Into darkness: a context for my art.
It all begins with an idea.
“
Am I giving into the darkness already? Will I ever be able to escape it? Where do I really have to turn? There is no one to call, no one to listen. The thoughts are coming back. What do I do now? So rapidly, it’s so foggy, & I am unable to see.
I just want it to go away. I beg of you please let me free. I’m looking out the window in this speeding car going down the highway. The metal in my ear screaming prayers I haven’t said for years. The rain is falling like perfect static on a screen.
Then it fades and escapes. I’m breathing in deep the reality pain I feel and hear. I exhale I get a deep relief knowing that it will eventually end. If only it was more than a song of only I could unclench my teeth that hardwired my nerves to my chin. But no I’ll just sit back stay silent and listen. Buckle down shut up agree and grin.
Damn it why are you back you stupid friend we all know as depression.”
I wrote this around year 23 of my life. I was in year 4 of a marrige I knew was failing and would have its eventual end in year 6. A year before my divorce I disassosiated myself from the Cult of Jehovahs Witnesses which I was born into thinking this would help me deal with the depression & panic attacks that I had already been experiancing for years in hopes of helping my marrige. Yet it made it worse . . . I had already had ripped sense of identity and self and it was torn further when everyone I knew including friends and family and even strangers I didn’t know started to shun me over night like I suddenly didn’t exist anymore & compounded by the pushed narritive of it being my own choice. The harassment from so called Brothers and Sisters who thought they knew me but never truely listened or did anything but beat me with the bible or randomly showing up at my door to try and bring me back... but never actually listening.
When therapist told me to just move on. With my new Non-Jw friends I didn’t understand developmentally how to trust on a basic level & they needed more emotionally that I did not know how to give. Along with a fractured relationship with my parents who honestly I deeply desired to come visit and spend time with me and hold me like in the movies. With no Educational or Professional direction outside of what the cult/parents/marrige trained me for the first 25 years of my life. Except a trade degree I felt conflicted to use becuase it was connected to abuse and was exploited to use for cult life and the CPTSD symptoms from that were already showing thier head turning me immobile to speak or move. As well as being caught between a rock and a hard place financially because I didnt understand money as I was completly dependedent on my marrige since 19 and before that I always had on and off jobs and living situations to maintain.
I don’t care what anyone tells you. Being a born & raised and then married at 19 into a High Demand Doomsday Cult exemplifies any problem you have and how you deal with problems and your understanding of your own autonomy/rights. It requires a lot of grace and forgivens of your own choices and others to cope with its ripple effects.
I promised my Grandmother on my fathers side that I would give more context to my work which includes art and writings/documentations. Sad to say I am not able to talk to her now becuse of the distance between our minds. It’s been an adjustment but a weird blessing to say the least. The last time I went to see her in the hospital( which where she has stayed the last few months on life support ). I told her I kept my promise, and that I started sharing these more deeper sides of me. I think she knew before the Heartattack they said her mind was gone... Even though she hasn’t spoken for months, she had opened her eyes when I’ve seen her. Her eyes have always been so incredibly piercing like a Jade. We got to speand alot of time together a few months before this point. We went to thrift stores. I got her plants for her new apartment. She got some fish and bought me pancakes. Lol She told me about her life through the years and what she learned about people. It was the first time I learned anything about her besides her calling me for a few minutes to let me know she loved me every few months and hanging up until she called from a new number. She had always been so quiet with me and I even got to know some of her family the year before when she had a seprate heart attack. This was a big deal because I always knew she had been adopted. So It was my first time knowing anything about her. I learned so much about Gratitude and Grief simultaneously at this time. How someone can tell us stories about a person but you will have your own idividual realationship with a person. I love my grandma. So much and I know she knew that. I felt safe in her presence and I could feel her spirit resting when we were together. I was still going through my own journey with God and how I belived in him. It was new. But I felt like God gave us a chance to really get to know eachother when it counted.
She loved my poetry when I would read to her over the phone. Her last few months before she became in that inmoblie state. I was really able to talk with her about my struggles with mental illness and how alone I had felt. I felt like I was the only one, becuase I delt with these intense panic attacks sometimes acompanied by memory loss of years of my life. I just knew it hurt and I was losing everything because I started to put up boundries for the first time in the thick of it. After I would read to her, she knew what I was talking about. She knew who I was talking about and that was so validating because I didn’t really have acess to get to know my grandma until around age 26. The cult/life prevented me & my parents from really getting to know my family or making friends that were not Witnesses. It was a really weird adjustment when my family learned I actually had questions.
I decided to live with other people for the first time in years I thought it would be healthy. Something I avoided for so long because I was terrified that they would see the real pain I’ve run and fought from in my mind and body. The real PTSD episodes. The real narcisstic/codependednt/emeshment abuse with people I was convinced just needed another chance because they gave me breadcrumbs of change. The Real Trauma of losing your community dragging my legs up the stairs to get into bed for weeks because the silence was slowly desintigrating my reality.. The real autopiolet that kept me from functioning at a job and quitting out of nowhere. The real Stuggle that honestly I fell in love with making it on my own that I wrapped up in a pretty bow and called “Strength” when it was actually survival.
