Maybe conflicted is not quite the word. I think there was anger, despair, disbelief, sadness, all negative emotions. For the last two years, I have struggled with my life. What direction I should go, is it Gods way? What do I do with my art? What, what, what? I am screaming and trying to maintain, what? I really don't know. I think I really am giving up. Not in the sense that I want to harm myself, just that I no longer want to question, to do, or not to do.
What prompted this? Since moving here, I have been unable to get my clay fired. I got involved with a place in Mancos which just showed me once again the selfishness of this world. A non profit, who continually took advantage of the volunteers. I have tried to ship my stuff to a friend, but it takes postage, postage that I do not have. Yes, I am feeling sorry for myself. I am feeling lost, very unsure of myself. Very, I really don't know what. And then a very nice lady offered to take my things to a place that's to far for me to drive on a regular basis, and not pay for, but her circumstances have changed, so that's off the table. I did have a tiny kiln that would fire stuff that had been fired once, but I guess it got to hot and now no longer works. That's what has been the final straw. And I am screaming again. It seems like I can't catch a break. There are more questions than answers. I don't like this feeling. And I don't know how to change it. Any craftsman need tools, the correct tools. a kiln is needed for me to do mine. Maybe I am not suppose to do my art any more. That's the message I am getting. Am I fighting the inevitable? Am I suppose to just give in, how long do I fight, where is the value in all of this? Am I creating the wrong kind of art? I am complimented on it all the time, but no one buys. Maybe that's the answer. When I am working in clay, I am happy. Maybe I am not meant to be happy, its punishment for trying to die.
And lets not forget about have some disposable income. Just got notice that I would get a raise on my SSDI, are you ready.....I go from 737.00 to 751.00. Now don't me wrong, I appreciate it. Its better than nothing.
I do want to just hide. I don't want to work on my art. I don't want to do anything that is for my self. I feel why, whats the bother. I don't have value.
I just don't know what to do. Or if I knew what to do, would I do it?
I just want a life, some kind of positive life. One that is productive, one that is more than surviving. I put in the work. So, whats wrong?
Money, money, will that really solve anything? This all stems back to the suicide attempt. Why did I live? To live like this?
Yes I am in a mood today. but I guess this to shall pass. Or not. I do not have much hope in the future.
bjw
Wednesday, December 6, 2017
Friday, September 29, 2017
I'm an artist and a conservative
I think that is an oxymoron statement. Through out the years, dealing with the ceramic industry, was not so evident. But now in the "real" art world. I am getting an education in things, that I almost can't fathom.
Art was and is art to me. It was never political for me. Didn't even know it had politics. But I'm learning it does. And then I ask myself, do I need to be political to be an artist. NO. I have always been the rebel when it came to my art.
When my art teacher in HS told me I would never be an artist. I was hurt, stunned, angry and then thought, well, she must know. Her reasoning was that I did not paint like her. I wanted to do my own thing. I could do her technique, but I felt like it was copying, and that was not for me. For several years, I did not paint. I did learn to silversmith, I did learn to crochet, quilt, sew. But it wasn't really what I wanted to do. But I kept hearing that voice, telling me, you won't. My sister Carol was an awesome artist, and it was easier to hide than to admit I hadn't any talent. What a waste of those first years. But it was then I learned, it was MY art. And that my individuality was what made my art, mine. I painted and created what I wanted. If it sold it sold, and if not, it was something I was proud to look at. And that I didn't need to make a statement. If my art spoke to you, fine. If not, it was fine.
I always wanted to work in clay. Had no idea how to do it. Plus, I wanted to learn how to make dolls. I went to the library to find books. Found a lady in our small town who had a ceramic shop. And at that shop there were magazines about the craft.
Over the next several years, I bought a small doll mold from Duncan Molds, and then a oven fired slip to pour that doll. In fact I still have that doll. A kewpie doll that was painted with acrylic paints. All self taught.
Can you imagine what I would have done with the opportunity of the internet? I overwhelm myself just thinking about it. I thirst for the knowledge. And thus I learned enough to finally have a successful ceramic art design business. All self taught. I learned how to pour the slip, I learned about the different paints to be used on ceramics. I learned about the kiln, and even how to repair. I learned how to make the slip, and did so in a 55 gal drum. A lot of these learning skills, were learned the hard way. I never indebted my business. So always working on a very slim profit margin, that went right back into the business. I would have liked to earn more money, but I was happy creating my art.
So what brings up this latest rant?
The last few years, I have noticed this atmosphere of artists leaning to the far left. So far over, that they almost fell over. And to me, was totally taking away from the passion. Now I am not saying that art cannot or should not have a political subject matter. We each have our own idea of art. I am just saying don't throw away someone of something that you don't think has your political ideas. I have found that most if not all my artist friends fall in the category of being a liberal. I say this is not a bad thing. It seems to be the rule. Its ok.
Since moving to Cortez, I have really been isolated from the art world. I miss my work in the mental health art field. But I know that I am not well enough to do as I once did. But I still have tried to find some options to be involved.
While doing this, I was a volunteer at a clay studio for a while. Very liberal. We did part ways, due to differences in how I felt volunteers ought to be treated. And that had nothing to do with a liberal minded person. We all have different ways of running a business. I looked at it as part of a new educational opportunity.
Then I met this wonderful artist, who as well is very liberal, and wants to talk about the political climate of today. I know that politics, problems in the world , social injustices are the big part of her art. I love it. I love the stories behind her work, but I wonder will it effect our relationship? I am currently working on a project that was created so the artist could sell their work on a T shirt or fabric bad, they would have no cash out lay, I would do all the work for a small percentage of the sales. Its a win win for all of us. But I can't help thinking would or does it make a difference what my political views are? I don't talk about my religious beliefs. So why can't it be the same for my political views? Now I won't back down on either of these subjects, but I will not push those views on anyone. Am I naive in all of this?
The conclusion I have come to is this......I don't have a problem working with anyone as long as they don't shove their belief system down my throat.
We live in a very strange world today. One that I am not happy with. It makes me sad. But I want art to live on, to make people feel. To have choices without pressure,
Do you think I am expecting to much?
To all you artists out there. Do your thing, be happy.
bjw
Artists such as this one. :)
Art was and is art to me. It was never political for me. Didn't even know it had politics. But I'm learning it does. And then I ask myself, do I need to be political to be an artist. NO. I have always been the rebel when it came to my art.
When my art teacher in HS told me I would never be an artist. I was hurt, stunned, angry and then thought, well, she must know. Her reasoning was that I did not paint like her. I wanted to do my own thing. I could do her technique, but I felt like it was copying, and that was not for me. For several years, I did not paint. I did learn to silversmith, I did learn to crochet, quilt, sew. But it wasn't really what I wanted to do. But I kept hearing that voice, telling me, you won't. My sister Carol was an awesome artist, and it was easier to hide than to admit I hadn't any talent. What a waste of those first years. But it was then I learned, it was MY art. And that my individuality was what made my art, mine. I painted and created what I wanted. If it sold it sold, and if not, it was something I was proud to look at. And that I didn't need to make a statement. If my art spoke to you, fine. If not, it was fine.
I always wanted to work in clay. Had no idea how to do it. Plus, I wanted to learn how to make dolls. I went to the library to find books. Found a lady in our small town who had a ceramic shop. And at that shop there were magazines about the craft.
Over the next several years, I bought a small doll mold from Duncan Molds, and then a oven fired slip to pour that doll. In fact I still have that doll. A kewpie doll that was painted with acrylic paints. All self taught.
Can you imagine what I would have done with the opportunity of the internet? I overwhelm myself just thinking about it. I thirst for the knowledge. And thus I learned enough to finally have a successful ceramic art design business. All self taught. I learned how to pour the slip, I learned about the different paints to be used on ceramics. I learned about the kiln, and even how to repair. I learned how to make the slip, and did so in a 55 gal drum. A lot of these learning skills, were learned the hard way. I never indebted my business. So always working on a very slim profit margin, that went right back into the business. I would have liked to earn more money, but I was happy creating my art.
So what brings up this latest rant?
The last few years, I have noticed this atmosphere of artists leaning to the far left. So far over, that they almost fell over. And to me, was totally taking away from the passion. Now I am not saying that art cannot or should not have a political subject matter. We each have our own idea of art. I am just saying don't throw away someone of something that you don't think has your political ideas. I have found that most if not all my artist friends fall in the category of being a liberal. I say this is not a bad thing. It seems to be the rule. Its ok.
Since moving to Cortez, I have really been isolated from the art world. I miss my work in the mental health art field. But I know that I am not well enough to do as I once did. But I still have tried to find some options to be involved.
While doing this, I was a volunteer at a clay studio for a while. Very liberal. We did part ways, due to differences in how I felt volunteers ought to be treated. And that had nothing to do with a liberal minded person. We all have different ways of running a business. I looked at it as part of a new educational opportunity.
Then I met this wonderful artist, who as well is very liberal, and wants to talk about the political climate of today. I know that politics, problems in the world , social injustices are the big part of her art. I love it. I love the stories behind her work, but I wonder will it effect our relationship? I am currently working on a project that was created so the artist could sell their work on a T shirt or fabric bad, they would have no cash out lay, I would do all the work for a small percentage of the sales. Its a win win for all of us. But I can't help thinking would or does it make a difference what my political views are? I don't talk about my religious beliefs. So why can't it be the same for my political views? Now I won't back down on either of these subjects, but I will not push those views on anyone. Am I naive in all of this?
The conclusion I have come to is this......I don't have a problem working with anyone as long as they don't shove their belief system down my throat.
We live in a very strange world today. One that I am not happy with. It makes me sad. But I want art to live on, to make people feel. To have choices without pressure,
Do you think I am expecting to much?
To all you artists out there. Do your thing, be happy.
bjw
Monday, September 25, 2017
Trixie, the Coyote Dog, RIP
I go thru spurts. When things are moving along and I am coping well, I tend not to write. sigh.....A week ago Sunday, my little Coyote Dog, Trixie left me to go to the big dog park in the sky. She had been with me about 14 years. I haven't really talked about it much. Mostly cause if I don't, then I won't think about her, and cry.
My family was great in coming to pick her up and taking her to Vet. And I am trying to mourn like an adult. Hey who makes these rules up anyway?
