Love.

A bunch.

A bunch of things happened.  I got overwhelmed.  I will continue to try to resume posting.  Two more weeks of classes and then a big critique to end this first semester of school.  Then paper folding for Christmas gifts??? Not sure.

I will try to post more drawings of images too.  I made a drawing on a paper bag that I am liking a lot.

Kermit in a fall.

yesterday

VT

2. Have you ever had your eyes covered.

Loss of vision is frightening. I like to see the world, but one of the major ways I dealt with the raping was to have closed eyes. Then it was like I had to close my eyes to the world as a way to never see the rape and the too muchness of it. Then I was blind. Then I was blind from the world & everything in it. When I open my mind to the truth I can see the world again. I have to sit knowing about all the pain & hurt; but I see the river, the trees, the sky, a pale blue building. The building on the river is the color of a robin egg and I begin to cry.
The crying reminds me of wanting to tell you why I needed these new glasses- so I could cry this much. It was impossible with the contact lenses.

1. I received your message.

Today I got your message but I feel unable to respond directly. It's a problem about closeness and how for too long there was too much. Too much yelling, too much touching, too much fucking, too much lying, too much violence. And I didn't really even get to know about that very much at the time it originally happened- it was too much hurt to understand in my one mind.
For a long time all I had was my 'original' family- now not.
Many days it all still feels too painful to feel. And most days I keep wanting out of my own life a lot. I don't mean I want to die- I mean I wish had a different story.
This sometimes seems like it is about me not wanting to be close to you, but it is never about that.
It is about me not wanting to be close to me.
The trip went well.
Jenny

Two good DID books.

I am presently reading two very helpful books.  One is titled "Coping with Trauma-Related Dissociation", by Boone, Steele & van der Hart.  And the other is "Telling Without Talking: Art as a Window into the World of Multiple Personality", by Cohen and Cox.

:-)

Keep on.

I am typing this on the train. I'm on my way to be with one of my closest friends. Before I left this morning I had therapy. It was very difficult. I cried a lot. I cried in therapy, I cried walking to the train, I cried on the train. And I drew on the train. And I had a good conversation with someone & I listened to the opera. When I switched trains in NYC I ate a bagel & my first real black & white cookie. Then I called Eve & Heather- two of my other close friends.
Healing from child sexual abuse is a lot of hard work- but it is possible. I know it because I am healing & so are my friends who were raped as children.
I am never going to stop telling my story. I'm sorry there are times when I get overwhelmed and do not write here much- I am going to keep working to write here more. Sometimes I may be down, but I am never out. And I'll never be silent about child sexual abuse.
This weekend I am going to be with Jessieh!!! :) So there will be some good photos soon. :)

Stars.

Ugh. What a night. Actually the past several weeks have been pretty 'UGH'. I am working to know the thoughts in my head- but to not act out on the pain. Five gold stars tonight:
1 for eating
1 for not hurting myself
1 for drawing
1 for reaching out to people & talking
1 for being able to type this with a 17.5 lb furry loveball on my lap.

Making things better.

Today is a little better.  I keep trying to remember to step towards the good things- the things I like, the people I love.  

One of the most difficult things. (Tolerating my own story.)

Tonight I brought my computer home from school. I usually leave it there.  That's been my big system for trying to help myself not post an ad on Craigslist and go out and meet a stranger for sex.  And I still don't keep razor blades in the house; my effort to try to avoid cutting.

I titled this and then started typing but I don't really even want to be typing about this.  I don't want to be typing about knowing my own mind.  It would be easier to delete this post and do something different.  Except it wouldn't be... not really.  I worked so hard for so long to try to not know what really happened to me- I still have so many moments of so many days when I wish things had been different when I was growing up... I wish I felt fine now.  But most days are a mix now.  A mix of good things and struggle.  But I haven't been hurting myself and I've been going to school and making my art.

