just some hours now.

I am packed and ready to go!!! I will leave for the airport in a couple of hours and I will be with Stefano SOON!!!!! I will post a picture on Wednesday of us together and smiling. ;-)

the pinhole.

I leave for Italy TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I think I may have woken up smiling this morning....
While I was making coffee I was (literally) singing this song and Lloyd was (literally) looking at me like: "Hey, who the hell are you and what in the hell have you done with my real mother?"

And now a message from Italy.

Hi, everybody. This is Stefano.

Jenny is going to leave in just few days and we will meet in Italy really soon.

We are both excited about that, because we love each other like crazy and we spent too much time being apart.

Finally the world will turn to the right way again.

I need to thank all the wonderful people loving Jenny and our story, like Eve, Jessieh, Karen, Joyce, Daisy the curly cat, Angel and CastoCreations. I hope you keep visiting Jenny's blog and being so close to her.

We will win this war. She is already doing it and she needs all the good support you and all the other people that visit her blog give her.

Thank you so much, good friends.

Stefano.

for today

(sketchbook page, March 2008)

The deepest water there is. (big crunch)

In physical cosmology, the big crunch is one possible scenario for the ultimate fate of the universe, in which the metric expansion of space eventually reverses and the universe recollapses, ultimately ending as a black hole singularity.




Today I go to the doctor for a pelvic exam. This is an event which makes me feel nauseous inside my own head. The last time it did not go well at all and it is always a major challenge because it reminds me of (Note: Do not click on the following link if you are not able to tolerate the graphic recount of a grotesque sexual abuse event) this.
There is nothing else to say about any of it except that it makes me feel like I want to vomit through the flesh of every inch and corner of my body.
My aunt (and the only member of my birth family that I still speak to) has pancreatic cancer which has metastasized to her liver and she is having trouble breathing. She is going to the doctor today; they are worried it may be a heart problem.

not a single word to say

Six days!!!!!!!

(This picture is from the first time Stefano and I went to Florence.)

The pen test.

Last night while Stefano and I were talking over Skype (which we will not need in just SIX DAYS) I was testing out a bunch of pens and markers in my sketchbook to see if they were still good. My "pen test" turned into this drawing.

One step.

My therapy yesterday was really hard and today I find myself walking around feeling lost and then just starting to cry. I am trying to move forward, trying to get ready for going to Italy in just seven days (!) and trying to take care of myself after having talked about so many terrible memories in my therapy session yesterday. A few years ago when this terrible thing happened someone close to me told me that grief is like a huge fog where you can not see an inch in front of you and all you can do to get through it is to just go one step, then one step, then one step.
I feel just raw I hurt so much. Ok... I am crying again now so I am going to stop typing this and my next 'one step' is going to be to go and find my Lloyd and cry into his softer-than-a-bunny fur.

A possible conspiracy theory & the drawings I have made in the last 24 hours.

I am seriously beginning to wonder if Daisy the Curly Cat is somehow working in cahoots with Stefano to try and make me feel better! My therapy was extremely hard and painful this morning. It was terrible actually. But today is a holiday in Italy so Stefano was home from work and I was able to call him as soon as I came out of therapy. I felt a little better right away and then we talked over Skype for a short time after I got home and then I started to feel a little more better... I took a nap because I just felt so tired and still pretty sad. When I woke Stefano and I talked over Skype again. Two minutes into our phone call he had me smiling and soon I was even laughing! So my plan for writing a post about how bad I feel today and how sad I am was just slipping away from me. After we spoke I looked at Daisy's blog and now I just can not write about feeling bad anymore. I was totally hurting but now I have been smiling and laughing and smiling some more. So instead of the post I was intending to write I decided I would post my drawings.
I wonder how Stefano got Daisy's telephone number? Could Lloyd have given it to him? Hmmm.... I hope I don't sound too paranoid. ;-)

Breaking Round

(mixed media on paper, 9.25" x 5.75", 3/23/08)

You can put bunny ears on a wolf but it does not a bunny make.