Losing my 4 legged friend is very sad for me. You see she came into my life just a couple of months from escaping domestic violence. I was very sad then, and nothing could comfort me. While road tripping with son and family, we got stuck in a dry creek and had to walk for help. Thats when I found her, tied to a fence awaiting her death, cause she was a chicken killer, and you can't have a dog, on a ranch or farm killing chickens. Needless to say, she came home with me a couple of days later.
She has adventured with me all over the place. She has played on the beaches of Corpus Christie, at the Feast of Tabernacles. She has 4 wheeled with us all over the Tucson desert. Gone camping with us. Made my life worth living. I miss her so much. There wasn't an opportunity for her to get into a car or truck that she didn't take.
She licked my tears. jumped in my lamp. she loved me, as no human ever has, well except for my mom.
The depression is sneaking in. I fight it every second. I cry when I think of her. Red Dog has been looking for her. I think thats one reason, today is one of those days. She goes out side and then back in crying and looking at me, Then goes out again. This is repeated several times a day.
And so today, as part of my healing process, I write. I remember the totally awesome times we had with this wonderful friend. And she is missed. My soul has a huge empty place in in, that cannot be filled.
2004-2017
My family was great in coming to pick her up and taking her to Vet. And I am trying to mourn like an adult. Hey who makes these rules up anyway?
Losing my 4 legged friend is very sad for me. You see she came into my life just a couple of months from escaping domestic violence. I was very sad then, and nothing could comfort me. While road tripping with son and family, we got stuck in a dry creek and had to walk for help. Thats when I found her, tied to a fence awaiting her death, cause she was a chicken killer, and you can't have a dog, on a ranch or farm killing chickens. Needless to say, she came home with me a couple of days later.
She has adventured with me all over the place. She has played on the beaches of Corpus Christie, at the Feast of Tabernacles. She has 4 wheeled with us all over the Tucson desert. Gone camping with us. Made my life worth living. I miss her so much. There wasn't an opportunity for her to get into a car or truck that she didn't take.
She licked my tears. jumped in my lamp. she loved me, as no human ever has, well except for my mom.
The depression is sneaking in. I fight it every second. I cry when I think of her. Red Dog has been looking for her. I think thats one reason, today is one of those days. She goes out side and then back in crying and looking at me, Then goes out again. This is repeated several times a day.
And so today, as part of my healing process, I write. I remember the totally awesome times we had with this wonderful friend. And she is missed. My soul has a huge empty place in in, that cannot be filled.
Sunday, July 16, 2017
I'm the mean mom
I know, been weeks since I posted. Had foot surgery and its kinda been cramping my style. I am to have no weight on that foot, at all. I have this cool little push scooter that I get around with. Very thankful for that. I am terribly out of shape, gotta do something about it. I hope to get out of cast this week.
I have to much "think" time on my hands. And at times not good for someone who deals with depression and PTSD. And those of who read my blog, and deals with depression, know how hard it can be.
So, unto this weeks blog. I have been estranged from my youngest daughter for years. I have spoken of this before. My struggles, etc. The article at the end of this post, is what brought this up. Well continued it, anyway.
So, I call my 93 year old mother twice a day, every day to make sure she is ok and to tell her I love her. Last Friday night, when I called, she told me she had company, and I told her I would let her go so she could visit. Did not know who it was. Then she told me, and asked if I wanted to talk to my daughter. Talk about a blow to the gut. Thing is, I really didn't feel anything. I still don't. I think I should. Shouldn't I. So, she said she wanted to speak to me, I did not refuse. Its been 15 years since I heard her voice. Never seen the newest grandkids. I'm still not sure about how I feel. She talked, I listened. About her life, really nothing much. I talked, about my life, really nothing much. It was like speaking to a stranger. I didn't cry this time. I don't like that. I ask myself, is it because I really haven't forgiven her? Or am I just trying to make myself feel bad? You see, way toooooo much time on my hands. It frightens me that I don't care if she is in my life. That makes me sad, and want to cry. Whats so wrong with me? I know there must be an answer to this. I have to have an answer.
And so back to the mean mom, business, thats one of the things she tells people about me. I was a mean mom. And their day was the cool one. He even signed her papers to marry before she was of age. That makes me cry. She did not stay with this guy.
I know I didn't want my children to be hurt, to learn lessons the hard way. I really wasn't realistic. I always wanted to be the fixer, for my kids not to have pain like I did. I think all I did was give them a different pain.
Sorry, doesnt take away, the harsh things I did to my children. And I know that they will never understand. Mostly because I don't understand much of it. Thru therapy, I have learned that my anger at my life and the sexual abuse as a small child played a huge role. I am angry that it took me all my life to realize that and then take action. My children suffered muchly at my hands and anger.
And so, I don't know what to do.
bjw
http://www.scarymommy.com/im-mean-mom-not-cool-mom/?utm_medium=partner&utm_source=30days
I have to much "think" time on my hands. And at times not good for someone who deals with depression and PTSD. And those of who read my blog, and deals with depression, know how hard it can be.
So, unto this weeks blog. I have been estranged from my youngest daughter for years. I have spoken of this before. My struggles, etc. The article at the end of this post, is what brought this up. Well continued it, anyway.
So, I call my 93 year old mother twice a day, every day to make sure she is ok and to tell her I love her. Last Friday night, when I called, she told me she had company, and I told her I would let her go so she could visit. Did not know who it was. Then she told me, and asked if I wanted to talk to my daughter. Talk about a blow to the gut. Thing is, I really didn't feel anything. I still don't. I think I should. Shouldn't I. So, she said she wanted to speak to me, I did not refuse. Its been 15 years since I heard her voice. Never seen the newest grandkids. I'm still not sure about how I feel. She talked, I listened. About her life, really nothing much. I talked, about my life, really nothing much. It was like speaking to a stranger. I didn't cry this time. I don't like that. I ask myself, is it because I really haven't forgiven her? Or am I just trying to make myself feel bad? You see, way toooooo much time on my hands. It frightens me that I don't care if she is in my life. That makes me sad, and want to cry. Whats so wrong with me? I know there must be an answer to this. I have to have an answer.
And so back to the mean mom, business, thats one of the things she tells people about me. I was a mean mom. And their day was the cool one. He even signed her papers to marry before she was of age. That makes me cry. She did not stay with this guy.
I know I didn't want my children to be hurt, to learn lessons the hard way. I really wasn't realistic. I always wanted to be the fixer, for my kids not to have pain like I did. I think all I did was give them a different pain.
Sorry, doesnt take away, the harsh things I did to my children. And I know that they will never understand. Mostly because I don't understand much of it. Thru therapy, I have learned that my anger at my life and the sexual abuse as a small child played a huge role. I am angry that it took me all my life to realize that and then take action. My children suffered muchly at my hands and anger.
And so, I don't know what to do.
bjw
http://www.scarymommy.com/im-mean-mom-not-cool-mom/?utm_medium=partner&utm_source=30days
Sunday, May 14, 2017
A Mothers Day Guilt trip
This is something else on my mind. I know I came from a different generation. One of many screwed up values, skills, etc. A church that was very strict and harsh. It should not be an excuse. As I go about trying to heal. Another one of the main things I battle is guilt.
I know I can't undo. There are some things, that you want to make amends for, but the harm is to big, to much.
I have learned to late, that you cannot and should not treat your small children like an adult. They must be allowed to be children. This needs to be a lesson to us all.
I attend a recovery group called Celebrate Recovery, they use a 12 step program from AA with a spiritual addition. Because I was never addicted to drugs or alcohol, some of the steps don't make a lot of sense to me. But its a great program. And this week, we discussed amends.
And yesterday we had a sermon on "words". Great sermon. A comforting sermon, encouraging and yet a reminder, that we cannot take our words back. We shape our children, its our responsibility. Our duty to do the best we can with what we have. Stuff/things, our children don't need as much as they need us.
Now, what can I do about all this? I have children I am estranged from, grandchildren. The therapist keeps telling me, that I have to let it go. I know I need to, but I want my kids to be healed from my screw ups.Hurt is hurt. Damage is damage. Just like domestic violence, the scars are there. Hurts heal, but there are always the scars. Always the scars, I know I carry mine, I don't want to, thats part PTSD.
Our world is screwed up so bad. And the one thing I am most thankful for, is that I do have a spiritual being in my life, I call him God. Others have other things. This is not meant to push God off on you. But to share one part of my healing.
Today is Mothers Day. I know that I can count on my son Mike to call me first thing in the morning. Just like clockwork.
I call my mom, just like clockwork, I am so blessed to still have her in my life.
Don't let guilt overcome your life, if you can make amends, at least try. Do what you can, and then it becomes their choice, their decision to make and you can finally let go of the guilt, and work on making other things better in your life.
May you have a blessed day and peace.
I found the following article on FB this morning. I hope it helps, opens eyes.
bjw
http://foreverymom.com/family-parenting/15-ways-break-childs-heart-lori-wildenberg/
I know I can't undo. There are some things, that you want to make amends for, but the harm is to big, to much.
I have learned to late, that you cannot and should not treat your small children like an adult. They must be allowed to be children. This needs to be a lesson to us all.
I attend a recovery group called Celebrate Recovery, they use a 12 step program from AA with a spiritual addition. Because I was never addicted to drugs or alcohol, some of the steps don't make a lot of sense to me. But its a great program. And this week, we discussed amends.
And yesterday we had a sermon on "words". Great sermon. A comforting sermon, encouraging and yet a reminder, that we cannot take our words back. We shape our children, its our responsibility. Our duty to do the best we can with what we have. Stuff/things, our children don't need as much as they need us.
Now, what can I do about all this? I have children I am estranged from, grandchildren. The therapist keeps telling me, that I have to let it go. I know I need to, but I want my kids to be healed from my screw ups.Hurt is hurt. Damage is damage. Just like domestic violence, the scars are there. Hurts heal, but there are always the scars. Always the scars, I know I carry mine, I don't want to, thats part PTSD.
Our world is screwed up so bad. And the one thing I am most thankful for, is that I do have a spiritual being in my life, I call him God. Others have other things. This is not meant to push God off on you. But to share one part of my healing.
Today is Mothers Day. I know that I can count on my son Mike to call me first thing in the morning. Just like clockwork.
I call my mom, just like clockwork, I am so blessed to still have her in my life.
Don't let guilt overcome your life, if you can make amends, at least try. Do what you can, and then it becomes their choice, their decision to make and you can finally let go of the guilt, and work on making other things better in your life.
May you have a blessed day and peace.
