Tag: mixed media

Epiphany: A Future that is Mine

Posted on by F.Magdalene

CONTENT – Child Abuse. Strong emotion. Therapy Review. The art work is not finished but will eventually be in my Etsy shop.

If I believe I have a real future and a real hope, why do I keep wanting to go back and fix things? Why do I still feel like that little girl who needs her mother to love her?

No, it’s too late. I know she’s gone but I feel myself unable to give up. But not giving up the past means there’s less room for the wonderful future ahead, a future I firmly put faith in.

Today Dr D ask me if I could say anything to her what would I say? My words are in bold. I told her Don’t touch me! Don’t look at me! Keep away! You keep saying you’re going to give me a way, then do it!

That comment was interesting because the entire time I was talking to her I never said I love you or why don’t you love me? I never said hug me. I never said anything like that. It was it, Get away from me! Get away from me!

I didn’t want her to touch me ever again. I was angry about her watching me. I was angry about her letting others watch me. I was angry about all of the touch. I was angry about her destroying the mind of my sister. I was angry about her destroying the relationship I could have had with my sister. I just wanted her to go away. That was different from the feelings I thought I had. When I had the “spontaneous opportunity” to speak it was the voice of rage not a tiny, vulnerable child. That was incredible.

The artwork I’ve been doing lately shows exactly how I feel about my mother’s voyeurism. She was everywhere to the point that it was scary. Now that I think about it, if she stalked her boyfriend with us in the car of course she stalked my sister and me. And she wore that stupid black coat with the stupid hood looking like the grim reaper. She wasn’t holding anything, but dang! Standing in a pitch black hallway in a black trench coat watching people like a psychopath!

She told me she had people watching me and my sister and that nothing could be hidden from her. Dr D jumped in an said, “This is why you have DID.”

It was the most terrifying time of my life growing up with her and yet I thought I wanted that woman to love me. I wanted a little child me to go to her. To run to her. To be held by her.

Are you kidding me! No way! This is the woman who beat my lips with a wide tooth comb. Who beat my body with a towel rod. No. No. I have got to scrape this off of my heart so I can let myself have that future that’s so right in front of me. I’ve been crawling towards it. How do I scrape this off of me, the filth that she layered on me? The filth belongs to her. Whereas a future filled with hope is mine. I believe that with all my being.

Faith

OCD and Eating Disorders. Art.

Posted on by F.Magdalene

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and Eating Disorders occur together up to 40% of the time. My OCD and my eating disorder have gone untreated because there were other things that took first place like getting me emotionally stable so I could stay out of the psych ward, moving to stable housing, stabilizing dissociation and of course getting beyond the hospitalization in 2018. There’s always been something to push attention elsewhere.

Dr D and I have been discussing OCD regularly, and I’m still reading the OCD workbook. That’s going slowly because it’s very triggering. I discovered one of the most traumatic memories wasn’t my mother being abusive but having strong OCD symptoms for which she never sought help.

Every year when we went to Kentucky we crossed a bridge. While crossing we had to sit perfectly still for fear of triggering my mother, who said she’d drive over the edge. THAT is part of her OCD. At a reoccurring meeting, I worried I’d stand up and scream the F-word. THAT is the same kind of symptom from the disorder I inherited from her.

My mother and I share quite a few symptoms. We both need to see our belongings. I arrange and rearrange my apartment almost daily. It used to be daily. Now it’s once a week. The meds for OCD have helped me in many ways.

I keep quite a few art supplies out for two reasons; 1- easy to access 2- easy to see them, which brings me comfort.

Right now I’m having a difficult time with compulsive eating. There’s the obsessive thoughts followed by the compulsion. A box of 10 Twinkies was purchased the other day. Once the box is opened I’m compelled to eat the entire thing or risk something bad happening to me. I’m not sure what, but it happens with most packages of food. If I open it I’m compelled to eat the whole thing. I’ll eat during the day and night. I’ll wake up in the middle of the night until the item has been completely eaten. This means high calories that don’t get worked off like they used to. To make matters worse, three of my most vital medications has the side effect of increased appetite. I have that pulling on me and OCD associated eating.

