Private Writings: Chapter #62 – “Act Natural Be GAY”

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013“Act Natural Be GAY”

Private Writings: Chapter #62 

Written by Jennifer Kiley

Posted On Tuesday 20th May 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
Not Suitable For Children.
All Characters Are Fictitious.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.

Crypticistic Synopsis

private writings to dr. annie haskell psychoanalyst

I am the storyteller using imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts to discover self soul eternal serenity & bliss but to most importantly tell the best tale ever after upon a time

see you down the rabbit hole.

Private Writings: Chapter #62 — “Act Natural Be GAY”

Tuesday 11th November 2008

Dear Annie,

I don’t speak his name. The last time I saw him he leaned into give me a kiss. I thought it would of course be innocent. A male parental figure was standing very nearby. He could see anything if there was anything to see. My guard was down. Never expecting him to do what was the last time he physically touched me. It was inappropriate what he did. Some may think tame. I felt disgusted. It was a lean in for a kiss on the cheek & turned into a full frontal assault. He grabbed at my breasts with one hand & with the other, he had his open palm hard up against the back of my head. What the fuck just happened?

He forced himself onto me. His tongue tried to push its way inside of my mouth. It felt awkward. I pushed him away & laughed off his assault. When I left that day, years ago, it was the last time I was ever physically in his presence again. Seeing him gives me nightmares & I see him in my dreams. It seems I get regular visits from the undead when I am sleeping. And now I see them in window glass, reflecting back at me. it shook me up seeing her face.

I think she is watching me. Maybe it is her punishment for her unbecoming not like parent’s behavior at all. She must see how I have been since I have left them behind. College & psychotherapy have saved me. So has smoking weed. It calms down my nerves. Helps me be able to talk to one person at a time. Not one for large gatherings. More so now. I love my quiet time to write & paint.

I want to know what it feels like to love someone without ever having experienced any of the abuse & punishment I had to endure. Add onto the degree of treachery in my childhood, I am surprised I never succeeded at killing myself. Suicide is with me all the time. It may take time off for some quiet time but the depression and suicidal thoughts & feelings circulate my senses whenever I come off of a manic phase. Presently I am manic. I don’t get it. What is it that Scottie is experiencing with me when she tells me I am manic. I know what depression probably looks like. It is awful to feel it. I’ve grown accustomed to the music I want to hear when I am going down under into the darkness. The music is essential. It is my companion among the walking dead.

When I am not depressed, I do not want to ever die. If I could find a cure for Death, I would certainly use it. One exception, the pain, it would have to exist on a reasonable level of endurance. I would want to feel pleasure & to give pleasure. I would want my sexual creatures who spook me away from touch & hugging & kissing. It is not that I don’t enjoy being touched by a woman I love, it is my not being able to give the completeness of love to her or to myself while I am with someone I would want to make love to in as free a fashion as possible. I love the sensation of my body being aroused. It is the release that brings on all the problems & rejections & turning cold at the touch of anyone who tried to make love to me. Maybe I make love to them or I am just trying to bring them some kind of satisfaction, knowing eventually I will be a failure & the lady I have strong feelings for will just suddenly disappeared as quickly as she appeared in my life.

What am I really afraid to tell you Annie? Why am I hiding away from facing you? I know why. I have been pushing my physical feelings for you down. I believe I am in love with you. I desire everything about you. Your voice melts the nerves inside my body & I want so much just to be held in your arms. And if you would allow, I would love to hold you close to me.

If I fantasized on what I would want from you, I would say, I would want to love you. To find the formula inside of you to bring me out of the shell I have been trapped in from the moment the first wrong person did things to me that made me feel ashamed & frightened.

I thought the first time, he might kill me. I heard later on when I was older that some of the places my abusers would take me were remote. There were never any people around except myself & the abuser of choice my male parental unit would assign me to take care of.

He made connections using me. The people that used me sexually were important men. They had power. If anyone ever were to find out what they were doing to me, they would kill me. I don’t imagine that, it was the kind of threat I received all the time. One time I made a pedophile so angry when I wanted him to stop. When he didn’t I threatened to go to the police. They would stop them all.

His rage came flying out. He held tightly to my throat with his right hand & his left hand was held up to punch me in the face. I stood my ground as solid as I could. He told me if he ever heard me use any kind of threat like that again, he would kill me. He said that sex from children was easy to find. I wasn’t his only sex toy.

This made me feel sick to my stomach. It felt like I was going to die. I was trapped inside this shit by my own semen donor. He was such a filthy pig & still is. Now he’s just trying to steal my inheritance from my grandmother. No relation to my A.I. She hated him but had no idea what he was making me do.

I was a sex slave to anything he wanted me to do. And my shadow mother was the torturer. The two together made Caligula look like an innocent yet still a madman.

It was a true den of iniquity. No one knew what anyone else was doing. I lived in a den of snakes of the poisonous kind. The poison didn’t kill me but it made me blind to my senses. I lost the ability to tell reality from madness. What does one do when most of their childhood was filled with evil from bad men & women?

I have been working on getting better most of my life after 19. That’s when I started therapy & have been in & out of new therapists’ offices ever since.

I want you to stay around for a long time. I need you in my life so don’t abandon me. Please be the exception.

I wanted you to do me a favor. Since I have missed so many of the meetings of the new trauma group you run with a new therapist to me. I love her name, “Maria Garcia Falcón.” I definitely am going to be back as soon as I am able to walk out of Redcliff. I really miss certain people more than others. I miss you. I miss Maria. She is always so good to me & understanding. It really feels like Maria gets me.

Enough for now. Just please root for me Annie. I want to go home. My babies are going to be so annoyed with me, they probably won’t let me pet them when I do get home, just to punish me. No, they are not the vindictive types. They are quite Zen our sweet babies.

Love & Hugs
Madison
@>-;–

© Madison Taylor 2008

“I think writing really helps you heal yourself. I think if you write long enough, you will be a healthy person. That is, if you write what you need to write, as opposed to what will make money, or what will make fame.“ — Alice Walker

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

Red Calla Lily Aranal Flower

Red Calla Lily Aranal Flower

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

negative of le chateau de rocher by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013Le Chateau de Rocher [Home to Madison & Scottie – their Cats & daughter Alison. She has her own place on the estate

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility” — Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Private Writings: Chapter #61- “From Me To You”

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013Private Writings: Chapter #61 – “From Me To You”
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Post Tuesday 13th May 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
Not Suitable For Children.
All Characters Are Fictitious.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.

Crypticistic Synopsis

private writings to dr. annie haskell psychoanalyst

I am the storyteller using imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts to discover self soul eternal serenity & bliss but to most importantly tell the best tale ever after upon a time

see you down the rabbit hole.

Private Writings: Chapter #61 “From Me To You”

Tuesday 4th November 2008

Dear Annie,

The other night, while I was writing in “A Writer’s Diary” a most bizarre idea occurred to me. Actually, it was two ideas. The first is not so bad to talk about. I decided I wanted to create a scrapbook of photographs of an actress I have a deep & lasting crush on. We’ve never met. I want to write her a script she would love. My fantasy is she accepts & I get to work with her. Running lines. Having her over for drinks, non-alcoholic or not.

I prefer weed to drink. More a sense of control. Your mind doesn’t get muddled. It floods out like a dam broken on a roaring river. All is washed away & awareness becomes acutely sensitive to every stimuli within my reach. But back to my ideas.

The sordid idea that came to me felt so freeing. I decided to created “A Writer’s Diary” that really told & showed everything I was brave enough to release from being a prisoner in the darkest room in the back of my mind. Mostly unreachable. Only set off by triggers from the ghosts that traveled the road inside of my past.

And now they are slowly returning with their stories of what they did to me. More like their lies & denials of anything ever occurring. I am only seeking attention. No one ever touched me. I have such horrible, brutal details from my childhood abuse living inside my conscious mind. Some get pulled back down under.

