Category Archives: suicidal thinking

Genius or Madness?

Genius or Madness?
“Up/Down” Bipolar Disorder Documentary
Post Created by Jk the SK
Illustrated by j. kiley
Created May 12th 2013
Posted May 13th 2013

Original Transcript
6 November 2012
Genius or Madness?
Professor Glenn Wilson

“Great wits are sure to madness near allied, and thin partitions do their bounds divide” (John Dryden, 1681).
“There is no great genius without a tincture of madness” (Seneca, 1st Century A.D.).silver divider between paragraphs

dali  spider of the evening 1024x768

dali spider of the evening

silver divider between paragraphsMany great artists and scientists appear to have gone slightly mad following their lofty achievements. Isaac Newton was arguably the greatest physicist of all time, introducing the concept of gravity and making major advances in optics, mechanics and mathematics. He was also intensely suspicious and distrustful of others and in later life dabbled in alchemy and sought hidden messages in the Bible. Of course, alchemy was not thought a mad pursuit in Newton’s day and he could have been afflicted with mercury poisoning as a result of his experiments.silver divider between paragraphs
dali   the disintegration of the persistance of memory  1030x800

dali the disintegration of the persistance of memory

silver divider between paragraphsBeethoven and Van Gogh are also said to have gone progressively mad, though the reasons are equally debatable. Beethoven’s mania may have been due to alcoholism, syphilis, or lead poisoning (apart from his profound deafness, which would distress anyone, let alone a musician). There are theories that Van Gogh’s mood swings were caused by porphyria rather than bipolar disorder, that he lost his ear in a duel with Gauguin (claiming self-injury to maintain his friendship) and that his “suicide” was an accidental shooting by two boys playing cowboys (whom he also protected).silver divider between paragraphs
van gogh  starry night on the rhone  932x687

van gogh starry night on the rhone

silver divider between paragraphsFor others, the genius and madness appear in parallel. Nikola Tesla was a brilliant applied scientist whose inventions rivaled those of Edison. He obtained around 300 patents in radio and electricity technologies, pioneering alternating current and hydroelectric power. However, he claimed to be in communication with other planets, to have invented “death rays” and suffered from bizarre compulsions.silver divider between paragraphs
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van gogh bridge

silver divider between paragraphsJohn Nash, the Nobel-winning mathematician who developed “game theory” for the social sciences also suffered paranoid delusions throughout his career. He was hospitalised involuntarily and had to feign sanity to be released. He still heard the voices but learned how to live with them and not to talk about them. “I wouldn’t have had such good scientific ideas if I had thought more normally” he said.silver divider between paragraphs
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van gogh starry night

silver divider between paragraphsSometimes it is a matter of chance or social milieu that determines whether an individual is deemed brilliant or crazy. To the Counter-Reformation Church leaders, Galileo was not necessarily mad (probably just heretical) but they clearly failed to appreciate his genius and subjected him to a lifetime of house arrest. In other times and places Picasso and Einstein might have been committed to an insane asylum rather than revered for their original thinking.silver divider between paragraphs
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moby dick – jackson pollock

silver divider between paragraphsMany lists of creative achievers throughout history have been compiled along with mental health symptoms and diagnostic categories retrospectively assigned to them. Unfortunately, these are mostly anecdotal, speculative and lacking in proper controls for comparison. Some have argued that the connection between genius and madness has been over-egged because of a few high-profile cases such as those described above.silver divider between paragraphs
virginia woolf by george charles beresford 1902

virginia woolf by george charles beresford 1902

silver divider between paragraphsThe best evidence in support of the genius-madness link comes from behaviour genetics. The close relatives of creative people are more likely to be schizophrenic and vice versa (psychotics having more creative relatives). Einstein, for example, had a son who was schizophrenic, while Bertrand Russell had many schizophrenic relatives. According to Simonton (1999), “creative hits and crazy misses” are mixed within many illustrious family pedigrees, including the Darwins, Galtons and Huxleys.silver divider between paragraphs
virginia woolf

virginia woolf

silver divider between paragraphsThe first degree relatives of creative people are actually more prone to mental disorders than creatives themselves. This is because actual illness (as opposed to its genetic predisposition) is likely to impede a creative career. The exception seems to be writers, who themselves show high rates of many behavioural disorders, including psychoses, mood disorders, substance abuse and suicide.silver divider between paragraphsvirginia-woolf 3silver divider between paragraphsCould the environment also be involved? Traumatic events in childhood and orphan status seem more common in those who make outstanding contributions to art and science. In a study of 700 high achievers, found that three-quarters had troubled childhoods, especially loss of a parent. The “school of hard knocks” could provide motivation and inspiration (Dickens and Chaplin come to mind here) while at the same time generating psychological disorder. However, this idea is opposite to the common-sense view that parental support and encouragement is beneficial to achievement, rather than maltreatment and deprivation. Indeed, the Goetzels found that wealth was more common in the backgrounds of famous people than poverty. And of course, pathology in the parents may be genetically transmitted to their children, thus accounting for some of the associations reported.silver divider between paragraphs
Virginia Woolf  1000x288

Virginia Woolf

silver divider between paragraphsSimilar thought processes, such as unusual and grandiose ideas, together with a determination to promote them, seem to link genius and psychosis. Certain neurotransmitters and gene loci have been cited as common to both, including the male sex hormone testosterone, a gene relating to a growth factor involved in neural development and plasticity called neuregulin 1 (NRG1 and genes modulating dopamine transmission in the brain, e.g., DARPP-32.silver divider between paragraphs
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virginia woolf painting

silver divider between paragraphsUnconventional thinking is characteristic of a constitutional personality trait called Psychoticism (P). This has many facets, including tough-mindedness, lack of empathy, impulsiveness, risk-taking, adventure-seeking, bizarre thinking, and a refusal to adhere to social norms. High levels of P predispose to psychopathy and clinical psychosis, as well as to creativity, thus accounting for the overlap between them. A good deal of research over recent decades has supported this theory. A related trait is called schizotypy. An optimum number of indicators for this relates to creative achievement, rather than full-blown schizophrenia.silver divider between paragraphs
kurt cobain

kurt cobain

silver divider between paragraphsDopamine function (or dysfunction?) may account for the link between genius and madness. Dopamine is the chemical messenger in the meso-limbic and cortical areas of the brain concerned with approach, reward, positive mood and achievement-seeking. Genes that modulate dopamine levels are reported to affect novelty-seeking behaviour and to relate to Impulsivity and Psychoticism. Recreational drugs that are addictive and sometimes lead to delusions and hallucinations (e.g., amphetamine psychosis) tend to raise levels of dopamine in the brain. By contrast, anti-psychotic medications are usually dopamine antagonists (this being one of the reasons why compliance is difficult). Untreated schizophrenics have more D2 receptors in the striatum and lower D2 binding in the thalamus.silver divider between paragraphs
cobain - bipolar  659x446

kurt cobain – bipolar

silver divider between paragraphsGenius and psychotic are both inclined to loose associations (i.e., “thinking outside the box”). This can be observed as unusual responses on a word association test or in some of Salvador Dali’s surreal images (e.g., the Lobster-Telephone and the Mae West Lips Sofa). Such flexibility of thought seems to be increased by dopamine.silver divider between paragraphs
beethoven - bipolar  630x630

beethoven – bipolar

silver divider between paragraphsAnother description of the schizophrenic thinking style is that it tends to be over-inclusive, with the boundaries of relevance being set more broadly. To most people, an apple falling off a tree and the movement of planets in the solar system would appear to have nothing in common, but Newton was insightful enough to connect them under the grand unifying concept of “gravity.” Of course, not all such generalisations turn out to be that useful but many great scientific theories depend upon the ability to perceive improbable connections.silver divider between paragraphs
carrie fisher - bipolar 638x359

carrie fisher – bipolar

silver divider between paragraphsExactly how loose associations or over-inclusive thinking promote genius is unclear. If enough crazy ideas are generated, one or two might hit the target by chance alone. This approach is deliberately harnessed in “brainstorming” sessions which use random “flashcards” as a means of generating fresh ideas. Certainly, it is difficult to be creative operating within received wisdom and some of the greatest artists and composers were the “rebels” least shackled by the traditional rules of their art. However, the “shotgun” theory smacks slightly of “monkeys on typewriters”. (It would take a long time for them come up with the complete works of Shakespeare). Outstanding advances in science, like the theories of evolution and relativity, and great works of art, such as Wagner’s Ring Cycle, cannot be generated by chance alone. Profound imagination and high-level spatial intelligence is usually required in addition.silver divider between paragraphs
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bipolar behaviour

silver divider between paragraphsApplication to the point of “work addiction” is also often involved. Edison reckoned that genius was 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration.Most creative people are also the most productive. There is a positive correlation between quality and quantity of output, implying that each masterpiece is likely to be interspersed with much that is mediocre. (I do not ne)cessarily agree with this statement.)silver divider between paragraphs
marilyn monroe - bipolar 630x465

marilyn monroe – bipolar

silver divider between paragraphsThe human tendency to apophenia may be implicated in both creativity and madness. This refers to seeing meaningful patterns where they do not exist and it underlies superstition and hallucinations (e.g., seeing ghosts and hearing “voices”). This perceptual style has survival value because failing to spot a predator in the forest is a bigger (potentially fatal) mistake than seeing one where it does not exist. Exaggerated apophenia is characteristic of schizotypal individuals and is enhanced by dopamine.silver divider between paragraphs
ernest hemingway - bipolar 627x590

