PTSD Artwork & Text
All Content Property Of
Faye H. Heft
Copyright 2020
Last Updated 5/27/2020
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ART AND TEXT 3
Drawing 34: Ascending
Ascending: Don't Look Back. 8/8/17
The Patient is climbing a stairway inside her mind. She is moving away from the dark Specters who inhabit her past. She is moving upward toward the light of a possible future.
The Specters: The Father, The Mother, The Nurse, A Teacher and The Queen Of Her Dissociation hang in a place of Retribution. Their power has diminished.
The Doctor and The Dog urge The Patient to continue her climb. Together they represent strength and happiness. The Patient stands between The Doctor and The Dog. She tries to believe in them, to believe in herself. They whisper, “Don't Look Back.”
Drawing 35: The Dog And The Girl Are Playing
The Girl And The Dog Are Playing. 8/20/17
The Girl has never been happy. Not in the past. Not now. Not yet.
The Girl has no idea how to live in the present. Not yet.
The Dog is happy.
The Dog lives in the present. Right now.
If The Girl concentrates hard on The Dog she can feel The Now.
The Girl feels the undeniable reality of The Dog.
The Dog holds The Ball in its mouth.
The Dog rolls The Ball towards The Girl.
The Girl will not neglect The Dog.
The Girl reaches for The Ball.
The Dog and The Girl begin to play.
The Dog and The Girl are playing.
The Girl from the past is happy. Right now.
The Woman she has become is happy. Now.
For The Girl and The Woman there is long sought satisfaction.
The Girl And The Dog Keep Playing.
Drawing 37: Unraveling
Drawing 37: Unraveling. 11/11/17
I was unraveled, dissected, inspected, injected, prodded, poked, opened, hurt. Threads, bindings, bandages, and chemicals held me down. I was assaulted before my eyes and behind my back.
The healing place made me sick. My mind became heavy, dull, dark, distracted, and confused. At home the cause was invisible. The effect inconvenient.
Measured against my peers my character, resolve, ability, personality, even my outlook, seemed faulty. I seemed less than my cousins, my coworkers, my own expectations.
Living out of the norm, all of me became undone. I slid through my own fingers. Only the tightest knot remained.
The Knot waited. It waited to be found. It waited to be felt. It waited for me to tell The Doctor. It waited to be unraveled.
Drawing 38:
Fix My Brain
Drawing 38: Fix My Brain. 4/8/18
The Split = Stuck A + Stuck B. An Algebra of questionable reality. From shock to split, to sleep, to waking the calculation repeats endlessly.
Every single morning becomes a sounding of the depths of one reality compared to the other. Every single morning a weighing of reality vs. reality.
Am I living here or do I live there?
If my here is not there then where?
Is my here here or there?
If I go there what happens to here?
Sounds Seussian. Maybe immature philosophical questioning? Actually more of a materials science problem. Some kind of structural failure. A stress fracture. Or a geological phenomenon. A fault or fissure. A weakness.
Constant splitting. Ancient splitting. So habitual as to exist without recognition, comment, explanation or depiction. After 60 years still so off putting that Art stopped. Fix My Brain revealed for The Doctor 12/24/17 through 4/8/18.
Drawing 36: Outgrowing
The Dress
Outgrowing The Dress. 9/8/17
Ahh… there they are. The Mother. The Daughter. Together for fifty-seven years plus seven months. They knew each other before knowing could be spoken. Their first conversation was biological and emotional. That conversation continued from the conception of one to the death of the other.
Along the way biology and emotion were joined in conversation by gesture, attitude, babble and words. Then came deeds done and not done. As did unfulfilled expectations, denials and untruths. Eventually Silence reigned. Silence spoke volumes.
Each in their own way, The Mother and The Daughter, were distracted by The Father. The meant-to-be closest of companions were separated. A unity was disrupted. In the place of unity grew wounded weakness. There was never any solution or resolution. Each despaired alone.
Biology let The Daughter grow as The Mother diminished, became empty, and was Gone. The Daughter learned a universal lesson: The Departed take all their possible answers with them. Only questions are left behind. There can never ever be another conversation. Biology always wins.
So what becomes of all the questions? If there ever could be any answers, where will they be found?
See, there are two more questions! New questions, upon questions.
Drawing 39: Avengements
Drawing 39: Avengements. 6/16/18
Time + Art = Avengement: the inflicting of retributive punishment; satisfaction taken. Restoring balance and enacting justice.
Time has left Mother, Father, Family, Teachers, Doctors and Nurses all dead. Lady Art draws the Truth. Finally, someone stands up for Little Faye. She has gained the upper bloody hand. Angry? A bit.