There’s no strong emotion followed by binging. It’s obsessive thoughts followed by binging and compulsive eating. I don’t purge in any way though it has recently crossed my mind. I don’t want to gain more weight but I also don’t want to ever purge again, in any way.

I have to say, being in a wheelchair has increased pacing, rocking, counting and staying awake until I absolutely have to go to sleep. Then when I’m sleeping I don’t want to wake up. These may not all be OCD issues. I just recognize these behaviors in myself.

It can sometimes take

The book has really helpful information but as I said, it’s triggering because it brings back unwanted memories of my mother and her extreme behavior.

I’m unaware of aunts having OCD. As far as I know it’s in the immediate bloodline. It goes from my mother to my sister and me. It’s as disruptive in my life as dissociation.

Art

The woman feels very judged and misunderstood.

The 12×9 collage is on heavy paper and includes words and phrases cut out and strategically placed. It’s a work in progress. I’ve got to figure out what to do with the background. I started this piece today. I hope to finish it and one other piece very soon. The below piece is called The Deluge. The eating disorder piece is called Dignity.

Faith

What Keeps Me Awake – Death and Dying

Posted on by F.Magdalene

I have more trust that tomorrow will come than I did six years ago, still I live as if I’m breaths away from dying. I feel overwhelmed with the idea of dying which makes me wonder what will happen to all my plants I’ve worked so hard to nurture? Who will take my frogs if I die? Will they appreciate small moments with aquatic frogs and cute poses by the tree frogs?

And Joe, who will care for Joe? He’s 14. I’m his second home. Being passed around can be difficult.

My CNA has covid and will be gone for a bit. I was with her a day before she tested positive. I’ve consistently tested negative, as well as no fever.

You know what’s funny? I’ve got a very nice fill in but she’s not up to par with my regular CNA. Despite calling her a psychopath lol, her standard of care is significantly higher than others; this, on top of taking the time to get to know me, makes her a really good CNA.

I like the person I have right now, the cat does, too, but would she ever take the time to get to know me and work with me long term? I wonder, if I had to get a new CNA will it be difficult again? I’ve come to understand how difficult my OCD can be to work with.

I wish my regular CNA had to experience two clients before returning to me. The feeling of not knowing what you’ve got till it’s gone, goes both ways.

She most certainly has OCD though it manifests itself differently. Somehow we work well together. We’ve even sit down and talk about the books I have on OCD.

There’s a Japanese artist named Yayoi Kusama whom I relate to very well. She’s got OCD and other issues but it’s her OCD that I relate to the most.

Yayoi shamelessly paints what she sees in her head, in bright colors.

She’s known for painting dots and pumpkins.

Yayoi helped me let go of shame concerning how I express chatter in art form.

I scribble and sketch in order to process the constant talking in my head and the oppressive amount of stimulation I feel.

I have quite a few pieces of chatter art. To me, my chatter art feels different from art that I call chaos in color because the chatter has very little focus, no space unfilled, no place to rest the eyes, yet a legitimate expression of art therapy.

Yayoi spoke of feeling like the “modern day Alice in Wonderland.” I can’t count the amount of times I’ve called myself the Black Alice in Wonderland.

It feels good knowing my art has a place out here and that I don’t have to feel crazy about it. It’s ok to identify with Alice and Wonderland. It’s ok to let the art simply be a copy of inside my head, and to do so in emotive fashion.

Recently I’ve been using alcohol ink. It works well for what I’m trying express, and they travel well.

The artwork above is a combination of acrylic paint, neon acrylic paint, alcohol ink, black ink, gesso, paper.

I love how Yayoi prefers paper, too. I’m strongly considering writing to the 94 year old artist way over in Japan. She’s made a deep impression on me.

It’s encouraged when I find female artists like Yayoi and Freda Kahlo who by example, give my art legitimacy.

Tonight. I’m not sure why I’m overly stimulated. Concerns with death are extreme. Thank goodness I have plenty of art supplies.

Faith

A History of Eyes on Me

Posted on by F.Magdalene

Content: Abuse. Being watched by abusers. Sadism.