But suddenly they will rush out at me when I might be biting into a sandwich & taking a sip from someone’s sweet milky coffee, the way my male birth parent took his coffee, lots of sugar & cream. My good grandfather liked it that way also. When we would ever have lunch together when I was a child, he would always offer me a sip. He knew I was too shy to ask. He also would give me bites of the sandwiches my grandmother would make for our outings together. He had his favorites & I had mine. But my grandfather knew I loved the taste of whatever he was eating more than my own food, even if it was the same exact ingredients. Made no difference, his food always tasted better than mine.

He loved to take me to the stables & let me ride one of the smaller horses. I was so drawn to horses. They were my fantasy escape. I would ride off on my horse with someone, a young, blue eyed, light brownish blond hair, wavy & touching her shoulders, girl. She would find her horse & I would lead her to the best secret sights to ride to. Places no one else knew about. They were well hidden behind walls of morning glory & raspberry bushes. I knew the silent entrances no one else was ever able to find. Those were my woods. No one knew them as well as I did. I could run through them as though I were in a race at the Olympics out for the win.

Today, it is all so overgrown, one would need a machete to whack our way into the fortress, my palace against the danger of the times when I was too small to fight back. And there was no one to rescue me. No one knew. I preferred they didn’t. How would I explain what men & father figures, real & imagined, had done to me & would continue doing until I was almost not a teenager any longer.

I was growing into an immature adult child that knew nothing about life except abuse, hunger, neglect & sex. Not real sex with love & tenderness involved. I am talking about force. Rape. Having someone, anyone, I might not even know them but my father did. He knew them all. And one was my oldest brother. They would all force themselves on an unaccepting target, aiming with their pricks to score their goals & leave their disgusting mess behind. I was punished if anyone was not satisfied. You don’t want to know who or what the punishment was.

My secret for now.

Until I am able to see you, I really do miss you terribly.

Fondly,

Madison

@>-;–

© Madison Taylor 2008

“I think writing really helps you heal yourself. I think if you write long enough, you will be a healthy person. That is, if you write what you need to write, as opposed to what will make money, or what will make fame.“ — Alice Walker

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

Red Calla Lily Aranal Flower

Red Calla Lily Aranal Flower

“A Dream

The beginning always starts out

With a dream.

It is all a dream

In our own nightmares”

— Madison Taylor

negative of le chateau de rocher by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013Le Chateau de Rocher [Home to Madison & Scottie – their Cats & daughter Alison. She has her own place on the estate

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility” — Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

A Heartfelt Goodbye To Virginia Woolf 73 Years Later

the-living-word make the writer's diary

The Living Word

A Heartfelt Goodbye to Virginia Woolf 73 Years Later
25 January 1882 – 28 March 1941
Created by Jennifer Kiley
Created 23rd March 2014
Posted Friday 28th March 2014
A TRIBUTE TO VIRGINIA WOOLF

virginia woolf a writer's life quote over photo“You cannot find peace by avoiding life.”

“Books are the mirrors of the soul.”

I can only note that the past is beautiful
because one never realises an emotion at the time.
It expands later, and thus we don’t have complete
emotions about the present, only about the past.”

“The eyes of others our prisons; their thoughts our cages.”

“Love, the poet said, is woman’s whole existence.”

“The truth is, I often like women. I like their
unconventionality. I like their completeness. I
like their anonymity. ”

“I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and
I thought how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in.”

“All extremes of feeling are allied with madness.”

“For it would seem – her case proved it – that we
write, not with the fingers, but with the whole
person. The nerve which controls the pen winds
itself about every fibre of our being, threads
the heart, pierces the liver.”

“I am reading six books at once, the only way of
reading; since, as you will agree, one book is
only a single unaccompanied note, and to get the
full sound, one needs ten others at the same time.”

“So long as you write what you wish to write, that
is all that matters; and whether it matters for
ages or only for hours, nobody can say.”

“When I cannot see words curling like rings of
smoke round me I am in darkness—I am nothing.”

“It is in our idleness, in our dreams, that the sub-
merged truth sometimes makes its way to the surface.”

“For now she need not think of anybody. She could be
herself, by herself. And that was what now she often
felt the need of – to think; well not even to think.
To be silent; to be alone. All the being and the doing,
expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk,
with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-
shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others…
and this self having shed its attachments was free for
the strangest adventures.”

“Fiction is like a spider’s web, attached ever so lightly
perhaps, but still attached to life at all four corners.”

“Was not writing poetry a secret transaction, a voice
answering a voice?”

“Let us again pretend that life is a solid substance,
shaped like a globe, which we turn about in our fingers.
Let us pretend that we can make out a plain and logical
story, so that when one matter is despatched—love for
instance—we go on, in an orderly manner, to the next.”

“The only advice, indeed, that one person can give another
about reading is to take no advice, to follow your own
instincts, to use your own reason, to come to your own
conclusions. If this is agreed between us, then I feel at
liberty to put forward a few ideas and suggestions because
you will not allow them to fetter that independence which
is the most important quality that a reader can possess.
After all, what laws can be laid down about books? The
battle of Waterloo was certainly fought on a certain day;
but is Hamlet a better play than Lear? Nobody can say.
Each must decide that question for himself. To admit
authorities, however heavily furred and gowned, into our
libraries and let them tell us how to read, what to read,
what value to place upon what we read, is to destroy the
spirit of freedom which is the breath of those sanctuaries.
Everywhere else we may be bound by laws and conventions-
there we have none.”

“The most extraordinary thing about writing is that
when you’ve struck the right vein, tiredness goes.”

“…who shall measure the heat and violence of a poet’s
heart when caught and tangled in a woman’s body?”

“I feel so intensely the delights of shutting oneself
up in a little world of one’s own, with pictures and
music and everything beautiful.”

“By the truth we are undone. Life is a dream. ‘Tis the
waking that kills us. He who robs us of our dreams robs
us of our life.”

— Virginia Woolf [from Her Books & Diaries]

virginia & leonard woolf 1939 National Photo Gallery London 'the dinner party' virginia woolf

Virginia & Leonard Woolf 1939
National Photo Gallery London
The Dinner Party: Virginia Woolf

Virginia Woolf’s Handwritten Suicide Note to Her Husband Leonard: A Painful & Poignant Farewell [1941]

Dearest, I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can’t go through another of those terrible times. And I shan’t recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can’t concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don’t think two people could have been happier ’til this terrible disease came. I can’t fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can’t even write this properly. I can’t read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that—everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can’t go on spoiling your life any longer. I don’t think two people could have been happier than we have been. V.

virginia woolf's monk's house garden

Virginia Woolf’s Monk’s House Garden

Leonard buried Virginia’s ashes under the two intertwined Elm trees in their backyard at Monk’s House, their summer home in Sussex. The Elm trees in which they had nicknamed “Virginia and Leonard,” the spot was marked with a stone tablet engraved with the last lines from her novel The Waves: “Against you I fling myself, unvanquished and unyielding, O Death! The waves crashed on the shore.” After Leonard Woolf died on August 14, 1969, he was cremated and his ashes were buried next to Virginia’s under the Elm Trees at Monk’s House.

The following piece of music composed by Beethoven was to be the music played at Virginia Woolf’s and Leonard Woolf’s cremation ceremony. Leonard was so filled with grief, another piece of music was played but when he was home, he played Beethoven: String Quartet Op. 130. V. Cantina: adagio molto expressivo. It is most beautiful and soothing piece of music. I understand why Virginia and Leonard Woolf chose this piece of music. It is beautiful. It gives me a sense of being with Virginia Woolf who I admire with a fullness in my heart. She has touched my soul with her words. Her essence is alive within them. Thank you for giving so much of yourself to us in your writing with such a depth of honesty and Truth. You are not forgotten.