I found the following article on FB this morning. I hope it helps, opens eyes.
bjw
http://foreverymom.com/family-parenting/15-ways-break-childs-heart-lori-wildenberg/
Friday, May 5, 2017
Examples and regrets
I found this on Face Book this morning, its something that I am seen before. But I want to use it to show an example of what I would have done in this instance. And it was not this way. So please don't repeat my mistakes.
Instead of doing what this mom did, I would have yelled at her for being selfish, I would probably have belittled her, and I know that I would have turned my back on her. Never giving her a chance to finish. Thats what kind of mom I was.
This is part of my healing to remind me, that I cannot go back and change it. But I can acknowledge, take ownership and hopefully help someone else to change before its to late.
Please, please. don't repeat my mistakes. Love your children.
bjw
Instead of doing what this mom did, I would have yelled at her for being selfish, I would probably have belittled her, and I know that I would have turned my back on her. Never giving her a chance to finish. Thats what kind of mom I was.
This is part of my healing to remind me, that I cannot go back and change it. But I can acknowledge, take ownership and hopefully help someone else to change before its to late.
bjw
Thursday, May 4, 2017
Dealing with Trauma, one at a time
Today was therapist day. We had already decided what I wanted to work on. I recently reconnected with one of my Granddaughters, a wonderful. loving thing. But it also brought up a lot of hurtful memories regarding her mom, my youngest daughter.
In fact, I have been seeing my therapist for almost 2 years, and I had never mentioned this particular trauma. Thats how deep I had hid it.
When we started the journey today, I believed it to be just one incident. It was a very hard thing to talk about. I believed it to be all wrapped up in one huge trauma, where my daughter had purposely caused me to lose my home. I was so angry, so much so that I could have harmed her. It scared me to have those feelings.. We talked about what I really felt at the time, besides the anger, there was a feeling of betrayal, of that she was doing this to get back at me for all the things that she felt I had done to her.
And now comes the guilt of not being a good parent. And then we went way back into her childhood. She was a difficult child. Most of it I feel was on me, She was born after we had buried a SIDS baby. She was a very heavy sleeper. So I was constantly waking her up, to make sure she was still alive. There came a time that she ran away, age 6 or so, I was so afraid for her, I didn't understand her anger, or what ever the attitude was. She finally came home, safe. Thank God.
Around the same time, some teacher at school told her that she could call 911 if I spanked her as discipline. We lived in terror. Back in those days, CPS got involved, they never left your life. This went on for about a month, The entire family walked on eggshells, till finally I had, had enough and gave her the phone to call. During all this time we had another child, who was very ill. And did require a lot of attention. Again, him being sick, I was always afraid he would die.
We moved 5 times in 5 years. I know hard on us all. We finally wound up in Tucson, AZ.
And remember, I was a member of a church that had taught us, not to use therapists or psychiatrists. In fact, if we had any kind of mental illness, it must be of the devil, I actually believe now, that at the time it was a cult. I still have my biblical beliefs that started with that church. And again, how my children were affected by all of this.
My 2 younger children were not disciplined as the 2 older ones. I was gentler, more patient parent. The 2 older ones, will tell you that. I am so ashamed of how I treated my children. The guilt overwhelms me. But one thing at a time.
I remember my daughter being very self sufficient, I wanted my girls especially to be independent to be able to take care of themselves.
A few years after moving, we suffered a traumatic loss of our home and business to a fire. We were displaced for about 6 weeks, a family that we knew well, from church, who had a small child, started having us over for fellowship. My daughter just loved being with their little one, and they were a young couple. Financially stable. I looked at it as an opportunity for my daughter. She was around 11 when this happened. They would take her on trips. She joined the Civil Air Patrol. Wow, She would fly the F16 simulator better than the Air Force Pilots . She had a AZ Senator ready to write her recommendation to the Air Force Academy in Colorado. She was going places, good places. So proud of her.
Then in the fall she turned 16, we were visited late one night by a posse of sheriff deputies at our home. And they were looking for my daughter, and asking us if we knew this young couple.
The couple, him and her had been molesting my daughter, making videos, grooming her since age 11. Our local church turned against us, we had no support except that they blamed my daughter for all of it. During the trial, we were ostracized by church members, the minister. None of us had any professional help. Nothing spiritual. How much I look back with regret of not getting the help. My daughter would never talk to me about it. The police were forthcoming, doing their best to alleviate our guilt, explaining to us about child molestation. So many memories to deal with today. A lot of tears and deep breaths.
Then when she 17 she wanted to get married. I felt she was to young. Her dad signed for her. I responded by leaving town. Very angry.
I also remember after she married, she brought up supper of barbecue thighs, Instead of being thankful, I yelled at her that she knew I didn't like thighs.
I was always so angry, and I would take it out on any one. Very very sad for my children.
So now, its not about me, per say.........I know that I cannot go back and fix it, or even explain how or why. I am just now figuring it out.
I am working on the guilt angle, mine, We talked about one thing that I can do , and that is continue my prayers that God will heal them of my mistakes. For me to continue to not allow the anger to creep back in.
I can control my anger now, well most of the time, except when it comes to idiots. Whew......I hope that my posts will help someone else not make these same mistakes.I want to quit beating myself up for these mistakes. So, its one at a time, and to remind me, baby steps.
One of the reasons that I posted the above reminder.
May each of you be blessed, and share love. Love your children.
bjw
Thursday, April 27, 2017
A new Start, maybe?
Its kind of a maudlin day. Not depressed. Just reflecting on my life. past and present.
http://www.countryliving.com/life/news/a42776/south-carolina-bon-haven-mansion-to-be-demolished/
This is what set my mind to thinking. There are so many empty buildings all over the country. Like the one listed above is just beautiful. With some love, and hard work, it could be upcycled to use for homeless, or in my case a wonderful place for another The Art Project llc.
Not on my budget, 737.00 just pays my bills. I know that there are companies out there who could help. maybe even have space in their own areas. They could even group together and sponsor projects like this.
Look at all the HUD money that was stolen from the people that could have been used for Art Projects such as the one I founded.
For the first time in a very long time, I am not sad or regret all the work that was put into the AZ Art Project. It worked.
And now when I see or hear just how hard it is for the mentally ill, the vets with PTSD, all who could benefit, our children who are autistic, all the "throw aways" out there. Why? Because I think the US wants us to go away, to disappear. I do think the entitled do want to know what the real world is. And I do believe with proper medication, and ART, the practicing of putting paint to whatever, is awesome therapy.
I know that there is someone out there who can help. I appeal to any and all who might be able to assist with this.
I am not lazy, I have a great artist resume plus my work resume. I have had enough time to sit back and ponder. It is time to appeal to the all out there who have or wanted to start businesses. Whether for self to help others. In helping others, we are helping ourselves. Reflecting on how you first felt when you wanted that self employment. Let us show others that they too can succeed in this world.
https://www.facebook.com/theartprojectllc/
Thanks
bjw
http://www.countryliving.com/life/news/a42776/south-carolina-bon-haven-mansion-to-be-demolished/
This is what set my mind to thinking. There are so many empty buildings all over the country. Like the one listed above is just beautiful. With some love, and hard work, it could be upcycled to use for homeless, or in my case a wonderful place for another The Art Project llc.
Not on my budget, 737.00 just pays my bills. I know that there are companies out there who could help. maybe even have space in their own areas. They could even group together and sponsor projects like this.
Look at all the HUD money that was stolen from the people that could have been used for Art Projects such as the one I founded.
For the first time in a very long time, I am not sad or regret all the work that was put into the AZ Art Project. It worked.
And now when I see or hear just how hard it is for the mentally ill, the vets with PTSD, all who could benefit, our children who are autistic, all the "throw aways" out there. Why? Because I think the US wants us to go away, to disappear. I do think the entitled do want to know what the real world is. And I do believe with proper medication, and ART, the practicing of putting paint to whatever, is awesome therapy.
I know that there is someone out there who can help. I appeal to any and all who might be able to assist with this.
I am not lazy, I have a great artist resume plus my work resume. I have had enough time to sit back and ponder. It is time to appeal to the all out there who have or wanted to start businesses. Whether for self to help others. In helping others, we are helping ourselves. Reflecting on how you first felt when you wanted that self employment. Let us show others that they too can succeed in this world.
https://www.facebook.com/theartprojectllc/
Thanks
bjw
Thursday, April 20, 2017
Video with Will Smith. Face our Fears
I hope this posts..Cause it goes great with todays post.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yvkawQkkfj8
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yvkawQkkfj8
It's a looog road to recovery
I really wish I could post every day on this blog. The last few months have been very challenging to me.
Seeing my therapist today, was a day full of questions on my part. Questions that are important for me to continue with a positive recovery. As any of you know who have read my blog, know that I have struggled most of my life with some kind of mental illness.
We have sunny days now, and I am feeling better. So now I feel its time to move forward again in a positive way.
Control issues, or lack thereof.
Not accepting my limitations.
I continue to hide stuff in my "closet". I want to stop that
So, much again.
I have reconnected with my second oldest granddaughter. Which has brought about a lot of trauma memories about her mom. I thought I had laid it to rest.
I have always worked. Being a mom and wife. Always trying to find ways to earn extra money while staying home. I wanted, needed my children to have better than I did growing up. Too late did I realize that the greatest thing I could give them was me.
I was always afraid of being on my own. FEAR destroys. I had never been trained to be any thing but a wife. No clue to being a parent.
We talked about what I considered to be my laziness. Since coming to Colorado, I have not felt like working outside my home. I was scared I would fail......and what is failure? Fear again. And then guilt. And so we talked about my "laziness". I am 63 years old. I have enough for my needs. We talked about things that are out of my control. I need to really step up the reality check. I tell myself that I can't work on my clay, cause I have no way to fire it. OK. but I should not allow that to stop me from being productive. Yes here are physical things that I can't do. Also, will be having some surgery on my right foot. I will not be able to drive. Instead of focusing on what I can do, I always seem to concentrate on what I can't. W want to work on replacing the negative with the positive. Its an entire lifetime of these thoughts, and of course I want instant fix. Just like I want to fix others. Why do I need to do that?
I really need to work on control, what I can control. I am used to get it done. And now when I can't, I feel very much a failure. Its hard looking back on the positive and allow myself to accept the fact that I made a difference in someone else's life. That I am not lazy or a failure. That its ok for me to be taking it easy now. I should not feel guilty.
My PTSD is always going to be here. But continued work on the positive will help me have a better quality of life. And that is my goal.
