Just to debunk a couple myths

First things first - people with a mental illness are rarely dangerous to others- most tend to harm themselves.

  There are spectrums to each illness and some illnesses compound onto other illnesses. And the longer the mental illness goes undetected, undiagnosed, not supported the more complex the illness gets as do the symptoms are harder to fight. 

I battle first and foremost post traumatic stress disorder, it was left undiagnosed for years- I would dissociate in the mall and lose track of my mother when I was about 4, very scary for both parties, I was also a bad sleeper. This also evolved into other issues, that were thought to be based on my thyroid (-I was born without a thyroid function)   

Later I was probably showing signs of being Borderline Personality.  And we realise I had a predisposition to Bipolar disorder due to my fathers diagnosis.  But the Borderline Personality Traits started rearing their ugly head after the birth of my son.  I knew something was wrong; but I knew instinctively how to nurse a baby, how to react if he cried. But his crying got to me, and everyone as his crying lasted a year, and other things started propping up in his health, and mine with the burnout, The abuse from my spouse became more prevalent.  I was used to abuse as a child so I somehow accepted that I deserved it but I also Knew I didn't, but lived with that shame. Those of us with mental illness are that much more vulnerable to abuse and violence from others.  

We are vulnerable to disability funding, lack of care by professionals, we don't change because we fear starting all over again and opening new wounds.   Our reality can change on us in a split second, and we lose custody of our children. We are at the mercy of churches, and the social system to be a voice for us as people don't take us seriously when we fight for certain important issue ( and many a times we are verbally harassed in public for having had to make difficult decisions in regards to the care of our children and ourselves). Sometimes even the professionals that were supposed to help us don't and leave us hanging when we try to reintegrate into society. So we are back into clinics and need to stay for months at a time while our bodies and brains need to reintegrate, and we need to develop emotionally - for the years we lost as a child.  And then sometimes we are blessed with a support network of people who will listen, who will understand, who can come when your windows start looking like they are wobbling ( no I did not drop acid), and then there are Drs who get it when your cognitive thought process goes out the window because you are over stressed. ( and she will help you pack, and she will help get you to the clinic herself, and sit with you at the intake interview)  and there are community nurses who will come when you have horrible dissociative states and sit with you to help you come back to the here and now. Or nurses that will just be a good ear, or backup when you need to apply for a legal representative for your children.   And there are churches that understand how you relate to religion and your healing process, and offer support that you can feasibly visit with your children.  

People with mental illness can be vulnerable in the eyes of some organised religion- we just have to believe more and we'll be healed and won't need to be on disability- please don't debate with a friend over this this in a public place- it just insinuates the stigma that much further.  And leaves us feeling that much more raw, vulnerable. And a negative focal point. 

If I am participating in a program to give my day some structure and social connection- I don't need that to be insulted- I am trying to participate in life the best I can. This has obviously given me a safety net of people who understand my challenges.  But we are no less an artist( or person) than those in the normal world.  ( yes I get this often when people realise some of my challenges) don't worry, I am stronger than you think, even if I need more breaks or react sensory to triggers. 

It would be greatly appreciated around the times we will have fireworks also to have safe havens and not be told we are babies- to just put a pillow over my head and suck it up. - um mister you have no clue how the nervous system can react to a trauma trigger.   For all the soldiers home for the holidays, for police and security people whom have had to live with witnessing death due to gunfire and bombs, we are that much more sensitive to such triggers. That can set us curling in corners terrified, our blood pressure can drop drastically, our body temperatures change and we can lose orientation to where we really are. So think again about telling me or any other person with PTSD to suck it up over the holidays, or tell us just to keep it in the past.- we would love our past to stay in the past, but it isn't always the case. We may learn skills to cope with the situation better, but it never goes away. 

So to remind you the person with a mental illness is less dangerous to the outside world, we are more often than not terrified, and vulnerable.  The misuse of the language, instigates stigma that is attached to our illness, makes our fight that much harder. There are illnesses within that have negative connentations, and it is difficult to get help once diagnosed, but also treatment from other patients can be difficult. 

And lastly language issues can make getting the necessary help that much more difficult. - I had to learn a whole new aspect of a language- it wasn't enough that I had to learn to develop my emotional language but I needed to do this in a language that was not my mother tongue. And not what they teach you in language school.  So if you can have empathy for families of refugees, who arrive needing to seek help, and not knowing the language, and needing it to participate in life in a new country. And cope with nightmares, dissociation, and giving back to the society that took them in. Respect that they have been exposed to trauma beyond your wildest imagination, go easy on the fireworks this New Years and national holidays. It is most appreciated. Your neighbour with the mental illness. That combination that is debilitating. But I am a fighter, a mom, an artist and of course a person.

Forget the past, and move on with the future, live in the here and now. Oh and by the way you shouldn't be hurting yourself like that.

Well, easier said than done. 

Fireworks go off at New Years and 1st of August here so I have to mentally prepare myself.   And my village does the mandatory shooting practice. And those drums in the pageant made me look sleepy by the the time I got to my friends for xmas eve supper.  All these triggers make that event play like it was a couple minutes ago, absorbing my dreams, and absorbing what limited energy I have. And then to hear "forget the past" makes me want to set a violent film in your ear and before your eyes. And remind you that is where my past lies- when I hear all the bangs my past is here and now. And I need to fathom all my energy to realize what date we are on our calendar. 

In addition I discovered that I was going to have to fight to prove that someone with borderline personality is rarely abusive- most likely a victim of abuse ( due to our black and white perception of our world) and that we are not the blanket diagnosis that was thought to be before 20 years. Oh and Mothers with Borderline Personality are not raging emotional, cold beasts that many books and websites state.  

Yes we deal with rollercoasters that run faster than you can say blink, some of us self harm, and some of us drink. We don't inflict pain upon others- we inflict further pain upon ourselves in order for others to understand the depths of our pain. 

And to state how bad medication is, or how we need to believe more in a higher power, or that we are less quality people because we live with a mental illness in itself is absurd.  