ernest hemingway – bipolar

silver divider between paragraphsAnother mental “illness” linked with creativity is bipolar mood disorder (previously called “manic-depressive psychosis”). This is characterised by extreme mood swings, occurring over a period of months, and it seems particularly to afflict artists, writers, musicians and comedians. Among highly talented people who appear to have suffered mood disorder are Peter Tchaikovsky, Robert Schumann, Vincent Van Gogh, Virginia Woolf, Spike Milligan, Paul Merton and Stephen Fry (who presented a TV documentary on bipolar disorder detailing his experiences).silver divider between paragraphs
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winston churchill – bipolar

silver divider between paragraphsGenetic analysis shows links between bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. Sufferers are often tortured souls, particularly when the “Black Dog” afflicts them, and their feelings may be tapped to give greater depth and sensitivity to their art. On the other hand, the “flight of ideas” experienced in the “manic” phase of the mood cycle can result in exceptional productivity. As with the trade-off between schizophrenia and genius, bipolar disorder balances troughs with peaks in a way that might account for its evolutionary survival. Treatments are available for bipolar disorder but there is a danger that, by smoothing mood, they could impede the creative forces.silver divider between paragraphs
bipolar wheel 670x480

bipolar wheel

silver divider between paragraphsThen there are the autistic spectrum disorders (such as Asperger’s syndrome) in which a deficiency in social communication is sometimes accompanied by “savant” skills in fields like music, mathematics and spatial intelligence. In the film Rain Man (1988), Dustin Hoffman plays Raymond Babbitt an autistic whose exceptional memory is exploited by his brother to count cards in Las Vegas casinos. (This was loosely based on a real-life savant called Kim Peek, who may in fact have had a chromosome disorder). The artist Louis Wain, who became famous for his surrealistic cat paintings was hospitalised for schizophrenia, but others have argued he was actually autistic.silver divider between paragraphs
marilyn monroe poster 851x315

marilyn monroe poster

silver divider between paragraphsThese various “disorders” can all contribute to extraordinary contributions to art and science. Some tendency to psychotic traits seems to be beneficial (thus accounting for the maintenance of such genes) but too much makes the individual disorganised and is hence detrimental. It is notable that creative artists and writers have profiles similar to those of psychotic patients on clinical scales of the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MMPI) but are less extreme – in fact, roughly half-way between normal controls and full-blown schizophrenics.silver divider between paragraphs
mel gibson - bipolar 891x668

mel gibson – bipolar

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What is the mechanism whereby schizophrenic genes promote survival? The clue may be in the behaviour of bower birds, the males of which make colourful and elaborate constructions in order to attract a female (the Taj Mahals of the bird world). Creativity has also been shown to promote mating success in men, as measured by number of sex partners. Since there is no such connection for women, it is not surprising that men’s productivity in art and science exceeds that of women by around ten times.(I don’t believe this statement about men exceed women by around ten times in productivity in art and science—more like opportunity and the continued imbalance in availability and acknowledgment).silver divider between paragraphs
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medical cannabis for bipolar treatment

silver divider between paragraphsObviously, it does not do to be totally and permanently “away with the fairies”; some measure of control needs to be maintained. Consider James Joyce and his daughter Lucia, who was being treated by Carl Jung for schizophrenia in 1934. Joyce doubted she could be schizophrenic because her thought patterns were so similar to his own. Jung disagreed, comparing father and daughter to two people who had arrived at the bottom of a river. According to Jung, James had dived there, whereas Lucia had fallen in. silver divider between paragraphs
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marilyn monroe her famous selfish quote

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Genius and madness have much in common but there are also important differences between them. Mostly these are to do with intelligence, self-insight and contact with reality. Salvador Dali said: “There is only one difference between a madman and me. The madman thinks he is sane. I know that I am mad”. Certainly, Dali was eccentric, self-absorbed and grandiose with a flamboyant moustache and a manic stare. But he was also a skilled draftsman, who produced brilliant, imaginative artworks, which made him rich, famous and able to enjoy a life of luxury. He was not, therefore, totally mad. © Professor Glenn D Wilson 2012
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Genius or Madness? The Psychology of Creativity – Professor Glenn D. Wilson. The text is close to what is on the video but if you want to see it just click on this link.
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“Up/Down” Bipolar Disorder Documentary FULL MOVIE (2011)silver divider between paragraphsThis is a brilliantly made Documentary. Everyone who is Bipolar or knows someone who is or those in the Psychiatric profession and do counseling with anyone who is bipolar or anyone interested in bipolar and everyone who wants to have a knowledge of bipolar and find out what it is from what the myths are or how much people are misinformed about bipolar. A MUST SEE VIDEO. STOP THE STIGMA OF BIPOLAR AND ANY FORM OF MENTAL “ILLNESS” CREATIVITY.silver divider between paragraphs

Beethoven’s Ninth Symphonysilver divider between paragraphs
QUOTATIONS on GENIUS:

“There’s a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line.” ― Oscar Levant

“Genius is nothing more nor less than childhood recaptured at will.” ― Charles Baudelaire, The Painter of Modern Life and Other Essays

“No great mind has ever existed without a touch of madness.” ― Aristotle

“I’m a misunderstood genius.”
“What’s misunderstood?”
“Nobody thinks I’m a genius.”
― Bill Watterson

“Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius — and a lot of courage to move in the opposite direction.” ― E.F. Schumacher

“The public is wonderfully tolerant. It forgives everything except genius.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Artist as Critic: Critical Writings of Oscar Wilde

“The true genius shudders at incompleteness — imperfection — and usually prefers silence to saying the something which is not everything that should be said.” ― Edgar Allan Poe, Marginaliasilver divider between paragraphs
QUOTATIONS on MADNESS:

“Sanity is a madness put to good uses.” ― George Santayana, Essential Santayana, The: Selected Writings

“So when you find yourself locked onto an unpleasant train of thought, heading for the places in your past where the screaming is unbearable, remember there’s always madness. Madness is the emergency exit.” ― Alan Moore, Batman: The Killing Joke

“Human madness is oftentimes a cunning and most feline thing. When you think it fled, it may have but become transfigured into some still subtler form.” ― Herman Melville, Moby-Dick

“I don’t possess these thoughts I have — they possess me. I don’t possess these feelings I have — They obsess me.” ― Ashly Lorenzana

“The thoughts written on the walls of madhouses by their inmates might be worth publicizing.” ― Georg Christoph Lichtenberg

“Men have called me mad; but the question is not settled whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence — whether much that is glorious — whether all that is profound — does not spring from disease of thought — from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect. They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who only dream by night. In their gray visions they obtain glimpses of eternity, and thrill, in waking, to find that they have been upon the verge of the great secret. In snatches, they learn something of the wisdom which is of good, and more of the mere knowledge which is of evil. They penetrate, however rudderless or compassless, into the vast ocean of the ‘light ineffable’.” ― Edgar Allan Poe, Eleonora silver divider between paragraphs
QUOTATIONS on BIPOLAR:

“I’m the girl who is lost in space, the girl who is disappearing always, forever fading away and receding farther and farther into the background. Just like the Cheshire cat, someday I will suddenly leave, but the artificial warmth of my smile, that phony, clownish curve, the kind you see on miserably sad people and villains in Disney movies, will remain behind as an ironic remnant. I am the girl you see in the photograph from some party someplace or some picnic in the park, the one who is in fact soon to be gone. When you look at the picture again, I want to assure you, I will no longer be there. I will be erased from history, like a traitor in the Soviet Union. Because with every day that goes by, I feel myself becoming more and more invisible…” ― Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation

“There is a particular kind of pain, elation, loneliness, and terror involved in this kind of madness. When you’re high it’s tremendous. The ideas and feelings are fast and frequent like shooting stars, and you follow them until you find better and brighter ones. Shyness goes, the right words and gestures are suddenly there, the power to captivate others a felt certainty. There are interests found in uninteresting people. Sensuality is pervasive and the desire to seduce and be seduced irresistible. Feelings of ease, intensity, power, well-being, financial omnipotence, and euphoria pervade one’s marrow. But, somewhere, this changes. The fast ideas are far too fast, and there are far too many; overwhelming confusion replaces clarity. Memory goes. Humor and absorption on friends’ faces are replaced by fear and concern. Everything previously moving with the grain is now against– you are irritable, angry, frightened, uncontrollable, and enmeshed totally in the blackest caves of the mind. You never knew those caves were there. It will never end, for madness carves its own reality.” ― Kay Redfield Jamison, An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness

“Manic-depression distorts moods and thoughts, incites dreadful behaviors, destroys the basis of rational thought, and too often erodes the desire and will to live. It is an illness that is biological in its origins, yet one that feels psychological in the experience of it, an illness that is unique in conferring advantage and pleasure, yet one that brings in its wake almost unendurable suffering and, not infrequently, suicide.” ― Kay Redfield Jamison, An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness

“Compared to bipolar’s magic, reality seems a raw deal. It’s not just the boredom that makes recovery so difficult, it’s the slow dawning pain that comes with sanity – the realization of illnesss, the humiliating scenes, the blown money and friendships and confidence. Depression seems almost inevitable. The pendulum swings back from transcendence in shards, a bloody, dangerous mess. Crazy high is better than crazy low. So we gamble, dump the pills, and stick it to the control freaks and doctors. They don’t understand, we say. They just don’t get it. They’ll never be artists.” ― David Lovelace, Scattershot: My Bipolar Family

