PTSD Artwork & Text
All Content Property Of
Faye H. Heft
Copyright 2020
Last Updated 5/27/2020
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TEXT ONLY FOR YOUR READING PLEASURE
31-40
ALL TEXT OWNED AND COMPOSED BY
F. HEFT.
MAY CONTAIN BRIEF QUOTES OR DICTIONARY DEFINITIONS.
Drawing 31: Session Repression 2/23/17
Improvement. I am beginning to understand what happened to me. I can remember and remain real. Sometimes I feel vivid. But some part of me believes I am not supposed to get better. Ironically, remembering causes forgetting.
I am besieged by the feeling of forgetting. The feeling of immediate forgetting in session. The feeling of forgetting that The Doctor and I have spoken before. The feeling of forgetting the content and the human contact of a session as I drive home.
Fog rolls into The Doctor's office. Fog floats behind The Doctor's chair. Fog obscures the ceiling corners. I try to remember that The Doctor and I are real. That He knows me. He remembers me when I cannot remember him.
I try to recall that I have kept years of appointments. I fight to convince myself I have an appointment next week. Black fog, red shards split up my memory of The Doctor. I need him to keep talking to me. Just keep talking.
Drawing 32: If Only 3/10/17
The walls of The School, The Hospital and The House have opened. Bright yellow moonlight streams into the new openings and through all of the windows. The Fayes have made it out of The House. They breathe in the cool air of the deep indigo night. All of them have become visible amongst the dark trees beneath a slash of a red Milky Way. The Fayes watch themselves being discussed by The Patient and The Doctor.
The Patient is no longer alone in The Past or The Night. All of her can talk to The Doctor whenever they want. He is taking care of all of them. If only The Doctor had been there in The Past, in The Night.
Luckily, in The Now of the drawing, and in The Now of The Office, all of The Fayes and The Patient can talk to The Doctor across time. The Doctor is simultaneously sitting outside in The Night then and now. He is real for all of them. The Fayes and The Patient are not afraid of The Doctor. And they have permission to speak.
Drawing 33: Crying 7/6/17
There is a River. The River has a Mouth. The Mouth is the Source of The River Of Tears. The River Of Tears is 34,164,000 minutes old. The Mouth Of The River belongs to The Father. The Father’s mean words created The River Of Tears.
The River has a Second Source - The Mother. The Mother has fed The River for 34,164,000 minutes. There is a question for The Mother, “What did you do?”. Or rather, “What did you fail to do?”. You failed to save your daughter. You let her drown while you settled.
The Patient cried tears for 34,164,000 minutes. Her brain was injured. But then she began a conversation with The Doctor. Together they repaired The Patient. The Patient became new. The Patient never settled. She climbed up out of The River Of Tears.
Drawing 34: 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 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 36: 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 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. 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 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.
Drawing 40: My Battlefield. 7/4/18.
The battle is trying to stay in the Present; embracing what is real: My Doctor, My Dog, My Surroundings. As I sit in The Doctor’s Office fog fills the room. I double. I am real and not real. My eye, face and hands disappear. The fog has memories inside it: parents, hospitals, surgeries, and an unhappy house.
As I draw or write about this experience I dissociate again. I try hard to focus on the beauty in my life: a quiet sun filled room, a constant companion, my art, the help of a friend, The Doctor.
I hope I find the skills I need to leave the battlefield behind.