I have had Drs tell me they can't help me. That all my pain was psychosomatic, to turn around and have the chief of psychiatry tell me she couldn't help me. Only lit a fire in me. I knew I had to persist with whatever draining energy I had, to get the help I needed. And then to have to be publicly shamed for having such an illness and have to make a near impossible decision regarding my family is ludicrist. I did not stand for it 5 years ago, I did not stand for it 20 years ago, and I will not stand for it now. 

Pouring rain

And not sleeping  again. Trying to get my new website up and rolling- seems to take forever tonight just to get a picture uploaded as a thumbnail.how n gods name is a gallery going to work?

Ideas and shows

Everyone has been telling me i need to go bigger in my pictures. And i need to consider an entry for the art show in the kantonal gallery- i have been trying for the last couple years - i will try two abstract pieces that i had done in malcafe- they were stunning as is in gouache but my friends remind me that i could do these abstract sky, and redo my piece across the blue horizon. I might do these in oil instead of acrylic. But i have a better choice of colours in acrylic and can play a lot more with oil or acrylic 

I now have learned a system to price my pieces when i am doing a commision- i have a few commisions to do so they are keeping me hopping-but i need to get through my daughters birthday first. 

The piñata is causing me a bit of grief falling apart in a corner!  I have such plans with this little piece. Oh well will try to see ohow it dries and maybe i could save it.

Working on a rose commision and i realised i was getting restless with the piece-?weekend  take a break and start what i want to present to the art gallery.  Then go back. Maybe i'll get more inspired- i would really like to finish the piece, but my issues with following through with goals is scraming at me. 

In the background i want to create a calendar to sell this year and to give to family as a present.

Too much work and no direction feeling just overwhelmed in my work.

But i will try to see through- hell we have a show in october, a possible show for november through to january and trying to get in with the gallery. To get my art known.

My mother told me that i really do speak through my art, i am so grateful i have the studio, to bounce ideas, be inspired, understand each other.  So i don't shut down when i need to do the work.

Shell shocked

So since I had my daughter I couldn't take extra medication, but my system went on red alert when I heard the gunshots at 9 at night after getting back from the party at the studio.  And this evening was the storm ( that thunder even though only a few brief minutes rattled my fear again) this evening I had the permission to take something - I didn't have to be up by a certain hour. )  but as I write this it is 2:43 in the morning.  And I am only starting to yawn.  I tried to concentrate today. But I couldn't do the task at hand like I did last week. The horse painting is done as it the island in water landscape' the rooster and the sunflowers.  It was a very prolific week last week and this week my brain feels like it's on jello. The piece I did for mal Cafe was a quick piece. And the second piece my head was playing a piece of music.  The question from mal Cafe was the horizont between heaven and earth and all I could think of was fire, sunsets dragons fire.

My heart seems lost in a space of uncertainty. It beats for a friend, but I don't think his beats for me.  Or maybe he was wise and saw the uncertainty of Sophia.   I explained to Sophia that my friendship is more like that of the guys in her class and social group. You have fun together, you trust they will be there in class, you trust they are part of your day   And there is a friendship there and nothing more.  And you don't want to wreck that friendship.  We have things in common and we understand when we are having a difficult time. We know each other's weakness and help each other out.  We don't think any less of each other because of our challenges.  And I wish for her to understand these friends are equally as important. 

Preventative measures

Well i reacted to a thunder lightening storm last night leaving me feeling crippled on my left side! So since i learned there was going to be a storm again tonight ( which turned out to be on  the other valley) i had to say no to having my little girl stay over this weekend. It may be hard to say no to her visiting but she needs her mom to look after her not the reverse!  So i will take her the next weekend there is no sunday school. 

But i also needed to take some medication so my body wouldn't be so sensitive to the abruptness of a thunder/lightning storm. If anyone tells me to suck it up and just weather it out has never had their bodies react to sound and obviously had little no trauma with guns and violence. Theres a reason i need to steer clear of switzerland and fireworks around the 1. August. But youknow its not just the 1. It's also the week building up and the few days after.  This means that i become less independant as imcan move less, sleep less, speech impairment  and of course More nightmares.  So i will try to " run away over that week if i can. 

But i need to figure out this next week- how to get oun schedule and get this horse painting done. So it is seen exactly phow much talent I have. I am proud to be asked to do portraits of animals - i love doing animals really and landscapes- i was asked to do two pieces of venice! Now thats a tall order.. But i love the challenge.

Is it fear of abandonment or fear of someone new

I feel like I live in the fear of abandonment like i need to say goodbye first and the idea of getting to know new people that I will need to trust. 

In the last 7 months I have been having a change of support staff. Not sure I was so happy about all these goodbyes- since beginning of december i had to say goodbye to the stable person I had hile everything else was chaotic. This support person was my calm in the storm. For pretty much two years.  She came with me venturing on my own after the ten long months in the clinic. She was there when my son got his formal diagnosis. And she was there when my dissociations would get the better of me. And she was there to discuss my health with my team- when was it too much and how much could i handle on my own. She was there when I was barely making it to being strong enough to travel on the plane alone to the other side of the world. She reminded me how strong I really was. Then as I returned back I learned one of the support staff at the studio and someone i really got to trust was leaving to live a dream. While it was hard to let her go I understood the need to go live in a developing country- i lived it already. And I could offer her some advice of what was important to learn in learning a new language. But it still meant saying goodbye again.  And shortly after i was closing a part of my life in that I no longer needed supervision when looking for my kids. Yet again another good bye. ( though the goodbye is not fully finished yet.- we need to do something for the kids to offer them some closure to- it was rather abrupt  in that she was there when i returned from canada and then suddenly i was able to have my son weekday afternoons without supervision. A good thing but as I said it lacked closure. 

But issues run further back and in my time that i was stationed in a clinic I bounced around alot( until the long clinic stay of nine months on one station)  and any short stay I required I would be offered a bed where there was one.  Not with people who really knew my symptoms or why or how I was in trouble and always in the beginning I was shy or just plain terrified of the staff. Though recently it didn't matter about the station staff anymore I know which therapy/therapists to ask for. Because i am comfortable enough with the clinic, rhtyhms, and the church that is connected.  It is a home that i know is there if i should fall back down. 