“Depression is a painfully slow, crashing death. Mania is the other extreme, a wild roller coaster run off its tracks, an eight ball of coke cut with speed. It’s fun and it’s frightening as hell. Some patients – bipolar type I – experience both extremes; other – bipolar type II – suffer depression almost exclusively. But the “mixed state,” the mercurial churning of both high and low, is the most dangerous, the most deadly. Suicide too often results from the impulsive nature and physical speed of psychotic mania coupled with depression’s paranoid self-loathing.” ― David Lovelace, Scattershot: My Bipolar Family

“Absurdity and anti—absurdity are the two poles of creative energy.” ― Karl Lagerfeld

“Except you cannot outrun insanity, anymore than you can outrun your own shadow.” ― Alyssa Reyans, Letters from a Bipolar Mother

“Clear your energy, honor your rhythm, live your vision ” ― George Denslow, Living Out of Darkness: A Personal Journey of Embracing the Bipolar Opportunitysilver divider between paragraphs

Letters of Import: Visions Of A Future 8

Letters of Import: Private Writings to a Psychoanalyst
Visions Of A Future 8
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrations & abstract digital art by j. kiley
© jennifer kiley 2013
First Posting 03.19.13
Posted Weekly Early Tuesday Morning
Eighth Posting 05.07.13silver divider between paragraphsanyone living or dead is purely coincidentalsilver divider between paragraphsletters-divider for sections of books-heart echosilver divider between paragraphsletters - visions of a future 8silver divider between paragraphsTuesday, November 19th, 2007

Dear Annie

It was your first solo flight today Annie. That was the most excellent group. The best group I have ever attended. My bias is being put aside and my words are honest and direct. You brightened up that group session. Everyone spoke without having to be coaxed out of any shells. No one was hiding. The quiet ones who regularly sit there and Mr. Xxx has to be the one who says what they can’t say. Not that he really makes one want to open up or gives them a chance too. You made everyone feel your enthusiasm, even though the subject was a rough one. Talking about not wanting to be touched or barely being able to let your spouses or mates try to kiss you. Forget about sex or making love; you really brought out the toughest subject.

I know you didn’t open the session with that in mind. Lisa wanted to talk about her partner. Being a lesbian myself, it is hard to believe that being sexually abused by men when you are a child would effect so strongly an intimate relationship with another woman. You would think that would be safe. In my case, I had such mixed signals. My mother was a sadist. My grandmother, the gentlest woman I have ever known. Everything about her was soft and tender. I never felt anything threatening about her. She was pure love and generosity with me. There were no doubts with her. She loved me up until she died and even then she visited me all the time from the other side. Many dreams we would sit together with her sitting in a chair on her home’s porch and my head resting on her lap. She would always just stroke my hair. She was so tender and I felt so bonded with her. It was like she never died, I got to visit with her more often after she died than when she was alive.

I wanted her to live forever. It never entered my mind she would die. She told me that it would happen. I didn’t believe her. I told her No! That would never happen. I wanted her to always be with me. But I was so wrong. She did die. It was only a short time after that conversation. She was gone.

Her dying wasn’t my first contact with death. A five year old boy drowned. He lived across the street from our family. He was so sweet. Everyone in our neighborhood loved him. He was a little angel, so sweet and innocent. The other child with him, when it happened, left him alone, dead or drowning in the water, while he ran home and didn’t tell anyone what had happened. The search was awful. Everyone was frantic. The whole neighborhood that loved him went out on the search. It brought down a great sadness over everyone after he was found.

Nothing could be done. It was too long. Could the other boy have saved him if he ran for help? No one could answer that question. It did eventually come out about what happened. The whole truth, they were in a place that was dangerous even for adults. The little boy tried to balance as he walked across a narrow crossing and fell into the deep water new the waterfalls. Neither boy knew how to swim. The other boy didn’t want to get into trouble. Children were forbidden to go this place by the pond. When asked if he had seen this boy that drowned, he lied and told everyone No when asked.

Somehow his conscience ate at him enough to break his silence. He told the truth after hours had passed. But it was way to late. It was over. The little five year old boy was way past drowning. Shock and blaming the boy who was alive followed him around for a longtime. That boy wasn’t trusted by the people of our neighborhood. Most people were very judgmental of his entire family. They were crude and socially unacceptable and most of all they never went to church. Ours was a God fearing group except them and one other family that everyone thought were Communists. It was all rather ridiculous. It was so devastating to the boys family, especially his mother. I felt bad for them. I wasn’t that old myself and I loved the little boy who drowned. He was like a little angel. It was all very sad.

My grandmother dying, though, was a different kind of devastation. She was my protector and the only person I could communicate with. We created a special alphabet. It was secret. We could write and no one could read what we sent to the other. She was my only physical contact that was good touch. Everyone else abused me, either sexually or through physical beatings. Which was worst? Both, they overlapped in their sexual abusive nature. Subliminally, it could all be traced back to sexual submission. Whippings. Beatings. Rapes. Forced touches. Kidnapping. Bondage. Child pornography. None of these were by any choice that I made. It was all against my will.

I was a sex slave and exposed to all kinds of physical and sexual brutality, including the denial of nourishment. The greatest pain was being denied the right to express any emotions or sounds. In particular, I was beaten harder if I uttered any sound. The worst sound, that I could make and that received the worst of the punishment, was to cry. I was forbidden to cry. Crying brought out the worst wrath of the Shadow Mother. She would whip me or hit me with all sorts of objects until I would stop crying. I was filled with tears. I needed to cry. It was part of my nature to cry. I cried all the time. But she hated it. She was determined to drive it out of me. She worked on this mission for many years until she found success. My grandmother’s death was her day of success. That was the day I was told not to cry for the last time. As I wad holding my grandfather’s hand, after having just returned from looking into the coffin at what was once the warm body of my loving grandmother. I kissed her cold forehead. She wasn’t there.

My grandfather’s hands were warm. We needed contact but my uncle was a mean bastard. He helped my mother to kill her. He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it like a clamp and told me not to cry and added that I was upsetting my grandfather. My grandfather was crying with me. But I listened to him. He was just echoing the rant I’d heard from his sister, the Shadow Mother, throughout my bruised childhood. I stopped crying and I did not cry after that moment ever, with this one exception, unless someone I loved deeply died suddenly. Then I would lose control. But if I just want to cry I cannot do it. The tears are trapped. What will release them naturally, I just don’t know. I’ve tried for year. Doing therapy since I was 19 years old has not been able to breakdown that barrier. Would you, Annie, like to have a go at it. Do you think you can find the secret passage inside of me where the barrier has the door closed, locked and barricaded?

The gentleness in your voice carries an echo of a hypnotic ability. I feel that you could coax someone who is so closed off from her feelings, like I am. I need someone sensitive but emotionally strong and gentle to draw out the one who holds onto the tears so tightly. I really want you to be the one who breaks through my barriers. I know they are built very strong and they are extremely thick. Behind the wall, it is dark and scary. We want to be released from where the Shadow Mother has us locked up. She holds the key. So, only someone who can perform magical and mystical feats will be able to break through and cause the blockade to crumble down and set me free. I need magic. White magic with a great deal of power.

A great many curses of the Black Arts have been cast on me. Their demons keep me closely guarded. Trust me, when I tell you that it is not madness talking. This is all quite real. The demons haunt me almost constantly. They torture me with lies. They try their damnedest to confuse my mind so that I will doubt my reality. At times, I know that what I perceive as real is false. I know when they are trying to trick me but I can’t stop it from effecting me. They take over my mind. I fight it so I still have a glimpse of the truth. It takes so much strength to not feel madness trying to take over.

I must rest. How I will be able to trust you with all of this information and hope you do not think we are certifiably mad, stark raving loony. We are not crazy. We couldn’t be more sane. But right now we need sleep. We’ll write more again soon.

You did a fantastic job being a great psychotherapist today. I can see the future and I see you helping me. I feel you are the one I need right now. You are perfect you may be a novice but you have a strong connection to the soul. Your spirit has a great power. That is one of the things we need as a weapon. That is all for right now. I must rest.

Regards,
Madison

Ps. The force is strong in you. That is good until next week.silver divider between paragraphsletters-divider for sections of books-heart echosilver divider between paragraphsThis note is to assure the strictest of confidence.

To Annie,

At this moment I am not trying to be a coward, but I feel if I hold back now or never send this to you, then I am freeing myself up to write whatever I wish without need of censorship. Maybe someday, when I am feeling more familiar with just who you are and what you might mean to me, this parameter will be altered and a copy of this and future letters will be relayed to you. For now I want to maintain secrecy, to protect you, Annie, and to protect myself from over testing the boundaries between us and to record the development of our relationship.

I want Annie Haskell to trust me. I want you to know I am trying to protect you and also myself from any humiliation. Writing to you in this way frees up my words as I speak them onto the page. Some future date, if I feel trusting enough, I will release to you what I have written in honesty. Right now, I will keep my words confidential. On my honour, no others shall see these pages, I promise you that.