Publishing this art piece comes at an odd time seeing as how I just talked about store workers profiling and following me and my caregiver at the store. It’s also not concerning imaginary audience / fable but an all together different type of being watched.

I was never sure why my mother was watching me. I was more concerned by her method of watching me. Although I know she watched me and my sister around the second grade, my most vivid memories are the 4th grade when she wore her trench coat and stood behind the door motionlessly.

The coat was her regular coat. It was a black trench coat. When the lights were out we couldn’t see her, nor were we looking for her. But if we saw a motionless figure in the hallway it scared the crap out of us. She’d make sure we’d seen her before walking away. No words. Just walks away.

After a little while I worked hard not to show I was afraid. I’d either say nothing or turn around to the door and say something to her. I had to guage how far I could go in pretending she didn’t scare me. I knew there was a response she was looking for. If I withheld that response too much, I might regret it. When being beaten with a dowel rod I knew I had to give the response she was looking for.

"She speaks the dream" - available

When being watched in the room alone, when showering or using the restroom there was a response she was looking for. I always wondered if there were times she wasn’t trying to get caught and see my reaction. This game of watching went on all the way to the day before I moved out. She listened to phone calls when we had a corded phone. I owned nothing, especially my body.

When I moved to Florida with my mother’s sister, my cousin and an uncle by marriage, I thought life was going to be good. He said he would treat me like his own daughter. That one sentence makes me want to break into tears. The irony of it is cruel.

Roses for Jane - available

My cousin was his step daughter. She endured more abuse than me. Having me dress up. Making crude comments. Watching me. If I turned around and saw him watching through the cracked door, he too would stay just a few seconds longer before quietly leaving.

I’ll be keeping A History of Eyes on Me a little while longer. It’s hanging in my own art area beside the painting She Speaks the Dream, which was created in 2017.

Observations – The painting called Roses for Jane was remade. In addition to more eyes, I brought out the figure in the back then made a dramatic leap by dividing the main figure in black and white. I kept quite a bit of the original twist and turns while softening her face by one notch. As a person who uses sunflowers for emotional expressions, it interests me that not a single flower is on the original piece or the new. The main figure is no longer standing in the dark.

Thank you for coming to Sundrip today.

Faith

You’re Strength Painting. Next Year’s Art Goals.

Posted on by F.Magdalene

It took a month instead of two weeks to complete the painting of sunflowers with the Scripture. When the painting was picked up she ordered one for herself. The other person who saw it ordered one. I’ll be doing them on paper. I seriously do not enjoy canvas.

One of my art goals for next year is to increase the amount of art that’s based on Scripture.

I also like the idea of painting my cat, but I’m pretty bad at animals. Maybe I’ll just keep photographing him.

Michael Joseph Austin aka Joe Schmoe, is going to be 15 next year. Honestly, it kind of scares me because I worry about losing him. It’s been 2 years since he had a stroke. His eyesight was affected, other than that he’s the same cat.

There are three goals for the next creative year 🙂

  • Scripture based art.
  • Painting cats in an outsider art kind of way.
  • Paint butterflies in outsider art kinda way.

I’ve joined a group about butterflies and have seen some absolutely amazing creations. I have to paint them! I’ve also got a book I was given by a good friend.

Those are my new year’s goals.

Gratitude List

  • I’m entirely moved by the varied designs, textures and vivid colors of butterflies.
  • Cookies. Above any other flavor, I love big sugar cookies with icing and sprinkles. A friend brings them sometimes.
  • I enjoy trying new things. My CNA and I laughed so hard at how bad bison steak is. So, so nasty! The texture and taste is a catastrophic collision that may have killed taste buds. Just wow lol. I’m grateful for the ability to laugh and still appreciate the experience due to the laughter, and I’m looking forward to trying other new things. 🙂

Faith

Art and Processing Life Changes

Posted on by F.Magdalene
2023

Anxiety, her name is Faith

This last week has been trying. My head tried to take me down depression street. I needed rest from the world so I turned my phone on do not disturb for the most of the day. I’m definitely trying to take one day at a time but there’s so much from yesterday that plagues me today. Today I had yet another tooth that broke off at the gum line. Unfortunately, it’s in the front.

