A History of Eyes on Me

Content: Abuse. Being watched by abusers. Sadism.

Publishing this art piece comes at an odd time seeing as how I just talked about store workers profiling and following me and my caregiver at the store. It’s also not concerning imaginary audience / fable but an all together different type of being watched.

I was never sure why my mother was watching me. I was more concerned by her method of watching me. Although I know she watched me and my sister around the second grade, my most vivid memories are the 4th grade when she wore her trench coat and stood behind the door motionlessly.

The coat was her regular coat. It was a black trench coat. When the lights were out we couldn’t see her, nor were we looking for her. But if we saw a motionless figure in the hallway it scared the crap out of us. She’d make sure we’d seen her before walking away. No words. Just walks away.

After a little while I worked hard not to show I was afraid. I’d either say nothing or turn around to the door and say something to her. I had to guage how far I could go in pretending she didn’t scare me. I knew there was a response she was looking for. If I withheld that response too much, I might regret it. When being beaten with a dowel rod I knew I had to give the response she was looking for.

"She speaks the dream" - available

When being watched in the room alone, when showering or using the restroom there was a response she was looking for. I always wondered if there were times she wasn’t trying to get caught and see my reaction. This game of watching went on all the way to the day before I moved out. She listened to phone calls when we had a corded phone. I owned nothing, especially my body.

When I moved to Florida with my mother’s sister, my cousin and an uncle by marriage, I thought life was going to be good. He said he would treat me like his own daughter. That one sentence makes me want to break into tears. The irony of it is cruel.

Roses for Jane - available

My cousin was his step daughter. She endured more abuse than me. Having me dress up. Making crude comments. Watching me. If I turned around and saw him watching through the cracked door, he too would stay just a few seconds longer before quietly leaving.

I’ll be keeping A History of Eyes on Me a little while longer. It’s hanging in my own art area beside the painting She Speaks the Dream, which was created in 2017.

Observations – The painting called Roses for Jane was remade. In addition to more eyes, I brought out the figure in the back then made a dramatic leap by dividing the main figure in black and white. I kept quite a bit of the original twist and turns while softening her face by one notch. As a person who uses sunflowers for emotional expressions, it interests me that not a single flower is on the original piece or the new. The main figure is no longer standing in the dark.

Thank you for coming to Sundrip today.

Faith

That feeling. That color.

My CNA took me to Michael’s craft store where a few people decided to make things difficult for us. The company recently added an electric cart for disabled people, however, both times I used the carts my CNA and I were immediately jumped by the manager.

The first time we were approached rough was when the cart was plugged in by an office. My CNA unplugged it to bring to me. The manager acted like we were trying to steal it. She came out and physical grabbed the cart to ask what we were trying to do! I told her I was just trying to shop. She said ok then said they usually ask for it not to go outside but it’ll be ok if my CNA picks me up at the sidewalk then brings it back in. Keep in mind, I was sitting in my wheelchair inside the store. My CNA is trying to come to me inside the store with the electric cart when the manager came out of her office, physically put her hands on the cart and asked my CNA what she was doing. Where are you going? What are you doing? I’m inside the store which means I’m shopping.

Then she told us despite the sign, I can be picked up at the curb as long as the CNA brings it back. That was all last time. Using the cart today should have been fine, but nope.

I was in the car, at the curb. I was close enough to the door that I could hear and see the manager. The manager got in front of the electric cart and told my CNA she couldn’t take the cart to me outside. The CNA reminded her that we were told that I could be picked up at the curb, right in front of the door. So she tells the lady that she’s a caregiver and I’m her client. The manager settled down and let my CNA pass to pick me up at the curb.

The way the manager reacted to the CNA was over the top and accusatory. We know full well you’re allowed to take the cart to the curb. You can take it to the sidewalk and have a person bring it back in. Smh

As we shopped we had three employees openly following us. I said, it’s almost like they see color and stop thinking.

Several minutes later one of the people openly following us was crossing our path with those rolling staircases. This being the Midwest, and since we were that close, someone had to speak during the social collision. The employee politely said, Are you finding everything you’re looking for?….. My CNA snarled back, “No! And you don’t need to know what I want or what I’m looking for!” It shocked me and the employee.

I intervened and told my CNA to please stop letting words come out of her mouth. I told the employee that I was sorry for that interaction, then I went back with my CNA, who had left the scene of the accident. Lol

As we shopped I was deeply saddened that a trip to the craft store had turned so bad. I understand the CNA didn’t appreciate getting jumped by the manager for doing what clients are allowed to do, go to the curb. I too was hurt inside by being followed. I mean, you know that feeling you get when something is so wrong that you just want to say, look, I’ve done nothing wrong. Why are you acting this way?

