Sharing During My Birthday Month

For my birthday month I intended on sharing more about myself and more about things that I love. I wanted to include some surprises and some gifts, sometimes they were in the same posts. But that is not over with. I will be working on these things definitely through the rest of my birthday month. And don’t really expect that to stop there.

I tried to do that with my tumblr color blogs and in sharing about how colors have impacted my life and how that I love them and ways that they have impacted my life.

I think that my tumblr color blogs really represent me, a piece of my own aesthetic sensibility and our artistic/creative selfhood and creative expressions. I’m not very comfortable, at all, talking about my creative and artistic endeavors.

I have felt completely at ease sharing my poetry here. I guess I had put that in another category in my mind. I guess I put poetry under the healing process category and I feel comfortable sharing those creative expressions in poetry because of that. But really all of my creative and artistic work is a part of my healing process, because everything that I do is a part of my healing process and has been for a really, really long time. I just hadn’t noticed that.

So expect to see more of my efforts to share about my creative process and my healing process through creative and artistic work into the future.

I am an artist. I know that now. It took me a long time to get to there. I totally deserve the title. I had all these rigid rules for myself, while giving everyone else the title, even if they didn’t make one single piece of artistic expression that they could point to. If no one else knows it, I know it now. If no one else is safe to share with, I share with myself now. I am an artist.

 

My Creative/Artistic Self and Dysfunctional Family Stuff

My family has never been supportive of my artistic or creative work. After a long period of that, being diminished and ignored, I really would not look to them to be supportive, loving, kind, or good about anything that I really care about. I tend to share less and less as the years have gone by and I have to say they don’t seem to notice that I don’t share about my heart and what fills me with joy with them. Since that is so important to me and to my life, it makes it hard a lot of the time to find something to talk about, since so much of it is private and needs to be protected from them.

One time I did try to describe the inner creative process to one of my brothers and he burst out laughing and after my asking him repeatedly to share what he found funny and why, he made fun of me and the way that I had chosen to talk about my collage artwork.

I really have to admit that he broke my heart. That’s my family… and that in no way is diminishing how much he and they have hurt me and hurt my heart. That’s my family… they break my heart. Interacting with them means being self-protective of my life, myself, my creative self, my thoughts, my emotions, my beliefs, and so much more.

Sometimes it just leaks out of me, and I can’t stop myself from sharing, and it doesn’t go good and it doesn’t lead to good. It’s sad to me that sometimes I can’t stop myself or us from sharing things with our family and that it leads to more pain, more hurt, and more of a broken heart. It’s so sad to me that this is my family.

I don’t tolerate anything from my sister and when I started seeing her again almost three years ago, after not associating with her for almost ten years,  I promised myself that I was not going to endure another incident of emotional/verbal abuse from her and that if it happened I would never see her again. She hasn’t. Bizarrely she hasn’t. But I can’t talk to her about all the pain that she has caused me and how all that pain is still inside of me/us and how much it still hurts and how she derailed my life, many times, and made it so hard for me to have self-respect or self-love, because she undermined and humiliated me and verbally/emotionally abused me all my life and how my mother was my primary abuser and bully and how my sister was her toady, until I cut her out of my life. Part of her doesn’t know, part of her doesn’t care, part of her loves being clueless, part of her loved and still loves being both of our parents favorite little girl, part of her has cut me off when I’ve tried to explain in the past, and part of her would hurt if I tried to talk to her about it all now. I know, because I have tried.

One of my other brothers routinely makes fun of me, the things that I say, my politics, my beliefs, facts that I relate from studies, if I have to pause while finding the right words, etc, etc, etc. I limit him in my life, but even a little bit means emotional and verbal abuse. He only gets a little bit of me. After a few conversations in the last couple months I have decided to start hanging up on him again, it is the only way to have a healthy boundary with him.

The worst part of this all is that these are the two brothers who have the most interactions with me in my life right now. They have collectively done the most for me and at different times been my best support. They wound me and that is the best I am getting. Saying no means absolutely nothing.

My brother that shouts at me on the phone refuses to stop shouting at me, insulting me, demeaning me, misrepresenting me, and mischaracterizing me, no matter what I say to him. If I thought the things about him that he thinks about me, I would never have anything to do with that kind of person, I would hate that kind of person, I certainly would not have even one phone conversation with them.

I know all of it is lies, but it makes me wonder why he feels the need to be thinking so little of me and still associate with me. I don’t want to have anything to do with him, but then he acts like he cares about me, but then turns around and treats me like excrement. I know he finds it highly enjoyable, but I don’t. He is going to get the click on the phone line the next time we talk, if he goes there.

Creativity and Survivorhood

We are all creative. I think that creativity is an intrinsic part of life. We might have known this inside ourselves when we were children, but I believe it got shamed out of us.