I have been alone all day. I feel like I have hardly recovered from my Friday therapy session and I go again tomorrow. It is bad when I am anxious about therapy on a Sunday starting before noon. It usually means it will be a long night. I hope I am wrong today. I have spent the entire day doing cleaning and organizing to get ready to go to Italy. (Only 8 more days.) The one thing that has made me feel better today is the thought of being with Stefano soon. But... I feel nauseous about my therapy. I am worried about having enough money for the trip or even for getting ready for it. AND I feel sad about being alone on Easter. I keep trying to tell myself that I am lucky; that I have wonderful people in my life who love me, I have a house to stay in, food to eat, Lloyd and Winston... But I feel like today- no matter which way I look at it- things just look really difficult.

Into every life a chubby little cat dressed as an Easter bunny must fall.

The shit, the shame, the lies and the truth. Part 2

Crossing back over the event horizon.
It is 2:30pm and it feels like today has been going on forever. Of course I had my therapy this morning and I am going to attempt to write something about that experience here now- but it seems like it will be difficult. It is difficult to describe my morning or my day thus far because words like "hell" and "shit" and "horrific" have no matter- no weight where I am living today and with what I am knowing today.
I feel like I want to get out of my skin- get all freed up from my dirtyruinedself (that is the feeling of it anyway). I want to hide but there is no where to go.
I have been in therapy for more than four years... almost four and a half- and I am feeling now like all of that time has been a sort of preparation for days like today. For days that will be like today. I remember very early in my therapy when I began to talk about having different ways of thinking and the problem of "being confused" about time. What I mean by that is this: The trauma that I survived ended almost 14 years ago- but at the time- when it was actually happening I was dissociating away from the pain and the horror as a way to protect myself and my mind. And all of the horrible memories, thoughts, smells and sounds all got pushed into a kind of temporary black hole of sorts. Except what was once a seemingly blacker than black black hole has now turned into what feels like a purging monster of a volcano in my head; traumatic memories erupting. And it is a bad feeling. A very very very VERY bad feeling. This is certainly where words to describe will fail me- anyway- as the memories come back it feels like they are happening NOW. Because I was not really able to tolerate knowing anything about the trauma (of my very own father beating and raping me for all of my growing up years) when I start to think about it- when I start to know about it now- it seems like more than a memory. It FEELS as though it IS happening now. My mind is so divided- separated into so many ways of thinking to keep one way of thinking from knowing about something and when one part of my brain would become to "full" (full of knowing about how terrible the situation was that I was in) I was forced to just sort of dump that way of thinking, wash the black board of my brain and start a new way- and the process repeated over and over again. But all of those ways were not really 'dumped' they were put into the temporary black hole in my mind which is now serving forth a mountain of horrific memories. And I remember my doctor telling me a long time ago that people have to sometimes REMIND themselves that the trauma is over- that this is just a memory. It hurts like hell but the physical part is long since over. I remember thinking "What? Remind themselves what year it is? How could a memory be that strong that you need to clip the date out of the newspaper each day and post it in your house just to help you remember the year?".
And that basically brings me to this morning after I finished my therapy. After I called my great friend Eve (who, now that Stefano has his new job, has kindly 'taken over' the position of being the person that I can call if I walk out of therapy and feel like my head might fall off my shoulders or some other horrific thing such as that...) and WAILED then sobbed then managed to calm myself to just a heavy crying until I made it to weeping and then was too tired to cry anymore- I made a list of the one thing that not only puts me into the NOW but also makes me feel better, soothes me and always reminds me that the world is enormous and a billion billion times more than this pain that I am left with from what my very own father did to me and for so long. Here is the list: Brahms, Schubert, Beethoven, Prokofiev, Verdi, Rachmaninoff, Janacek, Bach, Puccini, Scarlatti, Tchaikovsky, Strauss, Bartok, Mozart, Dvorak, Shostakovich, Mendelssohn, Schumann, Vivaldi. I took four of the names, wrote them on another little scrap of paper and wrote "2008" beneath it. I went into a tattoo place, put the little piece of paper on the counter and asked the guy at the counter if he could tattoo it onto my arm. I wondered as he tattooed me: Will it be enough? Will I look at the same hand that I have used to cut myself with razor blades and burn myself with cigarettes- will I allow myself, will I know, will I remember to go and listen to a piece of genius-beauty on a cd until the terrible FEELING passes? I hope so. After all... it is 2008.