That feeling is vulnerable. That feeling is degrading. It’s degrading because the accusation is pretty rough. We were followed by 3 people so openly because we’re that color. We’re the color that makes people stop thinking clearly.

When my CNA snapped at the employee it gave me an opportunity to play peace maker. When we went to the checkout I talked to that employee. I told them to have a manageable day. I said, the world has changed so much that I don’t expect to have a good day. We both kind of chuckled. I said, We never know what to expect. People are so angry.” I said, “It makes it hard to know who to trust.” That comment made a difference. It was like we broke a bit of a barrier there for just a second.

In all truthfulness, I believe this person followed my CNA and me because the supervisor requested it, the second employee, too. However, no such thing can be said for the supervisor. She decided to stop thinking when she saw color.

Imagine that! Imagine losing reasoning ability because of someone else’s color. Imagine not being able to accurately judge threat levels because you see someone of color. Imagine being so closed to the community that it never crossed the manager’s mind that we just wanted a fun day at the craft store. Why does my color make you stupid?

Michael’s craft store doesn’t even prosecute unless you take a printer or dye cutting machine. They don’t prosecute general shoplifting so why were they on us so hard over merchandise we were willing to pay for?

My anxiety for going out remains high. I worry regularly about getting shot.

Faith

At War With Myself – Disordered Eating

Content – Disordered eating. Binge eating, no purge. Shame. Hopeless feelings. Anxiety. Inpatient for medication management.

I had therapy today where it was decided that I’ll have a short set time with extra home care. I’ll be adding a 3 hr day to Saturday until the beginning of the year.

I really have a hard time keeping myself together. I’m close to needing inpatient. I’m trying to get around that.

I burst into tears 3 times Friday, out of nowhere. Thursday I was so anxious that I felt like I needed complete quiet bc I was so overly stimulated. Every sound assaulted me. I couldn’t sleep until around 6am. My head has been all over the place.

On the 8th I’ll go to see how my eyesight is doing with the Pseudotumor cerebri. Peripheral vision is gone on the left side. There’s a large blind spot in the middle of the left eye. I have some issues on the right, mostly fatigue, I think. Def worries me.

I was supposed to lose weight so I can avoid a spinal tap. Instead of of being thinner for my opthalmology appointment, I’ll return 30 lbs heavier. How will I explain that? I have to take the psych meds and I have disordered eating. It’s not going well. I know my eating is disordered, maybe even addiction level. I have the pull of increased appetite from those 2 meds and then my disordered eating.

The difficulty is that I can eat and eat without feeling anything. I’m not satisfied nor am I hungry. I’m empty. As cliche as it sounds, I keep trying to fill a hole. So I keep eating, mostly sweets. Binge eating is a problem. The other day I ate six apple fritters in less than 30 minutes. The day before I had twelve strawberry pop tarts in about an hour. No other food those days bc I didn’t remember.

Eating to sooth emotions is a problem. Baked goods make me feel better. Coffee and tea make me feel better. It’s like I’ve got to put something inside myself, only once it’s been eaten the soothing is gone. 1) I can’t tell that I ate or drank. 2) I’m back to whatever I was feeling that caused me to turn to food. It’s a vicious cycle.

After the 12th all my teeth will be pulled. I’ll wait for them to heal before getting full dentures. Eating will be difficult. Having disordered eating at that time worries me.

Now that I have a steady CNA and now that Dr D works in a building that is handicapped accessible, I can go see him. I’m just embarrassed! I’m embarrassed about seeing the ophthalmologist this coming Friday. I’m embarrassed to see my primary doctor. I’m embarrassed to see my psychologist.

I thought to myself the other day, there’s very little understanding offered to people who are overweight. At least some understanding is offered to people addicted to street drugs. Fat people are blamed and mocked as if the reasons for my addiction are any different. Life hurts. Same story, different poison.

I feel lost with my eating issues. I keep thinking I’ll get a hold of it. Add disordered eating to the pull of medication side effects from seroquel or my Pregabline and I’ve got myself an inner war I’m quickly losing.

Joan

This week in photos: Stress. Pets. Art.

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

Put Up or Shut Up

Content – Domestic Violence, sexual abuse, negative family response to child abuse, emotional, CNAs

You know how you listen to a person complain but they fail to change what they’re complaining about? You try to be supportive but you just end up frustrated because the person will not make a change. I’m doing something like that right now.