I have issues with dental hygiene because I can’t use toothbrushes. I can’t stand the way it feels in my mouth. The dentist gave me mouthwash but the damage to my teeth is significant. If I had it to do all over again I’d find a way to keep them healthy. How, I don’t know.

I’m painting a piece about loss and finding traction to move forward. This is much larger than usual for me. I’ve been planning a painting where the wheelchair is made of sunflowers.

detail left side

It feels like a piece that is helping me truly let go of some of these things that pain me. It’s no where near finished but working on it has helped me deal with overwhelming anxiety.

My little place genuinely feels like an art studio now that I’ve got a bunch of art in various stages of completion.

SOLD

I’m pleased that my little bag holder doll with glasses has found a home. The glasses were the final touch. 🙂

Joe Schmoe, age 14

Despite the fact that it’s not even midnight, I’m going to take a PRN and go to sleep. Joe and I need a fresher start tomorrow. Better sleep will do a lot to make tomorrow better than today. Let’s just hope I don’t need to go to the restroom every 2 hours like last night.

Dang, menopause is kicking my butt! Is my bladder the size of a pea now? In addition to menopause, my bladder is over active when I’m feeling stressed. It’s helpful to know my symptoms (over active bladder) so I can then respond appropriately; manage stress better, don’t internalize so much.

In addition to snuggling with Joe, I’m looking forward having dinner with friends, at my place, on Sunday.

Faith

Healing. Heart and Rock Art

Posted on by F.Magdalene
Fractured but still joyful

Drawing and doodling continue to be my primary way of relieving anxiety; however, I may have a new way in a few months. Before the wrists, my doctor approved me to do one hour of vigorous exercise each day. I enjoy exercise. Always have.

I was going to go to the gym on “amputee night, ” as well as other planned physical activities. I can still do some stuff but the gym is going to have to wait. It’s going to be a bit b4 I can do that much.

It’s the small bones in the base of the thumb and wrist area that are broken. I chose not to have a fixed cast bc I’m a bit claustrophobic. So far I’m dealing better adjusting to the ones I have. Still kills me it had to come out of my pocket!

I’ve been painting more rocks while wearing the basic wrist braces I have. I also noticed that lately, hearts have shown up quite a bit in my art. I put in on the chest of figures or hide them in crosshatch or shade. Now I’ve moved to painting hearts on random rocks. I feel compelled to do it. I’ve not explored why, and I probably won’t. But I am allowing myself to paint hearts on rocks.

One rock has a heart on top but the rest of the rock is black. Mixed in the black are hints of blue and orange. I sealed them with Mod Podge. I’ve still got the painted rock from when I was in the hospital. 🙂 These guys make great encouragement when arranged together in a bowl.

The casts kinda hurt and they don’t let me do too much. Using the restroom is interesting. Lol.

For a bit the broken wrists took me back to one of the best years growing up. During my Sophomore year I rode my bike to theater club and loved it. I saw my mother very little. I remember fondly how life was very much a teen movie plot. I remember the summer and how much fun I was having. My sister had fun too but she shattered her wrist that year. She also stole my boyfriend. See what I mean, teen movie drama! The Breakfast Club. Pretty in Pink! There was deception, inner conflict, school life and music 🙂 I remember dedicating love songs on the radio to my boyfriend. I love memories like this bc they’re normal and innocent. Sisters make immature mistakes. We were just kids.

It’s helpful for me to look back and see normal parts of childhood. It feels important to have affirmation that I wasn’t a victim child being abused 24/7, like that was all I was alive for. I had good times, especially life as a student.

Faith

Life in Pictures – The Assignment

Posted on by F.Magdalene

My abandonment issues have raged since the exit of the CNA I adored. She’s been gone for a week now. It’s affected my trust issues, paranoia and OCD issues. Going through the week with her knowing she would be gone in a few days was rather difficult.

I can feel the anxiety and emotion in my throat. I’ve been dealing with it by concentrating on art, plants and the cat. I’ve done so very little volunteer work. Argh.