I think in earlier posts, I spoke briefly about my youngest daughter. I had not even realized that I had not shared that with my therapist. I guess I was so traumatized with the minister thing, which was consuming me.
So, now I can move forward, even if its dealing with past trauma. Cause thats how it works in order to heal. Thats important to me. To be proactive. I have legitimate traumas which cause me great pain, but I also try not to add to that trauma, with drinking, or any other self defeating things.
I think that I am a bouncy ball when talking about my life. My thoughts can be very jumbled to the on looker. I am sorry for that, but the things I say, I know I am not the only one who has these thoughts. Good and Bad.
bjw
Seeing my therapist today, was a day full of questions on my part. Questions that are important for me to continue with a positive recovery. As any of you know who have read my blog, know that I have struggled most of my life with some kind of mental illness.
We have sunny days now, and I am feeling better. So now I feel its time to move forward again in a positive way.
Control issues, or lack thereof.
Not accepting my limitations.
I continue to hide stuff in my "closet". I want to stop that
So, much again.
I have reconnected with my second oldest granddaughter. Which has brought about a lot of trauma memories about her mom. I thought I had laid it to rest.
I have always worked. Being a mom and wife. Always trying to find ways to earn extra money while staying home. I wanted, needed my children to have better than I did growing up. Too late did I realize that the greatest thing I could give them was me.
I was always afraid of being on my own. FEAR destroys. I had never been trained to be any thing but a wife. No clue to being a parent.
We talked about what I considered to be my laziness. Since coming to Colorado, I have not felt like working outside my home. I was scared I would fail......and what is failure? Fear again. And then guilt. And so we talked about my "laziness". I am 63 years old. I have enough for my needs. We talked about things that are out of my control. I need to really step up the reality check. I tell myself that I can't work on my clay, cause I have no way to fire it. OK. but I should not allow that to stop me from being productive. Yes here are physical things that I can't do. Also, will be having some surgery on my right foot. I will not be able to drive. Instead of focusing on what I can do, I always seem to concentrate on what I can't. W want to work on replacing the negative with the positive. Its an entire lifetime of these thoughts, and of course I want instant fix. Just like I want to fix others. Why do I need to do that?
I really need to work on control, what I can control. I am used to get it done. And now when I can't, I feel very much a failure. Its hard looking back on the positive and allow myself to accept the fact that I made a difference in someone else's life. That I am not lazy or a failure. That its ok for me to be taking it easy now. I should not feel guilty.
My PTSD is always going to be here. But continued work on the positive will help me have a better quality of life. And that is my goal.
I think in earlier posts, I spoke briefly about my youngest daughter. I had not even realized that I had not shared that with my therapist. I guess I was so traumatized with the minister thing, which was consuming me.
So, now I can move forward, even if its dealing with past trauma. Cause thats how it works in order to heal. Thats important to me. To be proactive. I have legitimate traumas which cause me great pain, but I also try not to add to that trauma, with drinking, or any other self defeating things.
I think that I am a bouncy ball when talking about my life. My thoughts can be very jumbled to the on looker. I am sorry for that, but the things I say, I know I am not the only one who has these thoughts. Good and Bad.
bjw
Thursday, March 23, 2017
In Recovery, always....
This week I met with Shrink and then the therapist. A lot of tears with Shrink. But tears are cleansing, and a much needed tool to recovery.
Anyone who has used substances, and quit, will always be in recovery. Don't let anyone tell you different. We must always be on guard, its not just "I'll have one drink, or one hit". Even I know that I am one thought away from committing suicide. It scares me that, that is how it is. Almost a year of not having those thoughts. But coming really close. That's why I make use of the therapy opportunity and if I need drugs to balance out my chemicals, I'll do it.
Does that mean, I still don't think my life is not worth living. No, I still feel very lost, and lonely. But living in a new place is not a constant reminder of bad decisions, mistakes, just life. That helps a lot staying centered. I am still sleeping a lot during the day. Watching to much tv, as I don't want to think about things. Its hard not to think of the past, good or bad. The only way I can cut that out of my mind is to keep it busy.
I am back doing some painting, trying to finish some I have started. Its helping. I am taking it slow, and on my own terms. Which means I'm the boss. Hard to slow down. But one of the main changes is finally beginning to accept the fact that I can't really work on clay for the time being. I do have a talent that needs to be used.
Plus we had a lot of good weather days. And the dogs and I took a walk. There is rain now, and I don't know for how long. But I am planning a road adventure with the dogs to look for rocks and glass next week. I'm calling it a Self Care Project. Which all of us need to do. And like so many, I always have a lack of money issues. By the time the bills are paid, not much left. But at least thats getting done.
I am going to try and think of more self care projects. I hope I can do it. And do my art.
Anyone who has used substances, and quit, will always be in recovery. Don't let anyone tell you different. We must always be on guard, its not just "I'll have one drink, or one hit". Even I know that I am one thought away from committing suicide. It scares me that, that is how it is. Almost a year of not having those thoughts. But coming really close. That's why I make use of the therapy opportunity and if I need drugs to balance out my chemicals, I'll do it.
Does that mean, I still don't think my life is not worth living. No, I still feel very lost, and lonely. But living in a new place is not a constant reminder of bad decisions, mistakes, just life. That helps a lot staying centered. I am still sleeping a lot during the day. Watching to much tv, as I don't want to think about things. Its hard not to think of the past, good or bad. The only way I can cut that out of my mind is to keep it busy.
I am back doing some painting, trying to finish some I have started. Its helping. I am taking it slow, and on my own terms. Which means I'm the boss. Hard to slow down. But one of the main changes is finally beginning to accept the fact that I can't really work on clay for the time being. I do have a talent that needs to be used.
Plus we had a lot of good weather days. And the dogs and I took a walk. There is rain now, and I don't know for how long. But I am planning a road adventure with the dogs to look for rocks and glass next week. I'm calling it a Self Care Project. Which all of us need to do. And like so many, I always have a lack of money issues. By the time the bills are paid, not much left. But at least thats getting done.
I am going to try and think of more self care projects. I hope I can do it. And do my art.
Monday, March 13, 2017
My Yesterdays....Regrets
As I have gotten older, a loner, dealing with a mental illness, is like making a cake, sort of......Anyway, lots of regretful thoughts going thru my head. And some of it is the result of the strict teaching of my church......when you teach, you need to have a balance. The good and bad of it. So this is the day of regrets.
I regret spanking my young son for spilling his milk. He was in his high chair. We were taught that even children were sinful and so we must be strict. There was no love taught to go with it, in my area. I want to make it perfectly clear these are my memories.
But there was not hug to tell your child that you loved them. If your child misbehaved at church, you took them to the Mothers Room and wailed on them, they would either cry themselves to sleep, or just stay in the back till services were finished. We had 2 hour services, kids were expected to stay quiet on the floor on their blanket, No wonder non of my children wanted anything to do with the church. All they saw was negative. All I saw was negative. .My children were spanked for everything, but never hugged up and told that it was ok, we make mistakes. But I still love you. But that didn't really happen. I would love on my kids, bug it seemed they were being disciplined more than loved. I so regret that, Immaturity, naivety, stupidity, all of these played a part in the destruction/dysfunction of my family. We only get a small amount of time with our children. And I know there are/ were books. Dr. Spock was totally off his rocker. Couldn't some one come up with a common sense. We had a man who was interpreting the bible for us. I get the main things, the 10 commandments, Gods holy days, I still do and practice them. We were taught not to question our ministers, to accept. I regret that.....We were so in fear of being "marked", put out of the church, for asking, cause that meant we were causing dissension, we were a trouble maker. I regret that, I regret not standing up for all my principals. I regret that fear, you cannot teach love, with fear.
I do not regret having my children, just wished that I had of been worthy of that gift.
The biggest thing I regret is not loving my children, as I hope God loves me now. I always associated punishment with love...makes no sense. Right? So from 1972-2000 during the time my children were home, I had lots of time to screw them up.
The church taught, if we were having any mental issues, it must be of Satan, therefore we needed to pray, fast more. When my youngest daughter was molested by a couple in my church, we not only didn't seek any help, but the local church turned its back on us. I regret so very much not finding a psychiatrist for my child.. I failed her again. I was to busy trying to do what the church expected, than the health of my child.
We each of free will. Yes. But being indoctrinated from basically birth, we have learned a habit, not sure if brainwashing is the right word. But it did influence my life. It still does. But I hope I have found my balls and will not follow as I did before. God's word is God's word. But it is up to us to do the right thing. Not because some man tells you to. Being respectful in all things.
I regret not reading to my kids. I regret spending more time trying to make money to give them things, than just giving them me. I regret seeing some of the results of my child rearing continuing.
I regret not seeing my youngest daughter get married. I regret all the anger that seemed to be directed at my children. I regret it taking so long to find any kind of answers to fix this. Its un fixable at this time.
I regret all my fears taking over my life.
Most of all I regret not loving my children, and that its to late to fix it for my kids. Not for me, but for them. I do know the Bible teaches love, its not all about sin and what our punishment is. I regret living in the fear, that the fear itself was so overwhelming, that it still rules my life in some things.
I regret giving in to my younger children out of guilt. I had been so hard on the 2 older ones, so I went over to the far side. I regret not teaching myself to take care of myself.
I regret not standing my ground and leaving Tucson, because my church told me to follow my husband. I had it good there. I regret not having enough faith in myself, and love for myself, enough respect for myself.
I regret teaching my children to fear and be angry at life.
I regret the fact that it is to late to fix certain things.
Now, I have choices, I must not let my regrets steal whats left of my life. But they will always be a part of me and my life. And writing about it might help someone take the time to question themselves, motives, dysfunctional behavior.
I regret spanking my young son for spilling his milk. He was in his high chair. We were taught that even children were sinful and so we must be strict. There was no love taught to go with it, in my area. I want to make it perfectly clear these are my memories.