— Jennifer Kiley

Virginia Woolf

Peace For You Virginia Woolf

Beethoven: String Quartet Op. 130: V. Cavatina: adagio molto expressivo

Depression, the secret we share

tell me a story
Depression, the secret we share
TED Talk: Andrew Solomon
Notations by Jennifer Kiley
Created on 8th January 2014
Posted On Thursday 27th March 2014
TELL ME A STORY

Andrew Solomon: Depression, the secret we share – TED Talk

“The opposite of depression is not happiness, but vitality, and it was vitality that seemed to seep away from me in that moment.”

In a talk equal parts eloquent and devastating, writer Andrew Solomon takes you to the darkest corners of his mind during the years he battled depression. That led him to an eye-opening journey across the world to interview others with depression — only to discover that, to his surprise, the more he talked, the more people wanted to tell their own stories.

Depression. Grief. Sadness. These get confused.

Depression. When you have a catastrophic lost and six months later you are still devastated and unable to function. This is depression. “A slower way of being dead.”

You don’t think in depression you are just in a bad way. You believe you are seeing the truth. No matter what we do we are all going to just die in the end.

Depression is the family secret that everyone has.

Why do people feel a need to hide they are depressed? The stigma of having any kind of problem with the brain, unless it is medically connected, is such a misunderstanding. The brain is part of the body. If it is not functioning in a healthy way, it is a physical illness that needs treatment and concern and especially support from those who surround them, including society to find compassion and understanding.

Instead of taking someone who is depressed in a dance circle and working out the block in energy, we take them into a small dark room and make them talk about all the things that are making them feel awful.

Our needs are our greatest assets. Seeking meaning for depression. Valuing one’s depression. Learn something from depression. The opposite of depression is vitality. I love my depression because it has forced me to cling to joy.

Depression is when expressing emotions have been damaged or shut off.

Cleave to the reasons for living.

Depression is equal parts eloquent and devastating.

Private Writings: Chapter #54 – I Feel Fine

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013
Private Writings: Chapter #54 – I Feel Fine
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by NAME OF ARTIST
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On Tuesday 25th March 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
Not Suitable For Children.
All Characters Are Fictitious.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell
psychoanalyst

I am the storyteller
using imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts
to discover self soul eternal serenity
but to most importantly
tell the best tale ever after upon a time

see you down the rabbit hole.
namaste! madison taylor

Private Writings: Chapter #54 — I Feel Fine

Tuesday 16th September 2008

Dear Annie,

They won’t let me see you while I’m in this place. The doors may not be locked but no one is going to allow me to leave. I never wanted to be inside a place where they watch every minute detail of what I do. Why didn’t she let me die? Why did Jamie call for help. She should have let me die. How did she know I was in trouble? I remember sending you a letter for her. Oh, right, I sent her the poem I wrote about love. I sent a preface to the poem I wrote for her. What an idiot. I was talking about suicide. Never said I was going to do it. Even if I did take all my stash of Klonopin mixed with some brandy. I was just starting to fall asleep for good. Heading into a peaceful sleep. No more thoughts. No more feelings. No more pain. No more people pretending to love me and then fucking me. Abandoning me. I am sick of it. Let them all go fuck themselves.

I want you to see the note and poem I sent to Jamie. Would it make you get so alarmed you call in the cops and medics. Between Jamie pulling me to my feet and walking me around before the emergency crew arrived. Jamie even walked me into a ice cold shower. That freaked my body out. I think I went into a seizure or something that felt like I was way out of control. I was awake bearly, but I wasn’t coherent. Nothing was making any sense at that moment. My eyes couldn’t focus at all.

Enter the women in their scrubs with their equipment. They were plugging me in to so many tubes. We were off to the hospital in no time. Pumping stomachs. Needles into tubes going into my body. They have a shrink talk to me. I was too out of it to make sense out of what she said. She did say she was going to admit me into the psyche ward for observation. That freaked me out. I demanded they contact my partner Scottie Andrews. She had power of attorney. I wasn’t going to be going upstairs.

Scottie arrived. Jamie had tracked her down and explained what had happened. She was upset with me but more concerned than angry. Scottie talked. I tried to listen. What I remember of our conversation is, our lawyer Michael was working on finding me a place at the Redcliff Psychiatric Institute. Being here is like being at a Country Club. Here I am, in this fall back to “David and Lisa” and “Lilith.” A place of splendor with Dr. Virginia MacKinnon, a great psychiatrist, for me to talk to.  She isn’t you. I’d rather be talking to you. But I am giving her a chance. I just am so confused by all that is happening. Why did I take all those pills? Why can’t I get away from people who want to hurt me? Why does it seem that I trust all the wrong kind of people who want to abuse me?

I want you to see what I wrote to Jamie that night. It might give you a sense of where I am at this moment. Maybe it’s telling, maybe not. I know I am going to write you as often as they allow me to. I wish I could call you or text you but they won’t let me have my cell phone or any of my techno gadgets. No laptops. No Tablets. No Cell Phones. No communication with the outside. With one exception, I am allowed to write to you. And I know you can’t write to me. They don’t want any outside influences.

Here is the note and poem I wrote to Jamie. I love her. I love Scottie. I love Alison. Please help them understand what I’ve done. I haven’t stopped feeling like killing myself. I still want to die. The depression has cut me off from feeling alive. I try to write poems. They won’t let me have my medical marijuana. That is killing me. It was the only thing that kept me balanced when I was balanced. My bipolar is out of control.

Lets forget about that. They won’t change their minds. MJ not allowed in here. No exceptions. This is going to make me feel more like I am falling apart than ever. I am sorry I let you down Annie. Trying to kill myself. It was stupid. The pain had a hold on me. It was crushing me. I had to let go. My estate was all settled and in good order. Everyone I wanted to be sure was taken care of was well planned out in my Will. Michael is a great lawyer.

I am putting it off. Here is what I wrote to Jamie. Keep in mind I was thinking of you in the note but I wanted Jamie to be the one to receive the note. To help her understand why I was doing what I did:

“I am insecure & uncertain about what is ok in terms of times & frequency of what is acceptable. I feel I could make a mistake & not even know it. It is causing the development of a darkness of confusion.”

“I love Jamie.  I spent the day almost intentionally focusing my attention on anything but thinking & feeling Jamie’s presence. I am afraid of the level of intensity between Jamie & I. With almost certainty, I feel Jamie & I are experiencing equal levels of intense emotions toward the other.”

“I want to hold her. I want to know what it feels like to wrap my arms around her. And to feel her body melting into mine. She would feel soft to hold. I want to lie down beside Jamie. To pull our bodies as close together as possible. And we would fall asleep with our lips near the others. Close enough to feel her warm breath caressing my face with the delicacy of her breathing.”

“I love her. I want to feel her spirit enter inside of me with warm loving energy. If I told her these feelings, I am not certain what her reaction would be. What I would like is for Jamie to tell me she feels the exact same way about me as I feel about her. We love each other deeply, as it is possible to love someone else who moves us into the highest spiritual level possible. I Love Her Now & Always & Forever. She is my soul spirit connection. I just want to dream about her.”

A poem of Haiku for J.S.

Love you bring to me
Before the sun can shine I
Dream of you with me

Before me you stand
My eyes look deep inside you
Two souls joined as one

You live in my mind
Your love sleeps inside my heart
Our lips want to speak

Love me forever
I am your soul protector
Loving you always

(c) mandy two-zero-zero-eight

I need Jamie. Her presence in my life fills up my fantasy world with warm and pleasurable sensations. When I think of her I can make up any feeling I want to experience. She is real inside for me. It may not be a sane reality but how close is sanity to madness and fantasies to reality. If you want them to happen you find a way to manifest your dreams. Does it hurt to think of someone in a dream? Make them be for you what you need. Does that make me insane for wanting a dream that once was to now be real again.