I thought when I went to school that I would make big drawings.  Most of the time I feel like drawing tiny drawings.  I don't have much furniture, I struggle with the amount of meat (ugh) on my own bones (ugh); the amount of space that I take up- the fact that I am real and in the world at all.  Again- huge urge to delete all of this- but I am going to keep on.  I really do feel like what happened to me is so much bigger than my own story of having been sexually abused for so long.

Child sexual abuse is an epidemic.  And I am going to speak out about my life and my own story in hopes that it helps other people know they are not alone and see it is possible to heal.  The healing is not very graceful.  It just isn't.  Healing from a grotesque amount of abuse couldn't be graceful.

I'm not hurting myself; no cutting and no dangerous sex.  GOLD STAR.

I am eating.  GOLD STAR.

I am going to school, making my drawings, taking care of my cats, listening to opera everyday, taking photos, walking, being with friends and talking with people I love on the phone.

A TRUCKLOAD OF GOLD STARS.

One of the hardest parts of getting better really has been asking myself:  What is this feeling really about?    That is the most difficult question to ask because the answer is always something relating back to something painful.

It's 9 PM.  I feel anxious.  I could do a few things for school on the computer, I could draw.  I want to go running out of my house.  I want to go out.  I want to get out of my house.  I hate being in my apartment at night.

What is this feeling really about?  Why do I hate being "home" at night?  I ask myself the question.  Then I start to get this image of my dad...  It is hard not to run away from myself- or to try anyway.

I keep trying to remember that I have gotten better; I am in school, I have my own apartment, I am making a series of finished drawings.  I'm happier.  I am more clear in my thoughts and my life.  I really am doing better.

Today I had my art therapy group and then a critique at school and then therapy.  Then I ate ice cream for dinner.

And today... I was so angry as I was walking to therapy- about all of the shit my father did to me, about how much he hurt me, about how much I hurt myself in order to cover up all he did to me... on and on.  I was walking and I suddenly thought... well... it was a violent thought.  I try to move away from those thoughts.  I need to allow myself to be mad- but I try not to think too much in that vein.

I do hope my abuser is sitting in that fucking recliner of his tonight and having to avoid every news station on TV because of all of the media around the ex-Penn State coach Jerry Sandusky.

Opera.

I just went to my art therapy group & it was good. This beautiful little spider drawing was made by one of the people in my group. I'm walking around listening to Rigoletto; I love it.

PTSD. (I'm having it.)

I am presently in my studio trying to get a few things done and then draw.  I am anxious.  No... I am ANXIOUS.  ANXIOUS ANXIOUS.  That is how I have been living for the past several weeks:  ANXIOUS ANXIOUS.

Even though I understand that keeping my own mind in a kind of chaotic place is a way to not fully realize the reality of the truth about the past... the reality of the past kind of makes me very very very anxious and makes me feel chaotic.

Lately I have been noticing how much of my time is really taken up by PTSD related things.  That is to say:  I want to be drawing and making my art... but I am anxious.  So I am going to keep working on it.  I think being more aware of the feelings of anxiety and asking myself what it is really about is a step in the right direction.  Then I need to remind myself that I am safe now.  Then I need to remind myself that it is good and wonderful to be in my studio and making art.  Then I need to turn on the opera and draw.

I took the photo with my webcam and when I saw myself... I laughed out loud.  I feel like I am a photo of PTSD/DID.  No, I am more than that.

Today I started reading a book about art made by people with DID.

Thursday I am taking the train to see someone I love.  :-)

I love you, someone.  :-)

From, 'Coping With Trauma-Related Dissociation'

5 images. Thursday, November 10, 2011.

My main wish. {Wisher.}

A panic attack visible from space (DID & living a life).

Pictures from life.

3 days.

I have been getting over a cold & busy with school. I pushed this blog to the back burner a bit... in a few days I am going to start to write about why. And what it is like to be in graduate school and working hard in therapy and in my life. It is a lot. But it is mostly good. Difficult, but mostly good. Anyway- I am going to start posting & writing more here. Sorry for the lack of posts; starting school was kind of a big shock & a whole lot of change. I'm starting to settle in more now. :)