Regards,
Madison Taylorsilver divider between paragraphsletters-divider for sections of books-heart echosilver divider between paragraphs

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labyrinth of a wandering wonderland

the labyrinth called “wandering wonderland.” it is where madison, scottie and their cats, patrick, sparky and toker loves to escape to

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madison's woods of imagination where she takes long walks to reflect

madison’s “woods of imagination” where she takes long walks to reflect. it is starts just past the labyrinth

silver divider between paragraphsLE CHATEAU DE ROCHER
le chateau de rocher by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013   824x552

le chateau de rocher is the home of madison and scottie & their three cats sparky toker & patrick

silver divider between paragraphsQUOTATIONS from: LETTERS of IMPORT: Private Writings to a Psychoanalyst

“A Dream

The beginning always starts out with a dream.
It is all a dream
And we are all players
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~
(1563-1631)

“Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?”
Christopher Marlowe for “Hero and Leander”

“A therapeutic relationship is often more psycho-emotionally intimate than a marriage, or a romantic attachment. I know things about my patients that they would never dream of revealing to their spouses or families. Why is that? One word — trust. If you do not have a connection with a therapist, you cannot trust them. If you do not have trust, you will not expose yourself, and if you do not expose your innermost being, what good is the therapy?” — unknown but ask any great therapist

“Men have called me mad, but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence…whether much that is glorious–whether all that is profound–does not spring from disease of thought…” — Edgar Allan Poe
silver divider between paragraphsQUOTATIONS of VISION:

“If I paint a wild horse, you might not see the horse… but surely you will see the wildness!” ― Pablo Picasso

“The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.” ― Albert Einstein

“Writing is…. being able to take something whole and fiercely alive that exists inside you in some unknowable combination of thought, feeling, physicality, and spirit, and to then store it like a genie in tense, tiny black symbols on a calm white page. If the wrong reader comes across the words, they will remain just words. But for the right readers, your vision blooms off the page and is absorbed into their minds like smoke, where it will re-form, whole and alive, fully adapted to its new environment.” ― Mary Gaitskillsilver divider between paragraphs

Letters of Import: We Chose Life 7

Letters of Import: Private Writings to a Psychoanalyst
We Chose Life 7
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrations & abstract digital art by j. kiley
© jennifer kiley 2013
First Posting 03.19.13
Posted Weekly Early Tuesday Morning
Seventh Posting 04.30.13silver divider between paragraphsanyone living or dead is purely coincidentalsilver divider between paragraphsletters-divider for sections of books-heart echosilver divider between paragraphsletters - we chose life 7Tuesday, November 12th, 2007

Dear Annie

I must bring this to your immediate attention. Last week, when I wrote to you in our usual letter, I included a poem. It was a raw and painful poem to write. I would really like to discuss some of it with you in this letter. I hope you don’t mind. It has been making me feel rather vulnerable, even though I haven’t sent you the letter yet. Someday, any day, might be when I do get brave enough and really write these letters with the direct expectation of mailing them to you or handing them to you in person. The second way would make me feel more assured that you received the letters personally and no one else touched them or might accidentally open them. I don’t think anyone at the counseling center would ever do something like that intentionally. But these are very private letters meant for your eyes only. Just thinking about discussing the poem I wrote is making me feel rather anxious. In fact, I feel like I am starting to have a panic attack. Let me take a Klonopin before we continue. After that I will post the poem and the paragraph that followed it. I want to discuss that along with the poem. I’ll be right back.

Here I am, back really quickly. It will only take about 15 minutes for the med to take effect. Well, here goes, this is the poem once again appearing in one of my letters I am writing to only you. If I ever give these letters to you, I must have your word that you will never ever show these to anyone else. No one must know what I am telling you. These have to be our secret. If you only knew how I feel inside.

How do I really feel about you Annie? Right now, I have no idea. Too afraid to go inside to find out what I truly feel. The whole of the world confounds me. It just makes me feel depressed. It just feels that I can’t hold onto the people I love. They just tend to die. It’s not like they’re even old. When you die in your twenties, I would call that dying “Forever Young.” Too many die FY. You’re not going to do that, are you Annie?

What do you think of my poem? If you read it now, how would you decipher it? I’ll play both of us. You go first, or should I? Let me pull out the first three lines. The writer, the lover, the thinker: isn’t something missing? Whose feeling anything? The lover is just sexual. You can do that without any feelings at all. The writer is mental but could be emotional with the words they are expressing. But I don’t think so. It’s cerebral. The thinker, existential separation anxiety filled with analytical theorizing until infinity gets exhausted.

Someone is missing. Someone who connects in a soulful way with people or animals. Who is that? Lets think about it. Send out feelings to find out who they are? You think a spiritualist. I thought I was one of those people. I believe in the spirit, the soul, the astral body, the separation from the physical. The soul is just carrying the weight of the body while its heart beats and air fills its lungs and the grey matter still is able to function to make the physical tissues of the body perform.

I was thinking tonight about Heaven Annie. As I made it up the stairs to bed and my cat always raced up the stairs before me. We play that game every night. I make believe I’m going to beat him tonight. It’s always the challenge. There’s no way in Hell that I can ever beat him. But he loves the game. You want to know his name? He goes by many. He has such a magnificent personality. We call him Sparky because he sparks like fireworks. It’s not his official name. That one is proper. We named him Higgins after the character in the great Broadway play Pygmalion. He responds to anything but Higgins and he rather prefers being called Sparky.

What the Hell are we talking about? Is it about making it through with some enjoyment and to try to forget about all the nightmares? Or are we suppose to face the nightmares? The soul tells me that we have to or we won’t make it. I have too many. How about you? What are your bad dreams? What tried to fuck you up? Any bad people in your dreams? You seem pretty together but anyone can put a mask on. Why do you suppose we all try to hide from everyone? We are all human. Our feelings fall somewhere into the human category. Are we afraid people will think we are crazy or too weird?

Back to the poem, the next three lines are pretty explosive. Feeling the fool for not hearing, the silence for not screaming and feelings trying to blow the whole thing wide open but being stopped somehow. What stopped me? You probably would like to know that. A good reason, how about one of the abusers threatened to kill me right at the moment I told him if he didn’t stop I would go to the police. Wrong thing to say to a nasty, mean pedophile. He tried to kill me but he stopped at just making me feel he was going to crush my head into stones like Stonehenge. He pulled back but not until he told me he would not only kill me but my whole family. Those other people who also abused me. For some reason I felt I needed to protect them. I didn’t care if he killed me. My life was ruined. They all in combination destroyed who I am. They crushed my life. I am dead. My spirit has been stolen from me. It’s like in Peter Pan, they stole my shadow, my reflection. I don’t have one any longer. I am invisible. That’s why no one can see me. Why I never get noticed except when someone wants to hurt me or make me feel more pain so that I really do want to be invisible. I just wanted to die.

The only reason I stayed alive was I loved my grandmother. The funny thing about it all, my grandma, she had an accident shortly after this and went into the hospital. She never went home again. I saw her once at the hospital. I climbed into her hospital bed with her. Under the oxygen tent, we hugged. I held her so close. Her arms used her strength, as much as she could and held me close. Then it was time to go. I gave a bunch of kisses to say goodbye to her. I didn’t know I would never see her alive again.

She died in protest. They wanted her to become one of the forgotten. She wasn’t going to let them do that to her. She told them that it was something she would never do, going to a nursing home. She stopped her breathing and her heart from beating. She left me behind. I stopped living when she stopped, too.

“The feelings trying to explode…Where was the awareness?” I was clueless on what or who to, if anyone, to talk to. I never talked to anyone back then. Words were not my companion when spoken out loud. Not something I even knew how to do. Didn’t know how. Had no practice. What would have been the right words to say anyway? I didn’t know them to say or to even write down on paper. I am only learning now how to connect my words with feeling.

“We say ‘Welcome to the surface.’ It should have been Welcome to the circus. “Now what needs to be done?” We need to find someone new that we can really talk to. Someone who will listen and really hear what we are saying. Not judge us. Try to understand. And not constantly criticize us and try to put us down. Diminish who we are. That’s been done all our life except in college. For some reason I mattered when I was in college. I felt important and wanted. The same happened when I was part of the Women’s Center when I lived in Connecticut. It’s not so much I want to feel important. I just want to feel like I matter. Everyone I think needs to feel important in some way.

“Releasing the energy ensnared for decades amongst twisted webs…” I have been so blocked. My thoughts and feelings didn’t have an outlet. And I didn’t know how to say the words. I was made my own prisoner eventually, out of fear. Demons possessed me with fear. All the demons from all the years of abuse and made to feel like I was nothing, a nobody that had no worth or purpose.

“The voice is seeking freedom but holding onto multiple secrets.” We have a central voice but we also have multiple voices. With all the alters, we have to listen to all their voices and all the needs they tell us that they have. It’s hard to keep track or remember. It is really confusing inside our head sometimes. But we were working with a woman therapist who had her moments of quality therapy but she had her problems. I have an obsessive alter who was in love with her and obsessed with her. Let’s call it quite dependent. We were attached. We needed her. She was the first therapist that figured out what was going on inside our head. She figured out the DID. I have to admit when she told us we has other personalities, it really freaked us out. Kind of went into shock and some heavy denial. No way could that be possible. She said the psychiatrist agreed with her after he tested me.

