and art journaling, which I shall share at a later date.

Thanks for visiting Sundrip. If this is your first time then, welcome. If you are a regular reader, thanks so much for coming back.

Faith

Anxiety. Art. Gratitude.

Posted on May 31, 2020March 20, 2022 by F.Magdalene

The Sun Will Rise – Nightmares, Multiple Personality Disorder, eyes and flowers. Watercolor and ink 7 x 10

I’m still screaming and fighting in my sleep about things that happened two and a half decades ago. It makes me wonder if I will ever have peaceful sleep. I feel like I have a measure of peace in my waking hours but sleep is haunted, vicious.

I See – A deformed girl in a garden of eyes and flowers. Watercolor and ink. 7 x 10

Today my anxiety took a turn for the worse. I’ve started seeing things move out of the corner of my eye, things that aren’t there when I turn to see. I recognize this as a symptom of my anxiety. It’s a warning to me that I’ve got to put my best coping skills in the front so I can calm down.

Anxiety really got bad when I received an alert over my phone saying that Indiana is now under a curfew. What perilous times we live in. I was comforted by the fact that the elders from the Kingdom Hall (my place of worship) contacted me to let me know that there’s a curfew and I should take it seriously and be inside for my safety. They offered a few practical suggestions that also helped me feel safer and less anxious.

Tomorrow starts another day, one I do not feel will be any better than today. It will be a mess, but I will meet it with my head up and my heart full of hope.

This takes me to the newest purchase. First off, I sold 4 dolls and 7 art pieces in two weeks so I decided to buy something special for myself. I purchased a leather bound journal for my gratitude entries. I’m so happy with it. I love it.

I’ve got a special pen, given to me by a special friend, that I’ll use for this very special gratitude journal. It’s so pretty in person that I hesitated to write in it for two days. I wrote my first entry today which gave thanks for the people I’m surrounded by that are my family of choice.

Today I took the opportunity to express my love for family and friends by making calls and sending emails. I’m not quite finished yet. I want to make a tiny little difference in their day with an encouraging call, text or email. As I said, we live in perilous times and people are probably just as anxious as I’ve been. I guess I just want to recognize that by reaching out.

That’s all for this evening.

Faith

Panic Attacks

Posted on March 15, 2020March 20, 2022 by F.Magdalene

I’m not sure what my problem is but I’ve been having panic attacks lately. Today’s panic attack included holding my chest, fast breathing and vomiting. I’m not sure what is causing it but it started over a week ago. I talked about it in therapy.

I’m doing some deep breathing as well as keeping my eyes open so as not to close into myself. I’m hanging out with the cat and watching the aquarium fish. I’ve also done several journal pages.

Wine in Time is done in watercolor and ink in watercolor paper pad. 7×10.

Panic Scramble was created with acrylics and ink in a watercolor paper pad. It’s also 7×10 inches.

Faith

Work in Progress: The Rescuer

Posted on February 25, 2020March 20, 2022 by F.Magdalene

I started this painting a few years ago but just couldn’t get it so I used gesso and removed everything I want to change. I’ve put the painting on the easel and will turn it and look at it from all angles for the next few days. This will help me to know which direction I’m going with it.

In my little studio apartment I’ve got all the art I’m working on sitting out. This means my CNA and other visitors can see it. I’m not all the way comfortable with this but there’s basically nowhere to put work in progress other than right here in the open so I can see it. I used to have my studio in my bedroom and had all the privacy I needed to work. I could hang work in progress without anyone seeing it. That’s not the case anymore.

Today the nurses assistant saw the piece The Rescuer and said, “This has to mean something. You didn’t just put anything on paper. This has to mean something to you.” What she said wasn’t critical at all just inquisitive. Because the art is just out there I can’t say anything about her viewing it but it still puts me on the spot. It feels like I’m exposed. I’ll have to get used to that because I have no intention of moving to a bigger space where I’m afforded more privacy. This is home. Super tiny yet perfect. Gotta work with it.

So what does The Rescuer mean to me? I look at the person in blue and see myself being pulled up. I see the person in brown as me, too. I’m pulling myself out of a sea of past memories, past abuses. What is the large head facing the left? That is me also. It’s the only figure with some noticeable features. She’s looking away from all she needs to be rescued from.

The painting will become more and more personal I’m sure. I hope to work in the evenings and let it dry over night so that I can place it in a spot that doesn’t spotlight it. Even if this doesn’t happen, I’ll eventually become more comfortable with others viewing art that is personal. I don’t have to give any information on it. I can always say something like, “It’s a fantasy piece” or “It’s just surreal type artwork, don’t read too much into it.” Whatever I say, it doesn’t have to be all my business. However, it would be a good idea to have my comment in mind before I have to use it, this way I can say it naturally and cut the conversation short.

I look forward to finishing The Rescuer and seeing what comes of her. I’ll post it when she’s finished.

Faith

The Invisible Children

Posted on February 20, 2020March 20, 2022 by F.Magdalene

The Invisible Children is a haunting and surreal scene of sunflowers at night, a full moon, ravens flying and figures in the flowers at the base of a large, bare tree. It is a dark, fluid piece, full of small details.