kiss from 7000 kilometers

the lost then found

(2004, marker on paper, 14" x 17")

Tomorrow I am going to post a drawing I am just now finishing. I will try to post more images from this sketchbook that I found a couple of days ago but it is really hard for me to even look at them right now. All of them are overflowing with sexual violence and even more difficult to look at than the three pages I have posted so far. All of the little circles with images on the right are meant to represent different ways of my thinking. I wonder now what was in the circles that I blacked out? The images of babies in my work are about the miscarriage and the abortion.

another image from the afore mentioned sketchbook

(pen and ink on paper, 14" x 17", 2004)

burns in my eyes

Tonight I found a large sketchbook that I had shoved into the back of my closet a few years ago. The drawings are so painful it is hard for me to even look at them. I have to look at them now though. I have to know now what I have been trying not to know.(marker on paper, 14" x 17", 2004)

My original drawings are now for sale online.

Today I opened my Etsy store. You can now buy my original
drawings here. The store address is: artconstellation.etsy.com.

Watershed.

I just got back from therapy. I was really panicked last night and this morning; I could hardly sleep then woke up very early. It was a huge step for me that I was able to draw about my feelings of panic this morning instead of hurting myself. Therapy can be so difficult and it takes a long time to work through so many hard things. It is such a joy though when things start to get better.

The drawing I made just now before leaving for therapy in order to avoid cutting into my own flesh with a pair of small sewing scissors.

(pen and ink and marker on paper, 11" x 17", 3.17.08)

sketchbook page 6 (click image for a larger view)

The shit, the shame, the lies and the truth. Part 1

I HAVE BEEN SITTING HERE FOR MORE THAN TWENTY MINUTES NOW TRYING TO EXPLAIN HOW/WHAT DISSOCIATION IS AND HOW/BUT I AM AT THIS TERRIBLE POINT WHERE ALL OF MY GREAT DISSOCIATIVE POWERS have basically been taken from me. I have been in therapy four and a half years. It takes a long time to tell yourself something you spent 25 years working to not tell yourself. I keep wanting to write more about dissociation on this blog. I want to explain what it is so people can understand it better- so I can understand it better even. But my brain is so chaotic and so full of contrary and just plain opposite ideas that I am not even able to write a clear explanation. I type and erase. Type and erase. That is what my life feels like sort of anyway sometimes/often/always/a lot. So I guess this will be my first post about what it is like to live with a dissociative disorder and to try to pull my mind back from being in pieces and all over the place. A post about how insanely difficult it is to write one way or idea when you have a whole bunch of 'different ways' of thinking. Because a dissociated mind is a divided mind. Well... at least mine is. hm. That sounds like a good campaign slogan 'a dissociated mind is a dived mind'. Ok never mind. I feel that the extreme unclarity of this post will in fact be the perfect explanation/self portrait/snapshot/photo of my mind. I will continue to write about this. Some how. Tonight I am upset with myself because there is a wonderful classical concert but some part of my mind is totally desperate to not go forward and has this weird idea that if I stay home maybe my mind will not have to go forward (in knowing any more horrible junk about the past by the 'problem' of being real now) - anyway- I keep myself basically locked in my house(and mind) to try to avoid just knowing what I essentially already know on some level/levels (just like parts of my thinking have been locked away in my head) but now everything is coming out and it is a bloody painful mess. And tonight my pained mind is probably going to hear the sound of some stupid movie on tv that I do not really want to hear instead of the Rachmaninoff and Prokofiev that I did want to hear. Great. I love (to hate) my self (selves) (divided mind). Mini-masochism? Perhaps. F*ck this is unbelievably painful. Confusing? Difficult to understand? Perfect. That is exactly what I meant to say.

I Run(pen & ink with marker & nail polish, 14" x 17", 2007)

I am having so many nightmares. I keep thinking of this drawing.