That was the big secret. We thought realizing we were Gay was enough of a shock but being MPD was more difficult. Coming out of that closet was worst. It took us a while before we could tell Scottie and we had been together for a long time at that point. Almost 15 years. When I found the courage to tell her, her reaction was: “Oh, I already knew.” I asked her why she didn’t tell me. “Because you needed to figure that out yourself.” Of course, she was right. It wasn’t easy. Like I usually do, I bought or borrowed every book I could find on the subject of MPD. I learned it all. Enough to get a degree.

There is so much more to discuss in this poem. I packed it with a great deal of exposure of my past. I need a break. I may try to answer more of the points in this letter or carry it over to the next letter.

It’s a list of some of the confusion that smashed into our life. It started when we were really little and didn’t stop. The abuse continued when we were adults. No was the word that meant nothing to anyone who wanted something from us. Our body betrayed us. We couldn’t stop anyone from forcing us. Some didn’t even realize they were forcing us but they were. If we shut down inside we became frozen. We couldn’t stop what was happening. This started when we were little and continued into our adult relationships. It was all on some degree of force. We weren’t there in our bodies. We left or went deep inside or floated on the ceiling until it was over.

It wasn’t consensual. It was a form of rape and abuse. We wanted love but not sex. We didn’t want to be sexually aroused because it would always end with us disappearing and our bodies would shut down. It was like turning the keys off in a car. The engine would stop running and so would we. Eventually we created an outside person, a human robot, who faked our life like a computer. She would accumulate data. And learned the expected behavior and that would be hos she would perform. We were safe inside while she was out there living a fake life as a fake person. A puppet represented us. She hid in plain sight. No one would find us with the puppet self having a controlled pattern of behavior, always asking questions to improve her performance do she wouldn’t be detected.

Our hiding place was discovered by this woman therapist. She saw through the facade. She was tricky and scary to us. She got to close. We started to care too much. She opened up the rawness in us. She made us need people. Specifically, she made us need her too desperately. We felt so close to her. But more like the fox in Le Petite Prince by Antoine de St. Exupery. She tamed part of our wildness. She made us want to be loved by her. Being loved and wanting to love in return puts such a control on you. I began to develop an overwhelming need for her. It was driving me mad. Everything started falling apart. My life felt out of control.

Our hiding place was revealed. There was no place to go except into madness and wanting to commit suicide. Suicide has always been a part of our life. It is a part of our breathing. It is always an alternative to the divine madness. We can escape that way any time we chose. But it is not an answer we can choose. Not with all that we are responsible for. Our life needs us to be in it. Everything has changed. We are learning to begin to live. We have found a purpose. It is delicate and sometimes difficult to balance but we are giving our new life all that we are able to give it. We know and are learning what we are able to do. We are able to write. We are able to be creative. Our artistic nature is starting to blossom. We are letting it be free. It likes that. It feels like are trusted to let the muse guide us. She always seems to be when we need her. We don’t push it. We let it be a natural flow. We like, no we love where we are now. It does have its difficulties with the mentally creative activities that bombard our brain. But we work hard on that more with our doc then with Mr. Xxx. He is about as helpful as a dead skeleton. His sense of warmth and communication I’d to tell stories that do not at all relate to what I am feeling or going through. He doesn’t help me at all except to give me reasons to escape my life. He lets me run away. I know I have my weaknesses but I need to find my life before I die or I kill myself because I can’t live with the confusion any longer or the depressions or rage.

I want to say that I am here and I want to stay alive. We want to be here. We choose life.

We fought through them trying to destroy us. They didn’t succeed. We are still alive. No matter how many battles. No matter how many nights we have to fight to make it alive til morning gets here. Therapy, knowing my psychoanalyst is there is so reassuring. It means at least one person is out there in our Universe that knows we are alive. That we exist. Being alive is a higher grade than just existing. The artist that lives inside of us makes it all matter. Otherwise, nothing else matters. If I didn’t have my art, my animals, the women I love and the men who are decent that I love. A good home and family who I love and who love me. The special people who know who they are. They are part of what make this life I live matter. But that involves some major time tripping. I am having visions of a future in my life, but I must be patient and wait for that time to happen. It is a good sign that I make it to that future. Others do not.

Here in 2007 I have you Annie. I am focusing on that. Your presence is beginning to mean something more to me than I even understand at this moment. We will see where that takes us.

Until next time.

Regards,
Madisonsilver divider between paragraphsletters-divider for sections of books-heart echosilver divider between paragraphsI attach this to the letters I write to you Annie to assure the strictest of confidence.

To Annie,

At this moment I am not trying to be a coward, but I feel if I hold back now or never send this to you, then I am freeing myself up to write whatever I wish without need of censorship. Maybe someday, when I am feeling more familiar with just who you are and what you might mean to me, this parameter will be altered and a copy of this and future letters will be relayed to you. For now I want to maintain secrecy, to protect you, Annie, and to protect myself from over testing the boundaries between us and to record the development of our relationship.

I want Annie Haskell to trust me. I want you to know I am trying to protect you and also myself from any humiliation. Writing to you in this way frees up my words as I speak them onto the page. Some future date, if I feel trusting enough, I will release to you what I have written in honesty. Right now, I will keep my words confidential. On my honour, no others shall see these pages, I promise you that.

Regards,
Madison Taylorsilver divider between paragraphsletters-divider for sections of books-heart echosilver divider between paragraphs

silver divider between paragraphs
labyrinth of a wandering wonderland

the labyrinth called “wandering wonderland.” it is where madison, scottie and their cats, patrick, sparky and toker love to escape to

silver divider between paragraphs
madison's woods of imagination where she takes long walks to reflect

madison’s “woods of imagination” where she takes long walks to reflect. it starts just past the labyrinth

silver divider between paragraphs
QUOTATIONS from: LETTERS of IMPORT: Private Writings to a Psychoanalyst

“A Dream

The beginning always starts out with a dream.
It is all a dream
And we are all players
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~
(1563-1631)

“Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?”
Christopher Marlowe for “Hero and Leander”

“A therapeutic relationship is often more psycho-emotionally intimate than a marriage, or a romantic attachment. I know things about my patients that they would never dream of revealing to their spouses or families. Why is that? One word — trust. If you do not have a connection with a therapist, you cannot trust them. If you do not have trust, you will not expose yourself, and if you do not expose your innermost being, what good is the therapy?” — unknown but ask any great therapist

“Men have called me mad, but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence…whether much that is glorious–whether all that is profound–does not spring from disease of thought…” — Edgar Allan Poesilver divider between paragraphsQUOTATIONS on LIVING:

“There is an ecstasy that marks the summit of life, and beyond which life cannot rise. And such is the paradox of living, this ecstasy comes when one is most alive, and it comes as a complete forgetfulness that one is alive. This ecstasy, this forgetfulness of living, comes to the artist, caught up and out of himself in a sheet of flame…” — Jack London

“There are two kinds of people. One kind…they congealed into their final selves…you can expect no more surprises from them…the other kind keep moving, changing… They are fluid. They keep moving forward and making new trysts with life, and the motion of it keeps them young. In my opinion, they are the only people who are still alive…” ― Gail Godwin
silver divider between paragraphs

Teen Suicides - I wish I had a real answer

Reblogged from Vampire Maman:

It is sad that my 13 year old daughter talked about suicides for about a half hour last night. She wouldn’t shut up about it but then again, she needed to talk about it. But what was scary was how she was so matter of fact about it. But she was also passionate and angry about it.

This isn't the first time she talked about it.