The nightmares.
The Real not wanting to live like I was okay when I wasn’t.
The amount of selfishness I needed to recover.
How my realtionship to food & money was warped because of Narc abuse. The disorganized attachment leading to my up and down view of trust. My coping mechanism with Isolating myself and going into self preservation mode. And how it would turn into the self sabatoge to myself becuase there was nowhere to turn anymore. I didn’t understand holding others accountable when I was never taught that. When “Forgive and forget”, “Humble yourself”, Or “that’s your ( enter realtionship dynamic here) you should be greatful” was banged into my brain at every chance. How at 14 I became so well verserd on what Narc abuse and how to fight them that I was planning to be a lawyer insted of prepping for life. All while living within a Doomsday Cult where others around me including my protectors were in thier own dystopic worlds being fed to them daily by the organization. This is where I learned about escapism and the extent people would go to.
The first time I ever loved myself enough to walk away and trust myself to be okay with others around me.
So for my grandma.
Here is my context of the initial poem:
It was a cry for help. A cry for an escape from the Hell of Dissociation all the time. From going mute. From flashbacks. From the fights. I always herd people tell me to stop covering myself with hoodies and music or games. Don’t cut my hair. Be a Welder. To stop making friends or liking boys or girls in school because those are my assosiates. To stop doing anything that made me feel good too much becuase that haughty. Forgive your abuser even if its your parent. And dont forget the destruction of everyone at armegeddon. Be thankful you are married and that he provides for you. Let it Go. Let it GO.
So I listened because that’s what I thought I had to do to be upstanding to keep my Privledges of being able to speak to others about God. To Make Prettier Art. To smile More. To get a better job. To go out in service and Persue Bethel. Get meds to make it go away but don’t tell a therapist why your sad if its about the Cult or family in anyway. Don’t tell anyone about this. Hide it. Keep it down and Play along. Stop talking about your feelings. Stop being a defeatist. Give up the art. It’s not thier problem to be there for me. I was an inconvenience.
NO.
I was in pain. In so much pain that I began to resent God. I stopped praying. I stopped functioning and my body began to break down to the point all I could see was Darkness. It became my friend. I cried and was angry and I just wanted to escape from all of it.
Untill I begged God to just let me have silence.
And realized all of it was supposed to happen exacly how it did.
If you made it this far. Thanks for reading a bit about my story. I’m a full time artist who documents my journey and everything that includes. I help others to destigmatize CPTSD and help empower others who may also be trying to leave a Cult or understrand how art and experiences in general can transform thier life. We don’t always have the resorces or know that we have the tools we need. I currently study relationship dynamics and forms of communication with a direction in Neuroscience and Architecture on top of persuing my art the last 15 years in oppresive systems.
Cult to Canvas is an interview I did a few years ago that explain the transition a bit more.
Thank you for being here.
Blog Post Title Two
It all begins with an idea.
It all begins with an idea. Maybe you want to launch a business. Maybe you want to turn a hobby into something more. Or maybe you have a creative project to share with the world. Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.
Don’t worry about sounding professional. Sound like you. There are over 1.5 billion websites out there, but your story is what’s going to separate this one from the rest. If you read the words back and don’t hear your own voice in your head, that’s a good sign you still have more work to do.
Be clear, be confident and don’t overthink it. The beauty of your story is that it’s going to continue to evolve and your site can evolve with it. Your goal should be to make it feel right for right now. Later will take care of itself. It always does.
Blog Post Title Three
It all begins with an idea.
It all begins with an idea. Maybe you want to launch a business. Maybe you want to turn a hobby into something more. Or maybe you have a creative project to share with the world. Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.
Don’t worry about sounding professional. Sound like you. There are over 1.5 billion websites out there, but your story is what’s going to separate this one from the rest. If you read the words back and don’t hear your own voice in your head, that’s a good sign you still have more work to do.
Be clear, be confident and don’t overthink it. The beauty of your story is that it’s going to continue to evolve and your site can evolve with it. Your goal should be to make it feel right for right now. Later will take care of itself. It always does.
Blog Post Title Four
It all begins with an idea.
It all begins with an idea. Maybe you want to launch a business. Maybe you want to turn a hobby into something more. Or maybe you have a creative project to share with the world. Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.
Don’t worry about sounding professional. Sound like you. There are over 1.5 billion websites out there, but your story is what’s going to separate this one from the rest. If you read the words back and don’t hear your own voice in your head, that’s a good sign you still have more work to do.
Be clear, be confident and don’t overthink it. The beauty of your story is that it’s going to continue to evolve and your site can evolve with it. Your goal should be to make it feel right for right now. Later will take care of itself. It always does.