But there was not hug to tell your child that you loved them. If your child misbehaved at church, you took them to the Mothers Room and wailed on them, they would either cry themselves to sleep, or just stay in the back till services were finished. We had 2 hour services, kids were expected to stay quiet on the floor on their blanket, No wonder non of my children wanted anything to do with the church. All they saw was negative. All I saw was negative. .My children were spanked for everything, but never hugged up and told that it was ok, we make mistakes. But I still love you. But that didn't really happen. I would love on my kids, bug it seemed they were being disciplined more than loved. I so regret that, Immaturity, naivety, stupidity, all of these played a part in the destruction/dysfunction of my family. We only get a small amount of time with our children. And I know there are/ were books. Dr. Spock was totally off his rocker. Couldn't some one come up with a common sense. We had a man who was interpreting the bible for us. I get the main things, the 10 commandments, Gods holy days, I still do and practice them. We were taught not to question our ministers, to accept. I regret that.....We were so in fear of being "marked", put out of the church, for asking, cause that meant we were causing dissension, we were a trouble maker. I regret that, I regret not standing up for all my principals. I regret that fear, you cannot teach love, with fear.
I do not regret having my children, just wished that I had of been worthy of that gift.
The biggest thing I regret is not loving my children, as I hope God loves me now. I always associated punishment with love...makes no sense. Right? So from 1972-2000 during the time my children were home, I had lots of time to screw them up.
The church taught, if we were having any mental issues, it must be of Satan, therefore we needed to pray, fast more. When my youngest daughter was molested by a couple in my church, we not only didn't seek any help, but the local church turned its back on us. I regret so very much not finding a psychiatrist for my child.. I failed her again. I was to busy trying to do what the church expected, than the health of my child.
We each of free will. Yes. But being indoctrinated from basically birth, we have learned a habit, not sure if brainwashing is the right word. But it did influence my life. It still does. But I hope I have found my balls and will not follow as I did before. God's word is God's word. But it is up to us to do the right thing. Not because some man tells you to. Being respectful in all things.
I regret not reading to my kids. I regret spending more time trying to make money to give them things, than just giving them me. I regret seeing some of the results of my child rearing continuing.
I regret not seeing my youngest daughter get married. I regret all the anger that seemed to be directed at my children. I regret it taking so long to find any kind of answers to fix this. Its un fixable at this time.
I regret all my fears taking over my life.
Most of all I regret not loving my children, and that its to late to fix it for my kids. Not for me, but for them. I do know the Bible teaches love, its not all about sin and what our punishment is. I regret living in the fear, that the fear itself was so overwhelming, that it still rules my life in some things.
I regret giving in to my younger children out of guilt. I had been so hard on the 2 older ones, so I went over to the far side. I regret not teaching myself to take care of myself.
I regret not standing my ground and leaving Tucson, because my church told me to follow my husband. I had it good there. I regret not having enough faith in myself, and love for myself, enough respect for myself.
I regret teaching my children to fear and be angry at life.
I regret the fact that it is to late to fix certain things.
Now, I have choices, I must not let my regrets steal whats left of my life. But they will always be a part of me and my life. And writing about it might help someone take the time to question themselves, motives, dysfunctional behavior.
Sunday, March 12, 2017
Thursday, March 9, 2017
Bitterness?
bit·ter·ness
ˈbidərnəs/
noun
- 2.anger and disappointment at being treated unfairly; resentment."he expressed bitterness over his dismissal without notice"
Today this is a subject that has been on my mind a lot too. I thought surviving the suicide attempt was a challenge, and yet a year later, its not dying that's on my mind, its the living. To much time on my hands, means my mind has to many thoughts.
And "bitterness" is one of those thoughts, its a really huge thought. In fact its a thought compounded by my church upbringing as well. It seemed we were always reminded of becoming bitter about "trials" that are taking place in our personal lives. But not really taught how to keep from becoming "bitter"
It seems my life, my families lives have had more than a "fair" share of trials. I do not want to be "bitter". I need to not be "bitter".
But I am tired. But I want to live, need to live. I have many thoughts of why me? What did I do wrong to bring this kind of trials. How could I have done differently any thing? I was very encouraged last year when I volunteered at the art studio in another town. But I missed my own place. But you do what you do, so that you can have some kind participation. I have been fired from a job once in my life....Labor Board found in my favor and I was vindicated. The second time I was fired from the volunteer position. Which, there was a misunderstanding. And instead of standing up for myself, I went into protection mode. I hate to say it, but fired from a volunteer position. sigh......really bothered me. The job gave me a sense of self worth, and I definitely was feeling better about life in general. Was putting myself out there. Even trusting a bit. And wham, out of the blue, thrown away. And that's how I felt. And then this, feeling sorry for my self, and this "bitterness" starts creeping in. And I want to dwell on it, and I want it fixed. I want to be "treated fairly". But whats "fairly"? And I am reminded of a conversation dealing with professionalism. It never crossed my mind, just how differently people look at what is considered professional. That was a wow moment, plus a great educational moment.
Works the same with fairness/bitterness. I have always been able to eventually pick my self up, except for the suicide. And even after that, it took a lot of time to begin again. I miss doing the teaching, the interaction, especially helping other artists who don't have a pot to pee in, nor a window to throw it out of. That's how my art history has been. I have worked hard, scrounged things, had jobs, even second jobs to get room for others who did no have. Helping them understand how hard work has payoffs. And that is what The Art Project LLc, came about in 2014.
Any way, here comes that bitterness sneaking in. So now, I am trying to come up with ways, centering on good stuff, coming up with ideas, that will allow some kind of art sanctification, and as I think of that, I am feeling very selfish, and yet I know that I must be well before I can help others, and I am not doing so hot now with my attitude.
Its a vicious circle...........I have the talents, to not just teach the art, but how to run a business, (then I laugh, cause I'm sure not doing it) How to do it on a shoe string, and the businesses never had debt.
So, now I sit here, putting thoughts down, that sound "crazy" and yet is part of my battle. Battle with mental illness.
In my mind, its all about the money. I never received any kind of payment or paycheck for The Art Project. Every dime and things I could scrounge, went into that place. I don't regret it. But had I had money for an attorney, I believe the place would still be open. Opportunity for "bitterness" to take root. .
It seems to have gotten the worse since coming back from taking care of my mom. I don't know why, if I did, I would fix it. It seems the more I want to move forward with my art, and a project. And I think about all the things in my past life, and always seemed to go down to money. Cause I worked hard, didn't need a big house or fancy cars. Just wanted my kids to have better than I had. Money was not spent on non necessities, hell we couldn't even afford to buy happy meals.
In those days, I always felt, working hard, being honest, was the American Way, people on welfare could work their way out of that lifestyle. It was humility to be on welfare.
So we worked and worked, I created a job so I could be home with the kids and still maybe contribute, and art was and is my passion. I did have some success in those years. Enough to buy shoes when the kids needed them, not making them do without to long.
And now today, at 63, I think, why? There are generations who welfare is their way of life. So, working your ass off, gets you nothing, 735.00 a month in disability a 25 year old car, I am very thankful for. I do have a decent rental house. Utilities are very, very expensive here in Cortez. There is help with heating. None for electric. And after a year of living on 66.00 in food stamps per month. I now get 190.00. And yes, if I want a steak, I will buy one. I get no other assistance.
Now, if that isn't a whammy, and for a awesome opportunity for bitterness to move right on in. I not sure what isn't.
Thought I might have found a way to fire some of my smaller stuff. All I wound up with was a pile of shattered stuff. Bitter?
I really hope not. At the moment I post this, I will go back to working on some new jewelry pieces. And keep my mind on the talent God gave me. Hopefully working on what is around the corner, that may be a good thing, And moving in that positive direction.
Writing this, is showing me, that I have that choice, and I think I have allowed bitterness to slip in. And I don't like that. So, I am back to baby steps, Praying that God puts a stop to that thought.
Not putting the offense in the closet to be dwelt with later, but to deal with it now, I have identified the issue, considered many ways of consequences of what my solution actions will be, and then do it.
It is the only way to move forward. And the last couple of days, I have wanted to move forward again. Baby steps, my own advice. I must do that.
Hanging tough is tiring. It wears me out. Part of it, is now my age. And the other is my mental issues. Don't give up. I'm doing my best not too. Peace out.
These are 2 pieces I created the other day. They are un fired porcelain and stoneware clay. Very unfinished in this stage, That is part of the problem is I have no way here to fire these in a timely manner. Sigh.....but it is what is is.
Thursday, March 2, 2017
When my hope is lost.....
Been wanting to write this for some time now. But I needed to find the words. Since coming home from my moms at the end of January, I did not feel myself. My dogs refused to go outside to use the bathroom, so the house was a mess of urine and the smell. I am funky about odors. Even now, it makes me angry that I can't get the smell out. I am not blaming anyone. These dogs were left for 2 months without their mom and winter was bad. I am more thankful for being able to be with my mom. These are all things that are driving me off the edge. I am not in danger of harming my self consciously. I just don't care about life. I also came home to no heat, for the second year in a row, the heat seemed to be broken during the coldest part of winter. A water line had broke while I was gone, so very thankful that my family found it and was fixed without to much damage. Just stuff to put away. Then the water heater wasn't working. the little closet its in, was open, and had to wait for plumber to come. Then I had to put the door back on. And then my kitchen sink was backing up into the shower. The world was against me. I still feel that way.
Hope:1. a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.
2. a feeling of trust.
3. want something to happen or be the case.
Faith: 1. complete trust or confidence in someone or something.
2. strong belief in God or in the doctrines of a religion, based on spiritual apprehension rather than proof.
My entire was build on hope and faith. You pray (hope) that things will work out for you. You are important enough, valued enough that good things would happen, and thats where the faith came into play.
A lifetime ago, growing up in a Sabbath keeping COG, it was very harsh, I look back, and I believe now it was a cult. They kept up in line, with threats of committing the unpardonable sin. Now please remember I was a young child. these are my memories and mine alone. Children were to be seen and not heard, so as I got older, I got, that if I wanted to live forever, I had to obey and not sin. This was also the time that 1972 was the year we would flee as the great tribulation would be upon us, and we had better be accounted worthy to go to the place of safety. But that we were always sinning, that only by asking forgiveness and having God give his grace to me, would it be forgiven. Being led by fear, some ministers would come and visit my mom, she was encouraged to obey God first and pretty much to hell with my dad.......I hated those visits, they left my home in total terror, a lot of yelling from my dad. It was not pretty. My dad would tell them not to come back, and here again they would show up. Must have been in my pre teens when a church was started up in Las Cruces, NM. We would ride with a local woman. how my mom came up with gas money to help, I'll never know. It was a long ride for young children, again, no talking, behave ourselves, it was a 65 mile one way. I remember always being in fear of God. There never seemed to be a balance of love.........Oh ya, they would teach fire and brimestone, and as an aside, oh btw God loves you.