It pains me to want to love and not be able to get my body to be able to express those feelings in a real situation. When you are so careful, a nightmare enters your world and destroys it by crushing my dreams by overwhelming with the reality of my childhood by doing now what was a constant then. When she raped me, she stole away the last of my innocence. I guarded it and thought I was safe with all the protection I had surrounding me. But she still broke through and took everything that was left.

I just want to feel love. The kind of love I felt with my grandmother. I am tired. I will write more about the only person who ever loved me without wanting something in return. The energy of love I felt with my grandmother was magical and mystical. It filled me up and protected me from the abusers destroying me. She placed a shield that surrounded me. It kept their handling of my flesh from penetrating into my soul and darkening my spirit from the light. The light stayed alive inside me because grandmother has always protected me. I believe she is one of my guardian angels and I think and feel Tosh is another of those who protect me.

That’s all I can write for now. Until next week.

“Time for time and traveling with circuses must end. It is time to soar through the time barrier into all moments in the Universe.”

So, until I see you, I end with my favorite quote from the film “Brief Sacrifice.”

“Time can be folded and joined with all elements in all places as the one ultimate moment when time is all at once. In this place everything happens on a continual loop following into a continuum of time forever into infinity. In the “Silver Box,” there is contained the ability to draw time into itself and create the perfect infinite moment.”

I end this letter in “the moment between seconds.”

Love Fondly,

Madison

@-;—

© madison taylor 2008

The embrace  klimt  sm

The Embrace – Artist Klimpt

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

scary purple flower

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Le Chateau de Rocher

Le Chateau de Rocher is Madison & Scottie’s Home

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility” — Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Private Writings: Chapter #52 — Waiting for the Fall

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #52 – Waiting for the Fall

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by Alexander Segregio
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On Tuesday 11th March 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
Not Suitable For Children.
All Characters Are Fictitious.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell
psychoanalyst

I am the storyteller
using imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts
to discover self soul eternal serenity & bliss
but to most importantly
tell the best tale ever after upon a time

see you down the rabbit hole.
namaste! madison taylor

Private Writings: Chapter #52 — Waiting for the Fall

Tuesday 2nd September 2008

Dear Annie,

We have a problem developing. My feelings for Jamie have been growing. Their level is rising to the top of becoming extremely intense. I would say it is love. But I don’t seem to have any idea what the fuck love feels like. I get a fix on it. It all changes up. The one I love throws denial at me. Negating everything I feel exists between us. Is she lying to me? What is real between Jamie and myself. I have been attracted to Jamie since the first time I met her. Her eyes locked mine with her look. That’s why everyone loves her on the screen.

You know what I’m talking about. Look at how your daughter Rainer goes completely shy around Jamie.

Why am I talking this way. Jamie is my heroine. She rescued me from Sylvia. It was so swashbuckling. Crashing through my study door. Getting the police on the phone. Taking down Sylvia with Patrick our cat. He was a fierce one the night Sylvia raped me. I am dealing with the reality. I may not remember it all but I know she brutalized me. After she drugged me with a paralyzing effect. Date rape drug they think. I knew what was happening but I was physically unable to stop her. She violated me worse than any man could. One thing she did, I hate to talk about it. But if I write about it to you, maybe I will be able to get it out. I will write it for you. But I don’t think I want to talk about it. At least not now or ever maybe.

What I want to tell you may drive me mad someday. She touched me all over my body, inside as well. When I feel fear, I lose control of my senses. The adrenaline is fired up shooting through my veins. My blood is pumping out of fright. She took advantage of me. My fear let me down. When she touched me, my skin responded to her touch. My stomach wanted to turn into Linda Blair and spit green soup at her. And a few spins around with my head to terrify her. Instead she kept touching all the points that trigger my sexual responses. Her touches teased the responses out of my body. Until finally she won. She turned my body around and made me completely respond by losing control of my physical reactions. She forced me to react fully to her touch. It is what a rapist can do to confuse the one being abused. It makes me feel as though my body wanted it. When I know my body wasn’t cooperating, it was being coerced and forced to have a natural release from the kind of stimulation that was happening. She stole my last connection to feeling any hope of regaining my ability to respond to the touch of a lover.

I  am mad with grief that once again an abuser took those feelings away from me. How my body feels is like a traitor to our self- preservation and sanity. My mind is going mad. That awful woman raped me and stole away the most intimate part of being physically turned on. It seems only rapists can find that inner part of me. The vulnerability of intimacy has been destroyed by force. Conquering my power and stealing my essence from me. I am a shell. Emptied by a brutality I thought was over. I felt I had finally succeeded in vanquishing my abusers from my life. My sense of safety has been smashed to pieces by sexual force. I will never be able to feel trust with anyone again.

The night of the rape, Jamie crashed in my door. She threw Sylvia off of me, while Patrick, our magnificent feline, jumped on her and sunk his claws in deep, front and back. He wasn’t going to let her go. She released a blood-curdling yell at the torture Patrick’s claws were making of her back. A certain satisfaction flooded over me when I realized the rape was physically over with Sylvia but the flashbacks and memories buried from my childhood abuse were coming through the barriers. Visually perfect clearance. My senses were feeling the walls that protected me, breaking down around me. I was hallucinating a slide show of what they did to me. The many abusers my father had lined up for me and the abuse the ‘shadow mother’ perpetrated on my body, mind, soul and overall spirit, joie de vive. I lost the battle in childhood and have been in therapy ever since. My therapist doesn’t think I ever will heal. I will just grow out from it but it will be in the foundation of my life, that holds me together. If there is rot won’t it eventually collapse? That’s what I feel it’s doing now deep inside me. Slowly destroying my self, my identity, my sanity, my dreams. I am disappearing in the maze of darkness. Trapped. No way out. Can’t see anything clearly except the past and the abuse.

Jamie came to me that night after her brave rescue. We lay down together on the floor of my study. She threw a throw over us. I was shaking. Jamie’s arms wrapped around me so gently. Her hand was stroking my hair. She whispered over and over, “It will be alright.” I knew she wanted to mean that but it wasn’t ever going to be alright. It never was alright. Being forced to have a sexual response when you find that repulsive is the worse thing that can happen when you are being sexually abused as a child or as an adult. This has happened twice to me now. Once when I was 10 and my father forced me to go off with his friend. That friend of his touched me against my will and his touches awakened a feeling inside of me I never felt before. What happened then happened with Sylvia. She forced me like my father’s friend did by touching me in a way that made it impossible to fight the way my body reacted. It haunted me then and now it is complete. The destruction of trusting my body and allowing anyone to ever touch in that way again.

It is driving me mad. I don’t trust anyone. Not even Jamie, though I may want to. I know she would never do anything to harm me. She wouldn’t force herself on me in any way. So why do I feel she has abandoned me whenever she goes away or when she is silent when you expect she will be there for you. Jamie is an exceptional woman and I love her. When we talked awhile back about love. She said it is possible to feel in love with someone special without it ever having to be sexual. To feel in love can be a powerfully emotional feeling that goes beyond a casual friendship. It is an intense spiritual bonding that relates on the level of pure love. The love in energizing. It feels spectacular. It can take you higher than any sexual love is capable of reaching.

I need this feeling of in love less the sexual element. Jamie understands. I’ve talked to her about my theory before now. It is why I trust her to comfort me. She would never put on me any inappropriate feelings that I cannot handle now, but then I never have been able to handle the sexual aspects of life, not love. I try to keep love away from sex. Keeping it pure. Real but without the Tantric side the bodies needs to  express with another person.  Working out rebellious sexual feelings one can do alone. It is the safest way to stop when you want to.

