Part of what kept me alive

was wanting to make sure that my parents knew that i loved them and that this was not their fault
i did not want them to feel guilty

i wanted to show them that there still was a reason to live even if i was sick

that life was not going to end here

i wanted to bring them life back

the only way i could do that was by staying alive

no matter how much i had to endure i had to stay alive for them

until one day i had had enough and i felt that it was time for mercy

mercy from them, from God, from life, from my body, from myself

i was no longer going too suffer for anybody

my suffering was not going to be a sacrifice

i was ready to die

i did not care anymore if god would punish me or not

i felt ready to leave my parents, i felt that i had done the best that i could and that i had reached my level of endurance

my father was lying depressed and forsaken in his bed

my mother was downstairs completing her work, making assignments

she had distanced herself from me, for a few months she was cold and distant and showed me little love

my little brother was in england, writing e-mails from afar about the doctors i should see

my older brother, i no longer felt a responsibility towards him

i had my own will to live burnt out of me

what was left was hope and i had lost it

the love i had for my parents and brothers

my friends, i knew that they would lead meaningful lives without me

some people have to die by their own hands

it does not make sense, it is cruel, it had been going on for two years already

pain that eradicated whatever semblance of identity and meaning i had created and lived in my life


It started changing after my suicide attempt.

First of all:

You are brave.
Because to be willing to invest your love in me takes bravery.

It means seeing much further then what you can receive from me into what you can bestow me

It means feeling gratitude that you have so much to offer me, that you are able to bring me happiness and fulfillment by being in my life.

It means recognizing me for who I am and not for what has happened to me.

It means admiring me for what I have overcome and for how I continue to create, love, care, believe, fight...

It means embracing love over fear every day anew and ...

It means being willing to feel small and vulnerable next to my suffering without judging me or resenting me for what you cannot do to help me

Forever, I will believe that you are there.

Forever, I will see you in your human form

Forever, I will be brave enough to face the disappointment of accepting that my search for you must continue

I love you

What a friggin hard place to be in again.

The fear of the pain, knowing that Cymbalta isn't a drug that I can take for pain anymore and not knowing what's next is frightening.

And I feel angry too.
Angry that this is my situation.
Angry that ignorance is based on indifference and sexism and lack of compassion. Angry that all this suffering is useless and just a waste of precious life. And that we bring this suffering upon each other.

But, what is the point in being angry? It is just staying in a deadlock with the devil.

I had so many dreams for my life.

A family. Children.

Intimacy. Love.

Whatever.

Just let me paint. But nope, that is too much to ask for too.

Life?

Well,

why pretend to be surprised

after all, I was murdered and violated and tortured six million of me

so, why would I be surprised that cruelty and indifference and ignorance
are sucking my life away from me today

Hello World:

Hello World:

Hello World:

Hello World:

Are you there World:

Are you there World:

Can you hear us World:

World, we have been crying and dying daily for centuries:

World, can you hear?

Ow, ooops, I think the reception is no good

oh, no, I think someone just hung up the phone

Oh, yeah, remember

I do remember in fact

Denial, Blaming of the Victim

Yes, yes,,,,

And so my VAGINA IS SHOUTING OUT VERY LOUD AND CLEAR::::::: WAKE UP WORLD!!! GET OUT OF YOUR CLOSETS LADIES!!!!! TURN THE VOLUME UP DEAR MEN::::::::::::::::

the sad part of it is that all my dreams are blowing in the wind

all I have left is my paintbrush

and my colors

and my white

white

white

tears

A poem

Underneath my skin
my story is all written
from beginning to end

Some nights I take scissors
and I cut through my skin
Before the blood starts running
I get a glimpse of
The Holy Letters of my ancestors

Then, with my grandmothers thread and my mother's needle I re-attach my skin to flesh

Underneath my clothes
there are tracks of stitches
and skin that is still purple

And there are holy letters
the holy letters of my ancestors

the aleph beit
from beginning till end
it is all there
one layer under

Crying.