I needed to make a decision, then I needed to act on it, so I did. I didn’t make the decision based off of what others might do but off my experiences. So, for now, I’m keeping the psychopath CNA that I have because in addition to her psychopathy, she shows up to work every day, on time and without those ridiculously long eyelashes and fingernails. This 65 year old woman doesn’t change her hair every 3 days which means I recognize her when she arrives.

When my CNA shows up she’s not drunk and her car has insurance and doesn’t smell like weed. She’s clean. She takes me to the store, on and on. She’s not obese. Why do they send obese CNAs to help an obese patient living in a tiny apartment? Make it make sense, boo. So yeah, I’m keeping her and her psychopathic tendencies until further notice. I intend to complain about her behavior. You don’t have to listen if you don’t want to.

Dr D asked if I was being abused. I told him I’m not sure I’d admit it if I was. I wonder if I’d respond like a battered wife, again. I know I would, which is why openly discussing issues with her to my therapist will be important.

I think I’d be embarrassed to say I’m being abused. The fear is that I won’t be believed or that I’m being too sensitive. I worry I’ll then be labeled as someone who has to be watched or I’ll make accusations. Let me explain.

After time in Florida with my now deceased uncle and my mother’s sister, I returned to Indiana on an emergency flight. In Florida I was going to be left home alone with an abuser, the uncle, for a full weekend. Very long story short, when I got back to Indiana I wasn’t allowed to be alone with my grandfather anymore. One aunt said she didn’t want me to have the chance to make accusations against him. I felt marked and like everyone would be on guard around me for fear I’d strike with a terrible accusation. I couldn’t be around any males alone anymore out of concern for them. I worry about the same kind of thing happening now.

I need help sifting through the drama and mayhem that happens here sometimes. I need help sorting through my emotions concerning treatment by any given individual. Why? Because my eyesight has been altered by child abuse and abuse in romantic relationships. I don’t see as clearly as I need to which is why I will benefit from bouncing things off my therapist concerning CNAs.

A second pair of eyes will be helpful especially when that person understands I’m not as emotionally strong as I come off. I don’t look like I could be abused and say nothing. I sometimes feel just like that little girl in the old photos on my wall. I’m not though.

I think it’s sad that I need to accept a certain level of drama and mistreatment as normal CNA behavior. I’m not a person that just anyone can work with. My mental health often clashes with the CNAs mental health. We are both guilty of impatience, preconceived ideas and plain ol being tired of people. Putting these CNAs in with us is like putting the odd couple together. It either works or someone is flipping out. It’s so stressful.

When she comes in I look at her to see what mood she might be in. Yeah, there are serious issues here but so far things remain under control as far as abuse goes.

This battle with caregivers will not end for me. I’ll have caregivers for the rest of my life. I’m learning how to deal with them and I’m learning how to be strong enough to speak up for myself when it comes to abuse.

If a person wants to argue, I can argue with the best of them, then tell everyone what happened. But if I’m struck, intimidated or threatened, chances are I’d say nothing. That. must. change.

Joan

Dental Surgery. Anxiety turned to Beads.

I got to the dentist on time, and they took me back right away. I was awake for the whole thing. I discovered something, I like laughing gas. That stuff is so relaxing.

The surgeon told me at one point that he couldn’t numb me anymore bc it’s hard on the liver. He said the next surgery he’ll go ahead and put me under.

He’s very kind and so is the staff. I felt safe. They were different because they did not overly stimulated me by music overhead, a TV in the exam room and the crew working in my mouth. That didn’t happen. It was low key and peaceful there.

Since he numbed me repeatedly, he said my left jaw would be sore. I was told to eat solids as soon as possible then clean my teeth. I have medicated mouthwash. I also use salt water to rinse.

Yesterday evening was a bear! I was so anxious about the appointment. In order to help manage the anxiety I decided to make raw / primitive dreadlock beads.

I took two colors of sculpy polymer clay and rolled them together in my sculpy roller machine I got many years ago. I kept looking at the texture and when I was satisfied I rolled out beads. I later added some blue and green hues.

I wanted to see if I can make a ring so I have this thumb bead situation. I think I may adjust the hole in the middle to the shape of a small heart.

Incidentally, my favorite bead is the one to the right with yellow as it’s primary color. I really like how that turned out.

I’m in bed right now which is exactly where I should be. The pain meds have me a little loopy.

My appetite is very healthy bc of fitting in low dose Delta-8 about an hour after I got home. This was truly the easiest dental surgery I’ve ever gone to. My teeth on the left side are gone but I’m still hungry as all get out.

Until soon,

Joan

You’re Strength Painting. Next Year’s Art Goals.