Poor Joe is going to need a lightweight shirt to wear for the winter. My menopausal symptoms have affected heating the apartment. I can’t take this heat! I had it so the heat would come on at 65 degrees even while I have an 8 inch strong wind fan blowing on me. It’s not good right now LOL I’ve only turned the heat on about 3x since the season changed. How is it possible to be anemic and have hot flashes hourly, daily!

There was a day again where Joe seemed to have trouble with his front paws so I made him a bed, this time it’s on the floor. I would have made a box bed for him but my cat hates boxes. He doesn’t get in them. As a matter of fact, Joe runs when he sees a box or plastic bag. Yeah, he’s odd.

I thought I’d try to track the barometric pressure so I can kind of anticipate his arthritis pain and mine. Getting too cold will only make matters worse for him. I hope getting a lightweight shirt will help. It needs to be light bc cats can overheat too easily.

When Joe isn’t wearing his shirt I could let him use his bed with a safe heating pad that auto shuts off every 2 hours. I can set it to a low temperature and put it under his blankets, like I did last time.

I’ve done nothing more with designing Frog Mansion. It’s set up nicely but it’s not finished. I’ve done nothing to the Tomato Frog Apartment 🙂 I’m not calling it that LOL It’s just that it pales in significance beside Frog Mansion where my Australian Green Tree Frogs live. Anyway, I intend to work on it at the the beginning of December, at which time I’ll also add more soil and leaf litter to the Mansion.

Putting many of my houseplants in the mansion didn’t give back as much space as I thought but it has helped me simplify my watering system. Now I water plants 3 days out of 7 instead of daily. And it only takes anywhere from 20 min to an hour to water. I love how simple it is now.

I’m uncertain if I spoke of my hope plant. I’m seriously in love with this plant bc it’s name is my favorite word; hope. It’s in the peperomia family, which I’ve come to enjoy lately.

I would be lying if I said I’m not going to buy more plants but I will say they’ll have to wait bc I’m going to need paint. I’d like to get to Hobby Lobby but I don’t think it’s going to happen. It would save money though. I’ve never purchased from their website.

I’m stuck on the art piece in the photos because I now regret adding the ghost-like memories leading to and through the house. I’m not certain how I’ll make it look right. I’d remove them if so many other images weren’t dependent on the ghost-like memories.

I’ve got a completed painting that I’m determined to completely seal by Monday. I seal paintings in very small areas at a time because I don’t want pooling, running or gaps in the seal. I’m not going to spray it, so it’ll take a little time.

I’m not sure why I’m procrastinating. In general I’m not a procrastinator but I’ve been putting this off for 3 weeks. I’m having trouble letting go. I think I’ve been unsettled and I’m holding on to things.

To also unsettle me are the recent mass shootings, three back to back with a horrific quadruple knife murder. I don’t even know how to process this stuff and manage my own horrors.

I check the news online once a day, from various sources.

I will continue to have zero friends on my Facebook page so I can limit the amount of exposure to politics and the hatred it produces.

Despite the fact that the world has gone mad, I feel 99% like my normal depressed, anxious, dissociative self. Do I feel strong? No. I feel prepared and supported. I feel I better understand this part of the assignment.

Faith

Art. Frog Mansion. Future Pets.

Posted on by F.Magdalene

What an exciting few weeks!

Art. I’ve continued to work on the three paintings. I’ve been able to sketch to help with anxiety and menopausal fueled rage. That’s been an issue for sure but I’m searching for ways to manage it.

The essential oil called Peace and Calming by Young Living has been instrumental in helping me not lose it when stupidity finds me. Stupidity always finds me. Menopausal rage and stupidity don’t mix well. I’m all but huffing Peace and Calming or their Lavender essential oil to remain calm …. and out of jail. I told my nurse practitioner that I’m going to end up in jail with how upset I can get over stupidity. I said, I can’t afford jail. She said, there’s always crowd funding. That is solid medical advice. Lol

One of the issues with painting is privacy. There is very little privacy in an efficiency apartment which means people can see artwork that’s drying. People can be so critical of my art and I’m very sensitive to such criticism. I want to give myself a little more privacy and shield myself from unwanted viewers by installing a curtain that completely sections off the bedroom area. I’m purchasing this on the 3rd so I don’t feel so exposed. I can put drying art in the bedroom area behind the curtain and feel a lot more private. Only having a nurse’s aide 3x a week has been helpful bc it provides more private time.