The last station I stayed the longest on I could learn to trust people would help me understand how my brain was working and that I was working towards a new space of personal progression, to understand that I was more ill than anyone truly credited. That my wings had been injured and need time to heal. But with this team I gained more strength and insight than i hadin my almost 40 years.  And iI learned that i was not alone. I had to make a tough decision to leave an emotionally toxic marriage- emotionally abusive marriage, but I had a team to support me and catch me when I fell. 

I met a friend again in this time that has become like a sister.  Who is still here through it all. 

So my fears of abandonement have been lessened due to this continuum.  But they are still there. My fear of abandonment stems from my infantile months of being ill in a hospital because my mother couldn't be there, my infantile moths of my fathers death. The changeover in babysitters while my mom was trying to go to nursing school. I was not a difficult child but either their lives changed or the babysitter practically ignored me the whole day I was there. 

My fear of abandonment stems from constantly being bullied in school- because i was new, physically challenged with a speech impairment and awaiting hearing aids.  The kids bullying me and the teacher asking why i wasn't playing with the other kids- they don't want me to play  or I was always the last one.  Or teachers turning their back while a whole class sexually harassed me and then act dumbfounded when I leave the room. ( the next teacher knew what i was up against and called the students on their behaviour- i stayed in cooking for another two years because of her) but grade 8 I slipped badly. The bullying was affecting me and my homelife was affecting me, nightmares, and horrible rides to school- I went from aceing math to struggling, and a teacher who didn't get how the class treated me.  I also felt ignored by most of the teacher staff that year. I felt abandoned by most of my classmates,  so I had tried to take my life. - I wasn't exactly feeling worthy to anyone at that time and in my attempt i even lost my doctor. I was going to have to start new with everything. But i had to go back to my old school again and try to hold my head again, bring my grades up again. I did have some teachers who knew what I was capable of. And they gave me some moments to shine again. But i still had people who underestimated me.  Abandonment as usual. Nothing I did could help me prove what I was capable of.   I wanted out of that school and that life. That prempted idea that because i had a physical disability I was also intellectually challenged- my mom didn't have the money to get me into a private-school. 

Now I fear abandonment for my son. As he faces challenges with his physical disability.  Now I fear my children see that I abandoned them because I left the family unit.  And I see my daughter being shy and unsure of pursuing what lies in her heart- her love of singing- and she doesn't trust that she has a lovely voice. 

80's music

Today brought some laughter and smiles as we recalled all the 80's music that we loved - only because the radio was playing a handful of 80's hits - so if i am talking about getting excited over vinyls of cyndi lauper or michael jackson I know you must be going what- yes i am dating myself a bit but with everything going on to think the 80's music was legendary stuff- well yes- the thriller video was a mini movie and set standards for future music videos,  cyndi lauper, the Bangles, culture club promoted a rather colorful combination of clothing that I adored. But i have to say the beginning of the 80's Blondie was my number1 vinyl to listen too when i got the chance and i know my girlfriend and i danced around the house. Then i discovered david bowie and john travolta with olivia newton john, melissa manchester, bruce sprinsteen got a place on the cassettes for the car for that long three hour drive before we could stop to do a break.  Knowing we still had another 3 hours before we got to the ferry- yes i am used to these ridiculous routes having lived a few years in Port Hardy. ( but thats beside the point) 

The 80's for me depicted a lot of moving around and the ten years i was in primary school up to my mid teens.  So 80's music really affected me and defined how I coped but still today this music and listing this music really brightened my day. Such fond memories of Madonna pushing all the buttons for media and religion.  Not really caring that boy george was probably gay but darn you gotta love those braids.  Or a-has cool cartoon video Take me on( definitely art inspiration there!  

Did i tell you it was a hot summery day to sit outside and ponder these thoughts as a groups and bring more smiles as a group

Ah 80's music and the beginning of summer! And my kids will have no idea who most of my music was ha.

I seem to miss some clues somewhere along the way.

I was chatting with someone, but it felt like she pursued me,  that I was asking something of here when i was merely stating my experience.  And then she stated that i had crossed her boundary. What did I miss? I know i have been told that I miss social cues before.  So internet and chatting seems to make it harder as it is text and one misses the emotion behind it. The messages that people try to convey.  I also tried to convey that i am not personally asking anything of her. Rather was stating the emotional labour between people. Where did I miss when it was the other person persuing me in conversation? I know What I need to work on;To improve my emotional health, I am asking alot of the how Can I, things only I can answer.  The question of once I get healthier what can I do. Do I stay painting? Do i continue writing? These esoteric questions, because I need to figure how far are my boundaries even in the written form, and How do I seem to miss written clues from others. How long has this been a problem of mine. It is a respect thing I get it. I never understood boundaries as a child- how could I? Verbal boundaries, physical boundaries, emotional boundaries were gone before I knew the existed. Due to medical issues, i had tests, i was told one thing after another, tested with poking and prodding, and in the name of medicine you have to let these people do that to you.  Then there is there is the not being heard when i needed help. So where do I go from here?  I would hear one thing then experience physical abuse indicating a different message.  I am like the tide going in and out Sometimes the waves are stronger sometimes more gentle.  And still with battling a mental illness people step constantly over trying to minimalise my life experience, trying to hint that I shouldn't need medication, therapy, that I should be able to forgive someone who has hurt me and that I still need to come in contact with. That I am seeking therapy from them- I know where I am at. I know my symptoms,  i may simply be stating something and somehow it is assumed I am asking something of you. I have my team to help me. Who know where I come from, what challenges I have faced. And yes I am still learning boundaries.  And i am still trying to establish my own.  But I also know what I am dealing with. Trust me I do. 

Please don't tell me

That you could handle your traumas without medication and therapy, and that you are happily able to pay your bills and taxes when I am sitting across from you and I am on social assistance and disability, I need medication, and I need years of therapy.  Because you believe in jesus and he helps you to forgive. 

