Late Start

18 11 2011

Got a late start yesterday, but early by comparison to plenty of recent past days. Sure I was two hours late to my three hour class, but I got there. And that was an accomplishment in and of it self.

“You’re strong”

I don’t feel strong.

“You really are. Its understandable that you’re angry, you’ve had several people treat you really horribly.”

These are the words from my therapist. I freaked out because I gave him my, “Summit Abyss” entry and he told me that I should go to BAARC which I should, but at first I felt like I was being rejected by my counselor. Like he was basically telling me that I was too fucked up for him to handle. He didn’t know what to say to me any more.

This was not the case. While he might feel inadequate as the only source of therapy, he really just meant that I needed more than he alone could give. And he made that very clear.  Which was wonderful because my last counselor I had, the Jesusy one, after I was like “I was raped by my husband (the one we did marriage counseling with back in the day), oh and that stranger…” he was like, “Whelp, that sucks…go here!”

Not, actually but that is what it felt like.

I have a pyscho-pharmacology appointment with BIT on Tuesday,  I keep telling myself It will work out. And one day I won’t need medication. One day I’ll have the self discipline to maintain my mental health.

I am working towards that day.

Everything. Will. Be. Okay.


17 11 2011

I’m such a liar. I lie all the time. But really its just about one thing. How I’m doing.

I’m doing terrible really. More days than not. And I didn’t wake up too late to make it to class on time.

I woke up and can’t bring myself to leave the house.

I woke up and felt as though I hadn’t slept.

I woke up and couldn’t bring myself to care.

I woke up and hate everything that I’m working on and if I get to the studio I’ll tear it all up…

I woke up and started crying.

I woke up and could barely breathe.

I woke up and feel like some one had been sitting on my chest all night.

I woke up and I’m shaking.


But life isn’t about how you’re doing, not actually. Its about pretending. And people don’t care how you’re actually doing, they just want you to smile.  And every time I smile, just for smiling sake, I tell a big fat lie.

I’m up…I’m down…I’m all around

15 11 2011

Today, more often than not I have been in a ridicuously good mood. Mostly because I really saw clearly this piece I have been working on, and had a really affirming wonderful critique. I am really excited about what I am working on right now. Can’t say that has been the case in a while.On top of that I have realized that above all else I really want to be here. At this school for my mfa. One year just really ins’t enough time for me.

Of course, I will be applying to other schools, too. But there aren’t many. And short of a full ride with teaching assistantship, health insurance (including mental health), a stipend, and a fully interdisciplinary will draw me away from here.


Besides that, I really love Boston. And while I’m having more misses with a lot of the people in my Post Bac program, I have a lot of hits with the graduate students.


It must be because I don’t suck.




Start to finish.

13 11 2011

Yoga. I have got to start doing more yoga.

I’m cleaning up my room today finding it nice to see the floor.

In my clean room I can do yoga. I can meditate. I can move beyond just laying on my bed.

Its 12:34 and I’m dressed. Ready to head out the door. One of my favorite movies is playing in the background. Its almost over.

I’m going to walk to the studio today. Or most of the way and then get on the train. I will be carrying a backpack after all and it may get to heavy.

Its rather beautiful outside.

I’m going to finish a drawing today.

I realize sometimes I drop myself because I can’t carry the weight.

Today I’m picking myself back up.

Bad Days vs. Really Bad Days

13 11 2011

Today, might be considered mostly a really bad day.

I got dressed today. Showered and everything. I did not however leave the house though I really wanted/needed to go to the studio.

But because I got dressed I would just say it was a bad day leaning on a really bad day.

Yesterday however was just a really bad day.  I drank too much because I felt bad.

I was consumed by my loneliness. trolled craigslist for a minute, proved unfruitful, then rejoined okc.

And couldn’t stop thinking about them. My rapists. My ex husband.

More and more I remember of the entire relationship, more and more I see emotional abuse and sexual coercion. More and more I realize it was never a healthy relationship.


I have decided that just because I can’t seem to leave the house does not mean I can’t be productive! I can clean, cook, sort through things mentally, talk to my mom, with out really talking to her.

*sigh* I want to be able to talk to my mom. But I still have this really strong notion that I need to protect her.

12 11 2011

The question that I constantly try and ignore, but can always feel in the corner of my eye is: If my husband raped me, how is any one else supposed to love me?

If my husband raped me how I am supposed to love any one else?

How do I trust after the one that I trusted more than myself completely betrayed that trust?




9 11 2011

Today I have decided that I can’t go to school.

Sharing that last bit with you, and I’ve been getting pretty intense with my therapy, on top of making art about all that I’m dealing with…..lets just say I need more than a breather.

My best good friend reminded me that it really hasn’t been all that long ago since everything happened. And even less time for me to actually be aware and dealing.

I wish healing wasn’t so painful.

I’m trying to read about trauma coping techniques for PTSD victims and that seems to be going well, but slow.

I have not mentioned to my counselor that I have been contacting people on craigslist and sending nude photos of myself with out a second thought…until now. Nothing happened- other than getting stood up.

I am starting to think perhaps I’m willing to do this because I remembered that my ex made me take photos. Well, I wasn’t tied down some I suppose some of you would probably say I still had a choice.  But I was scared. Of what, I’m not sure. Him, that I know, beyond that I can’t say. I think that’s part of why it stopped. Why he was okay to leave. I can’t say that I remember really. I do remember saying that he deserved some.

So I guess because my rapist ex-husband has nude photos I’m cool with showing my hoo-hoa whenever I choose. Maybe I’m trying to reclaim something? Or maybe its just nice to know that naked photos of me exist in some one else’s masturbatory collection beyond that of my rapist?

Maybe I’m just too fucking sex obsessed?

But I love sending dirty emails to anonymous people, I can’t tell you how much fun it is. Plus its pretty much safe. I don’t plan on being a politician, or public school teacher, so whatever.

Most of the actual photos I send end up being things I’ve taken of myself when I was bored and I’m trying to figure stuff out for more explicit pieces I want to do.

In the back of my head I hear the upbringing I had screaming at me that I’m a whore, that I have no self respect, that I wasn’t properly loved by my father….but I do have self respect.

And I have thought about getting a sugar daddy, so maybe I am a whore? Who. Fucking. Cares?

I don’t think I will actually seek out a sugar daddy arrangement, just something I had been considering, since I’m so fucking broke.

I was thinking of getting a corset for myself for christmas but now considering all these things above I think I’ll get this.

Or you know I’ll be ultra responsible and use the money to apply to graduate schools and residencies.