The hallucinations, the anxiety that they provoke...
Just got the phone call that I have been waiting for from Brigham's. The pain psychologist was very caring. He asked me about the hallucinations and told me that I will be able to meet Dr. Wasan, the pain psychiatrist on Monday. He spoke about changing from Cymbalta to Savella and I told him that I had wanted to do that months ago but that my insurance had rejected my request. My insurance only covers Savella for people that suffer from Fibromyalgia which I also suffer from but this had not been documented. Since then Dr. Valovska documented it and I went to a Fibro. Specialist who documented it as well so I should be approved for Savella.
Yesterday I went to the Brigham and Women's Pain Clinic here in Boston and saw my doctor, Dr. Valovska. She took the hallucinations very seriously and immediately got things rolling, thank god.

The reason that I am crying is because the psychologist that called me now asked me to tell him about the hallucinations. And I recounted to him my most vivid memory from this morning. I was lying underneath a huge wave, terrified but "prepared" to be swallowed by it. And Noam is there. In my head I can hear him and he is grief-stricken and I can't bear the pain of his suffering. I hear him saying something like "oh no, oh god" and his voice is in my head, over and over. I am underneath the wave, the wave is coming closer and closer to me and it is going to envelope me, and then it suddenly stops, it folds back into itself without reaching me...and I see Noam standing there and ....

And now the tears just keep on coming and pouring down while I write this because I know that this is how it was. I stayed alive cuz I promised him that I would always answer the cell-phone. That is why I didn't throw it into the pond, because I couldn't break my promise to him, I could attempt to end my suffering through suicide but I couldn't break my promise to him that I would answer my cell-phone if he called. Oh, God.

I am so afraid of going back to the pain,
But I know that Brigham's is a good pain clinic.
and that Dr. Valovska is a good doctor
and that they won't let me suffer the way that Dr. Audette from Harvard Vanguard let me suffer

I will be okay
and I am here for Noam
And I kept my promise to him
And we had so much work to do
And we did it
We worked though so much pain and anger and accusations of each other
And we are strong today
He cares for me and I care for him
And it will be okay

Sister,
It has been a long time since we have spoken or seen each other. About three and a half years now. And I got to tell you that I miss you like hell in my pants. And that ain't no pussy-willowing joke. I miss you that my heart goes aching like a poisoned cat, just like that, around in circles. I miss you, boy did I love you. I loved you lusciously....

Sister, there ain't nothing left of me now, you know that, there ain't much left of me at all. still got that smiling pretty face but i can see the marks of suffering, like railway tracks the slaves ran through, baby, you know what i mean, there ain't nothing left of you in me. maybe sometimes, something creeps

There are so many of us that need prayers.

Today I met with the head of Newton Open Studios. She is kind and helpful and patient.
My exhibit.

This morning was horrible and so was yesterday morning. The hallucinations from the Cymbalta are becoming more intense. I am having auditory hallucinations too. And a lot of anxiety.

My brain is rejecting this drug. It is giving me very clear signals that it wants to have nothing to do with it anymore.

And my pain. Oh, my pain. I am left with you.

What do I do?

I went down to 20mg. It was only a few months ago that 20mg couldn't cover the horrible electrocutions that were leaving me unable to focus on a 2 minute phone conversation. I have no hopes that it will be any different now.

What do I do now?

What do I do next?

I wanted to go to Webster's to paint yesterday and today but the anxiety, the exhaustion, the disorientation from the hallucinations kept me captive.
At least I met with Ellen.

My art.

Thank God.

My faith that all of this is not for nothing and that I will yet make a difference, I will live out my destiny, I will .....

God damn it.

Try not to run into the traps that other aching wounded hearts create for you

Try to remember that "I love you" sometimes means nothing more than "I need you to love me."

Try to remember that "love" will often disappear during the harder times. Take it slow, slow, slow, slow, baby, slow.

Now that you know, you can take it slow, slow, baby, oh so slow. You have nowhere to run to and nowhere to rush towards. Take it slow baby, take it low. You can lower the flame and stay warm all the same. You can teach yourself to be tame, slow, baby, slow. You can shed it all slow baby slow. You can share passion, slow, baby, slow. There is nowhere to run to and no one is chasing, just take it slow, baby, slow, baby, low baby, slow. Lower the flame and just be where you are, baby, be where you are. If it's pain that you are meeting, then meet it head on, be brave, be courageous, be slow, baby, slow, baby....

Take it low, baby,slow,

You can be passionate, slowly, go slow baby, slow....