Read more… 859 more words

bully film posterBullying is an issue everyone, whether you have children or not, should be concerned with and should be upset about. This post that Vampire Maman wrote brought up many important points that need to be addressed immediately. Bullying should not be tolerated or allowed to exist in our school systems. Go to her site and read the complete post. Join in the non-violent fight of stopping this HORRIBLY SAD situation, where children think that suicide is the only answer to ending the pain of bullying. Stopping the Bullies is the answer and coming to the aid of those who need help. Tell them it will be alright. Help stop their pain by stopping the torture and stopping teen suicide because of it. "Teen Suicides - I wish I had a real answer" written by Vampire Maman *******I have the film "Bully" but I haven't watched it yet. My therapist thought it would be too triggering. Someday soon I am going to see it. (She gave me her approval today to watch this as long as I do some Art Work while watching to de-stress me. *******The young man in the film, I have heard who was mercilessly bullied, now has come out of his shell because of the film. He has lots of friends. He is a success story. *******Far too many teens have taken the road to commit suicide. It is far too painful and the bullies are far too merciless. *******I understand the effects of bullying. I was in music, marching band, orchestra, theatre, sports, and other activities that drew unwanted attention to myself. I didn't fit in anywhere, and I was also extremely shy. But when I was in school the bullying wasn't what it is today. Suicide wasn't the first solution. I don't remember anyone succeeding or attempting suicide. But I may have just blocked it all out. I know that I did think about it. I even did try to commit suicide because of the pain inside of me.But I realized that suicide wasn't the answer. I didn't want to die, I just wanted the pain to stop. *******It seems that today, it is the first resort to ending the pain. Like you, I don't know the answers. If you tell on the bullies, you are considered a snitch, and it makes the bullying worse. I think you are right , there should be a no tolerance rule on bullying. You bully kids you are out of that school. Try a little home schooling on the bullies. Let the other kids live in peace. ******* I suppose, if I were a student today, I might or rather I would be one of the at risk kids to commit suicide. I know from the way I felt at that age, I would not be able to take the kind of torture they are handing out today. *******I think maybe it is time for me to watch the film "Bully." It is one of the top issues I try to focus on and I try to talk about on the secret keeper, but I haven't done it recently. I have an avatar of purple lightning on FB that I vowed I would not replace until bullying was brought under control and stopped. *******It is time to watch the film, review it and to talk about it. *******Vampire Maman, your post is great. Something I needed to read right now. Thank you for bringing up the issue to help people become more aware. There does need to be a constant awareness bringing "Bullying" to everyone's attention. We need to be continually reminded that the issue exists. *******It is curious that I happened to be talking to my partner Shawn about this just this past week. I wondered where was our copy of "Bully." I told her about the boy I mentioned above. I lost my point. Until I remember, I would like to say that I think the point of Vampire Maman's of giving strong support to the weaker kids is a brilliant idea. All kids should get involved. *******I remember. It was about one of the authority figures on a film clip I had viewed, who was from the school where the film "Bully" took place. She said, that "she has ridden the bus in question," (she is talking to some parents,) "and the kids were nothing but behaved. There wasn't any problem here, that she saw." Well, she sounds like a real idiot. Does she really think those kids, especially the bullies, are going to act out while she is present. How stupid is she. This is the mentality kids and parents are dealing with, because they don't see it, it isn't happening. They would rather not see reality, that way they don't have to do anything about it, or feel responsible for the bullying happening. Who knows maybe some of them were bullies themselves and feel, "well, isn't that too bad. why don't they stop whining and just suck it up." *******Something has too happen in the schools. Bullying should be tantamount to abuse on many levels and should not be tolerated and should be prosecuted. It's plain out and out torture. *******Since when is it ok to torture kids. It's like one level below domestic violence, which once upon a time was ignored, and not considered significant enough for the police to do anything about it, until someone was usually killed. *******I am going to reblog this, and later today I'm going to try to find our copy of the film "Bully" and watch it. *******Sometime this week, if I am able, I am going to write a review of the film "Bully". But if not this week I will do it as soon as I am able to. It will be soon, I promise you that. jk the secret keeper. ps. A Great Post Vampire Maman. jk the secret keeper *******STOP BULLYING NOW---*******STOP TEEN SUICIDE NOW---*******SUICIDE IS NOT THE ANSWER---*******IT IS ONLY AN ALL TOO PERMANENT ANSWER FOR A TEMPORARY PROBLEM.

Dark Night of the Soul

Dark Night of the Soul
By Jennifer Kiley
Inspired By Reading
Abstract Digital Art j. kiley
Written 04.18.14

kindness covers all by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley

dark night of the soul --- abstract digital art

dark night of the soul — abstract digital art

Dark Night of the Soul
By Jennifer Kiley
Inspired By Reading
Written 04.18.14

Those of you who have heard of the dark night of the soul know the kind of pain and confusion it can bring. It used to be used to describe a spiritual crisis. Now it describes a psychological darkness. Here is a description of a major symptom to describe what it is: to feel one no longer has a grasp or sense of the realness of the ground beneath one’s feet. It doesn’t feel solid, nor does it feel like it has a strong basis in reality.

Something in one’s present day happens and causes it to trigger thoughts from the unconscious that draws the dark night into “the light.” Carl Jung thought the psyche was causing this to happen. That the symbols or images or flashes that were coming from the unconscious were being brought to the surface in order to help an individual grow. A direct form of Enlightenment would occur which is when the unconscious becomes conscious. The dark night, though appearing to be a negative force is actually aiding in this occurrence.

“Creative suffering burns clean; neurotic suffering creates more soot.” The Jungian analyst Marion Woodman wrote this. Her meaning is that repeating pain in a non-productive way does not create one’s healing or move one forward. One needs to go deep within the source of the center to that power where the emotions are hiding and/ or existing. Doing this should bring to one a self-understanding and with a great deal of work, it should lead eventually to liberation of the self. But one needs to first do the difficult work of fighting with one’s demons and angels. They will bring with them the healing that one will be needing. It’s a difficult fight and it is a spiritual and psychological fight. When one is looking for one’s spiritual reality, it is a necessary fight to find one’s meaning.

Dark nights are meant to happen in order to tear apart the ways in which we deal with reality and our own growing. We must be forced to let go of our illusions and/or our delusions that have been controlling our thinking, our way of behaving and how we are able to express our feelings. This is essential in order to regain control of our self and the way that we behave in our life.

It enables us to find our real self and release our great need for control. The most difficult part is our needing to tear down how we learned to deal when we were children. We need to release all of the built up anxiety and our sense of overwhelming vulnerability that kept us from functioning then and keeps us from functioning now. We must always remain connected to our self while we construct our new way of being in our new lives, where we are going to be more real. And most importantly we must give up the need to always be in control. That is an important one. The bonus that comes with doing all of this is that we will be getting into an upgrade of an automatic elevator to a higher level of consciousness.

So you see, sometimes we have to enter into hell to find our way out of it. And gradually we will lose the negative aspects of our lives and find in their place courage, strength and self-love. And most importantly finding freedom and get on into growing. We will start feeling a more secure sense of well-being that will keep expanding. This may feel like just words and a dream but it can happen.

When one’s life begins in such a dark atmosphere and one is alone in that darkness, all that is felt is fear and dread, so what is left to remember is shaped into a memory overflowing with fear.

It’s time to let that fear and that past go and to reawaken the child who is buried deep inside, who wants her freedom to begin to live again, to cry again, to laugh again, to stop feeling overwhelmed by the positive feelings of life like love, caring, joy, belonging and more, to allow her to have healthy relationships that are not messed up with demons of the past filling her mind with senseless fears of abandonment, punishment and abuse. It really is time to let all of it go and just leave it back there in the past, in that time which should no longer exist now.

© jennifer kiley 2013

Darkness — Disturbed

QUOTATIONS on DARKNESS/DARK NIGHT:

“If we never experience the chill of a dark winter, it is very unlikely that we will ever cherish the warmth of a bright summer’s day. Nothing stimulates our appetite for the simple joys of life more than the starvation caused by sadness or desperation. In order to complete our amazing life journey successfully, it is vital that we turn each and every dark tear into a pearl of wisdom, and find the blessing in every curse.” ― Anthon St. Maarten

“Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it.” ― Terry Pratchett

“Look at how a single candle can both defy and define the darkness.” ― Anne Frank

“I do not speak as I think, I do not think as I should, and so it all goes on in helpless darkness.” ― Franz Kafka

“When you walk to the edge of all the light you have and take that first step into the darkness of the unknown, you must believe that one of two things will happen. There will be something solid for you to stand upon or you will be taught to fly.” ― Patrick Overton

“We cast a shadow on something wherever we stand, and it is no good moving from place to place to save things; because the shadow always follows. Choose a place where you won’t do harm – yes, choose a place where you won’t do very much harm, and stand in it for all you are worth, facing the sunshine.” ― E.M. Forster, A Room with a View

“Darkness does not leave us easily as we would hope.” ― Margaret Stohl

Letters of Import: A Look Inside 5

Letters of Import: Private Writings to a Psychoanalyst
A Look Inside 5
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrations by j. kiley
© jennifer kiley 2013
First Posting 03.19.13
Posted Weekly Early Tuesday Morning
Fifth Posting 04.16.13silver divider between paragraphsanyone living or dead is purely coincidentalsilver divider between paragraphsletters-divider for sections of books-heart echosilver divider between paragraphsletters-to-import a look inside 5Tuesday, October 29th 2007

Dear Annie,

In my letter this week, I want to open your eyes a bit wider on all of the people you are getting to observe in the women’s therapy group. My intentions are to do my own analysis for you of who I feel and think the people in this group and it’s fearless leader really are. Strictly from my point of view. I have a really good sense of people. A sensitivity that enables me to psychically feel what is going on inside of anyone I am in contact with in a close proximity. Sometimes I am too hypersensitive and pick up too much of what is coming off of people I am around. It is not a gift but an annoyance and makes me feel really anxious and agitated. There is no way to block out the bad from the good. I get all the emotions blasting at me all at once. It is extremely overwhelming and disconcerting especially when there are too many people all in extreme states of disturbance.

I should really start with the person you seem to be getting closest to first, Robin. She is someone who is difficult to get to know. My sense is her barriers are extremely high up. She doesn’t really like people , yet she gives the appearance of wanting someone in her life. Maybe more than one person but she can be quite negative about everyone who shows her any interest in wanting to get to know her. I get close to her but if I am truly honest, whenever we talk, I always feel so hyper afterwards and I often find myself shaking. She brings up too much information. Triggers too many memories in me. I’m not sure if we have very good boundaries in our relationship. She can be extremely critical of everyone I know, especially Mr. Xxx. She is right about him but it does under-mind that relationship just the same. I go along with the lambasting of his character and his flaws as a therapist.

We do have some similar issues we are coping or not coping so well with. It is not my place to go into her problem but I will talk to you freely about mine. I am open about my past. What I remember of it. It was severe and it was traumatizing. I lived the life of someone who exhibited the symptoms of autism. I didn’t speak or relate to anyone. I never talked. My introversion was extreme. Relating to other people, especially my family, was totally impossible for me. I was much older when I put that diagnosis together. It was wrong but I needed to have answers. I am part cat and extremely curious. When I first got high on pot I needed to analyze what exactly was the reaction I was experiencing. I wanted to understand what it was doing. A true scientist. I missed my calling.

