The magical hunk of kitty cat goodness that is Llyod, 3 drawings that made me cry, bags 1 & 2.

Letting go (of stage one) and living.

My Italian teacher (photo taken while working) and love of my life.

Amazing how many hours there are in a day... how much time there seems to be when I stop dissociating and trying to hide from life. This morning I woke up at 6:30am, had coffee, talked to Stefano during his lunch hour, started sewing a handbag, gave myself a little 'home haircut' (just a trim), showered, cleaned and organized my room so I can sew and draw this afternoon, did a bunch of research online about how to move to Italy and then I spent a good chunk of time on the phone... the Italian embassy, the veterinarian, the airline.
Now I am just going to organize all of the notes that I wrote down and then come back to working on it again tomorrow. Stefano is so sweet- I called him at work to tell him some of the stuff I had learned through my phone calls this morning and he said, "Oh! That is good! It is enough for today. What are you going to do now?" I like that he is so sensitive and aware and always trying to help me to feel the very best I can. I think I have a pretty good thing going here: Each day I will work for a while on the stuff I need to do to organize for moving to Italy, I will spend some time drawing and I also have a plan where I am going to try to make 1 handbag a day. After I have made a bunch I am going to sell them somewhere. At night Stefano and I will talk over Skype and he will continue to help me learn to speak Italian. Oh... And I will update my blog each day. :-)
I had therapy on Wednesday and it was painful (as always) but helpful in moving me forward (as always). Something happened while I was in Italy... Something moved in my mind- I feel like I turned a corner I have been trying to get around for the past four and a half years. I feel like the part (or parts) of me that have been talking about being abused by "the father" somehow made a huge leap in thinking- in all of my grief I still have plenty of sadness and something larger than a mountain range of anger- but I feel like I have let go of the denial part. There is still some 'wishful thinking'/bargaining... But I feel like (after four and half years of therapy) I am able to actually begin to tolerate the truth- that 'the father', 'the man', the faceless black-shadow-memory in my head who raped me and abused me for 17 long and horrible and just horrific beyond words years was MY OWN REAL DAD.
I need to eat lunch quick and then get to my sewing/drawing. I will post pictures of both soon- probably starting tomorrow.

Stefano pretends he is Apple to make me laugh.

Getting back to Italy: Day 1.

Here is another page that I wrote/drew on the plane 2 days ago.

Today I woke up at 6am, talked to Stefano and worked at my computer. Around 9am I felt just tired and sad and like I wanted to just hide and go back to bed. So I did... But then I just laid there and all I could think about was all of the stuff that I could and should be doing so that I can go back to Italy as soon as possible and be with Stefano. So I got back out of bed and have busy ever since.

My father may have won a million battles, but I have won the war.

Me minus Stefano. But not for long.

("sketchbook" page, from yesterday; 5.27.08)

I am typing this in the smallest font because everything hurts right now and when everything hurts I feel like I want to whisper myself into a disappearance. Yesterday I was so busy taking trains and planes and cars to get back to my "house" that I had to stayed focused just on that and it took me twenty-four hours and so by the time I got back here I was so tired I could not even think and then I slept (but not in a good way) and then I spent the entire morning cleaning my room and unpacking the couple of things I brought back with me and just trying to get a little organized. Now it is 11:23AM here- 5:23PM where S. is and I feel so sad I can hardly even let my brain really know that we are in different places now.
This is the last time Stefano and I are going to have this problem though. The next time I go to Italy I will be taking Lloyd and Winston and moving there permanently. And the next time I come to the US it will be just for a visit and to do the work of my therapy.
I just want to get back to Italy as soon as I can.
If you are interested in purchasing any of my original drawings to help me get back AS SOON AS POSSIBLE you can view a lot of my art HERE and please feel free to contact me at artconstellation@gmail.com with any questions. Prices are negotiable.
I need to mark on my Flickr page the few drawings that I have sold or that are not for sale and I need to add the images of my latest drawings. I will try to do that in the next couple of days.
I have been using this blog to write about my past, my recovery, my life with Stefano and of course my artwork. I am also going to start writing about what I am doing every day in order to get myself and my two little men moved to Italy.
I miss Stefano and I can't stop crying about it yet. I keep trying to remind myself we will be together again somehow in just a few weeks but it still hurts so much.
I also have therapy in just two hours now! And tomorrow I have to go and have my yearly pelvic exam which I was supposed to do before I went to Italy this last time but I canceled because they tend to make me feel a little... unwell.

In the U.S.

I am back in the U.S. I just got here tonight after about 24 hours of travel and I am sad and exhausted. It was hard as hell to leave Stefano but hopefully I will be moving to Italy with Lloyd and Winston on August 1. I will write more tomorrow.

With less than 48 hours before I go.......

A Choice of Weapons.

I will only write a sentence or two. My head is such a mix of thoughts and feelings I can hardly organize anything into sentences. I go back to the US on Tuesday and my sadness about going away from Stefano is enormous. My therapy and my work of recovering from the past is hard and painful as hell. My heart and head ache more than I can describe.
Today I have been thinking about Gordon Parks and how he chose a camera over a gun.
I will take the pen instead of the knife.