It took a month instead of two weeks to complete the painting of sunflowers with the Scripture. When the painting was picked up she ordered one for herself. The other person who saw it ordered one. I’ll be doing them on paper. I seriously do not enjoy canvas.

One of my art goals for next year is to increase the amount of art that’s based on Scripture.

I also like the idea of painting my cat, but I’m pretty bad at animals. Maybe I’ll just keep photographing him.

Michael Joseph Austin aka Joe Schmoe, is going to be 15 next year. Honestly, it kind of scares me because I worry about losing him. It’s been 2 years since he had a stroke. His eyesight was affected, other than that he’s the same cat.

There are three goals for the next creative year 🙂

  • Scripture based art.
  • Painting cats in an outsider art kind of way.
  • Paint butterflies in outsider art kinda way.

I’ve joined a group about butterflies and have seen some absolutely amazing creations. I have to paint them! I’ve also got a book I was given by a good friend.

Those are my new year’s goals.

Gratitude List

  • I’m entirely moved by the varied designs, textures and vivid colors of butterflies.
  • Cookies. Above any other flavor, I love big sugar cookies with icing and sprinkles. A friend brings them sometimes.
  • I enjoy trying new things. My CNA and I laughed so hard at how bad bison steak is. So, so nasty! The texture and taste is a catastrophic collision that may have killed taste buds. Just wow lol. I’m grateful for the ability to laugh and still appreciate the experience due to the laughter, and I’m looking forward to trying other new things. 🙂

Faith

Slow Moving and Art Updates.

I woke around 9am but I didn’t get up until 1 pm. I just couldn’t get going.

Yesterday was a full day in that we went to Michael’s craft store, Hobby Lobby and Lowes. I got a sunflower stash at Michael’s, all 4 of the large sunflowers total $10. Score! I’m physically exhausted from that but it was great.

I’ve been trying to figure out why I’m so afraid to sleep. I’ve even wanted to sleep with the light on. I’m uneasy and even afraid at night. I have no reason to be. I’m not a kid anymore. I’m under my own roof. Yes, the fear is strong but it only lives in my head. It’s not based on 2023. The fear is from a few years past and when I was young.

I fear laying down flat and suffocating. I didn’t fear laying down flat until the 2018 events. Now I panic and can’t breathe.

For me, the most trauma is February 12th when it all happened. May 7th when they amputated my foot and August 25th when I moved into this apartment. It’s funny, I don’t remember the date of the thrombectomy. That’s the heavy duty surgery I did. So yeah, I’ve got some PTSD stuff going on right now.

It’s also noteworthy that I’ve been switching personalities a lot. Honestly, the only person who should be out with our caregiver is Jordan yet little ones, Joan and Maureen have been out, too. The anxiety levels are very different.

I love that she takes me places. I love that she hasn’t missed a day nor has she been late the whole 4 months she’s been here. We’ve clashed but we’ve not quit on each other. She flipped out once and said some horrible things. I hope she doesn’t believe what she said …….. We primarily get along well.

Today I want to isolate. I want baked goods and endless hours of tiktok. That’s what depression says I want. Well, I’m up now. The tea kettle is on. I’ll sip Earl Gray, change my clothes and fight a little bit.

One secure way to feel better is to reach out and do something for others. A friend that knows I’m struggling is sending an e-card, everyday, for a full month. If that sounds like a lot, the same cherished friend sent me a rose every day for 5 months I was in the hospital. She’s truly a gift. So, what can I do to help someone close to me? I’m going to make two small paintings, one for the person sending me e-cards and one for a different person I know is struggling.

I think I feel well enough now to set a few minor goals for today.

  1. Dust while listening to my book
  2. Clear off my art table
  3. One of two small paintings / greeting cards
  4. Get in a halfway decent meal

Hopefully I can get some more art in my Etsy shop. I’ve got two more on the way.

I’m itching to make dolls again, too. I purchased 3 skeins of yarn yesterday to use for the doll’s hair; plum, burnt orange and honey-flaxen blonde. I want to do the purple first. I keep seeing people with beautiful non-traditional hair colors so I got purple and orange for doll’s hair. I’ll see what my creative side can do with these colors.

Alright, after 2 cups of tea and some typing, I think I’m ready to do part two of today. I feel a little stronger.

Four things I’m grateful for today.

  1. A friend is coming to help with my hospital bed that’s giving me the blues.
  2. I feel a tad bit of motivation. I want to tap into it.
  3. Galaxy Nebula projector that makes being in the dark a bit easier.
  4. You 🙂 for taking the time to read this. Thank you 🙂

Faith

Freedom. Up Hill Battle.

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

Up Hill Battle – Art in progress

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