This spirals me into a self doubt of why couldn't I handle my traumas, do I not believe enough? But i also see that you are in a good marriage with a family that loves you. That doesn't blame you for their unhappiness, that doesn't hurt you! That doesn't blame you for your illness. 

Please that is not empathy telling me that yes you also went through trauma but your faith heals you. It makes me feel weakened and hurt,  It devalues the work that I have done and it shames me. 

You families act when you are being bullied- I got more abuse and blame for not standing up for myself. It didn't matter where i went to school or how many times i ask for help  the bullying continued and i got yelled at because I tried to take my life as a teenager.  I was really alone. Alot. I had sexual abuse, assault, physical and mental abuse, and medical misshandling, and i lived through my fathers suicide, and you are going to tell me i don't need medications so that i could somewhat function in a day. In addition to skills. 

To tell me people talk badly about me in the village-how in gods name is that supposed to help me? I know I have a huge stigma to fight.  I don't want to know that mountain just got higher. I need acknowledgement that I have made progress.I want to know how far up that mountain I got. 

Why is the door Blue?

Well the door is mine and the red circle is the danger zone- if you are not invited into my space then there will be consequences- but ofter the consequence is not one you will face but rather where i will beat myself up and possibly hurt myself for allowing you to trample over my boundaries and get too close to my safe space. Yes my imaginary safe space has a blue door for the inner peace it offers  me. And as I get stronger the damage will be less on me and i will be able to voice my boundary. 

Like everybody we have different rules for different people as to how close they can come.  Some you need to keep at poles length and you know they'll ignore your boundaries anyways and others whom you allow closest to you. 

But i learned about boundaries rather late in life- my boundaries had pretty much been trampled upon before I could walk or talk because i was born with a rare medical condition. The mishandling of me continued in other areas of life. And finally by my getting so ill my boundaries needed to be addressed!  And as i was getting more confident in my art I was also becoming more able to address my issues through a paintbrush. This piece was painted near the end of my long stay in St. Urban  where thanks to a handful of nurses,and  therapists I could establish boundaries so when i went out in the world I would feel like i had that safe place behind my blue door.  Do you have a blue door? 

Resilience and a mental illness

Is it thought that because I have a mental illness I'm not resilient? 

Actually I am the picture of resilience due to my illness. Because of my combination of diagnosis ( and the slow access to services) that i am a fighter. Due to my life circumstances I am a Fighter.  But I wonder at times, what is the difference between me and others that also battle with mental illness. From where is that resilience? Is it learned or is it in my family genetic makeup? I might say that it is a combination of the two.  

This is due to a mental health chat on wednesday may 13, that such a discussion arrised that I was still discussing at 11:30 at night instead of finishing at our normal 10:00pm swiss time.  And it has been in my discussions with my support team. 

It is the keep goingness in the darkest of situations and knowing there is hope, light and an increase of strength to cope with what may lay ahead.  I may not be able to handle a 9-5 job ever- but does that make me a weaker person because I can't work?  I am more vulnerable to side effects of stress that affect my body dearly. But know this - this amount of time i lived through lifes top stressors is more than most people can count on their two hands and two feet. My mother actually told me something this winter- don't be ashamed that I am on Disability benefits- I deserve them. This was after dinner with some friends we hadn't seen for a few years, we came to a point in conversation where I felt a bit lost in how to say I have been ill for a long time and it contributed to the dissipation of my marriage.  I am actually relieved when people already know of my illness so I can get on with normal conversation. 

I would like to say we are not weak but rather more vulnerable. ( is that weakness-not reallyas people can be more vulnerable to migraines, hayfever, osteoperosis, norovirus( that has knocked me down a couple times- but thats a different blog) cancer, heart problems, and or diabetes. )  these physical illnesses get less negative stigma comparative to mental illness.  But anybody could develop Post Traumatic Stress Disorder if they are exposed to a single major trauma or multiple traumas like myself. Any woman could develop perinatal and post natal depression, anybody could develop Burnout, but because of my genetic vulnerability to Bi-Polar disorder I developed Borderline Personality Disorder postnatal.  Now if you combined all these disorders for one person and asked how they still stand and face the day - that my friend is resilience. But the resilience is more than just the getting up out of bed on hard days - it is the fight to get the services I needed,  it was the fight for me to be understood in a language that was not my mother-tongue, it was the ability to ask for help on days my body or mind was challenging me. It was the ability to recognise that i could not look for my young children on my own- I needed someone there incase my mind checked out- so someone was there to help ensure calmness and safety. But resilience is being honest with yourself and your support team and allowing professionals to help you- and being able to hear the wisdoms they are sharing with you. After two years I no longer require the presence of a support person- I am able to visit my children on my terms! And I am strong enough to say no - I am not well or strong enough at a given time.  But i am not weak!

We mothers need to be our own advocates

"We may be ill, our bodies showing bizarre symptoms, robbing us of sleep, making us fearful of the world, hurting ourselves, and facing a stigma that is bigger than the matterhorn,  and we have children who we need to think of too.

Our illness may take us away from our families for a while, and we may also be accused of being selfish. But we are so courageous the people insulting us have never fought a battle as big as ours. 

And we need to work hard. We need to learn the lingo, so we can speak for ourselves to get the support we need and the support our children need. And some of us need to learn a language so we can speak for ourselves in therapy! 

As mothers and fathers,  we know we have a reason to fight that battle. And maybe when we are weaker we need to be brave enough to ask for help, and accept that help. And sometimes that help takes us back to a clinic again, it changes our medication, makes us meet and have to trust new support workers. But if you fight that support you make recovery that much harder for yourself.

You need to accept your diagnosis, speak up when medication isn't working- and keep trying.  If you hear a doctor offering a diagnosisthat you feel is wrong let them know. If your home situation is not supportive of you let them know. The doctors and nurses can only work with what they have! They can't help you if you don't help yourself..