It use to be a desire of mine to have the perfect lover and to make love with everything flowing perfectly. It isn’t going to happen for me. The abusers, my parents, and siblings ruined it for me to be intimate with anyone. When I am close to anyone physically, I feel like a failure. My body takes control and shuts down. It will not open up again. The only way to have sex with me is to force yourself on me. And then you need to force me to do what you want.

It is driving me quite mad. All of this mess. I just want to die. I feel it more strongly every moment I have an opportunity to think. I try to stop myself from thinking. To stop my feelings. Screaming comes to mind. The worse thing is starting to happen, the confusion is beginning to take over my psyche. In this state, everything, everyone, everywhere feels  dangerous. Now this sense of danger surrounds me. My thoughts call out with words, ‘Please, just hold me Jamie. Where is Scottie. I need Scottie too. And Alison. I need her to be close now. I need to know no one else is in danger.’ My mind can’t think of anything but feeling threatened. There is no one I can trust. Those people touched us in places without our permission. I never wanted any of it. I hate sex with men. I hate sex with anyone. I hate being used for sex. Being forced to have sex. Having sex feel so destructive. It is an invasion of intimacy when it is not wanted and never wanted from those who force it on me.

What do you suppose it feels like when someone uses your body for their own pleasures, as if you didn’t exist except in the power they can overlord you with, knowing they can rape you anytime they want. Daytime. Nighttime. When you are asleep. Wherever you are. A molester can find you. They watch you. They know your schedule and your habits. Most of all they are uncanny at their ability to find you alone in a perfect place for them to force sex on you. Mostly, they just want to fuck you or fondle you. They take pictures of your body parts. You never feel safe. Threats are always made. Be quiet. Tell no one. Or die.

I needed to get this out. What I am feeling? Am I going mad from all of this turmoil? A darkness is coming. A depression like weighted pockets and walking into the sea to drown. Except I am afraid to drown, not to die. Let me die wiped clean of these memories of Hell and Evil. Before I die, I want to know what it feels like to be loved for who I am, not by someone who wants to kidnap my body for their own games and sadistic pleasures. There isn’t satisfaction in any of this, only nightmares.

I will send this off to you Annie so you know what is developing. Last point I will add. I am in danger from myself. It is close to hiding sharp objects and extra pills. But I won’t do that. Just in case I need to go away forever.

So sorry Annie that I feel this way. Even you won’t be able to bring me back from this mess inside my head. My body is ruined. I want to get rid of it so no else can touch it again without my permission. It is wrong to touch anyone who says no. No more wrong again touches.

Love You Annie. Please don’t ever leave me.
Madison

@-;—

© madison taylor 2008

tree sun moon swirl painitng

Artist Alexander Segregio

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

Pink Flower by Tom Bradshaw 2013

Pink Flower by Tom Bradshaw 2013

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Le Chateau de Rocher

Le Chateau de Rocher is Madison & Scottie’s Home

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility” — Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Private Writings: Chapter #45/#46 Trauma With Drama/Double the Trouble

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #45/#46 – Trauma With Drama/Double the Trouble

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by Jk McCormack
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On Tuesday 28th January 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.

NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.
ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.

ANYONE RESEMBLING ANYONE LIVING OR DEAD
IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell,
psychoanalyst extraordinaire,
storytelling using letters, dreams, thoughts, poems, images,
music, art, scripts, psychotherapy, psychoanalysis,
inspirations, reflective comments, inner/outer workings
mind, soul, body, emotions, bipolar, mentally creative, interesting,
brain misfiring; abuse, crashes, near drownings,
hallucinations, heightened sexuality, time warps,
finding answers, unsolved mysteries, infatuations,
imagination, fantasy, discover self, soul, eternal serenity, bliss

see you down the rabbit hole.
namaste! madison taylor

Private Writings: Chapter #45 — Trauma With Drama

Tuesday 22nd July 2008

Dear Annie,

I never finished going over my letter from last week. So much more to tell you. It’s a conflict. Talking about the new Trauma Group is important. Knowing a few of the women was a surprise. But it’s more important to talk to you about when I thought I had DID. The Trauma Group, I’ll save for other letters.

Awhile ago, I was told I had Dissociative Identity Disorder.  The therapist who told me, encouraged me to give the alters names and develop each one’s identity, their responsibilities and characteristics. I want you to know who lived with me for many years. The first one, I feel is the most outrageous. Her name is Laura. She was the one who was conscious when the abuse happened. It happened to her. They are her memories. Ever since, what she experienced during the sexual abuse, it ingrained inside of her a learning code. It causes her to sexualize every person we get close to. Not easy to admit.

What I am about to admit to you, may sound crazy coming from me, but she is aroused by you, Annie. And that isn’t all. Laura feels obsessed with you. It isn’t her fault though.

I need to clarify further.  My saying Laura is attracted and obsessed with you, doesn’t mean anyone else is. In fact, we aren’t, obsessed with you, that is. It is Laura’s thing. Not ours. We like you and feel close to you but it goes no further.

I’ve said too much. I can feel Laura feeling upset. She’s always gotten us into way too many situations.

Keep in mind, this story, I’ve been telling it to myself all these years that I feel I am or was once DID. And believing it. So did Scottie, and our closed friends thought I was just more eccentric than I already was.

Now, Meggie, she is so different. She just wants you to be her mother. Just needs love and hugs. She gets those from you in a very unobtrusive way.

Lets flip to the male side of our inner family.  There’s Brad. Warning. Watch out for him. Gets extremely intense, rageful, and add anger. Why, you may ask? No trust in grown ups at all. He feels you all betray us. No offense.

Ginny is sad. What I mean is, she is removed from feelings. All she experiences is depression and deep thoughts of suicide. What sets her off the most right now is the thought of you not loving her. She is younger than all of us but she feels older.

We believed our alters were real. When we believed completely in their existence, they felt real. Not so sure anymore. They felt like they existed. We felt their presence. They always felt to me to be very young. Don’t know anymore what to believe. Except the bipolar. I know I get manic, depressed and suicidal. All the DSM IV and 5 symptoms they have well written out.

We only use the word “we” now because it’s familiar. And we, also, feel like we are shattered.

We don’t entirely feel safe with you, Annie. That’s why we don’t want to let our guard down. Testing comes first.  But most of the time, we have a strong urge and need for you to know our story. For some reason it is necessary. We want someone we trust to know the complete truth. What really happened. Not just what I remember in my head.

I think we do love you. But those feelings make us feel confused about you, Annie, and about ourself.

Ask Brad if it is okay if we love you. We would like it if you would love us, too. Maybe it will help our shattered parts come together. If we were really loved by you.

Being a lesbian, we know telling you this may frighten you away. When a woman who is a lesbian loves another woman, someone who is married to a man, it can feel suspicious. But truthfully, our feeling of love is not sexual, not really. We just want to feel love. I want to believe that it isn’t bad or wrong to love and be loved by you.

Brad protects us, even against you, Annie. Women can hurt us just as much as a man.

I forgot to tell you, Meggie is too young for sex, but she knows about it.

Also, I forgot someone very important. Her name is Nessa, Ginny’s twin. Nessa lives with the heaviest depression but Ginny carries the dangerous one. She holds the suicidal feelings in her heart and it keeps breaking her.

And then there is Sandy. Our flamboyant gay male. He feels it’s a redundancy. Sandy likes the recognition and parties. Especially, likes getting high and dancing. He has no idea how he feels about you. He’s very likeable. Use to get everyone high when he would go bar hopping in NYC.

It’s a consensus. We decided you are kind, intelligent, beautiful and you have the softest, gentlest and most soothing voice we have ever heard.

We just want to get close to you. We’d like you to get close to us, too. For us, it will take a great deal of bravery. Getting close to anyone is scary as hell. So with you, it matters so much, so it makes it even scarier. We have more to lose.