When I became an adult, it was time to talk about my baptism. It was expected. I knew the answers to the questions. And I will say, that I do believe the Sabbath is the Sabbath and holy days, the main doctrines of COG. But I was baptized out of fear, not because I wanted to be.I had not counted the cost. I didn't even understand what that was. I guess what I am trying to get across is that Fear has pretty much ruled my life, without a counter balance.
My sister pretty much told me the same thing. FEAR...she did not ever want that kind of fear in her life from the church.
Through out the years, I married a man not in the church, strike against me. Then our 3rd child died from SIDS.It was almost taboo to ask why, why would God let this happen. I was a believer, did the best I could, prayed 2-3 times a day, fasted regularly. attended church. Instead of telling me, they just didn't know, it was, it must have been God's will. You know God won't put anything on us that we can't handle....or, have you been praying enough? But I still had hope, faith, that I must work harder, I don't remember much being taught about Grace.
It was always, faith without works was dead.
So for the next lotta years, we buried the child, watched our home burn to the ground, dwelt with a couple in WWCG molest my daughter, and we were blamed for that, we must be to blame, after all these were good people who lived in the right part of town, whos parents were baptized members. When I sought counseling to get thru this, I was told by the minister, well its not his fault this happened. I did quit going to that church. My belief system had not changed, but what was being taught I disagreed with.
I found another COG in which was not only teaching Gods word but seemed to be living it. With the breakup of WWCG, it was a hard few years, had to learn new thinking. My thinking. I told myself as long as Gods word was being taught, I would stay.
There have been many many mistakes on my part, but always keeping my faith and hope close to God. My first husband was even baptized into the new church, The church teaches that you follow and obey your husband. So when he wanted to move to his home town, we packed up and moved, I had a successful business going in AZ. A very good business, but it was my duty to go. As soon as we moved, he basically left me to my own devises. He would not take me to church, he would not work. I was deserted.
For the next 10 years, I was divorced and remarried. I went to church when I could. There has always seemed to be an issue with money. Not having enough of it. I was very angry at God, why would he allow an obedient servant to suffer such things. Yes, I have a free will. But as your praying for protection, for wisdom, etc. You hope that you will make right decisions. Still I continued with my church and faith, even when the second husband was abusing me. and I sought counsel, I was told I was not being submissive enough. So I stayed. It kept getting worse, till finally I didn't care, I left him. After a few months I am counseling with the minister where I had moved, I was told, that if he chose to live with me, I must return home. I did, a year later he physically tried to kill me. Again, I took off with the help of my son Mike. I didn't care, let me burn in hell. Let me be suspended from the church, that was always a big fear, if you did something the church did not agree with, yup, suspended or marked. Fear, always fear. Because of the Domestic Violence, I was on several antidepressants, and therapy. The church has always discouraged having anything to do with a therapist and or physchritrust. Any mental illness must be of the devil, there fore once again, we must not be close enough to God. A decision that I deeply regret making use of when my child was molested. One of the biggest mistakes I have ever made. And it caused suffering and more damage. I mourn for that child forever. And the fact that I didn't have the balls to stand up to it all.
When I moved back to Tucson, I did contact the local minister. He set up a visit and we talked. I mean, I talked, he listened. Wow. For the first time in many many years I felt safe.
I know by know your asking yourself, what the hey am I talking about. I feel in order to understand where I feel I am at now, its important to have some of the back ground. I just didn't start feeling this way of being lost.
Day 2 or 3
Can you hear me screaming? I can, it vibrates throughout my head. I stop it by going to sleep. I am tired of trying. And again, I am not going to harm myself. I just hope my life will stop. That is what happens when you lose hope, have no faith of having hope.
The 1st photo posted is what is left of 2-3 weeks of clay creation. Trying to adapt a tiny kiln. Results not acceptable and very discouraged. Thus the screaming. I have worked hard all my life. Scrounged everything for my artwork, to help out my family to have extras. Did without to buy that one thing. Then another, and another. Finally, it had started to pay off, I was making money, my name was getting out there, I even had an invitation from Better Homes and Gardens to use some of my artwork in a photo shoot. My artwork going all over the world. I know that the profit margin is very low, and I did not have insurance to cover the business. But I was always careful. Faith that all would be well. The week before Thanksgiving, 1989, we lost home and business to fire. A total loss. These feelings flood me when I see the below pic. I remember the helplessness, the loss, the total loss of self.
All of this represents failure on my part. I am in a position that there is no way out. I live on 737.00 530. goes to rent. I know their are worse off out there.
I guess I always expected hard work to pay off.
Just feeling depressed, having no control over my life. Have done so much to give, to share with others, it feels weird to me to feel this way. And thats what depression feels like. part of it. PTSD. years of of it. Or I became a angry bitch, which I did not have a clue as to why. Anger, fear, out of control, no worth.......
At least finally after 60 years I know where the anger originated. doesn't heal the past damage I have done, or fixes it in any way, shape or form, so the guilt builds up, and the worthlessness settles in again, because, no matter what, there are consequences to my actions. Doesn't matter what caused those actions.
Whewwwww. now I just feel, nothing. Why bother. why? And it is stupid to be so hung up on the fact that I cannot do my clay work.
I sleep as much as possible. I take meds to sleep at night to shut off my mind. Shut off my mind. It never shuts off. I need to escape. Escape in a good way and not one, where I am worthless, where I have no value any more.
And thats where I am today.
Hope:1. a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.
2. a feeling of trust.
3. want something to happen or be the case.
Faith: 1. complete trust or confidence in someone or something.
2. strong belief in God or in the doctrines of a religion, based on spiritual apprehension rather than proof.
My entire was build on hope and faith. You pray (hope) that things will work out for you. You are important enough, valued enough that good things would happen, and thats where the faith came into play.
A lifetime ago, growing up in a Sabbath keeping COG, it was very harsh, I look back, and I believe now it was a cult. They kept up in line, with threats of committing the unpardonable sin. Now please remember I was a young child. these are my memories and mine alone. Children were to be seen and not heard, so as I got older, I got, that if I wanted to live forever, I had to obey and not sin. This was also the time that 1972 was the year we would flee as the great tribulation would be upon us, and we had better be accounted worthy to go to the place of safety. But that we were always sinning, that only by asking forgiveness and having God give his grace to me, would it be forgiven. Being led by fear, some ministers would come and visit my mom, she was encouraged to obey God first and pretty much to hell with my dad.......I hated those visits, they left my home in total terror, a lot of yelling from my dad. It was not pretty. My dad would tell them not to come back, and here again they would show up. Must have been in my pre teens when a church was started up in Las Cruces, NM. We would ride with a local woman. how my mom came up with gas money to help, I'll never know. It was a long ride for young children, again, no talking, behave ourselves, it was a 65 mile one way. I remember always being in fear of God. There never seemed to be a balance of love.........Oh ya, they would teach fire and brimestone, and as an aside, oh btw God loves you.
When I became an adult, it was time to talk about my baptism. It was expected. I knew the answers to the questions. And I will say, that I do believe the Sabbath is the Sabbath and holy days, the main doctrines of COG. But I was baptized out of fear, not because I wanted to be.I had not counted the cost. I didn't even understand what that was. I guess what I am trying to get across is that Fear has pretty much ruled my life, without a counter balance.
My sister pretty much told me the same thing. FEAR...she did not ever want that kind of fear in her life from the church.
Through out the years, I married a man not in the church, strike against me. Then our 3rd child died from SIDS.It was almost taboo to ask why, why would God let this happen. I was a believer, did the best I could, prayed 2-3 times a day, fasted regularly. attended church. Instead of telling me, they just didn't know, it was, it must have been God's will. You know God won't put anything on us that we can't handle....or, have you been praying enough? But I still had hope, faith, that I must work harder, I don't remember much being taught about Grace.
It was always, faith without works was dead.
So for the next lotta years, we buried the child, watched our home burn to the ground, dwelt with a couple in WWCG molest my daughter, and we were blamed for that, we must be to blame, after all these were good people who lived in the right part of town, whos parents were baptized members. When I sought counseling to get thru this, I was told by the minister, well its not his fault this happened. I did quit going to that church. My belief system had not changed, but what was being taught I disagreed with.
I found another COG in which was not only teaching Gods word but seemed to be living it. With the breakup of WWCG, it was a hard few years, had to learn new thinking. My thinking. I told myself as long as Gods word was being taught, I would stay.
There have been many many mistakes on my part, but always keeping my faith and hope close to God. My first husband was even baptized into the new church, The church teaches that you follow and obey your husband. So when he wanted to move to his home town, we packed up and moved, I had a successful business going in AZ. A very good business, but it was my duty to go. As soon as we moved, he basically left me to my own devises. He would not take me to church, he would not work. I was deserted.
For the next 10 years, I was divorced and remarried. I went to church when I could. There has always seemed to be an issue with money. Not having enough of it. I was very angry at God, why would he allow an obedient servant to suffer such things. Yes, I have a free will. But as your praying for protection, for wisdom, etc. You hope that you will make right decisions. Still I continued with my church and faith, even when the second husband was abusing me. and I sought counsel, I was told I was not being submissive enough. So I stayed. It kept getting worse, till finally I didn't care, I left him. After a few months I am counseling with the minister where I had moved, I was told, that if he chose to live with me, I must return home. I did, a year later he physically tried to kill me. Again, I took off with the help of my son Mike. I didn't care, let me burn in hell. Let me be suspended from the church, that was always a big fear, if you did something the church did not agree with, yup, suspended or marked. Fear, always fear. Because of the Domestic Violence, I was on several antidepressants, and therapy. The church has always discouraged having anything to do with a therapist and or physchritrust. Any mental illness must be of the devil, there fore once again, we must not be close enough to God. A decision that I deeply regret making use of when my child was molested. One of the biggest mistakes I have ever made. And it caused suffering and more damage. I mourn for that child forever. And the fact that I didn't have the balls to stand up to it all.
When I moved back to Tucson, I did contact the local minister. He set up a visit and we talked. I mean, I talked, he listened. Wow. For the first time in many many years I felt safe.
I know by know your asking yourself, what the hey am I talking about. I feel in order to understand where I feel I am at now, its important to have some of the back ground. I just didn't start feeling this way of being lost.
Day 2 or 3
Can you hear me screaming? I can, it vibrates throughout my head. I stop it by going to sleep. I am tired of trying. And again, I am not going to harm myself. I just hope my life will stop. That is what happens when you lose hope, have no faith of having hope.