And in the process you will have to prove your illness- with a mental illness it is the hardest illness to prove but the trained eye will see your symptoms, the trained ear will hear your influctions,  and they will help you manage your illness the best way possible if you have the right team - but you are your own advocate, you are your own voice, and you are a parent who love to your children will float to themlike songs on butterfly wings.  

Visiting days are hard- because you know they are so short and your children can't stay with you in your healing process. And you don't want your children to see you struggle. You also don't want to much time to pass between the visits. Especially with toddlers and infants- what little bonding time they have with you is precious and important in their development.  Be aware that when you leave your  family dynamic may change alot. ( especially women leaving marriages)  if you have been hospitalised for a longer time chances are you will not have custody of your children. But you will be prepared for that, you need to show that you want a relationship with your children in whatever form is offered!  Churches and women organisations can help find a neutral person to attend that you may be able to have time with your children.  It is hard to accept that you need supervision but you know that symptoms can occur without warning and you or the children need that support in the case of an emergency. Remember you are the boss of the situation! You are the one determining the team that is helping you become that parent and person that you can be. And you need to own up to it. 

crowdfunding on Indigogolife

i have set up a crowd funding page on indiegogoLife to help raise funds and start projects throughout the world like that of KidsTime in England. 

I need to get the basic value of 3,500 USD to help with disteibution and media promotion of the book over the 3,500 i hope to get started through NEA-BPD  in the USA as well as through an organisation here in switzerland to create similar support groups for children. 

http://igg.me/at/Bfya6RprTFk

if you have advice or connections as to how we can get the book in the hands of the kids who need it please let me know. 

thanks for your financial and emotional support. 

am I of a lesser league of artist because of my illness?

well after thursdays meeting, old themes resonated again, its not the first time someone made my concerns to be of lesser value- i have dealt with constantly in school while i was being bullied so when i was hearing it from a couple people again on thursday alarm bells rang.  i have always tried to be "normal" as possible. I went to a normal school graduated from diploma programs, I was the teacher assistant. I went to africa to teach computers for four months. I learned and passed my Goethe exam. I had two children and then got really Ill.  I also published a collection of poetry. I write essays. as well as paint. funny I always painted as a child but I was in the shadow of my mother. she really is a talented artist herself who bears herself up constantly.  (she makes me look lazy when it comes to my homework. But she knows what she loves and what makes time stand still- its gardening. something i could never really do.  we have something else in common we both lived with the insidiousness of abuseverbal and physical. hers stopped when my dad took his own life in front of us- he blamed her for his misery. mine stopped because i ended up so sick i was gone through different hospitals and clinics until I had someone I felt safe enough to say what was going on.  I didn't trust many authority figures for a long time. and when I realised that the nurse responsible to help me was also an equal.  as was my therapist. I could finally open up and that led to a portion of my healing. but the worst damage had been done. the insults, the disregard of my word,  so of course that would ring trigger bells  three years later.  So because I battle Complex Post Traumatic Stress disorder  and Borderline Personality I am of less value than another developed artist. he better think again. actually if an artist thinks they are in a better league than those with an illness better look in a mirror because he may have found his foot in his mouth- and karma will find him.

I may have been a bit of a princess in the last show.  but I held my end of the bargain. I did the painting with Kids, but I learned that through my energy levels thats not for me.

I am of a different league of artists than some- but I am not a lesser person or a lesser league and anyone who notices my work gets that. 

I went to an art class there was another girl there that also battled a physical disability but she is a wonderful artist- and understanding how Cerebral palsy challges us with our motor skills she was still accepted in the class and the teacher just gently reminded her how good she was doing. that same teacher was saying about how i came from switzerland to visit her class, how I am a talented artist, and writer. My mom knew how to compensate for my challenges, just like this other girl. and the other classmates didn't pay attention to that they were too busy trying to follow the instructions and get the painting done in our limited amount of time. thank goodness we were painting with acrylics- the painting would have been ruined by a cup of water my mom and I somehow knocked over( some serious time loss there.  and this artisit still follows me on facebook if I post new paintings.and of course I follow her work. As artisits we love praise for our work. You don't look at a painting and say that artist is of such a league because she has a disability of sorts. if you didn't know me you would think i was in the same class as my mother as an artist - shes got about 45 years more experience than me, and she has been one of my best teachers showing me techniques and famous artists or finding it fun to visit art shows at the big gallery in Vancouver, or going to basel when she comes.  she is how i came to understand the influence of art in religion.   and I hope to teach my daughter and my son that one day.  I can see my daughter looks through a camera and hopefully soon a piano. she sings too ( way better than me but is so shy)  my son breathes through a paintbrush and a guitar. ( and probably the drums (he picks up a beat through observation) 

a friend reminded me also that we don't want our illness to define us, our talent comes first and by the way we face challenges because we face an illness we are able to express these challenges in a way that is not obvious.

I have never fit in with the "normal" crowd my whole life, but i am not going to be insulted constantly for it. I am also considered of a league at my art studio because i know the value of quality colors of acrylic colors. but I am no where near a better league than my fellow painters. i have a different style and find it an opportunity to learn from my fellow artists. I am still defining my style. and I am finding my voice as a writer again.  but finding how i can finally help others and still stand for who I am.  I will not be a victim but I will also not stand there and allow someone to insult my friends or myself.  Then the mother defensive mode will kick in.

Songs like butterfly wings,

i need to come up with a business plan and a way to get the interest of investors. Basically why was this little story written and why is it so important to get it published and in the limelight, and how do I see myself promoting this book? 

well to start off- This is a story of a little girl whos family is pulled apart due to her mothers complex mental illness.  it is a story of a mother and daughter being honest about the illness and how singing gives each other strength even when they can't be together. and also reminding children they are not at fault for the crazy things that have caused that separation but also children are witness to how people treat their parents and many times children face difficult consequences due to their parents illness.