You are inside our mind now. But we are still haunted with so many questions. I know you will ask what kind of questions. Simple. Is what we feel okay? Is it okay to love you? Our feelings are filled with pain. Fear is building up. Too much pressure. Love is dangerous or painful. When I love someone and trust them, two things have happened. They betray me by abusing me or they die. Either way I am hurt and abandoned.

Talking about what I feel is important. I want you to understand me. I don’t want to hold back.

What does love really feel like? How do I recognize it? Do you feel anything like love for me? I would really like the answer to that question.

No bullshit. No saying it’s transference. That is lame. Therapists cop out using that shit. What I feel is real. Don’t understand what it means. I need you to tell me it’s okay, the way I feel for you.

Honestly, I think I am in love with you. I am in love with another woman. And it hasn’t a thing to do with sex.  Being “in love” to me is feeling intense feelings of love. It’s not sexual. Will I ever understand? Does anyone know what love means? Do you, Annie?

It causes so much bloody confusion.

*       *       *       *       *       *       *

I’m slipping in Scottie’s letter next. Following is a second letter from me.

Dear Annie,

I see you have drawn me into Madison’s therapy. If I understand, you just want some feedback on her behavior.

Certain points I feel are important. One, she forgets she needs to sleep. It doesn’t feel important to her. She escapes to her study, always writing, but rarely leaves. If not their, she’s in her studio painting.

When I get home after being away for a shoot, she follows me around as if to watch me. To see if I will magically disappear again. Sometimes she speaks to me like we have never spoken before. She has been in a fairly constant manic state recently. She is producing, which is good. Great scrips to turn into a film. Something for me to direct. Paintings to hang in our Art Gallery. But all this energy she’s using, I feel she is heading for a major crash.

I am afraid when her depression hits, it will be bleak. The darkness surrounds her, literally. I can feel it and see it. She won’t wake until after it’s dark out. She goes to sleep as soon as dawn hits the edge of the horizon. Her vampire comes out into the darkness. That’s what she’s doing.

Her mind is filled with one wish. She wants to die. It’s in her poetry and her scripts. They may be great and would make David Lynch want to do a meditation with her. She doesn’t speak, so that would be perfect. She actually throws herself into her work more when she’s in the darkness. A melancholia absorbed inside creativity.

Something is needed to shock her, to turn her around. Her body is suffering. Her Cancer treatment only stopped recently. Remember it almost killed her. Death was paying her regular visits then. It’s enough to traumatize anyone.

Let me not forget her abominable family. They want to kill her. It’s a matter of inheritance. So, they don’t leave her alone. Always finding ways to contact her. All of them scare the hell out of her except one brother and his daughter. She loves those two intensely. But the others, no way. We have people to keep them from her. It’s too complicated to get into now. But she has them crawling around in the spider webs in her mind. They creep through her brain and barge into her nightmares.

Is this enough, I hope? If she needs anyone right now, Annie, it’s you. Take the time to care for her. Gentleness and consistency, that’s what she needs. I do care deeply and I attempt to show it. But she is so damned difficult. Trying to push me away. She thinks that will work. But I won’t let her. We’re stuck in this life together, no matter what.

I have a strong suggestion. She needs to be placed on Medical Marijuana. With the Cancer Treatment she was given THC. What a change. Even though she was too weak to show signs of difference, I could tell her mood changed. She relaxed. Drank some liquids. I worry she is going to get really sick, if something doesn’t change.

Find a way for her to create but stay healthy. She’s divorced herself from her body. It is all out rejection. What happened to her body is too hard for her. And I am not talking about the Cancer.

Just help her. Please.

Yours,
Scottie Andrews

*       *       *       *       *       *       *

Private Writings: Chapter #46 — Double the Trouble

Tuesday 24th July 2008

Dear Annie,

Having time with you three times a week is fantastic. Seeing you Tuesday after the first Trauma Group on Monday, is a bit heady to process. Intense and overwhelming. Those words come to me. A mental rush. Being close to you. Having more time with you. It seems we finally have time to work. More time. I’m always wishing for more time. The effects you have on me will be more powerful. All is so good. Something in your power infuses me. I feel filled with super energy.

This letter is going to be short.

First Trauma Group. Meeting a new person I like. Her name, gone from my memory. I felt she was really drawn to you. I like her but she is too possessive of you. After group, I wanted to talk to you but she was there first and wasn’t going to share. I felt jealous. It set off a chain reaction, of the negative feelings, the confusion, and the irrational thoughts. Primary one being, feeling rejected. It isn’t rational but I felt rejected by you. You didn’t care any longer. It sent me off on an emotional roller coaster after I left. The feelings lasted until I saw you on Tuesday.

It’s okay now. She, actually, feels like someone I want to be friends with. But I don’t want her monopolizing you. What the fuck was her name. Blocked it. You will have to tell me on Monday in Trauma Group. Until then, thank you for listening.

One last thought. I wanted you to know what a great group I feel you put together. Thought I’d never be in a group again. Wrong. My Tarot reading was right. It is what I need to do now. Feelings were high, some scary, some strong, and some intensely powerful. What will be exposed in the Group is going to knock us all over, isn’t it?

Now I have to find a way to be brave enough to face my shadows and to go into the darkness. If you will figuratively hold my hand, it might help.

That’s all for now.

“Time for time and traveling with circuses must end. It is time to soar through the time barrier into all moments in the Universe.”

So, until I see you, I end with my favorite quote from the film Brief Sacrifice.

“Time can be folded and joined with all elements in all places as the one ultimate moment when time is all at once. In this place everything happens on a continual loop following into a continuum of time forever into infinity. In the “Silver Box,” there is contained the ability to draw time into itself and create the perfect infinite moment.”

I end this letter in “the moment between seconds.”

Love Fondly,

Madison

@-;—

© madison taylor 2008

150th Birthday of Gustav  Klimt - The Virgin (Maiden)

150th Birthday of Gustav Klimt – The Virgin (Maiden)

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

Pierre Auguste Renoir - Roses and Jasmine  in a Delft Vase

Pierre Auguste Renoir – Roses and Jasmine in a Delft Vase

rain in garden gif

The Virgin
By Madison Taylor
23rd July 2008

Untouched entry blocked
Protected by innocence
Perversion invades

Nightmares being hell
Flames explode calling back pain
Feelings awakened

Youth is time for growth
Lightning follows path of thief
Regains what was lost

Time erases past
Memories rewritten now
Never recall the lies

Truth happens in light
Darkness takes hero returns
Bless the blind their eyes can see

© Madison Taylor 2008

innocence return - artist jk mccormack (c) JkM 2014

Innocence Return – Artist Jk McCormack (c) JkM 2007

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Le Chateau de Rocher

Le Chateau de Rocher

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility” — Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

The Prince of Tides

prince of tides poster
The Prince of Tides
Film Review by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Created on 9th January 2014
Posted On Friday 10th January 2014
FILM FRIDAY

[WARNING: SOME ROUGH SCENES OF A VIOLENT SEXUAL NATURE. SUBJECT MATTER CAN BE DISTURBING]

2 prince of tides barbra as director

Barbra Streisand as Director of “The Prince of Tides”

“Prince of Tides” stars Barbra Streisand, Nick Nolte, Blythe Danner, and Kate Nelligan, plus George Carlin as the gay character who gives comic relief and lightens things up. Neighbor to Nick Nolte’s twin sister, Savannah. She starts out the film inside a hospital in serious condition after a suicide attempt.

3 prince of tides tom stunned w lowenstein

Tom Wingo [Nick Nolte] first visit to Dr. Lowenstein’s Office

There are certain scenes which can have a strong effect on many viewers. We are talking about VIOLENCE of the most disturbing kind.

Rare! The Prince of Tides – Behind the Scenes

My first times seeing this film were in a theatre. The totality of the film is so compelling, I needed to see it. When it first was released, it fit closely to psychological issues I was studying in my own mind.

