In the past week, I have slowly been processing and writing about the new series Fragments. I am thinking, How can I express the pain of my Dissociative Identity Disorder, the horrible acts of abuse that made me split in the first place? It’s not beautiful. As an artist I strive to make things beautiful, though. So this is truly a struggle for me.
I have already painted and painted over, a layer of extremely scary stuff, which I showed a friend. I saw vintage holiday stuff. She saw “a very angry man.”
That section is and will continue to be, I think, blacked out for me. Like the hole in the pit of my stomach, my gut, my solar plexus? Raw, bleah, almost nausea? Like, not believing in? something. something.
Now as a Buddhist, as a human, I love now, I trust now. But there was a time several decades ago where I lost my sense of feelings and love and trust. It was just awful for everyone.
I painted these clear sections defined by red, intense red, to delineate states of being, alters or personalities, right? and black could be depression. The gray/black zones, despair. The softer pink zones are where I am more tender and can feel intimate, vulnerable. It switches though, quickly, from one to another. You see? and it is sharp. Not cloudy. It is hard for me to express visually but I’m trying.
As my first attempt, I have already wanted to ditch the red lines and paint something mountainous and emotional. To paint something green and jungly and drippy. Something with wormholes and … you see?
This is just the beginning of something very big for me.
Today is a very hard day for me. I’m on the verge of my monthly cycle so my hormones are ignoring my medication and I’m wildly irritable. Also, they’re working on the farmhouse to prepare it for sale upstairs, sawing and hammering, and the dogs in the bag are barking lots. I have frenetic jazz, Miles Davis, going at the same time. agh. reaching out to friends is helping but I don’t feel like talking, just typing. Looking forward to counseling on Friday. Walking with a friend tomorrow.
It is so incredibly beautiful today. I’m used to my medication taking care of things for me. Poor me. Ha. Breathe Amy, breathe, and this day will pass as any other and tomorrow will be a new one, possibly better. I am blessed.
I feel like curling up in a ball and painting.
Oh, and my 189 page screenplay is temporarily lost. Adobe Story is looking for it for me as we speak? Please wish them luck as a) I spent a good 2 years on that? and b) I just decided with my collaborator to make it into a trilogy? omg
Some days there aren’t enough curse words. I feel like writing on FB: Please hug me lots. Rutro. ha.
ha. over and out. Tomorrow will be better. thank you for listening!!