You can Imagine how difficult it is to get funding to support those withthe Mental Illness- Borderline Personality Disorder is often associated with being a teen and or being narcisstic, as well as self harm. but not all patients are teens when they are diagnosed, rather adults  who were teens when the diagnosis was just an idea flittering in the mind of a wonderful Psychologist who knew first hand the feelings most of us went through; Ms Marsha Linehan. There are many factors that coincide with this illness including Complex Post Trauma which also has complex symptoms of its own. inclusive Dissociation. now be a child of that parent going through such symptoms.  so there have been support and self help groups developed for the patient, ( which is good - sort of like taking the oxygen mask first in a difficult plane situation) and for the parents of the patient- they need to help to cope with the patients odd behaviours and not take the blame or put the blame on the patient.  then there are groups for the spouse or the adult /late teen sibling.   There is a group missing here! and lack of support available for the most vulnerable group.  this is not a problem just in the states but world wide.  this is possibly because childrens mental health is at the bottom of a complex funding.  so maybe we need to create the program and support from other means of funding. 

The Duchess of cambridge had recently done a public announcement for Place 2 Be which seems to be a forerunner to support the children.  I would hope to create the program specifically for children of parents with Borderline Personality.  and help it to continue to grow with the availabilty of the book, and not just USA, or england but also in Switzerland and Germany.  Children need a safe place to speak about how their parents illness affects them with other children, to laugh and paint, do kareoke days, to play music.  or board games and basically know they are not alone.  Their world changed when their parents got Ill and diagnosed with a mental illness, new people entered their lives but to support their parents more than them.  maybe they feel they need to be the new parent for a younger sibling,or need to do well in school and fit in. they worry what others think when they realise what kind of illness their parents have. and feel they have to be happywhen they are by their parent because their time with that parent is limited and full of people around. 

They don't need to fight the stigma - thats our job as adults. We need to let children know they are loved, regardless. 

So the target audience is pretty much primary school-aged children so that they know they are not alone.  Hopefully most clinics  with in-patient and out patient programs that cater to helping patients with BPD, organisations that help fight the stigma attached with BPD. and hopefully in the public libraries as well as school libraries throughout the world. that way children who don't have the support available still can reach it. So families can sit together and read a lovely story of a very wise girl and her mother as they go through all the changes in their lives and realize all the resources they have to get to see one another more often.

what i hope to do to promote this book- i would read the book in as many libraries and bookstorees possible, as well as media interviews. Ellen, Oprah and Dr. Phil are you ready to help champion for children?  I hope to have this book translated in the worlds main languages as soon as possible. 

with the  20 % of royalties from the sales of the book ( after the investment of 4,000 US is returned to the investor)  the investor would be guaranteed their logo on the back of the book in gratitiude for their support of the book and what it would stand for.

I would also be grateful for the interest and Support of The Chief Editor of Waldorf Publishing who has shown the belief in the story (and so quickly) and would be sure to create a wonderful package to help all parties involved.

i would love to thank my friend Michelle who thinks we could at least translate the story to get it available here in switzerland as soon as possible.(i think you should become an agent)  My own Psychiatrist  Dr. Mössinger for also believing this story is special and is worth the attention it will bring.  and my daughter for correcting some details in the story to improve its authenticity of our story. Yes it is our Story, a mother diagnosed with BPD and Post -Trauma and a daughter, and son.

I hope to create such a program in cooperation of NEA-BPD and hopefully name it after the book.  We mothers send our love to children through lullabies on the wings of butterflies when we can't be there for them. 

The Remnants of a Parental Suicide,

It was 1975, He had just turned 25 on new years day, and was freshly diagnosed with Manic Depression.  And was known to self medicate with whatever drugs he could get his hands on. He had finally gotten a steady job as a bus driver. He was a father to a 13 month old little girl,and he was married to a devoted wife.  

Though she would account of many incidents of battery and emotional abuse. I do recall hearing my mother being slammed up against the wall. And as an infant I would shut down in fear (the deer in front of an oncoming truck) I would develop this coping mechanism as I grew and encountered other abusive situations (apparently typical of survivors of suicide-murder) I encounter bouts of guilt as I was not a healthy baby. - I  was born with a lack of oxygen, and later we discovered my thyroid non function - I was in and out of hospital in my first few weeks of life.  I am sure my father used that against my mother when I wasn't there. 

One night he decided to mix a few drinks and probably dropped some acid as well as taking his medication. It was a deadly decision that almost cost the life of not only himself but his wife and daughter(me). After the drinks he went home and became physically abusive to my mother, and threatened to burn down the house with us in it. I would hear all this in my crib in the neighbouring room

My mother was smarter(and sober) and grabbed me from my crib and ran to the neighbours, the first set of neighbours were not home, so she ran to the next, in which she was confronted by him shouting and blaming his low self esteem on her, and wielded a sawed off gun pointing at himself. She had gotten me to safety with the neighbours taking me in. My mother was in the depths of the drama, the fear, and the fighting. She hadn't known I was propped up in a window by the curious kids. 

He turned the gun on himself and shot himself in the stomach that night. Everyone was shocked. Not only had I witnessed the violent suicide of my own father, but  I was dropped and abandoned for a time while everyone was running in different direction like decapitated chickens in shock.  

My mother needed to be drugged up with valium due to witnessing such a violent act. We Somehow did make it to Vancouver so he could be cared for in the larger hospital, and my grandparents could care for me while my mom would be spending time by his bedside praying, talking to him, and when he finally died due to the gangrene infection, my mother needed to be medicated yet again. I needed her but she didn't have the strength then to acknowledge my presence. I remember having a rest with her in the big bed in the guest room of my grandparents,  I woke calling to her, climbing up on her and not getting a response.  I didn't understand what was going on, I was just an infant who lost her daddy, and scared she was losing her mommy too.  

My grandfather stepped up to the role of father for me. And doted on me when I came to visit or if they came to visit us.