Prince of Tides (Interpreting)

There is an under story carrying a huge secret. The entire film is absorbing, intense and the building of a relationship between the two lead characters of Dr. Lowenstein and Tom Wingo causes questions. One, he is married. Lowenstein is, also.

4 prince of tides 1st meal 2gether lowenstein tom

Tom Wingo [Nick Nolte] & Dr. Lowenstein [Barbra Streisand]

But this is not what throws me, it is the questions, “Is she treating him or seeing him as a go-between for his sister and their family and a way for her to understand what is hidden. Or is she trying to uncover Tom’s secret as well, to get to his sister’s. Which brings up the question, “Is he technically her patient, also?” 

5 prince of tides lowenstein behind desk

Dr. Lowenstein behind her office desk talking with Tom Wingo

This is one of the dilemmas for me in “The Prince of Tides.” An excellent film to create many discussions in so many areas needing the darkness and shadows cleared.

6 prince of tides tom in lowenstein's ofc

Tom Wingo in front of Dr. Lowenstein’s desk talking with the Doctor

It is a film that makes you think about trying to understand why life happens to you the way it does, with all it’s sudden surprises.

The Prince of Tides is such a story. It is about two worlds and two families. Secrets kept in one and not understanding love in the other.

9 nick-nolte-barbra-streisand-prince-tides-1991 tom lowenstein watch violin player husband

Tom with Lowenstein at dinner party listening to her famous husband Herbert play his Stradivarius violin

I am recommending “The Prince of Tides.” Pat Conroy wrote the novel & adapted the screenplay with Becky Johnston. The acting is incredible. Barbra Streisand, when I first saw this film, I envied Nick Nolte developing the relationship they did.

MSDPROF EC002

Tom and Lowenstein in park watching her son Bernard [Jason Gould, Streisand's son with Actor Elliot Gould]. Lowenstein hired Tom to teach him football.

What brings Tom to Dr. Lowenstein’s [Streisand] psychiatrist office? He is representing his family in a serious matter. His mother coerces him. Doesn’t believe she would be wanted.

Prince of Tides (Ethics)

What is revealed after Tom starts talking to Dr. Lowenstein is overwhelming at times when releasing the pain. His families life, when he was a child, had a great deal of manipulation and violence surrounding it.

8 prince_of_tides_the_1991 dancing

Tom and Lowenstein run into each other at one of Eddie’s parties [Savannah's neighbor played by George Carlin]

They jump between the flashbacks into Tom’s childhood and that of his siblings. Showing a brutal father and the questionable qualifications of their mother, also.

In the present, you see Tom spend some time with his sister who attempted to commit suicide and not the first time.  It is now time for talking to Dr. Lowenstein about his sister and the whole of the rest of his family, to sort out just what is so disturbing for Savannah.

MSDPROF EC067

Tom and Bernard after a good football learning work-out at park

There develops another layer between Lowenstein and Tom. They spend time together outside of her office. Technically, he is not her patient, his sister is. But things begin to get personal between the Doctor and Savannah’s brother Tom .

Lowenstein Holding Tom

Lowenstein Holding Tom

He meets her really irritating son, at first, and her arrogant, famous, violinist husband, who goes outside the barriers of rude to be a pompous, rich, elitist. Hairs get raised between Tom and Lowenstein’s husband. A violin comes between them. Lowenstein leaves. Tom follows.

When I first saw this film, the relationship between Tom and Lowenstein, I felt was crossing over the line. You decide. I am not sure any longer, for personal reasons.

13 The Prince of Tides (1991) lowenstein tom naked in bed

Lowenstein and Tom in bed at her vacation home

The film is about family, class, infidelity, a pain in the ass spouse, a misunderstood son, a nightmare that gets “buried.” Trauma everywhere in Tom and Savannah Wingo’s life.

Prince of Tides (Affective)

“The Prince of Tides” is emotionally charged with love and violence at their heights.

Be Warned, it is an Intense Film with traumatic scenes some may be disturbed by watching.

A note for the film, “The Prince of Tides” is the title of a book of poetry written by Savannah and dedicated to Tom. In the book this was different. It was a book Savannah wrote for their brother Luke. It was changed greatly in the screenplay. The central story switched from Luke Wingo, Tom & Savannah’s brother, being hunted and killed by government agents, to the love story between Tom and Lowenstein. I am drawn to the romance. Luke’s story is told in the book. Tom & Savannah’s story is told in the film in a deeply moving way. 

14 prince of tides tom and lowenstein at cottage in woods

Tom and Lowenstein feeling the loss

It is as great a film today, as the opening night in the theatre. Barbra Streisand did a fabulous job playing the role of Dr. Lowenstein and she was the excellent director of “The Prince of Tides.” The film was nominated for seven Academy Awards  including Best Picture, but lost the award to “The Silence of the Lambs.”

Film Review Written by Jennifer Kiley

The Prince of Tides – Trailer [1991]

Cast

Nick Nolte as Tom Wingo

Barbra Streisand as Dr. Susan Lowenstein

Blythe Danner as Sallie Wingo [Tom Wingo's wife]

Kate Nelligan as Lila Wingo Newbury [Tom & Savannah's mother & Luke's mother]

Jeroen Krabbé as Herbert Woodruff [Lowenstein's husband-the famous violinist]

Melinda Dillon as Savannah Wingo [Tom's twin sister]

George Carlin as Eddie Detreville [Savannah's gay neighbor]

Jason Gould as Bernard Woodruff [Lowenstein’s son and Streisand’s real life son with Elliott Gould

Confessions of a depressed comic

tell me a story
Confessions of a depressed comic
TEDTalk: Kevin Breel
Notations by Jennifer Kiley
Created 28th September 2013
Posted Thursday 3rd October 2013
TELL ME A STORY

Kevin Breel: Confessions of a depressed comic — TEDTalk

Published on Sept 27, 2013
Kevin Breel didn’t look like a depressed kid: team captain, at every party, funny and confident. But he tells the story of the night he realized that — to save his own life — he needed to say four simple words.

Mental Health is a serious situation in this country as well as in the rest of the world. People need to come out of the closet with what they are feeling and what they are dealing with on a daily basis. The people around them need to show more understanding and compassion and not judge how any one person is going to behave. Television, the news, media, fictional films and stories, distort how people are who suffer from depression, bipolar, schizophrenia, agoraphobia, panic disorders, the list is so long the DSM-5 has over 300 diagnoses. Before anyone judges anyone, be sure you are not amongst those who have their own mental condition in which to deal.

I am bipolar and have co-morbidity with several other diagnoses. Nothing stops me from living my life. I do not hide who I am. It is important to be truthful to myself and the world I live in. Secrets only bury one deeper into the darkness. I write myself out of the darkness when I get depressed and when I am feeling manic I write poems, work on other creative projects, I create posts for my blog “the secret keeper.” It keeps me alive and gives me something to do that makes me feel I am contributing to changing the way things are seen and maybe making something new recognized as a possibility.

Depression is a serious issue and a difficult state of mind that overwhelms the persons who experience it. Suicide is often the solution chosen by those who cannot tolerate the pain any longer. It is a wretched state to be in. The darkness surrounds you and pulls you under so deep, you feel like you will be smothered by the need to destroy yourself, to rip yourself apart. It makes me angry there is so little understanding of how devastating the feelings are when you are overwhelmed by depression. How anyone can tell you to control it, you have not reason to feel depressed. It is as though they feel you have any control. To think where you are in life or how much you have or how rich you might be, should make it impossible for you to feel depressed. Like those things have anything to do with it.

All the treasures of the world cannot stop depressions from happening. If they are holding on to you, you have to let the depression works its way out of you. It doesn’t do it by command. Meds don’t always effect it. With myself, they do absolutely nothing. I’ve tried so many different pills and combinations, I got tired of my brain feeling like it was being held under sedation and water at the same time. The ability to think was null and void. At least with depression, if one struggles, it is a creative tool with great depth. If one is able to channel the energy of depression, the creative muse delivers gifts of such depth, one would not expect to find while feeling so destructive towards one’s self. It opens up a magic doorway to knowledge not available through any other source.

