Stage Two Lost Life Wreath

Each rose, now 13 of them, plus a few buds, and several stems and leaves are nearly completed.  It took a lot of effort, and it hurt, and it poured salt in wounds, but it was good to review the life I was not granted.  It was good to mourn it, and make the mourning on the outside, instead of carrying it in my heart and mind.  Granted, I will likely have memories yet,and feelings too, but not as confronting as they have been all these years, not as roots of my existence, but now instead just a reality different than the one I would have given myself.

The creator however, uses us, with our broken souls for purpose.  And, my spiritual walk has been one that has repeatedly been denied and shamed by others, but at this point?  Fuck em.  Or Un-fuck em, and yes, I can say fuck and God won’t punish me for it, because I’ve paid my dues and I don’t say it for power or destructive intention.  I use it to express painful reality.  People judge what they don’t understand, and they generally judge to condemn.  If that’s the case coming my way?  Go for it…judge me to death…I don’t give a fuck.

I reflect on the past, and in music, and I bring up Peter Gabriel:

only my daddy’s arms didn’t have mercy…but I sure do wish they had understood what mercy meant.  Then my mom wouldn’t have taken those beatings, or my sister, or the pets, or me.  Beating after beating for being defiant or confused and making poor decisions, or for punishment for another’s mistake.  The punisher could have been his name.  he knew NO mercy.

So I’ve this pile of materials that will get finished soon, but I’m dying to have a burger and fries, and I’ve earned them, so I’ll get back to finish the materials either this evening or tomorrow.  I’m also reading in two healing books:

“will I ever be good enough”…about healing from the narcissism of mother (full blown or partial, which is also good for the father figure too)

and

“Who’s Really Running Your Life?” .. about the parts of the personality that fragment to protect you from the hard reality you survived.  Like the guardian type personality that beats me up and abuses me BEFORE the other family members can do it.  This poor identity needs a break, and so does the rest of me, from its desire to hurt me first, so the others will back the fuck off.  How sad is that shit? Right?

So the list on the roses is about what didn’t get to be.  No mercy.  No love.  No education for the feminine reality.  No talk about growing up.  No shared spirituality.  No regard for pets or life in general.  …I missed out on a good upbringing because my dad missed out too..and all he knew how to do was destroy us, and his work on mom caused her to destroy us too…vicious and wrong…but that’s the way it was…

but ..

now….its over.  And I need to move on…and I think..hmm..when this wreath is done?  I’ll keep it on the wall, in my mourning wall…until the time comes when I will burn it ceremonially.  When I have made my new life and actually KNOW what happiness feels like, and I am able to feel it without breaking down and crying my eyes out.  Happiness causes me pain…like the Santana song:

still a purpose to serve…

right here.. I guess.  On this page.  Until the next stage of re-birth completes and I have a new reality.

Its an odd thing to hold out hope for a feeling you have never know… wholistically…I desire to feel happiness in being myself.

Amen.  Savior in my soul, highest self, lets get there and plant beauty.  Amen.

I’ll be back in a short time with photos of my work development.  Peace.

Burger time.

 

 

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About vickiesumner924

. Multi-media Artist.
This entry was posted in Art Therapy, Life, Music, Paper Mache', Sculpture, Spiritual, Uncategorized, Writing. Bookmark the permalink.

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