My little narcoleptic cat.

I am glad somebody is able to sleep around here tonight. I am still struggling over all of the stuff that came out in my therapy today. I feel totally exhausted both emotionally and physically and I feel nervous about going to bed. Right now I am having nightmares almost every night and it makes it hard to go to sleep. The dreams all feel so real that most mornings when I wake up I am both terrified and so disoriented that I literally feel confused about where I am and what is really happening. That feeling only lasts for a second but it is really scary and not a great way to start the day. I leave for Italy in two weeks and two days. I have a lot of stuff to do to get ready and I feel a little overwhelmed. I can hardly wait to be with Stefano though. I will be there for 7 weeks.
I will post a new drawing tomorrow.

In pieces.

This morning I had therapy and when I got home I just had to lay down. Now I wanted to write something about how my therapy went but I am not feeling good at all. I guess that is what I have to say for now; I feel totally sad and tired. My therapy was hard and painful. I started crying before I even went into my doctor's office. It feels like there is not an end to the horrible stories I have to tell about my father and they are all so awful. I think it is difficult to understand what a dissociative disorder is and I think if you have one it is even harder. I will try to write more tomorrow. Right now I need to go and hug Mr. Sunshine.

Good morning Mr. Sunshine.

My Organ Dress(pen and ink on paper, 11" x 8.5", 3.12.08)

I am out of bed & drawing today! (Thanks to Verdi.) Rigoletto

To:Jessieh

From:
Dr. Larry Lloyd

---------------------------------
A little bit of Scarlatti
and a whole bunch of love.
---------------------------------

Why Winston's plan may not work as well for me.

I am struggling every day just to function. I should take a shower this morning and get out of my pajamas. I need to open the curtains in my room and try to do some things today that will make me feel better than if I just stay in bed and go over horrible old memories and try to stop my mind from running by trying to sleep. But I am having a terrible time with this. I seem to have this idea that if I just do not move too much in the present that it will somehow protect me from feeling the truth and the pain from my past. That is of course not working and staying in bed in my dark room everyday is actually making me feel worse I know. I need to start telling myself that I am more than just the horrible past that happened to me. I need to tell myself that I am totally safe now and that I have good people around me that love me now. I am just so scared about the present and the idea of going forward. Going forward means acknowledging so many things that I have worked so hard all of my life to avoid really knowing about. For example: the fact that my family is not at all what I thought it was. I am having a hard time explaining what I mean- I hope this makes sense to some people though. I just want to cry. I feel trapped by the past and scared to be in the present. I will probably crawl back into bed now even though I know I will hate myself for it later.
Dear Universe: Please give me a shove.

Well that was extremely unpleasant.

I got home from my therapy a little while ago. It was very painful. I literally had to sit in silence for almost ten minutes before I was even able to tell Dr. C about my nightmare from last night. Then that was all we talked about for the rest of the session and I cried for the entire time. Unfortunately it was not really a nightmare so much as it was a memory of my father raping me coming back to me in a dream. It was f*cking awful and all I want to do now is put on my pajamas and crawl under the blankets with Winston (he is already there) and hide. I am just going to draw for the rest of the day and not make myself try to do very much else. I have so much grief- I feel like I am overflowing with it. It was awful- just awful and one of the worst parts of the nightmare/memory was that there was a point when I knew my mother was in the hallway and she did not come in to save me. Ok... I can't even think about it anymore. I felt so awful when I walked out of Dr. C's office I felt like "How am I even going to be able to drive home?" My saving grace was that when I turned my car on I caught the last few minutes of a great recording on public radio- Artur Rubinstein playing a Chopin scherzo. When I got home I sat on the edge of my bathtub so I could see my face in the mirror and quickly drew this self portrait in blue marker. Also- I want to thank all of the people who have been leaving comments here lately. I really appreciate every one. Each message helps and it helps me to know that other people know about this huge pain I am trying to get through. I feel like I have too much pain for one person and I feel like writing about it and telling other people lessens the weight somehow. So thank you. Winston is waiting... See you tomorrow.