I am not advocating for depression. But using it while it is punishing you, have benefits you won’t find any other time. I would let go of the depression if it were possible, even with what is produced from within the depth of their darkness. There are things in the dark one needs sometimes to find for a better understanding of life.

So speak out to end the stigma. Help people to understand what depression feels like. Talk to everyone who will listen. End the oppression from the outside to help the depression inside of you.  by Jennifer Kiley

smoky light leads to center light of universewhite light luring the spirit away

Related Site: You Can NOT Be Replaced: LINK

Related Site: Alone In the Darkness: LINK

Private Writings: Chapter #28 — Death on the Veranda

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #28 – –Death on the Veranda
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Published Introduction & Chapter #1
On 19th March 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On 1st October 2013
Dedicated to Julie Andrews. Always Wished She Were My Mother.
Happy Birthday! 1st October 1935 Day J.A. Blessed This World. Saved My Life.

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.
ANYONE RESEMBLING ANYONE LIVING OR DEAD
IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

I am writing to Dr. Annie Haskell. My form of storytelling is through
letters containing dreams, thoughts, poems, music, describing my script
“Brief Sacrifice,” already made into a film but not yet released, psycho-
therapy, inspirations, reflective comments, the inner workings of the mind,
soul, body, emotions, and bipolar. I prefer mentally creative, interesting, or
having a brain misfiring. Included in the mix are childhood abuse, car crashes,
near drownings, drugs [the illegal kind at present], hallucinations, hypersexuality,
time warps, finding answers to unsolved mysteries, infatuation, imagination, fantasy,

and a need to discover my bliss.
See you inside.
Namaste! Madison Taylor

Private Writings: — Chapter #28: Death on the Veranda

Tuesday 1st April 2008

Dear Annie,

That was some announcement you made in group. I was stunned and couldn’t react in our session or in group today. I thought it being April Fool’s Day you were joking. First you tell us group had one more meeting, the last being next Tuesday followed by our session. Then to top that off, came the shock of the decade. The police declared Angie’s death a homicide. They arrested Dr. George. He has been charge with her murder. They feel the evidence is pretty airtight. The only thing you didn’t say was the cause of death.

A murder, I thought so all along, but Dr. George. Why would he throw away everything for her? It doesn’t sound right to me. She was not a very nice person. He must have been threatened to make him kill her. Not trying to blame the victim, but why are the police being so quiet about it all. Not a clue to go on. Curious mind wants to know. It’s driving slowly by a crash scene. You don’t want to see the gore but you do want to know what happened. Everyone does, unless they have a total lack of curiosity.

I hope he didn’t do it and a good lawyer gets him off. My feelings aside, he doesn’t deserve prison for putting up with her for ten years. We both started seeing him about the same time. He seemed alright back then, but deteriorated slowly since then. Retiring would have been one way to go, but murder. To be taken out by killing someone. That’s going a bit too far, indubitably.

I don’t mean to take this so lightly, but it is April Fool’s, remember. It all seems like a dream someone sat on and all the cream filling went smush! Should I really be serious? Angie died. I don’t miss her. Don’t even say I should, just little. Never. Not ever. She stuck me every week with her sarcasm and fucked up sense of propriety. Homophobia, she took to an extreme. She was twisted. Perverse. Jealous, I have someone who loves me. Couldn’t stand anyone being happy, if she wasn’t. I know she was definitely pissed off at the whole fucking world, like it owed her something.

Well, I do not miss her. Maybe sorry she was murdered. That part is terrible. It hurts her kids. I remember what I said when we all first heard about it, I said her kids would have a better life. But I am sure they are hurting now. It creeps me out thinking about it.

You mentioned in group, at the close, there is another group forming soon. It would be a selected group. More specific but you didn’t say how specific. I should have asked you in session but it slipped my mind. Feeling depressed for the past several days needed more attention.

Everything felt so lost. The more I felt myself slipping away from the real world, the deeper the pain was cutting into my flesh. Wanting to make myself hurt with physical pain was my only distraction from wanting to kill myself. Wanting to die was so powerful. A voice was speaking to me, “how do you think your friends and Scottie and your animals feel if you died by killing yourself.” It is my animals and Scottie who keep me around. And the friend who spoke those words, she, also, keeps me alive. I couldn’t hurt any of them, not in taking my own life. I have no control over feeling depressed. It is build into the misfiring of my brain.

Being bipolar gives me such highs. I write the sharpest dialogue and scenes are filled with life. When I’m depressed, I find a way of using those moments to be creative, also. But the pain courses through my blood, wanting to burst through like a gusher. The pressure in my head, to scream out the need to beat myself, to make myself bleed. Depression is so difficult to talk about, everyone backs away from it. They don’t get it. The worse things a person can do to a person who is feeling this way is to tell them to “Snap Out of It,” or “Get Over It, ” and the best, “What Do You Have to be Depressed About? You’ve got a great life.”

Depression has nothing to do with what you have or how much money in your bank account. You could be the wealthiest person in the world. Depression doesn’t acknowledge the means of one’s life. Graduating college Head of the Dean’s List, head of your class, editor of the college paper, that isn’t recognized when you want to kill yourself. Being nominated for an Oscar, absolutely nothing in it stops depression. When Depression wants to grab ahold of you, pull you down or push you closer and closer to the edge, nothing will stop it but trying to refocus its’ intentions. It feels an entity onto itself, with more power then I have inside of me to fight it.

I have won all the battles so far, but they are not through with me. Probably never will be. It is my battle to have two prominent sides to my bipolar. I am just so excited when I am excited because I am not depressed. There is a catch. Being high on life when bipolar can spin you too far to the upper end. You can get too high. Once again, the possibilities of losing control.

I want to switch over to a quick look into “Brief Sacrifice.” I have one piece for you this week from the script. There is a secret organization trying to locate the Friends of Nikola Tesla. They want to destroy them. They know something is changing. They know Carter McLeod is in possession of the Silver Box, and that it holds magical powers. They want to retrieve this and the person who holds it. Their anagram is GEUSS. Pronounced as the word “Guess.” I will tell you in my next letter about the initials and what the anagram means.

We should really talk about what I wrote and the poem I know I am going to write after I finish this letter.

It makes me feel so happy your being in my life.

Fondly,

Madison

Annie Haskell --- Madison Tayler's Psychoanalyst's Office

Dr. Annie Haskell’s Office as a Psychoanalyst

<em>Somewhere In Time – John Barry</em>

calla_lily_bunch

Calla Lily Bunch

rain in garden gif

Screaming Death
Written by Madison Taylor
1st April 2008

Screaming death
Life ending
Beginning
Dying

Living has too many endings
Once there
Disappearing
Into invisible air

Pain fills the heart
Exploding like fireworks
Shooting stars
Covering the sky

Blood spurting
From dying flesh
Taken out
By the enemy

All is stolen
Dreams
Memories
Not yet lived

Just gone
All is gone
Ripped apart
Stolen away from love

© madison taylor 2008

Reflecting Abstract Artist --- Jaison Cianelli

Reflecting — Abstract Art — Artist — Jaison Cianelli

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Patrick is our Bengal cat in tree. He loves Scotties. They are buddies.   1612x1212 Patrick-our Bengal cat up in his tree-Scottie’s buddy

Havana Brown Kitten  Madison and Scottie's kitten One of the Two   800x600

Havana Brown Kitten Madison & Scottie’s. This cutie is Toker. He has a twin brother Mikey

English Country Gardens Chateau de Rocher framed

English Country Gardens Chateau de Rocher

play is not just play meryl streep