Never developed the full picture on marijuana except that I loved getting high and it made everything enjoyable except the creeping paranoia. Otherwise, music, talking, writing, anything I did was on such a higher level of enjoyment when I was stoned. It opened up my shell of silence. The only other drug I felt the same way about was mescalin. Read the whole Bhagava-Gita in one session tripping on that stuff. Even went on a visit to McDonald’s on the same trip and came to the aid of a damsel in distress from a rather grumpy employee. I told him to show a bit more respect for people. That was cool and unusual behavior for me. It felt good to stand up for someone who was having the experience of being bullied.

It was just a year prior to my great discovery. I finally figured out or should I say came to an acceptance and acknowledgement of my true sexuality while I was attending college. I realized I was a lesbian and I was already living with the woman who became my first lesbian lover. We took forever to realize we didn’t need men to be sexual. She felt we did and when she said. “I would love to be sexual but we don’t have any men.” My rather stoned and wine laden mind responded rather boldly by saying without thinking at all, the following words were uttered from my mouth, “But we don’t need any men.” We had each other and some strong feelings of attraction and love for each other. We played around with our physical feelings all summer by playing tactile games, for example, lightly touching the bottom of each others feet. If you are ticklish, just get past it, because I will tell you it is one of the most erotically, sensual experience ever without actually having to be direct about your sexual behavior

I think I drifted a bit away from the topic. Warning: don’t trust Robin. I like you and I don’t want her to hurt you. She has a way of cutting into you behind your back. We may be friends but I am not sure why that relationship works. She does bring out the worst in me. It makes me critical but not in a constructive way. To criticize with truth is one thing but to assassinate a character is unkind and mean and cruel. That is what it is. She can be cruel.

I will tell you more later as we get closer. Now I feel I have said enough and need a break. I will go deeper as our relationship develops and I feel our trust growing. I am observant and I am willing to share my secrets with you within reason for now. I somehow think we are going to go deeper into a good relationship. My feelings for you resonate at nothing less than extremely positive. So I will close now.

More to come later. You can be sure of that. This is proving to be quite cathartic for me. I may never send these to you, so what I am writing is more to me like a journal than a confessional or a revelation for you to learn about this crazy group of people of which you have been thrown into the middle. We do all have some extremely good qualities and some not so kind natures. Maybe that is what is to be expected from such a group of damaged individuals.

I will follow up that statement of “a group of damaged individuals,” by saying we had the bad fortune of being situated with families who had no understanding of us and treated us in any manner of abuse that could ever cross your mind and then go even further and you may never come to the end of what may have been done to us in the name of abusive child rearing and abuse of every nature possible. What it did to our psyches has yet to be completely determined.

I am stopping now. It is beginning to feel that I am stepping beyond the bounds I feel comfortable. So to another time and for another letter. I stop right here.

Regards,
Madisonsilver divider between paragraphsletters-divider for sections of books-heart echosilver divider between paragraphs(This note is to ensure these are written in the strictest of confidence.)

To Annie,

At this moment I am not trying to be a coward, but I feel if I hold back now or never send this to you, then I am freeing myself up to write whatever I wish without need of censorship. Maybe someday, when I am feeling more familiar with just who you are and what you might mean to me, this parameter will be altered and a copy of this and future letters will be relayed to you. For now I want to maintain secrecy, to protect you, Annie, and to protect myself from over testing the barriers or boundaries of what the potentials could be between us and the development of our relationship.

I am adding this in order that you, Annie Haskell, will know that I am trying to protect you and also myself from any humiliation. It will free up my words as I speak them upon the page. And on some future date, if I feel trusting enough, I will release to you what I write in honesty, but for now I will keep my words confidential. On my honour, no others shall see these pages, I promise you that.

Regards,
Madison Taylorsilver divider between paragraphsletters-divider for sections of books-heart echosilver divider between paragraphs

silver divider between paragraphsQUOTATIONS from: LETTERS of IMPORT: Private Writings to a Psychoanalyst

“A Dream

The beginning always starts out with a dream.
It is all a dream
And we are all players
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~
(1563-1631)

“Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?”
Christopher Marlowe for “Hero and Leander”

“A therapeutic relationship is often more psycho-emotionally intimate than a marriage, or a romantic attachment. I know things about my patients that they would never dream of revealing to their spouses or families. Why is that? One word — trust. If you do not have a connection with a therapist, you cannot trust them. If you do not have trust, you will not expose yourself, and if you do not expose your innermost being, what good is the therapy?” — unknown but ask any great therapist

“Men have called me mad, but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence…whether much that is glorious–whether all that is profound–does not spring from disease of thought…” — Edgar Allan Poesilver divider between paragraphs

Letters of Import: Welcome to My World Annie 4

Letters of Import: Private Writings to a Psychoanalyst
Welcome to My World Annie 4
By Jennifer Kiley
Written 03.31.13
Illustrations by j. kiley
© jennifer kiley 2013
First Posting 03.19.13
Posted Early Tuesday Morning
Fourth Posting 04.09.13silver divider between paragraphsanyone living or dead is purely coincidentalsilver divider between paragraphsletters-divider for sections of books-heart echosilver divider between paragraphsletters - welcome to my world annie 4Tuesday Oct. 22th, 2007

Dear Annie

There are many things I would like to get to know about you but I am afraid I would be intruding on your privacy. I will guess instead or make up by filling in the spaces from what you say in group or afterwards. I am quite the detective. When I was a kid, I read all the Nancy Drew books I could get my hands on. Then as I got older I graduated to Agatha Christie and Dorothy L. Sayers. I read others but these two were my favorites and the most intelligent. I, also, got into the British detectives Inspectors Dagliesh and Morse on PBS. Liked reading P.D. James and Colin Dexter. I am a real mystery buff. Love a good mystery in a film, also. The point being I know how to put the pieces together rather quickly.

I should get on finishing up telling you about the cancer. The group, including Mr. Xxx were rather cavalier with my health when I received the diagnosis of Uterine cancer. It’s also called Endometrial cancer. When I got the courage up to tell the group I had been told I had cancer and they found out what kind, I felt like I got totally shot down and shut down. Everyone, including our fearless leader, thought it was the best possible news. Their logic being, if I was to get cancer, getting Uterine cancer was the best one to get. There was nothing to it. In and out for the operation and back on my feet in a couple of weeks. They were not very understanding or consoling at all. So, I think that had a lot to do with why I thoroughly shut down talking about it. I felt rejected. Like no one cared about me. I thought if I died it wouldn’t matter.

So, I started not taking it as seriously but still worried. Then My OB-Gyn told me it looked serious to her. My uterine wall was quite thick. It was a bad boxing day. That’s when she called to confirm the biopsy from the Uterine tissue she painfully scraped from the insides of my body. It was positive for cancer. Nice Christmas. She was great. She went out of her way to get the news to me as quickly as possible. Next step was to find the surgeon. It ended up being the Da Vinci
machine. State of the Art. Two weeks after surgery Scottie and I went to the surgeon behind the Da Vinci machine to get the results. He had us take seats on the other side of his rather large desk. He sat behind it looking like he was having a difficult time finding the words to say. His face wasn’t the kind anyone wants to see when they are waiting for news of this kind. We all looked at each other in the long silence. The doctor finally spoke.

He cleared his throat. “I am afraid I have some rather disturbing news for you, Madison. It seems the cancer has spread outside the containment area of your reproductive organs. It’s in your lymph system. The good news is that we feel and are quite certain that we took the lymph nodes that the cancer had entered. What this means is you have a diagnosis of Stage 3 Endometrial Cancer with an attachment to the lymphatic system. It means your case is a great deal more serious then we expected. Originally, we didn’t feel you would need anything more than the surgery. But now it appears after all you will have to go through a full treatment of Chemotherapy and a full course of Radiation Therapy Treatment that accompanies it. You will need to start almost immediately. Do you have any questions?”

I was dumbfounded and so was Scottie. It was going to really screw with her schedule. Not that she felt that was important at that moment. I thought it was and worried about it. I was trying to think about anything but what I had just heard. I was expecting to be cleared to go home and to continue on living my life in a normal way. With No more Cancer to worry about. Instead it had really only just started. I had just walked into a nightmare that was going to threaten my life from now on. I was never going to be safe from cancer again. From the moment my first doctor told me I would have to see a specialist, that was the beginning. I knew there was a reason I was avoiding it. My unconscious knew I was so god damn bloody sick. But I wasn’t going to listen to any of the signs. They weren’t going to tell me anything was wrong. Stubborn. Scottie kept telling me to call my doctor but I kept putting it off even though I was bleeding to death all the time.

Scottie and I left after we worked out a schedule for my treatment. It meant traveling over 3 hours every visit. That wasn’t going to work. I took the matters into my hands, especially after we would travel the distance for scheduled appointments and then wait there and find out after a few hours of waiting that we were not even on the schedule. I decided to find a place closer to home to receive treatments. They told me that would be impossible. They were wrong. I got on the phone the next day and before the afternoon was over I had a new oncologist. A new cancer center to go to and I could start right away with my treatments. All was transferred and it was a much quieter and comforting place.

