Until I heard my mother's cry
I heard the pleading in her voice
I heard the desperation and the hope

Her cries echoed through the waters of pn lake to the next
And I could not pass to the other side

I knew in her voice that I would live
That I had no choice but to continue
The waters traveled in her vocal chords and touched the heart of me
And I separated from the journey that I had begun
And returned to the one that I had left behind

Into the turquoise eyes of my favorite beloved cat
wide and blue and only i knew, how tender
into the eyes of Liat's light green softness
and through my grandmother's hands
and her mother's arms
and then back
back
back
into my living mother's cry
back back back
into my body
back back back into
the months of agony
back back back
into the ambulance
and back
back
back
into the bed
the hospital
malaria
and back back back
into
opening my eyes
and back back back

into terror and anxiety and desperation

and back back back

the ways i have traveled
are not for the fearless
or the brave

the ways that i have traveled
are mine

only mine

Another Post.

I was there
You know
That night
When it rained a bit
When you bought two containers of...
And downed them with the lake water

I saw you smile when you thought about the rats that traveled on the banks of the lake
You liked the fact that the waters were made of rats and geese and everything else that lived and breathed its sustenance
You knew that you were no different
There was no need for mineral water
The lake's water was just as good

You know, I was there, with you
I watched you slide open the garbage door and shudder with the thought of dying there
I watched you pull open the doors to that strange square container
And shudder when you found that it is was full of water
And when you saw the person opening its doors and finding you there, bloated and blue

No, you did not want to die that way
And you did not want to scar any ones mind that way

You wanted a peaceful death
You wanted a beautiful view
You wanted quiet and acceptance by your side

You know, I did not leave you for a second
God damn it,
All those months of hell burning itself into your flesh
with no end in sight
I did not leave you

I was loyal to you
Not like your cousins who saw and knew that you were dying
but never called or wrote
God damn, the pain

I never left you
And for this I give you credit
All the credit in the world
As I watch you struggle through your days

Believing that even if you suffer until the end
And even if your life is far from what you wished it to be

You  can still do what you can do to help the others that come after you

I give you credit
All the credit in the world for this

I suffer, with so much love in my heart, for you.


Two cousins that I used to meet many Friday nights by my grandmother for dinner...
they were in my room last night (dream)

Honestly, this will get me nowhere.
There are things that I can't understand.
Like friends and family that deserted me in my suffering.

I remind myself often that I always have my self. That I will never leave my self. That in the act that could have left my body for the birds and the flies,  I was there. Smiling at the geese, ready to leave.

Hey there

I spent the day at Crystal Lake. In the water! All day! On days like today I want to tell all people that are suffering from horrible pain that it can get better. The water was delicious, as was the sun. I know how I will be spending the rest of my summer.

I also created a piece of expressive art work that looks like another version of  'the scream'. The more I live the easier it becomes to dive into the dungeon of hell and speak from there. Though, still, I live with the fear of what I know, always. It is ever-present in every moment. The memory of the relentless months of torture walks beside me. I am trying to give it its voice so that it won't haunt me and hunt me down. It needs to come out from the closet, from the chains, from the chamber. Is it me? Or is it a monster? Is it the beast or is it the camel?

Whatever it is, it is sedated with drugs. But I know, that take away the pills that I swallow every few hours and once again I will be in the corner wishing I was dying, fast. So, who am I? Does anyone have insight into this question? Who am I if I know that I became pain? Am I enlightened because I know that I am nothing? That my default is self-torture? Or am I everything because I know that I am the pills that I swallow and everything and everyone that went into creating them? I can tell you that I know the meaning of the 'inter-dependence' of all beings. "I" am dependent. And "I" change according to the pain I experience.

I never forget.
I know scattered.
I know shattered.

I never forget.
I am no wiser for this.
The waters are no sweeter for this.
I am just grateful that I don't suffer the way that I used to.

Grateful that the lake is to swim in.
Not to die in.

So, thank you for another day of life.
Another day holding the monster by its leash, tying it to the tree, watching it while I swim and float. Another day walking side by side a tamed monster, hoping that it will stay sedated as I enjoy the water.

We could only go together. Either way, it is together. Nowadays I am stronger then the monster so I lead the way into life.

Die beast die.
But the beast won't die.
I hold it by its horns.
This is the way I live.
Always holding it by its horns.

You can imagine how exhausting it is.

You can imagine how liberating it was to be in the water, for hours. My body was happy today. And when my body is happy I live.

I pray for us all to live more and more, to be free, free, free of pain.
Amen, amen, amen.

