I decided after several days of studying the painting, of NOT painting, and hoping that the newly ordered watercolor paper would come … that I would add the freshly mixed soft pink and a simple stripe of white at the bottom, which you may be able to see, mid-low-right? And it felt right, the shade of pink going down, stepping back, yes, it POPPED just right, and went down in all the right ways into the two remaining shapes, as if it were meant to be. Still, it needed just a little ooomph, so I added just the little line of white. Nice. Done! I wish you could see it. 🙂
I noticed that the photos in the studio are much warmer in color than the photos in the full Sun in the den where I take my final portraits of my work for the web, but I must be consistent. So you all get to see the warmer ones, and know that if you should own one, you could put it in a warm place. Hee. Up to you. They all need homes, poor things.
I’ve been working up a storm today for the Menare Foundation, gathering cultural images from the Civil War, the 1960s, 70s, and 80s from the Web for the Powerpoint. It’s pretty amazing time travel in a way. I can’t imagine not having lived through the 60s-80s and seeing those images for the first time, like a stranger from a strange world. Even the 20s-50s don’t look foreign to me, perhaps because I grew up watching so many movies and news reels of WWII and early silver screen gems.
So … as I was saying a few days ago about this journey of transformative healing that I’m on, that I hope you won’t shy away from with me … I’m kind of coming out of my shell in order to do this and it does take a certain amount, some may say a great deal, but at my age, it seems somewhat less so … well, I have a diagnosis for many years now of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder with Dissociative Identity Disorder. There. I’ve said it.
You may have guessed something like this if you are one of the folks who have read snippets or more of Rebekah’s Closet, because she has alters, or multiple personalities, who are quite dramatic and get to have adventures. Quite magical, really, literary fiction, and transformative that was, in the writing. Hoping to make that an e-book next Spring. Stay tuned for the editing of that more in detail hopefully this Fall/Winter. We shall see. Requires some funds for the diagnostic editor.
My alters are more like pieces that hold memories and experiences, moods and emotions, have certain roles. One likes to count to ten, for example, quite helpfully, I might add, which I allow at times. I being the host, like a new mother who manages all the various pieces and keeps all in order. Sometimes I, the host, get tired or overwhelmed, and it can get a bit awry, so I rest. No biggie. Really at this point things are very manageable, but I’m still in some deep therapy, twice a week, going through everything that happened to me, at the hands of multiple abusers, during my developmental years. Boo! But I’m in great hands now. So that’s the good news. Quite stable.
That all being said, I’m going to be processing some emotions and stuff (easiest word for it) in the coming year or so, with some of my visual art pieces. I’m still going to be making my most absolutely necessary body of playful artwork — for I must continue to explore JOY and BEAUTY — but a few hours a week, most likely after my counseling sessions, to keep it in boundaries/bounds — I’ll be taking on one abuser for a three month period at a time, then wrapping up the thing and putting it away.
It is not my intention to be explicit or gross anyone out here, to name names or to do anything but to symbolically and in my own codes, the codes of the pieces who remember these things, express and release them and get them out of me, so I have to carry with me less and less. You see, the alters think the war is still going on as it were. They come to me and tell me over and over what they are experiencing as if it were still happening, in the form of flashbacks, usually, multiple times a day, and I thank them and let them know that we are here now and it is safe and they can rest, etc. etc. But still, they come back.
They get triggered by lots of things on TV, in music, in daily life — as war veterans get triggered, too — very much like that, any PTSD survivor. It’s my job to cope with those triggers better and better, more and more efficiently over time.
So if you can hang with me, please do. I did not choose any of it.
Spiritually, my yoga, my Buddhism, my meditation, Nature, my art, my LOVE, my volunteerism — these all help me enormously.
Thank you for listening. Always! 🙂