Frog Mansion is in the works. This project is huge! I’m waiting until I have more money and I’m a tad bit more organized to start making everything permanent in this set up.

It’s going to be insane keeping the glass clean. Sometimes I’m overwhelmed by size of the tank and of the project itself. I think once I get the drainage layer in (which I have obsessed over) and lay down the substrate I’ll feel a lot better. Today I learned I should add active charcoal to the soil instead of putting it with the leca in my drainage layer. I’ll do that.

If you zoom in you can see my frog Lentil sitting on a tree branch, halfway down, to the left. Here’s a close up of my girl sleeping.

I have no idea why Joe is sitting this way. He’s an odd boy. LOL

I’ve been isolated with Joe since March 2020. He’s been here for 3 years now. Now when I leave he cries at the door. When I come back he’s clingy. Still, I’m enjoying our relationship. He’s such a good studio cat and wonderful, cuddly friend – even if he does love the wine colored blanket more than me. He traded me for a soft blanket so I call him trader Joe.

Possibilities. Last but not least, while my current CNA is frightened by flying bugs like gnats, she’s full on for me getting a tarantula. And yes, she absolutely can bring her snake to work, though I doubt she will. Just let me put my cat up first. Lol

There’s a strong possibility that I’ll get a spider but I doubt it’ll be a tarantula. There was some talk about another praying mantid or snails. Those are the pets we’re considering for the not so distant future. 🙂 We’ll see.

Any entries with snake or spider photos will have a clear title so as not to shock anybody.

Until soon,

Faith

Sculpture with found items

Posted on by F.Magdalene

I was searching through a catch-all art drawer. It’s got the stray button, string, cut paper, this, that and the other. Two days ago I was looking in that drawer, for who knows what, when I stumbled upon a split rock I’d written the word “hope” on. I put in on the table and kept looking. Then I stumbled on another split rock in a pear shape. When I put it next to the Hope rock my brain started ticking.

I am powerful – Hope

I abandoned the first search and concentrated on finishing the body to the figure. I used my own handmade beads for the hands. The 2 rocks are ones I picked up from the grounds of the nursing home back in 2018. I found 4 goose feathers I’ve had forever.

To top it all off I found a pop top that says, I am powerful.

Not for sale

I wrapped it with jute and glued it together with Mod Podge. I need to get a fine tooth comb so I can make the feathers neater.

This felt good especially since it was so spontaneous. I’m not the most spontaneous person in the world, I’m quite the opposite.

I hope I am regaining a little bit of trust. That’s the only thing that will allow art to flow from me again – trust. It never occurred to me to pray for trust but I have been recently.

Here’s what I was thinking – I firmly believe that when a person goes against nature that it hurts. At this point my lack of trust for anything at all prevents me from doing what is in my nature to do. I create stuff. I’m an artist from head to toe, however, I’ve not been able to do what comes naturally to me and it’s starting to hurt. I feel like a bird in a cage. Like the big cats at the zoo who pace back and forth at the bars. I feel that kind of anxiety since I’ve created so little.

Trust. I have to regain it. Courage is needed to trust. When it comes to art I need the courage to fail. I need self confidence so if an art piece doesn’t turn out I’ll keep it in perspective. The art piece didn’t turn out but it doesn’t mean I personally am a failure. All of those things changed during the hospitalization. The amputation is harder to accept and has affected my self esteem negatively.

I’ve commented that art was amputated too, but that’s not possible. But trust got shattered. I was walking my dog when my life forever changed without warning. How am I to trust “the moment” now? I don’t, not much.

I’ve been able to find relief from physical pain but my very core needs relief. The best way to sooth it is to create, trust and create. What is special about this sculpture is that its made from items I had before the hospitalization, during and after. The only part from this side of the hospitalization is the cap that says hope.

There’s so much work to do to regain my equilibrium. One step at a time, they say.

Faith