Kiss kiss
Art on a white T-shirt
March of Clowns
Faith MMagdalene
Three Shots
Tag: ptsd
It’s Hard to Talk
There are many things to say but it’s so hard to talk after being stalked. It’s hard to to just say forget him! I’m safe! You know, whatever. I can just move on now. Because I can’t. Nor can I say much else. I do feel safe in my home though. Just not on this blog anymore.
He had a camera in the kitchen light overhead. It was an efficiency apartment so he had a view of everything. I still have the tapes of some of the issues there. Reports from Detectives, all that!
This is excruciating and hard to explain and something I don’t want to explain. I’d rather just paint sunflowers, and clowns.
I’d like to write on WordPress or just paint on Etsy and Redbubble but advertise new pieces only on Facebook. I’ll have to see the most stable course of action.
Faith Magdalene’s Sundrip
Project Reflections
I clearly remember the first and last brush strokes of the painting, More Than A Clown.. They were equally moving.
By the time I got the features together I remember the feeling this project was huge, different, emotionally powerful.
I was going to to have to tell a story in color, on her face. A story of someone not taken seriously, not listened to , unseen by people who refused to see. I was going to paint it all; including the parts where they laughed thinking they’d won.
The last expression would be through her hair. Red, blue and purple flames licked the sky all around. The flames licked but did not scorch in the garden where she stood. The name of the garden is Hope. As it is said, “You only start a garden if you hope to see it grow.”
The young woman knows she holds hope in her hands…. and sunflower seeds. I knew I’d have to paint all my that. And I I did. I know it’s a deep piece but ha! it’s her truth and mine.
Live Free. Create Well.
Faith Magdalene’s Sundrip
Or Me
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
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.
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.
It’s Just a Foot
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
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
Validation. Symptoms. Wording.
A nurse came out to assess me for continued in home nursing. I asked about the difficulties I have with speech but not with reading. She said my speech and memory issues are related to the stroke.
For example, say I may want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I’ll get the bread and peanut butter, however I will ask the nurse to get the jelly. I can see the jar in my head but the word won’t come out for anything. But if the jar is turned around with the label facing me then I can read it and say “may I have the jelly please”. Otherwise we could be sitting there for three weeks with me trying to get the word jelly out of my mouth. I can picture the object in my head but it’s as if the word is trapped.
I’m not accustomed to being believed. It was hard to admit how often it happens.
The nurse said this is related to the stroke. I thought I was just growing stupid with age. As it turns out, it’s not stupidity at all, but a symptom of something else.
Sometimes the words used to describe myself are a bit harsh.
When in bed, only in bed, primarily on my right side, heavier at the feet and head, my body jerks really hard, like really hard. Hard enough to wake me. I have a semi electric hospital bed, noise thing. I jerked really hard, slammed on the bed frame and woke the neighbor directly above me. We have paper thin walls, but still. Not sure if the doc is going to take that seriously or if it’s going to get brushed aside like many things appear to. I know when I lie down I’m going to have to deal with the hard jerking around. It seems to have increased lately. Interesting.
Faith
Today’s Endurance
I screamed myself awake, and possibly my neighbors, around 6 this morning. I don’t exactly remember the dream. I just remember it was horrible and I was terrified. I was kicking and screaming. But I didn’t catch it on camera because my camera wasn’t set up. I hate that.
I wish I had caught that on camera so I can see what I was doing before and what I was doing after. I would like to have seen Joe’s reaction. After much struggling I finally had the camera set up so we’ll see how tonight goes.
Today has been really difficult. I have been scattered brained. I’ve messed up just about everything I’ve touched; everything I touched broke today so I’m pretty annoyed.
It’s just one of those days so I decided to list things that are good in my life. I listed five things that are blessings in my life because if not then it was just going to be an overwhelming day of sadness that seemed all for nothing. So I did, I came up with five things. I’m happy I was able to pause and go , okay listen, endurance is for a reason. It’s not to see who can suffer a long time, endurance has a purpose for the issues. That purpose is what I’m fighting for.
Here is a plant corner in my studio apartment that I enjoy.
Joe has been put on a different food by the vet. He’s been taken off his meds and he’s doing very well. His skin looks sooo much better. The boy’s actually kinda got an attitude now. He’s still Super Service Cat like no other but wow is he mouthy. 🙂
I’m down to two breathing treatments a day. My lungs still hurt very much from whatever chemical was in my apartment. I was in the hospital twice over it. Yuck. That’s part of the, “endurance is for a purpose” entry.
Lastly, I missed my OCD meds for a week. Life is hard right now. Prior Authorization and such took a bit. I finally got them after a full week. I can feel the difference. It hurts.
Until soon,
Faith Magdalene