I remember when I first started working on healing from ritual abuse. I was in the process of joining a support group for ritual abuse survivors, that was moderated by two women at the local sexual assault and abuse center. I had a one-on-one session with one of the women who had previously helped me find a therapist, with a referral to the therapist who worked at the center. I told her that I wished I could be creative and could create things and yearned to be creative so much. She looked at me and said, “well I don’t see that, everything about you is creative; the way you talk, the way you dress, the way you move through the world, you are creative. Give it some time, you will become more outwardly creative in other ways as well.”

I can’t say that I can see what she saw, even after all my healing work. But what I know is that I am creative and that it has been instrumental in my healing from childhood sexual abuse. What I also know that belief in creativity or being creative has very little to do with doing creative healing work and how effective it can be in healing from childhood sexual abuse.

Surprisingly I’ve been able to write a few poems lately sort of effortlessly. That has been incredibly wonderful and wonderfully shocking. So happy. I believe that I will be able to do it much more after moving.

I’ve been doing more creative expressions while doing Reiki distance healing work and Reiki energy healing on myself as well. I have been doing singing during sessions and am figuring out what I have been doing instinctively. It’s helping me to understand the value in my singing and toning and chanting during healing sessions. Seeing the energy healing work that I do as creative is helping me to understand and accept myself even further and deeper and to value myself much more.

I have plans on doing more creative healing work in the next months. I’m really excited and really looking forward to this next year. I will definitely be posting more about that and projects as time goes on.

My Poetry

I Want to Give You Pause

I want to bump up against you
I purpose my words on line
for the exact impact I want

never for the perfect word
on the perfect line
rather

some imperfect words
with imperfect sounds
and imperfect pause

I want to bump up against you
not just with words
but with spaces
and pauses

we are interacting
you and I
in a dance

if I guide you perfectly
fluidly
what have you learned
of me?

if I guide you imperfectly
in my world
you have not only danced
with me
you have danced with my soul.

I want to give you pause.

Come dance with me.

~ Kate

Success in Coloring

I am very happy to report that I have accomplished my goal of coloring in a coloring book before the end of the Twelve Days of Christmas.We colored in some Christmas coloring books.

I am working on making up some goals for this year and coloring is one of them. I think it is realistic to do a goal of once a month, based on how hard this is for me and how much of my life is still up in the air, how small of a space I have in my bedroom, and how little room I have for activities of any kind and what with living in someone else’s house who is planning on trying to sell it and having to find another place to move in the spring. But I am going to try to color in the coloring books at least once a week. If I can’t I will try to be happy with the plan b goal of once a month.

Ever since I was very small my sister always tried to take everything away from me. She used to buy me or convince my mother to buy me ugly things for Christmas. She was great at robbing all the joy from me. A perfect example of this would be what she always did to me around coloring.

On my first day of kindergarten my sister went to class with me. I know that I was so scared and this is something that she had agreed to do with all of her younger siblings. I was grateful to her. The reason that I was so scared out of my mind was because my own mother was a monster, a child beater, and a sexual offender. Since my own mother was a monster, someone who was supposed to feed and clothe, love and protect me, and she didn’t I had no expectation of safety anywhere in my life.

I was scared of everything. I was scared of teachers, the school building, the other students.  My teenage sister sat in a little tiny chair next to me sitting in my chair, in front of my desk. When it came time to color, the teacher handed out a sheet of paper with a drawing of little red riding hood. I was so scared I couldn’t. I had been taught that I was completely incompetent, at everything, by my mother. I’m pretty sure now that my sister really enjoyed that, took part in it from the time I was very tiny, and liked the idea of me thinking that I was worthless.

I told her I couldn’t and that she could. She did. It was beautiful. I still remember the dark red cape and how striking that looked. I could never color that well. I took that paper home and kept it for a long time. As a child she loved to reinforce how much better she was at coloring. Yes, well I was a child and she was a teenager and then an adult.

As an adult I’ve still tried to color. My sister loved to color with me, always making sure to point out how good her coloring was. Even when she knew that I was multiple and that it was The Littles who wanted to color, she would still go out of her way to make me feel bad about myself, because my coloring just didn’t measure up.

I have never gotten good at coloring. But over the years I have continued to try, because The Littles have continued to ask to color. I’ve bought lots and lots of coloring books over the years. I currently have about 50 coloring books and 3 new sets of 96 crayon boxes.

Well actually only 2 new sets of large boxes and one box that is slightly used, after yesterday. I still judge my coloring so harshly, even while I’m aware that it is little kids doing the coloring. I would never do that to real kids. Even if they don’t have kid bodies, they are real kids and I am going to try to keep reminding myself of that. This is for them.

Usually the ugly hateful voice in my head are direct quotes from my mother abuser, but in this case I think that they are fueled and sustained by my sister and her hateful voice. Seriously, what kind of person makes a child feel bad about coloring?

I am going to try to include coloring in our creative activities and think that might help me to do it more often. I’ll post more this month about my goal setting and through the months on how that process is going.