The 1st photo posted is what is left of 2-3 weeks of clay creation. Trying to adapt a tiny kiln. Results not acceptable and very discouraged. Thus the screaming. I have worked hard all my life. Scrounged everything for my artwork, to help out my family to have extras. Did without to buy that one thing. Then another, and another. Finally, it had started to pay off, I was making money, my name was getting out there, I even had an invitation from Better Homes and Gardens to use some of my artwork in a photo shoot. My artwork going all over the world. I know that the profit margin is very low, and I did not have insurance to cover the business. But I was always careful. Faith that all would be well. The week before Thanksgiving, 1989, we lost home and business to fire. A total loss. These feelings flood me when I see the below pic. I remember the helplessness, the loss, the total loss of self.
 |
| The Mess of shattered art, none salvageable |
 |
| Before Firing |
All of this represents failure on my part. I am in a position that there is no way out. I live on 737.00 530. goes to rent. I know their are worse off out there.
I guess I always expected hard work to pay off.
Just feeling depressed, having no control over my life. Have done so much to give, to share with others, it feels weird to me to feel this way. And thats what depression feels like. part of it. PTSD. years of of it. Or I became a angry bitch, which I did not have a clue as to why. Anger, fear, out of control, no worth.......
At least finally after 60 years I know where the anger originated. doesn't heal the past damage I have done, or fixes it in any way, shape or form, so the guilt builds up, and the worthlessness settles in again, because, no matter what, there are consequences to my actions. Doesn't matter what caused those actions.
Whewwwww. now I just feel, nothing. Why bother. why? And it is stupid to be so hung up on the fact that I cannot do my clay work.
I sleep as much as possible. I take meds to sleep at night to shut off my mind. Shut off my mind. It never shuts off. I need to escape. Escape in a good way and not one, where I am worthless, where I have no value any more.
And thats where I am today.
Monday, February 13, 2017
2015 The True Story
2015 was to be my year. My granddaughter who was living with me at the time, said, Grandma its your year. The Art Project llc was growing, I was busy, I really thought that January day, it was going to be my year. From Jan. 2015 -May 2016 I was physically assaulted by my next door neighbor. A bully much bigger than I am, my crime.....he was a drug user, pot so much, that I could get high just on the second hand smoke. I complained to the cops, told, I had to have proof. Then there was all the activity of cars in the parking lot, which was very small. Always full., coming and going all hours of the night. I called the management co, and I was told the only way they could stop, the extra cars, was for me to get license plates. So I took pictures. I would file police reports whenever the smell of pot overwhelmed the area. One day I did catch him in the act of smoking a joint, I did get a pic, and reported to cops, once again. 3 times he physically put his hands on me. Cops would tell me, its a he said, she said thing.
I spent a lot of time away from my apt, at The Art Project, took my dogs with me, as he had threatened to harm them. Still no help. I went to my LCG minister for help. All he told me was, just let me know what you need. I needed to move, I needed emotional and physical support. It never seemed to happened.
Then in June I believe it was the Bully attacked again, this time coming up to truck window as I was leaving, and grabbed my phone out of my hand, I had seen a suspicious person duck down behind a car, so I started filming. Then said, I have called the cops, thats when he jumped out at me. It took the cops over an hours to show up. At which time, the bully threw a rock at truck made a dent, all this time I am still getting this on video, he then reaches inside my truck, grabs the phone, and takes it. For an hour I locked myself in the truck and honked the horn until finally an hour later cops showed up.
Cops got my phone back and watched the video, and which time they told me, I could have the guy arrested.,but I would be going to jail as well. The cops made it very clear that they did not want to know about all the other times he had assaulted me. That I should have waited to film the guy, for the cops to show up, and my response was, what an hour. I could have been dead by then. Why didn't I leave the premises. he had my phone. The next week I had my tire slashed in the apt parking lot. $200.00 to replace. My friend Skip Bemis came to the rescue. Lending me the money to buy a new tire, and the suggestion to get my things into a storage until and get away from there. I did this, by myself, loading the truck with a load every day. My son Mike came down and moved the majority of big things, when the bully threatened to harm the dogs. He came running. No one else did. I still was telling my pastor about all this. I didn't have money to move, much less the deposits. I had to fight to get out of the lease, still no emotional or physical help. .
All this time, I am still trying to keep The Art Project llc going, to not let what was going on in my personal life affect the artists. Remember, I have a mental illness, PTSD, trauma based fears, just as my artists at The Art Project. Those artists are amazing....I won't mention their names here, if they chose to acknowledge, then they may do so.
I am also working a part time job, in Behavioral Health, to make sure the rent is paid at The Art Project. March 1, we moved into a new building, 4 times the size of the old one. The Art Project was on the move to bigger and better. The Art Project owed nothing in debt. We had a 2 million dollar liability policy on building, it was a LLC. All done to empower the artists.
With all this going on, my mom who was 91 at the time was not doing so well, My son Mike Erhardt, gave me money to get me back to Missouri. Wasn't sure how I would get home, but that was that. My wonderful artists all volunteered to dog sit for me. A huge help. I was pretty fried by then. And all the artists came together to give back to me.
But I still needed a place to live. At this point, I was homeless. I conveyed that to my pastor. So all my stuff got put into storage, and I had no place to stay, except in the storage unit. Thats when I went to visit my mom.
My mom was so surprised to see me at her door. What a wonderful reunion. She paid for my return trip. I tell you these things, because, now comes the part of my friend Skip calling me, to see how I was doing and then he mentioned that he had told Mr.B....... I would not be at church for a while as I was visiting my mom. His response was, how dare I make a trip when I was getting assistance from the Church. Skip told me that he thought he would be calling to have me account for what I was doing on a "trip. I believe Skip was trying to be helpful, I do not believe that he had any idea of what the reaction would be. So for the rest of of my visit with my elderly mom, there was a dark cloud over us. Did I do something wrong? Should I have asked my pastor for permission? Plus it triggered a lot of PTSD nightmares from the Domestic Violence survival.
Mental Illness doesn't go away. It doesn't heal. For the rest of my visit, I was terrified. What would be done to me when I got home. ( I had another trauma with this minister, a few years before that, when he accused me of whoring around, and being a drunk) I knew that once crossed, there was no fair or mercy involved.
I had car trouble traveling home, having to stop ever few hours to let it cool down, and just added to all the stress. But was anxious to get home.
I made it home really early on the Sabbath. Great reunion with my doggies and then I was told by manager of the units that I had 5 days to vacate the premises. Plus to empty out my other storage unit. When asked why, he told me to shut up my crying, and said my ffffing damn dogs were the reason. There was to be no second chances, no mediation , just get out.
To say I was numb, in shock, I cried out to God, I made phone calls. No one picked up. I posted on social media.......
I walked around the building that was The Art Project, I looked at the tables I built with my hands. I looked at the artists spaces and their art work, Each had their own space, I blamed myself that this was going away. Every penny I could muster had gone back into The Art Project. Most of the time, I don't know where it came from, but the rent was always paid on time. I bought used AC units, and heaters, I found chairs at thrift stores so that we had a lounge area. Furnished art books, Everything in that building was paid for. I owed no one nothing. All I could see thru the tears was loss, a failure, no rebuilding, no future. So after the walk, with the doggies following me, I posted on line for someone to take good care of the dogs and I knew what I had to do.
I found my stash of pills, and a soda, me and the dogs went into the lounge area. I swallowed the bottle of bills, kicked back in the recliner and fell asleep.
2 days later I awoke in a hospital. Lest I think it was. I really don't remember much. Then I woke up in a room with a bloodied elbow and knee, under lock down. Angry cause I was alive. Angry because I had lost everything...And thinking...Hell, I can't even die right.
I can't really tell you what was going on while I was hospitalized. I understood the minister tried to get involved, including calling my mom to find out where I was, he and my son getting into it, along with others from the church. From what I understand, my son had no idea where I was. No one knew, and if they did, they were not telling.
It took my son threatening the hospital I was originally taken to with the US Marshalls to find me. When he did find me, it was a act of congress to get him in to see me. After 5 days, my wounds were never treated or dressed, I bled all over the bedding. I told the Shrink what he wanted to hear. I had learned my lesson and would not try again. Right......had I been left alone, I would have finished it this time.Because of the local ministry, my son, would not allow them near me.
Now the Colorado Connection.
Aug. 1, 2015 found me living with my son and family. My injuries so bad, I had to have help to walk, sitting was just as painful. I tried so hard isolate myself, but the family would not allow it. I could not turn my brain off. (many of you with mental illness, know this) thinking, why had I lived. All the platitudes of: God never puts more on you than you can handle.....its going to make you stronger, there is a lesson here for you to learn, You all know these and more.
So, I contacted the minister for the Colorado area. It was forwarded to the AZ pastor. It seems that the Colorado pastor did not want to deal with a suicide attempt . That the AZ pastor after all knew me. Ok, I get that, but then he wanted me to call him, i know from past experiences, that when you cross this man, or not agree with him, you can forgot it. My mental health at that time could not take what he wanted to dish out. So I continued to email. Same thing, Call him and we would talk. I still have all the emails.I asked him why I wasn't getting my financial assistance. I was told I was no longer in his area, and it would have to be reassessed.
My friend Skip, whom I could go to anytime, become short with me, never writing about how I was, then I finally get an email from him telling me that he was not to write me, because pastor did not want me commiserating with him. A personal note here.....Skip was like my big bro, he had seen me have melt downs. he would listen without judgement, and then we would talk it out. Mr. B took that away from me. Then it seems I was being blamed for harming another member during this time. Time after time, I told B. I had no clue what he was talking about.. He explained to me that I needed to show her mercy and love and still had no clue. It seems that my son and her got into it. So, he held a trial and found me guilty.
Thankfully I had a great therapist, it took months of her going over the ministers communications and what I wanted and needed to do as a Christian
.And then of course, there was the anonymous letter, postmarked Phoenix, saying I was suspended. That because of my suicide attempt, I had committed murder in Gods eyes. Therefore that is how the minister viewed it.
In all the communications on Mr. B side, there was never any mercy, softness, kindness, even when I wrote to headquarters, Dr. Wannail, just sent it back to Mr. B. I was thrown to the lion.
Finally, I did call Mr. B. It was not a pleasant exchange. He was very upset at the charges I had made against him, more than what could we do to move forward.
