Sundrip Journals
It came in the mail. I’m so happy to wear mine!
You are enough. The world is a better place with you in it.
Love, the person in front you.
I’ve gotten one person respond with a heartfelt thank you. I’ve gotten tears, a thanks from a boy who felt confident in his youth. One lady saw a way to make fast money, another said the world is a better place with me in it, too. Thank you for that!
I love this shirt.
Live Free. Create Well. Sundrip.
Finishing “Awake” took much effort but it is here, reworked, beaming with color and striking details.
Bellow are my comments.
I woke to a new existence somewhere unknown, they called it a stroke. Now words come like slow snails, or they are kidnapped so as not to form on my chapped lips.
I painted the emotional roller-coaster I felt as I played tug of war with my body, emotions, speech and interpersonal relationships. Ultimately I felt lost, defeated and misunderstood. I also thought I’d never paint again.
Grueling therapy and persistence with paint brushes helped me get to the point where I can say I’m awake. I’m awake to what has happened and the I’m happy the hardest part of it is behind me. Awake is about surviving the body after stroke and making it my new home.
You will find more images and a short video on Etsy. I also accept PayPal.
Thank you for letting me talk. Thank you for visiting SUNDRIP Art for Life.
Faith Magdalene
The Deluge is complete and is in my Etsy shop. One of the things I point out about the balance. The woman standing has legs and feet that are wound around. Each foot meets a tiger lily, a child and a purple flower in full bloom.
It is haunting in some areas. Those are the areas to leave behind. Those are the areas of the past that I can’t take with me to the future that I am building here. I’m not going to another planet. I’m right here. But some of these things need to swim free because they no longer have a place here.
If you visit my Etsy it’s worded better 🙂 You may also purchase through PayPal. Please see appropriate email address on the contact me area.
Thank you for listening,
Faith
CONTENT – Child Abuse. Strong emotion. Therapy Review. The art work is not finished but will eventually be in my Etsy shop.
If I believe I have a real future and a real hope, why do I keep wanting to go back and fix things? Why do I still feel like that little girl who needs her mother to love her?
No, it’s too late. I know she’s gone but I feel myself unable to give up. But not giving up the past means there’s less room for the wonderful future ahead, a future I firmly put faith in.
Today Dr D ask me if I could say anything to her what would I say? My words are in bold. I told her Don’t touch me! Don’t look at me! Keep away! You keep saying you’re going to give me a way, then do it!
That comment was interesting because the entire time I was talking to her I never said I love you or why don’t you love me? I never said hug me. I never said anything like that. It was it, Get away from me! Get away from me!
I didn’t want her to touch me ever again. I was angry about her watching me. I was angry about her letting others watch me. I was angry about all of the touch. I was angry about her destroying the mind of my sister. I was angry about her destroying the relationship I could have had with my sister. I just wanted her to go away. That was different from the feelings I thought I had. When I had the “spontaneous opportunity” to speak it was the voice of rage not a tiny, vulnerable child. That was incredible.
The artwork I’ve been doing lately shows exactly how I feel about my mother’s voyeurism. She was everywhere to the point that it was scary. Now that I think about it, if she stalked her boyfriend with us in the car of course she stalked my sister and me. And she wore that stupid black coat with the stupid hood looking like the grim reaper. She wasn’t holding anything, but dang! Standing in a pitch black hallway in a black trench coat watching people like a psychopath!
She told me she had people watching me and my sister and that nothing could be hidden from her. Dr D jumped in an said, “This is why you have DID.”
It was the most terrifying time of my life growing up with her and yet I thought I wanted that woman to love me. I wanted a little child me to go to her. To run to her. To be held by her.
Are you kidding me! No way! This is the woman who beat my lips with a wide tooth comb. Who beat my body with a towel rod. No. No. I have got to scrape this off of my heart so I can let myself have that future that’s so right in front of me. I’ve been crawling towards it. How do I scrape this off of me, the filth that she layered on me? The filth belongs to her. Whereas a future filled with hope is mine. I believe that with all my being.
Faith
Joe has finally won over the CNA. She likes him quite a bit. Joe doesn’t climb in the chair she usually sits in but he does rest under it now.
I’ve been doing more art with Scriptures and scriptural thoughts. This little 8×5-ish painting is for a good friend of mine in Arizona.
I’ve got to work on spacing out my lettering better.
Rosie is taking a bath in the 30 gallon, over grown, terrarium. Today on a group there was a free gecko. It took everything I had not to inquire. 🙂
I think as my buddy gets older I fear losing him.
I thought getting a younger cat now might make the inevitable, tolerable. But then there’s the possibility it’ll just stress Joe.
Joe is only 14 but that’s nothing to sneeze at …….. He’s been letting me pick him up and hold him a little longer, which is great for me. If I talk to him he’ll let me hold him longer but I find it difficult to chatter at pets.
I’m in love with my raw beads! I used brown Sculpy mixed with yellow FIMO that dries like leather. Just to put them in a safe spot, I slid them on a piece of leather. It looks pretty good. I put it on my vase holding my arrowhead plants.
Painting rocks and making beads is so relaxing.
Here are a few photos of me on ‘outing day’. Next week I’m going to CC’s Pizza. I’m getting out a lot more and loving it.