But to lose a father to a violent suicide disrupted my sense of value- I wasn't a good enough person or he would have wanted to live,  I didn't understand these highs and intense lows until later in my life where I became diagnosed as having borderline personality disorder.  In my therapies I discovered my sensitivity to sudden loud abrupt noises that would find me cowered under tables not feeling sure what time frame I was in. There are self help groups for the parents or spouses left behind. Although 7,000-12,000 children( Hopkins Chilterns Center) lose their parents to suicide.   There are approximately 20,000 homicides in the United States annually. In 2002, 8.6% of

victims were killed by their spouse, 5.5% were children killed by a parent, 7.4% were killed by a family member, other than their spouse or parent, and 7.3% were killed by their boyfriend or girlfriend. The vast majority of these deaths are related to domestic violence.Fathers who kill children and then themselves often meet the criteria

for domestic abuse of their partners, including contact with the police. Even many suicides

by women are thought to be associated with battering.( survivors resources) 

There are no groups for the children left behind- it is either not acknowledged that people who take their lives could possibly even be parents.  I see groups for those who were the spouse,partner, or parent of the suicide victim.  But never a group for the child (adult survivor). Or is it just too hard to talk about.  Is it that group could never be acknowledged because if we acknowledged that it occurred we have to acknowledge that we let a group that have been left unattended to.

 Yes as children we are narcissistic in our reactions to the suicide - we take on a level of blame- if only.    I am also guilty of those as I got older.   I was also having nightmares, had fears of rooms that were long and dark.  But I couldn't put words to everything.    This issue seemed to fall through the cracks, people didn't want to admit to the possibility that i was a witness to this horrible event. They just wanted to concentrate on my development due to my rare genetic disorder.  Because they didn't detect it soon enough - it was suspected i may have mental retardation- i had a physical challenge. But i was more than intelligent enough.  And this may have made me more of a fighter in my life. I knew there was something out there that wanted me and my mother to live.  And I have had to be persistent in my story until finally as I came to the end of my teenager years a psychologist finally believed me as she noticed some of my other fears and anxieties came out.  It was clear I had a complicated history, and that I would feel isolated when people would learn how my father died but that through a change in hormones from a pregnancy I developed a mental illness. People are scared to hear of this possibility that we could possibly inherit a mental illness. But we had already battled most of our lives with post trauma anyways. (What is one or two more to top it off)  i tried joining a group where they had child survivors and I was reprimanded for being honest.  Again a way for me to feel isolated and strange for my situation.  I stand out, I try to move forward but a part of me is stuck and cannot move forward because this infant is unable to cry- she is that deer suddenly trapped in the middle of the road with oncoming traffic of bright lights and screeching brakes.   She must be quiet as the situation was life threatening. And the advocating mother in me says - I will not keep this topic a taboo. 

I spent years dealing with various psychiatrists (partially due to my being born with a rare thyroid condition) and when I was old enough to tell my perspective even small segments I  was accused of lying, of telling something I may have heard in gossip. I was only 13 months old when it happened.  How could I have remembered that event.?  The question is how could I I was at an age where I didn't have a vocabulary so my coping mechanism to shut down physically and emotionally.  I learned at the age of 38 that I dissociated in 7 forms to cope with the trauma.

The last straw was when my husband had hit me while I had my son in my arms because I slammed the door and locked it to protect myself and get my son to stop his screaming.  I was triggered to relive these events in new detail that i would never thought possible. 

This brought me to two clinics where I would spend a total of 15 months trying to get back on my feet again. Yes I felt suicidal many times but I stopped myself and asked for help- I did not need to repeat history and leave my children short of a parent.  

I started the bizarre behaviours marking my post traumatic stress disorder - these 7 forms of dissociation found me unsure of my time span( usually triggered by a sudden loud bang), days where my left side behaves as though I have had a stroke, or times where a tornado basically rips through a room breaking things and me in a corner debating on whether or not i should injure myself so I could come back to reality. 

It has taken a team to help me learn to trust, and to understand why 38 years my body behaves this way and that I should be nice to myself at this time of year. And yes 39 years later my body still knows what happened but now I have someone to help me through the rough days I had a wonderful group of nurses, doctors and therapists that do believe me and helped me tolerate my environment better. And I thank them wholeheartedly. 

Gemma Luescher-Verseckas  

Here's to the beginning of February

So i want to message a friend - my corrector button doesn't work nor did half the letters on the top row of my keyboard geesh - couldn't get a word in edgewise.  S it has been an interesting evening in an interesting time of the year where i question how things would have gone if vcertain events had a different turnout. 

So i am referring to of course my dad's death, and now my divorce, my voice, my strength and what exactly does healing mean to me.  And do i want to be healed. But i am told much of the damage has been done and it is pretty much irreversible, but my physical self is not the only part of me- i have a spiritual self. This is a part of me that looks for hope even when my pysical self is at limits, as is my emotional self.  That spiritual self seeks the light that streams through windows in the darkes of cellars and the darkest of nights.  

But what helped me with the question i battle with is the difference between healing and being rescued.  I don't need to be rescued by god, i need to be loved by god in how i am and all the challenges he puts before me.  I hear a song on my computer  called "Moses"  by Sally Barker,   It is about asking moses to be near me and to lend me a hand( it doesn't ask him to take away what my challenges are but rather just be near me and help me find that energy and strength to go further. That love that one feels while in the company of another who understands my plight.  I listen to this song and it does lend me that strength some days, as it reminds me that i am not alone in my journey. That i have a purpose.  And i am reminded this evening that i am not alone. That i am noticed in my journey.  And that i will be able to help others. 

So hopefully through my written word and gentle art i can help others, just as moses led his people through the desert and he parted the seas, it was his simpler action of just being there. His voice for those who couldn't. His voice to give strength for those who felt alone in their daily fight to feel like a human.