From Jan. 2016, the only communication I have from the minister in Phoenix is thru the Sabbath greetings and the headquarters news.And access to the net cast. No one has ever called nor visited.
Jan, 20, 2017 I do get an update telling me the pastor is being transferred. And a new one coming in. I was so excited, maybe now, I would be worthy of being a part of the membership. I did request financial assistance. This is what he said.....Bonnie, based on counsel, I am not going to be able to help you. I suggest you ask your children for help.
I do not wish to appear bitter, although for the life of me, I don't understand his response. It wasn't that I made to much money. Oh well.
So, I do feel that I have been thrown away. My therapist tells me, these are perfectly normal feelings. And of course this is my side of the story.
And this I conclude with, Ministers are just men, I do not follow a man. It would be a wondrous thing to be able to counsel without fear of causing trouble. Of stating an opinion that is different from someone who is in "authority" I have done my best to remain respectful.
My therapist tells me that I need to have more realistic expectations. Because I have such high ones for myself, that causes me issues.
Now, my mental issues are recovering bit by bit again. And that is no thanks to the ministry. One day, maybe when the fear of speaking out, is diminished, we can have the help that is so desperately needed in the behavioral health field. My kuddos to Glen Gilchrist, my everlasting gratitude for he understood and was very wise in his education on mental health.
Do with this as you will. Or nothing. This is a true story, I have the documents to back it up. May God bless you and remember, we are not in this alone. You can ask for help from me any time
I spent a lot of time away from my apt, at The Art Project, took my dogs with me, as he had threatened to harm them. Still no help. I went to my LCG minister for help. All he told me was, just let me know what you need. I needed to move, I needed emotional and physical support. It never seemed to happened.
Then in June I believe it was the Bully attacked again, this time coming up to truck window as I was leaving, and grabbed my phone out of my hand, I had seen a suspicious person duck down behind a car, so I started filming. Then said, I have called the cops, thats when he jumped out at me. It took the cops over an hours to show up. At which time, the bully threw a rock at truck made a dent, all this time I am still getting this on video, he then reaches inside my truck, grabs the phone, and takes it. For an hour I locked myself in the truck and honked the horn until finally an hour later cops showed up.
Cops got my phone back and watched the video, and which time they told me, I could have the guy arrested.,but I would be going to jail as well. The cops made it very clear that they did not want to know about all the other times he had assaulted me. That I should have waited to film the guy, for the cops to show up, and my response was, what an hour. I could have been dead by then. Why didn't I leave the premises. he had my phone. The next week I had my tire slashed in the apt parking lot. $200.00 to replace. My friend Skip Bemis came to the rescue. Lending me the money to buy a new tire, and the suggestion to get my things into a storage until and get away from there. I did this, by myself, loading the truck with a load every day. My son Mike came down and moved the majority of big things, when the bully threatened to harm the dogs. He came running. No one else did. I still was telling my pastor about all this. I didn't have money to move, much less the deposits. I had to fight to get out of the lease, still no emotional or physical help. .
All this time, I am still trying to keep The Art Project llc going, to not let what was going on in my personal life affect the artists. Remember, I have a mental illness, PTSD, trauma based fears, just as my artists at The Art Project. Those artists are amazing....I won't mention their names here, if they chose to acknowledge, then they may do so.
I am also working a part time job, in Behavioral Health, to make sure the rent is paid at The Art Project. March 1, we moved into a new building, 4 times the size of the old one. The Art Project was on the move to bigger and better. The Art Project owed nothing in debt. We had a 2 million dollar liability policy on building, it was a LLC. All done to empower the artists.
With all this going on, my mom who was 91 at the time was not doing so well, My son Mike Erhardt, gave me money to get me back to Missouri. Wasn't sure how I would get home, but that was that. My wonderful artists all volunteered to dog sit for me. A huge help. I was pretty fried by then. And all the artists came together to give back to me.
But I still needed a place to live. At this point, I was homeless. I conveyed that to my pastor. So all my stuff got put into storage, and I had no place to stay, except in the storage unit. Thats when I went to visit my mom.
My mom was so surprised to see me at her door. What a wonderful reunion. She paid for my return trip. I tell you these things, because, now comes the part of my friend Skip calling me, to see how I was doing and then he mentioned that he had told Mr.B....... I would not be at church for a while as I was visiting my mom. His response was, how dare I make a trip when I was getting assistance from the Church. Skip told me that he thought he would be calling to have me account for what I was doing on a "trip. I believe Skip was trying to be helpful, I do not believe that he had any idea of what the reaction would be. So for the rest of of my visit with my elderly mom, there was a dark cloud over us. Did I do something wrong? Should I have asked my pastor for permission? Plus it triggered a lot of PTSD nightmares from the Domestic Violence survival.
Mental Illness doesn't go away. It doesn't heal. For the rest of my visit, I was terrified. What would be done to me when I got home. ( I had another trauma with this minister, a few years before that, when he accused me of whoring around, and being a drunk) I knew that once crossed, there was no fair or mercy involved.
I had car trouble traveling home, having to stop ever few hours to let it cool down, and just added to all the stress. But was anxious to get home.
I made it home really early on the Sabbath. Great reunion with my doggies and then I was told by manager of the units that I had 5 days to vacate the premises. Plus to empty out my other storage unit. When asked why, he told me to shut up my crying, and said my ffffing damn dogs were the reason. There was to be no second chances, no mediation , just get out.
To say I was numb, in shock, I cried out to God, I made phone calls. No one picked up. I posted on social media.......
I walked around the building that was The Art Project, I looked at the tables I built with my hands. I looked at the artists spaces and their art work, Each had their own space, I blamed myself that this was going away. Every penny I could muster had gone back into The Art Project. Most of the time, I don't know where it came from, but the rent was always paid on time. I bought used AC units, and heaters, I found chairs at thrift stores so that we had a lounge area. Furnished art books, Everything in that building was paid for. I owed no one nothing. All I could see thru the tears was loss, a failure, no rebuilding, no future. So after the walk, with the doggies following me, I posted on line for someone to take good care of the dogs and I knew what I had to do.
I found my stash of pills, and a soda, me and the dogs went into the lounge area. I swallowed the bottle of bills, kicked back in the recliner and fell asleep.
2 days later I awoke in a hospital. Lest I think it was. I really don't remember much. Then I woke up in a room with a bloodied elbow and knee, under lock down. Angry cause I was alive. Angry because I had lost everything...And thinking...Hell, I can't even die right.
I can't really tell you what was going on while I was hospitalized. I understood the minister tried to get involved, including calling my mom to find out where I was, he and my son getting into it, along with others from the church. From what I understand, my son had no idea where I was. No one knew, and if they did, they were not telling.
It took my son threatening the hospital I was originally taken to with the US Marshalls to find me. When he did find me, it was a act of congress to get him in to see me. After 5 days, my wounds were never treated or dressed, I bled all over the bedding. I told the Shrink what he wanted to hear. I had learned my lesson and would not try again. Right......had I been left alone, I would have finished it this time.Because of the local ministry, my son, would not allow them near me.
Now the Colorado Connection.
Aug. 1, 2015 found me living with my son and family. My injuries so bad, I had to have help to walk, sitting was just as painful. I tried so hard isolate myself, but the family would not allow it. I could not turn my brain off. (many of you with mental illness, know this) thinking, why had I lived. All the platitudes of: God never puts more on you than you can handle.....its going to make you stronger, there is a lesson here for you to learn, You all know these and more.
So, I contacted the minister for the Colorado area. It was forwarded to the AZ pastor. It seems that the Colorado pastor did not want to deal with a suicide attempt . That the AZ pastor after all knew me. Ok, I get that, but then he wanted me to call him, i know from past experiences, that when you cross this man, or not agree with him, you can forgot it. My mental health at that time could not take what he wanted to dish out. So I continued to email. Same thing, Call him and we would talk. I still have all the emails.I asked him why I wasn't getting my financial assistance. I was told I was no longer in his area, and it would have to be reassessed.
My friend Skip, whom I could go to anytime, become short with me, never writing about how I was, then I finally get an email from him telling me that he was not to write me, because pastor did not want me commiserating with him. A personal note here.....Skip was like my big bro, he had seen me have melt downs. he would listen without judgement, and then we would talk it out. Mr. B took that away from me. Then it seems I was being blamed for harming another member during this time. Time after time, I told B. I had no clue what he was talking about.. He explained to me that I needed to show her mercy and love and still had no clue. It seems that my son and her got into it. So, he held a trial and found me guilty.
Thankfully I had a great therapist, it took months of her going over the ministers communications and what I wanted and needed to do as a Christian
.And then of course, there was the anonymous letter, postmarked Phoenix, saying I was suspended. That because of my suicide attempt, I had committed murder in Gods eyes. Therefore that is how the minister viewed it.
In all the communications on Mr. B side, there was never any mercy, softness, kindness, even when I wrote to headquarters, Dr. Wannail, just sent it back to Mr. B. I was thrown to the lion.
Finally, I did call Mr. B. It was not a pleasant exchange. He was very upset at the charges I had made against him, more than what could we do to move forward.
From Jan. 2016, the only communication I have from the minister in Phoenix is thru the Sabbath greetings and the headquarters news.And access to the net cast. No one has ever called nor visited.
Jan, 20, 2017 I do get an update telling me the pastor is being transferred. And a new one coming in. I was so excited, maybe now, I would be worthy of being a part of the membership. I did request financial assistance. This is what he said.....Bonnie, based on counsel, I am not going to be able to help you. I suggest you ask your children for help.
I do not wish to appear bitter, although for the life of me, I don't understand his response. It wasn't that I made to much money. Oh well.
So, I do feel that I have been thrown away. My therapist tells me, these are perfectly normal feelings. And of course this is my side of the story.
And this I conclude with, Ministers are just men, I do not follow a man. It would be a wondrous thing to be able to counsel without fear of causing trouble. Of stating an opinion that is different from someone who is in "authority" I have done my best to remain respectful.
My therapist tells me that I need to have more realistic expectations. Because I have such high ones for myself, that causes me issues.
Now, my mental issues are recovering bit by bit again. And that is no thanks to the ministry. One day, maybe when the fear of speaking out, is diminished, we can have the help that is so desperately needed in the behavioral health field. My kuddos to Glen Gilchrist, my everlasting gratitude for he understood and was very wise in his education on mental health.
Do with this as you will. Or nothing. This is a true story, I have the documents to back it up. May God bless you and remember, we are not in this alone. You can ask for help from me any time
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