Everything but the skins.

separation anxiety

I was supposed to go back to the U.S. a couple of days ago but Stefano and I did what we always do- get upset right before I have to leave and pay the fee to change my ticket and figure out how I can stay a little longer. I was supposed to leave on the 17th and now I have to go back on the 27th. We are both glad we are still together but it is extremely hard to think about leaving here.
The next time I come to Italy I will be bringing Lloyd and Winston and the rest of my stuff. Every time I am here it is harder to leave and this time really feels the worst.
Today I worked on a drawing but I forgot to bring my camera. I will try to post a picture tomorrow.

Quanto costa.

I just had my therapy over Skype with my doctor.
I wish I had a way to explain- in a clear way, I mean- what is happening- in my head and in my therapy and my life... but I don't have a good clear way because most of it is neither good nor clear. When I talk to my doctor about my past... when I hear myself talking to him- one way of my thinking telling a horrible story from the past that I have worked like hell my whole life to avoid believing is true- something I have almost destroyed myself over- that I nearly destroyed the most important relationship in my life over in order to not believe the horror stories I know from the past are not or were not just stories but REAL EVENTS. THINGS THAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED. TO ME. TO THIS BODY. TO THE PERSON I AM NOW AND THE PERSON I WAS AS A CHILD. I feel like I want to fold into a little ball and die. I hear myself telling my doctor words and the words form sentences and the sentences stories and I want to scream at some way of being myself STOP!!! Don't say it!!!!!!!!!!!! But I go on and I feel like the back and side of my head have been torn away and more than half of my brain is exposed to open air and there are no words for this pain and I have worked SO hard and for SO long NOT TO SAY THESE THINGS- But everything is just coming out now and I can not stop it anymore and the words are sliding past my teeth and mouth and I can not hold them back now and I hear myself say, "When I was six years old my father kicked me wearing a steel-toed boot." And I remember I was laying on the floor. I was curled into a little ball and I remember he kicked me hard against my lower back and for two weeks now I have been going over this sentence- this thought- this idea and I have been wanting to believe I am a liar. I have been wanting to believe I have made up this story. But there are no lies here in my head-on-fire. There is just and only this hell-fire burning truth and it feels like it has almost cost me everything to have survived.

The unaware butterfly.

That is what Stefano just called me- meaning I can not see what I am. Or what he thinks I am anyway.

Anyway... I have therapy tomorrow and I feel nervous as hell. I try to remind myself it is all just memories and words now- but it still hurts worse than I can explain.

No going back. (Not that I would want to.)

On May 12th I went to this in Venice because in January of 2009 I will be an artist in residence for three months here. I will be working on a collaborative project with Andrea Molino and I will also work on a second project by myself.
Sorry I have not been writing more or posting more images in the last ten days or so. I was struggling for a while but things are a little better now. I mean- things are more calm but I feel sad as hell. Recovering from what my father did is 1.) a complicated 'mess' and 2.) painful. And the worst part is that whenever there is progress it hurts like hell. I mean- whenever I am able to go forward at all- to tolerate knowing some more of what I spent my life working not to know- or when the parts of my thinking or the parts of what I know begin to come together more- it is good because it is progress and it is going forward and it is what I need to do... to realize the truth about what my life was so that I can go on and live a better one now... but it is a sad, miserable work. A couple of days ago I remembered something bad that happened when I was not yet even four years old. It is so hard to tolerate. And there is nothing to do but to tolerate it. I mean- I draw or sit or cry- but everything is over now and there is nothing to do but grieve but my grief and the rage I have towards my dad feel so big I feel sometimes like it is going to make the rest of me disapear.
I apologize again for not having uploaded more lately. I have been drawing every day and so I will try to upload more images and write more. Some days I feel so bad it is just almost hard to even move my body.
I try not to think this way- I try not to ask this question- because I believe there is really no answer- but on days when my eyes are burning from crying so much and my chest is so heavy with sadness I feel like it is literally hard to breathe- It is difficult on those days not to ask: Why? Why did this happen? Why did my dad do it?

Those questions are just distractions from my pain I think though. There is no answer- there is no reason. My real question now is: HOW? As in: HOW am I going to tolerate all of these horrific nightmares? HOW am I ever going to be able to close my eyes at night again? HOW am I ever even going to be able to tolerate my very clothing touching my burning skin.

Here.

I just wanted to say hi. Last night I had a terrible nightmare/memory/dream and I have felt bad for most of the day. I will post something tomorrow. Sorry.

picture this.

In a rush...

I am in a hurry but tomorrow I have pictures to post and a little story too... :-)

Always a work in progress.

Electra Ave.

untitled

Ah!

Ok... I have 6 photos of drawings that I have made in the past 2 days but I am unable to upload them right now. I will be able to upload them tomorrow. :-)

Here I am now.

technical difficulties (in my head)

Sorry I have not updated this in a couple of days. I am going to draw this afternoon and tomorrow I will post a drawing and write more. I just wanted to write a quick note now to say I am ok. I feel like the news of that sick man in Austria who held his daughter in a basement for 24 years and raped her and on and on.... I feel like finding out about that has nearly short circuited something in my brain. I can't stop thinking about it and it makes me feel sick and I am trying not to obsess over it but I keep thinking that there must be other women in other places trapped in basements. Anyway- I am sorry this post does not say much. I just wanted to say hi and that I am ok and I will post a drawing tomorrow.

page.