The traditional "oh my god I don't want to go to therapy" post.

I will post a new drawing later today- I am just about to walk out the door though and wanted to mention THAT I REALLY DO NOT WANT TO GO to my therapy session this morning. Last night I had a horrific nightmare about my father and I know that it is going to be the first thing that falls out of my mouth when I see my therapist and I know it is going to stir up a mess of garbage I do not want to deal with inside my mind. So that is it for now. Just a note out into blogosphere that I want to cry and I haven't even put my shoes on yet this morning. More later....

Problems with my ears.

(11" x 8.5", pencil on paper, 3.8.08)

After a day like yesterday...

Tomorrow I will post a new drawing but after what I wrote yesterday I felt like it was best to go with a cute cat picture for today. Stefano and I were on Skype last night and when I walked away for a minute Winston jumped into my chair and Stefano took this picture of him. I think it would have been fun if he had just gone the whole nine yards and put the headset on but I guess it was just more of a quick hello.
Tune in tomorrow for the drawing that references some of what I wrote about yesterday. This blog is a mix of cat images and love stories followed by stories of severe abuse and photos of my bloody painful drawings. Not exactly a 'lighthearted' mix.

blood in ears (WARNING: THIS POST MAY BE TRIGGERING)

My day so far: Woke up, posted the photo I took yesterday (below), talked to Stefano over Skype, forced myself to change out of my pajamas and get dressed for therapy, clipped my hair back with children's barrettes, contemplated taking Lloyd to therapy with me and then made myself go out and get into my car. Five minutes into my fifty minute drive to therapy I called Stefano from my cell phone and cried for the rest of the drive about how much I did not want to go to therapy and told him some of the horrible things that I knew I was going to talk about with my therapist today. I then spent 50 minutes in therapy talking about how I felt after the summer that I miscarried my father's child, the memory of my father grabbing me by my hair and smashing my head into the wall when I was 17 and how when I was four years old I actually licked a razor on purpose to cut open my tongue with the hope that it would prevent my father from putting his penis inside my injured mouth and how I must have felt when even that was not enough to stop him.

Therapy Friday.

Asking for a miracle.

On Tuesday Jen asked the universe to help bring Stefano and I together. Two hours later Stefano got a phone call for a job interview. He had the interview this morning and they called him almost as soon as he got home and asked him if he could start working this Monday. He graduated exactly five weeks ago today and he already has a job. This is WONDERFUL news. This is of course going to make it easier for us to see each other and for me to be able to move there. Thank you Universe.
And now for the aforementioned miracle...
This morning I got an email from my friend Eve. One of her very good friends that we both went to college with has just been diagnosed with a blood cancer which has settled into her brain. Her name is Lora. I think she is just 30 years old, she is married with two very young daughters and is six months pregnant with their third daughter. Doctors are now trying to decide how long they can wait before they need to take the baby out and start the chemotherapy. I am going to pray for a miracle.
Her family set up a website where Lora is writing about what is happening and where people can go to get more information. Her website is here: http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/lorakesselhon.
I am sure that Lora and her family would appreciate all prayers and/or miracle requests.

Lloyd is a maniac.

Last night I was on the phone with The Speaker and we were watching the results come in for the primaries. This was Lloyd's reaction when it was announced that Hillary Clinton had won Ohio.

Her name is Ellenor. They call her Belle.

I found an incredible blog today written by a 37 year old photographer-mom-wife living in the UK who has a daughter named Ellenor. Ellenor has an undiagnosed illness and needs to come to the United States so that doctors can find a diagnosis and then a treatment for her. Her family is in the process of raising money for their trip to the US. You can read all about it at: www.kirstywiseman.com.
Please Stumble, Digg, donate if you can and share this site with the people you know!!!
I am going to email her mother and ask if I could donate a drawing to the raffle they are having.
Let's all do what we can to help!!

"Are You There God? It's Me Blogging."

Jen asked the universe to help Stefano and I. I like her blog a lot and the title of it is great. Her post from yesterday made me smile too. (As they often do.)

Stefano.

(marker on paper, 8.5" x 8.5", March 3, 2008)