I’ve got company this weekend. It should be nice. Lol I feel like a bit of a social butterfly again.
Until soon,
Faith
I paid a heavy price in pain for a little bit of freedom from my wheelchair. I decided to walk about 100 feet up a ramp to my apartment. I needed to stand up at my normal 5 foot 3, and see the world from the angle I was accustom to.
The problem with walking outside is that I can’t feel the ground under me. With shoes on, I can’t feel the ground. It takes a lot of concentration. But today I needed freedom. I swear I feel like a caged animal willing to pay a high price to have someone open my cage and let me out.
The price I paid for about 100 feet is extreme pain in both hips. Both hips have avascular necrosis. I’m having terrible spasms. All of this just to stand up and walk for a little bit.
Was it worth the cost? Yes, for a few moments, walking in the sun, yeah it was worth this.
I’m in bed right now willing a slice of pizza hut over here. Lol It’s in the kitchen. Lol. But I’m writhing in pain. My legs hurt so badly, they’re squirming all over the bed down there. The pain is from the ankle up to the knee then both hips. I really want that pizza though lol.
My little walk reminds me very much of my little painting called Up Hill Battle. I guess sometimes the hill seems small to others but that doesn’t mean it’s not a battle for the person trying to climb it. We never know how much baggage a person is carrying, mental or physical pain. Even the slightest incline can be a struggle when the person walking is carrying a heavy load.
The miniature is complete. I gave it a nice seal yesterday. My intent is to have it in my shop this evening. If you don’t have an Etsy shop but there’s interest, you can send me an email. I accept PayPal. All contact info is on the sidebar.
I’ve been craving pizza for days. I really want that pizza in the kitchen but the price is a little high for me to get up and get it. I’ll use patience. I’ll rest then have pizza later.
It was still a nice day. I love outing day 🙂 Please let this CNA stay. I adore her.
Faith
Content – Suicide, no details
I’ve come to understand the semicolon to represent times when a person could have given up but didn’t. This is a miniature 3 part painting in progress. Acrylic and oil on 3×2 wood piece with rounded corners. This is about half way done.
I don’t feel suicidal, nor did. It’s just that a rather triggering conversation came up about suicide. I just sort of painted through the heavy emotions.
The young girl in the original artwork decided to keep going, to never give up. She made it through the darkest times then took the opportunity to appreciate the small things.
Soon to be seen in my Etsy shop.
Faith
Several years ago I painted two sisters on vacation. They were under the hot sun in summer dresses. There’s a whimsical feeling to it that makes me smile. But the painting / collage of the mother and two children in this entry, gives off an entirely different emotion for me.
When I look at the cropped painting below, I see a family that has traveled a very long distance. What drove her to walk across inhospitable terrain with children? What they are seeking must be worth the danger and inhospitable terrain. And then there’s still this question; Has the family successfully made the journey or do they have further to go?
The mother’s hair branches out like a tree while the hair of the children is circular. I see a difference in the expression of the children, too. The other thing I see is a family that’s held on to tradition for a long time.
I’d say the most striking part for me is the amount of movement, contrast and texture in the whole of the painting. The background itself could tell you it’s story, if only it knew where to start.
I really enjoy using parts of my own art as collage pieces. I use cut outs from art I did, but it didn’t work out. I keep a box of those art pieces so I can use it for something later. I’m working on two more collages in different stages of completion. I think collages speak to me right now, but that’s an entirely different blog entry 🙂
What should I name this piece? I have no idea at all. I’ll have to figure it out soon because this is a piece I don’t intend to keep.
Until soon,
Faith
The last few days have been torture. I hurt from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. The amputation site is having an electric storm of shock and neuropathy. It’s been a bad few days and I’ve done very little reaching out. I’ve just been waiting for medication time!
The foot that was amputated coincidentally was the foot with Chronic Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy. Though amputated for other reasons, I hoped the RSD fire and pain would stop, it didn’t and won’t. It doesn’t work that way. Continue reading “Enduring the Days”
I’m not brave. I’m not. I’m not rolling with the punches, I’m just getting punched. As I said, I’ve walked through the fire and I’m all burned up. I’m skinny, starving for a moment of real rest, of relief.
“The surgeon” will see me one more time in 3 months then that’s it. Really?! That’s all? You take my toes, wham bam thank you ma’am, I wash my hands of you? That’s how this works? And I’m just supposed to go on too, business as usual?
This is the second time he’s asked me to paint him something. So I will get a canvas and paint every tear I’ve sobbed! I’ll paint the times I covered my face and rocked back and forth in shock, “Oh my God!” so I can’t see what other trauma is next. I just cover my face and rock.
He gave me a script for an insert that will allow me to wear whatever shoes I want. He said to get a good brand of cocoa butter for my foot and the scars so the black scars will fade. I’ll buy new Chuck Taylor shoes after the insert gets here. I’ll walk around with no outward knowledge that anything is missing. I’ll limp but people won’t know why.
I will paint “the surgeon” a piece of this entire experience from fear to anguish to anger, loneliness and even gratitude. He’s going to get a painting of trauma because that’s what’s left in the wake.
Jordan