Love,
Atara

Pictures

I just took some pretty awesome pictures, the kind that I would not post here. But I will develop them and I think that I am well on my way to having an art project ready for the next support group meeting. (I know, next after next cuz some of us will be vacationing with our beloveds). So, this was an interesting step in the right direction. I used some of the dried (according to my mom), dead (according to me) roses that my mom keeps. I tried getting her to get rid of them many times. Today I am thankful that she did not listen to me. Dead or dried roses worked beautifully. Girls, I gotta tell you: those things that we have down there, you know the ones that the boys are always trying to get into, they really are pretty lovely.

Healing

Healing

Healing

We had support group today and it went well. I missed the girls. I sent us all home with homework. To create a piece of art. On Monday we film again. This time we interview my father. My father says that this is very hard for him. I tell him that it is for the women that come after me. It is hard for me too but I am driven.

I want to do some work through photography and I volunteered a very sweet photographer to join me on my project.

So, how do I show PN without stripping naked, spreading my legs wide open and sticking a butcher's knife up my "pussy" (as the girls call it in support group)?

I am not ready to become a PN porn star. Yet. Not until I have an audience that plans on doing something to help us.

Any ideas?

Goodnight sweet hearts.
I know that there are some very sweet hearts that are with me. Tiny dancers dance and weave their way through my spirit and remind me that I am not alone, not alone at all.

Love

Hi

I feel less connected to my blog cuz I don't think that it is being read. Still, it is my healing journey. I had a nerve block done on Wed. I am spending more time outside now that the sun is smiling at us. I did more gardening and did not suffer cuz of it. I am trying, giving it my best just like the little black kitten that died screeching in my room. My father is not doing well. He is anxious, spinning around himself and us like a draidel. Pain. I plant more flowers. I breath. I smile. I meet new people. I appreciate the lot of good souls that roam this earth.

Goodnight to whoever happens upon these words. Goodnight love.

Atara

Vagina Poem

It has been a long day, a long and good day. My body feels good. It likes the sun and the soft heat. I smile a lot and talk to people and admire flowers, and more flowers.


Vagina

my legs are wide, open
who?, looks inside

nothing, go, away,
nothing?

my legs open wide
another who? prods inside
nothing, go away, nothing

i am in pain, i say

against the white wall my words bounce

another who?
another white wall

my legs are spread, open
who? specialist who? looks inside
go away you nothing

i am in pain white wall bounce out of here now

who? spreads wide legs open
white wall echo's pain

my head bang bang bang into white wall
pain and terror
strangle me

they, they, they do not see
me
spread your legs
vagina

BUT I AM IN PAIN. DO YOU HEAR? I CAN'T WORK. I CAN'T WALK. I CAN'T LIVE.

get out of my white wall you baby crying dot
go get a shot
something is wrong with your head

white white wall turns to barbed wire
train track under my feet
barbed wire twisting
mutilating my insides

get out, you are fine, get out

was i once human?

what am i now?

rolled ball of knives
razor blades
boiling ball flames

no such thing you girl crazy

crazy crazy crazy
in the closet

crazy crazy no such thing railway tracks

spread your legs crazy
crazy spread your legs


razor blades ripping through my flesh day and night

pudendal neuralgia?

yes, yes

we know

how terrible

i am so sorry

spread your legs dead crazy white walls echo

when did i become human again

WHY DIDN'T ANY OF THE GOD-DAMN DOCTORS LISTEN TO WHAT I WAS TELLING THEM? WHY DID NOT ANY OF THOSE GOD-DAMN HUMAN BEINGS HEAR MY DESPERATE CRY FOR HELP?

I write the horror in poetry. I think that to write it in prose is still too painful. I was dehumanized. I became invisible. What I said did not matter. No ONE took the time to try to hear me, to try to help me. Being invisible was terrifying. Being invisible when I was pleading and crying for help transformed the world into a terrifying place. My body was in complete disconnect and I was desperately trying to get what I was experiencing across to the doctors. They could not see anything wrong and my desperation meant nothing to them.
I was just another patient to walk into their office and to walk out of their office. My cry for help, my desperation, my explanation that I could no longer function because the pain was so intense and overwhelming fell onto so many doctor's deaf ears. It is frightening when everything turns black like that around you, when everyone shuts down around you.


TODAY I was back, me, the one that I thought that I lost forever; the open and smiling one that talks to strangers and has life happen to her at such a pace where the spiritual and the physical mingle into one reality. TODAY, I thought of the people who left me on the road-side, and I said baaaaaah, I am still alive. Baaaaaaah, you have not succeeded in destroying me. Baaaaaaah it is me, it is me, this is me. DAMN YOU ALL uncaring souls. I care. I have love and compassion in my heart. 

Today I can actually say that I felt happy.

I believe that this is the first time in two and a half years that I felt happy for a day; a whole day.


My father came home today and he helped me water the flowers.

I wish that more people would read my blog. I wish that people would respond to my blog. I wish that people would share with me. I wish...

for another happy day, tomorrow.

Love,
    Atara