portrait of the girl inside me. and an old journal page.

i've just realized...

that i was a child. a little girl. what did that little girl do wrong? did she deserve it somehow? does any little girl? any child?

To love is to carry a vessel that can be lost or stolen.

"You love someone, you open yourself up to suffering. Those are the risks. That's the burden. Like wings, they have weight. We feel that weight on our backs, but they are a burden that lifts us. Burdens which allow us to fly."

for nie nie

I don't normally include this, sometimes I feel like it detracts from the finished piece, but above is the original I used, from the beautiful and talented Stephanie Nielson's blog. (Go here to read her.)


And here is the finished product! This one was the most difficult so far; it had the most colors. And I have to tell you, it looked quite a lot like crap during the process. Cutting and gluing one color at a time seems to proceed very slowly and it looks rather awful right up until you paste the very last color (in this case, Janes red hair) and it brings the entire picture together. I think this is a metaphor for life. :)

the battle.

it was awful, and then it was more awful, and then it was not so awful, and then it was brilliant! and then, i had to start thinking about doing it again, and it was awful.

are you here looking for honesty?

If you're here today looking for art, you won't find any. Today is one of those days where I can't swallow the truth inside me any longer. I feel like I am choking to death on the reality that is, that I can't say out loud. Because let's be honest, who wants to hear it?

My life thus far, as short as it's been, has been kind of sucky. My experiences with love, with sex, with all those wonderful firsts that you're supposed to anticipate with twirling whirling butterflies, and experience in their own time, were ruined. Those firsts were stolen from me.

And now... let's just say that some days are harder than others.

Today is a hard one. Not because I'm feeling sorry for myself, longing for a life that is normal, or easier. Not tonight. Tonight I sit here with determination on my fingertips. I plan to share with you something that I have not wanted to share with anyone, something no one should ever have to share.

I have experience with abuse. This is not my secret, not anymore, but part of a necessary explanation that needs to come first. In the past year and a half or so, I have been slowly, steadily recovering memories of that past that for a time I knew nothing of. They are becoming a part of me again, these memories, and sometimes, for a while, I allow them to control me, rather than controlling them. Well tonight dear readers, I am taking control.

I recovered a memory some months ago of being drowned. Tortured actually, the technical term for what happened to me is called water-boarding. I was held under water in a bathtub until I lost consciousness and then I was revived. Over. And over. And over.

Now for my secret: I have not been able to step foot in a bathtub since I discovered this memory. That was months ago. I wash my hair in the sink, painfully. I put on deodorant, I apply lotion, but I have not been able to bring myself to bathe. I cannot stand the way it feels to touch my skin. Part of me feels like I don't deserve to be clean. And then there is the part of me that wants to faint at the sound of running water, the part of me that swims through a dark cloud of haze when she feels water on her arms. My feet are filthy. I stink. My clothes stink. My skin is one giant blotch of acne. I am disgusting. I am terrified.

Tonight, I am taking back my body. I am taking back my memory. I am taking back my dignity. I will no longer allow this memory to control me. I will get in the bathtub and wash every ounce of crud off of my skin. I will stay in the bathtub, until the water goes cold, and then I will drain the water and run new water and do it again. I will stay in the water until I am no longer afraid, just bored. And then I will do it again tomorrow. And the next day. And every day until I am whole again.

I can beat this. I will beat this. I WIN.

two more!

Saige and Lovely

Charlie playing the piano

bubbling

and another

Emily Grace

a new thing i learned to do!

I cut them out of paper, I didn't do them on the computer. The top is Saige, and the bottom is Charlie.

Right now I am working on possibly the best Christmas gift I have ever attempted to create. It is 5:30 in the morning and my fingers are covered in a thick layer of glue.

Christmas

quote of the day

charlie: What do you call people who sleep in cars again?
me: ... homeless?
charlie: ... noooo.
colleen: OH! car babies!

*adores*

Thought of You from Ryan J Woodward on Vimeo.

This past Friday gave new meaning to the old adage of "sliding into home."

also, CHRISTMAS! i love, treasure, adore! giving gifts. it makes me super duper uber happy. yeeeee!

an ode to a stranger, and to myself

a quote from a very brave woman. i am completely inspired.

"The idea for this came to me after speaking with a therapist who had worked for many years in a secure unit.

She explained the way that people who are psychologically very powerful (and abusive) break down other people and gain control over them. Their intention is to destroy the connections (synapses) in your brain. At a very basic level, these connections are linked to your ability to move. But also, very interestingly, these connections are linked to your individual thought processes, which are individual to you (and which are collectively your consciousness).They sever other connections too: thought-feeling and mind-body.

So the next day, I realized that I had the capacity to reverse the damage he had done, just by very consciously and carefully doing the opposite of that he had done to me. That where he had severed something I would do the opposite, I would make connections.

I began to think about the mechanism of what he had done to me: where he had isolated me, I make friends; where he had silenced me, I express myself in every way I could think of; where he made me freeze with fear I learn to move, with grace and expression; where he had destroyed my ability to think I follow a train of thought through, in as many different directions as possible.

Then I realized that I had the capacity to turn everything he had aimed at me into something positive for myself: where there was hate, I turn it into self care for myself; where there was violence I turn that into gentle regard for myself; where there was fear I turn that into courage."

an ode to charlie love

sorry about the poor scan. i tried.

art journaling

living

Yesterday I had a near death experience.

How dramatic does that sound? Pretty dramatic? Good. I was driving, almost at the church, which was where I was headed, when someone turned left, running a red light right in front of me. It is just hitting me now how lucky I was. Right before I went through that light something told me, almost audibly, "slow down." And I did. Normally I ignore those annoying little whispers telling myself I am just being silly, or I am overreacting, but yesterday I listened. I slowed down to 25 mph and when I saw the car in my path, I slammed on my brakes and barely missed them. If I had ignored that voice, and continued at my previous, legal speed of 45, I would have plowed into the side of that rather sizable SUV.

I could have died. I probably would have, if not for that little voice that told me to "slow down." Looking back, I have had a lot of close calls. I was once locked in the trunk of a car on a ninety-eight degree day in late May, and I lived. I remember realizing that I had stopped sweating. I felt cooler, and I remember thinking that if I could just go to sleep, I would feel much better, but there was that voice that told me "No Kendra, you need to stay awake, just hold on a little longer." I believe that if I had fallen asleep in the trunk of that car, I could easily have died, but I am still alive. Yesterday I could have died, but I am still alive.

I believe God knows me, I have always believed it. I believe he could have let me die yesterday, or any other day, but instead He whispered in my ear, warning me, protecting me. What's news to me (and I can't believe it never occurred to me before) is that I have a purpose. There is a reason I am still here. I am not just drudging along, alone on this rock all haphazard-like; God wants me here. Right now, in this small moment in my tiny little life, I am supposed to be here.

Part of me is not sure how to feel about this. Part of me is so exhausted with living, (the part of me that wishes for anything from going to bed and not waking up, to a fiery car crash) the part of me that thinks dying would be easier. The rest of me is in awe. For years I've asked myself questions like "Why was I saved?" "What is the reason?" "Why do I even matter?" "Why doesn't God just let me die?"

I've realized that perhaps I have been asking the wrong questions all along. I realize now that if there is a creator, and if He has a plan, and if my being alive is part of that plan, then I have a responsibility. I am supposed to accomplish something. Maybe the questions I should be asking myself are, "Who am I supposed to help?" "Whose life am I supposed to touch?" "What good can I do?"

I am supposed to be alive, I know that now, but I think more important than that, I am supposed to live.