To Be "Saved"

You can pray all your might but my mental illness will not go away. I don't need to believe in God more than I already do. And it will not take away the events of my past, it will not make people take responsibility for their actions causing injury( physical and Psychological).  My belief helped me navigate my illness that i can cope with it better, it helped me take responsibility for my illness and my ability to ask for the help that I need to help cope from day to day, from Week to week. My belief in a holy spirit opened up my creative side that sat lingering for years in my heart, and it allowed me to voice the words in the written form again that I could publish a collection of Poetry, and write a childrens story to give a voice to children who may not have the voice to sing in hopes of people understanding their parents and helping end stigmas even within families. That same holy spirit gave me a signal through my body that my life needed some major changes and I Iistened.  But i am not going to tell you that you need to be saved because you may not even Christian! You may be Hindi, Punjab, Buddhist, or Muslim. You and your family may approach this Illness differently than mine, your grandparents generation may have different expectations of how you deal with your illness than ours.  But I can tell you mental illness can be inherited(or at least the tendancy towards certain illnesses); at least I know part of mine was, and some illness are environmental- PTSD alone could be triggered by a single event or a multitude of events.  You don't need to pray to "Save" me, you just need to accept me for my package, i have the right to be own relation to God should Should I choose to have that relationship.  Besides if God were to have ""saved" me I would have guessed he did it years ago- because I am here writing this 

One little word

So a group of friends started a theme for a year based on one word for a year.  This is way better than a resolution. It can be symbolic of what is happening that year! But it can be similar to that of a resolution. 

My word is Challenge. I can set a challenge each month for myself.  It means i can try something new each month push myself that bit more on a subject for a month.   One month may be to do more typography or more mixed media for a month, try more portraiture, work with oils for a month,  and so forth.   So for january i took an artclass that taught me some techniques in mixed media - layering and just new techniques. I challenged myself last year with working on a large project with plaster, and working on getting the point of convergence. ( that absorbed itself in a few paintings)  the year before I challenged myself to improve enough to handle a P!Nk concert I was invited to. Which proves that if i really wanted to I could gain control of my symptoms rather than my symptoms overtaking me.   

But I know that i need a certain amount of support.  I needed support of a friend who understood my challenges and be able to plan an escape route if there is a sensory overload and I panic. 

Just like going on the plane for a long flight. I am dreading the flight back but i am planning that i have my meds closer to me( not up in the overhead but below the seat.) and say to the stewardess that i do need assistance when I get to Heathrow airport because it is so tight between flights. I can't walk fast enough for the size of terminal that it is, In addition get through all the checkpoints.  So having a bit of a plan will allieviate some of the stress.  ( i didn't forsee feeling claustrophobic on the flight coming out- really- i thought that since i am a seasoned flyer, and I have a window seat  and the movies to watch, I would be fine.  All it took was a lady to move her seat back, and I started to hyperventilate. I am too considerate of others- i didn't want to wake the girls next to me and since i was in panic i didn't think logically to move my seat back, all i realised was that my skills and my meds were up above in my backpack and i couldn't seem to get help from a stewardess.   And when i finally got her i was in tears- not a full sob but she saw my fear in my eyes. Helped me get out that I could get out, get my meds and catch my breath again. - it was embarrassing but they were understanding that it was part of an illness.  That i wasn't trying to get attention.

It is still a challenge to explain to people about the dynamics of this illness, and people who have lived through some challenges with mental illness understand where i am coming from. But i still come across people who think i should buckle up. That I lie, that I am selfish.   But too bad for them. They won't be ever open to such challenges. 

But there will be new challenges throughout the year- as new opportunities present themselves. I have been considering doing a calendar  to sell- i think it is plausible in my village. And with Töpferhaus shows.  In addition my cousins are asking that I do a series of art cards. That is more in her budget than my paintings. I would love to combine my poetry with my art to create the cards. I would love to do a calendar of flowers.  Or angels,  or skies and landscapes. To show all the different mediums that I would work with for one topic. 

One more challenge is to blog more.  Maybe two big blogs per month.  I know there are people blog everyday but I am blogging when big themes in my life come up that deal with the Borderline Issue. Not everything shows its ugly head with regards to having BPD  or its sub symptoms and adversities.  And I think in regards to themes that show themselves. That might come up more in my Twitter chat. But that in itself may present a theme worth blogging.   Next week definitely presents itself with the subject of dissociation- that will definitely be worth blogging about. That itself will be a challenge on how to present an understandable way how dissociation presents itself with me. ( be prepared for colored charts. And freestyle diagrams. )  

Mistrust and sensory overload

It is as simple as being in a grocery store on a busy day- a store i am not used to - the way people move where to be wh's coming who's going and where i am in this whole mess of it.  I just don't trust my awkward sense of space and my own awkwardness that comes with having CP and how I process the world around me.

This also explains part of why skiing and biking really don't do anything for me.let alone driving- i am way more relaxed being on a train. ( i still need my skills even going on the tram in the morning)  

It really seemed prominent this morning shopping with my mom.  I don't come to this store that much ( maybe once every few years.  And having ten people going one way and same with the other direction and so many conversations.  But i think it is more than just my CP , there is my hearing, and my overall sensory tolerance with my anxiety levels.  It sets me in an almost frozen stance or making stupid moves everyone else takes for granted that you just don't do. Fight or flight?  That "can't do anything right so don't do anything at all" mentality, or there is just too many signals going and i will choose the wrong signal- I was awful as a kid crossing the street- looking then suddenly sprinting because i misread a signal. My mom kindly reminded me that i battled with this issue for years - nothing new but with her seeing just me now, she was reminded how I get - is this also a form of a learning disability. The inability to handle too much information at once - otherwise known as sensory overload and being unable to make an appropriate decision. Or is just the complete awkwardness of not trusting how my own body will work. - stairs freaked me out for years - still does- and then the thought of a crowd racing behind me on stairs and me not having anything to grasp - in highschool we had to run the bleachers most of which had no rails threw me into levels of fear and nightmares. The teachers would never understand though they knew i battled with CP, seems ironic now really- teachers knowing that you face these physical limitations but putting you in a postion that is really quite dangerous. They knew i could walk almost as good as most kids.  But there were limitations. Begging not to do it would have been pointless. Getting a note from my Doctor or principal was equally fruitless. ( maybe it would have been something- no i needed to slip on the stairs and twist my ankle for them to realise exactly how unstable i was on the stairs.   But yes crowds going just make me terrified it is like the movies where everything is speeding and you are stopped and in observance, and you are unsure what move to make.  Every move feels like it will cause an accident. Then you decide to throw caution to the wind,  and just go regardless what mistake you are going to make because odds are that you will make a mistake anyways.