End of the cancer saga for todays letter. Did not know I had that pent up inside of me. There is much more but I will keep spreading it out. It is more than I can deal with, so I can’t even imagine you, Annie, understanding what I was going through. No one can if they haven’t been through it. Truthfully, no empathizing will take you to the same place at all.

So, what I really wanted to talk about today was what has been happening inside me. More specifically, my feelings toward you. There’s just something that draws me into wanting to tell you everything. That must seem overwhelming I imagine. I started talk therapy when I was a teenager. It seems to have been converted into my confessional. My conversion into psychoanalysis. It’s a strong urge to understand my self. What’s the reason everything has happened the way it has. Why my life has been so fucked up. I need answers. I need to talk for all the years I was never allowed to. I was a silent child. I thought for quite some time that I was autistic. I was really convinced. I began studying autism in school. It seemed to fit all of my symptoms but I eventually figured out I was just a neglected and a severely abused child instead. Which was worse? I think both are.

Now I am living with another major setback attached to my psych problems. Have you ever heard of agoraphobia? Well, I am an agoraphobic who is not being treated and have never been treated for it or what it does for me except to have pills thrown at it. My fears are being allowed to grow. I don’t object because I don’’t want to experience the panic and anxiety that goes along with going out of the house or interacting with people. My partner, Scottie has her demons with dealing with it.

The pressure between us has been growing when Mr. Xxx started with his lack of support. Denying me my sense of reality. Making me feel like I am unable to interpret my feelings accurately about certain people I feel are treating me like shit. He defended Angie rather than supporting me. The problem comes in that we are both his clients but when he is in a session with me it is my time. That is when I should be getting his support, not her. He should be trying to understand what I am feeling and not Angie. He should be trying to help me understand why she is treating me with such vitriol. What I was feeling about what he was doing made no difference to him. He felt he had to protect Angie from me. I’ve been nothing but cordial to her and she just jumps all over me. Fuck Angie and Fuck Mr. Xxx.

I want to know why I am feeling so hostile. It’s always such a contest to battle out who is right rather then trying to figure out what is wrong. He just doesn’t feel like he cares or wants to understand the effects the group is having on me. I’m really hating to be in that room alone with Angie or him. It is becoming such a toxic place. Its only redeeming quality is that you are there and I feel you protect me. Otherwise I don’t feel safe at all.

You give me support. I wish you were the leader and that Mr. Xxx would resign from the group. He’s threatened to do it enough times. Why doesn’t he just do it and turn the leadership over to you full time. I’d like that more than anything else. Maybe Angie would leave with him.

You’d be so perfect. You could rebuild the group and maybe we would actually talk about something relevant and we would lose him monopolizing every session with his damn stories that haven’t any relevance. We could actually do therapy. Oh, do think about it. Maybe you could work on him and make him decide he is not right for the group any longer or the group is not right with him, that it needs a woman leading a women’s therapy group and not a man.

That is probably enough for this letter. This just exhausts me. I promise I will talk more about it. I just want you to know that I am really beginning to trust you. It’s because I want to and I am believing you will come through and live up to deserving that trust, I think you have already. I do trust you. I want and need to.

I’ll have more to tell you next time. Maybe we can talk some about the individual members of the group besides Mr. Xxx. You need to know more detailed information about them to better understand the dynamics between everyone. It is quite an interesting group broken off into its’ segments. It’s all too depressing to me.

Until next time I will leave you with one secret. Watch out for Robin. She is not your friend. Do not trust her. I don’t want to see you get hurt. That is all I will say for now.

Regards,
Madisonsilver divider between paragraphsletters-divider for sections of books-heart echosilver divider between paragraphs(This note is to ensure that each letter is written in the strictest of confidence.)

To Annie,

At this moment I am not trying to be a coward, but I feel if I hold back now or never send this to you, then I am freeing myself up to write whatever I wish without need of censorship. Maybe someday, when I am feeling more familiar with just who you are and what you might mean to me, this parameter will be altered and a copy of this and future letters will be relayed to you. For now I want to maintain secrecy, to protect you, Annie, and to protect myself from over testing the barriers or boundaries of what the potentials could be between us and the development of our relationship.

I am adding this in order that you, Annie Haskell, will know that I am trying to protect you and also myself from any humiliation. It will free up my words as I speak them upon the page. And on some future date, if I feel trusting enough, I will release to you what I write in honesty, but for now I will keep my words confidential. On my honour, no others shall see these pages, I promise you that.

Regards,
Madison Taylorsilver divider between paragraphsletters-divider for sections of books-heart echosilver divider between paragraphs

silver divider between paragraphsQUOTATIONS from: LETTERS of IMPORT: Private Writings to a Psychoanalyst

“A Dream

The beginning always starts out with a dream.
It is all a dream
And we are all players
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~
(1563-1631)

“Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?”
Christopher Marlowe for “Hero and Leander”

“A therapeutic relationship is often more psycho-emotionally intimate than a marriage, or a romantic attachment. I know things about my patients that they would never dream of revealing to their spouses or families. Why is that? One word — trust. If you do not have a connection with a therapist, you cannot trust them. If you do not have trust, you will not expose yourself, and if you do not expose your innermost being, what good is the therapy?” — unknown but ask any great therapist

“Men have called me mad, but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence…whether much that is glorious–whether all that is profound–does not spring from disease of thought…” — Edgar Allan Poesilver divider between paragraphs

All The Lonely People...is available now...free!

Reblogged from On The Plum Tree:

Click to visit the original post

Introduction: All The Lonely People

 

More than one in ten people suffer from chronic loneliness...

 Our cultures do little to recognise this alarmingly growing trend. In fact, chronic loneliness can become a disease that eats into the soul causing depression and deep psychological change. The chronically lonely person asks, "What's wrong with me?" Why don't I fit in? Why am I the odd one out?"

Read more… 435 more words

All The Lonely People is an Anthology, a collection of words, art, writing, prose, poems, meaningful sentiments about loneliness, photography, pain, fear, feelings, sharing similarities and differences at where our lives are now, where they came from and where they are headed. Niamh Clune had a brilliant idea to bring together the works of artists in various fields with herself included, for she is also a brilliant artist with multiple talents, and had us write about, paint, take photographs in order to present our inner thoughts and feelings about loneliness and also aloneness or solitude. Dr. Clune gathered all the multitude of submissions and selected what she felt worked and put the Anthology together herself, a daunting job, in the least. We all thank her for her strength and sensitivity for doing such a remarkable task. Personally, when I thought about writing a poem or poems, I wasn't sure whether I felt loneliness or understood it. I want to say that it was a difficult struggle to come to terms with the feelings that surround these two states of being as I was writing what ended up being two poems. I threw away my first attempt. I had no idea what it was that I was even writing about. I was confused and debated with my partner what exactly was loneliness. I didn't understand. I rejected the idea that I felt Loneliness. I didn't want to accept that I could possibly feel lonely. The thought made me feel uncomfortable and if it were true then shame accompanied the acceptance of feeling this state. By the time I completed my two poems, I discovered deep inside a place that was quite dark and I found that state of loneliness. It felt awful and I felt so isolated and I couldn't handle how it made me feel. You will understand when and if you read my poems or any of the other poems or prose or look upon the paintings and photographs and just absorb the words of the other writers and you may understand. I put that in my poem on Loneliness, what it made me feel like and how I felt I needed to handle it. And at the last moment, near deadline, I finally think I understood what it really meant to feel Aloneness, a completely different state. As I struggled, I can see from what I read that I believe it is and was a struggle for all of us to experience the state of loneliness at all stages in our lives. This Anthology "All The Lonely People" is something everyone should look at and read. It may help you to understand what it is to be lonely. If you are lonely, it may help you to understand what it is you are experiencing. If you know someone who is lonely, it may help you to reach out to them, to offer a hand to lead them away from their loneliness. For whatever reason, seriously consider downloading this Anthology. It is available for Free right now. I downloaded it and I am amazed at the honesty and the feelings and fear that people see or have experienced or are experiencing. The introduction helps to explain a great deal about chronic loneliness. If you follow this reblogged post back to its origin you will find the complete Introduction there and also the link to where you will be able to download "All The Lonely People" for Free. If the title sounds familiar to some, it is from the lyrics of the Beatles song "Eleanor Rigby." "Ah, look at all the lonely people." Please learn about Loneliness. It is of utmost importance to find an understanding of how devastating a condition this can be. Loneliness eats at your soul. Take a chance by downloading "All The Lonely People." Thank you. Here is a caption from the Introduction that struck me all too closely: "There is the loneliness of those abandoned by the loss or death of a loved one...suddenly vulnerable, forced to begin anew, shifted from the comfort of knowing and loving someone to being surrounded by strangers again." Jennifer Kiley...jk the secret keeper

Letters of Import: Coming Close 2

Letters of Import: Private Writings to a Psychoanalyst
Coming Close 2
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrations by j. kiley
© jennifer kiley 2013
First Posting 03.19.13
Posted Weekly Early Tuesday Morning
Second Posting 03.26.13silver divider between paragraphsanyone living or dead is purely coincidentalsilver divider between paragraphsletters-divider for sections of books-heart echoletters-to-import coming close  2
Tuesday: 10.09.07

Dear Annie,

I feel a need to be a bit less formal in addressing you. So, from now on I will just use your first name Annie. It sounds so much better than writing: Dear Annie Haskell. That does sounds rather formal and weird.

Let me start out by telling you something of what I have gone through over the past year, to fill you in on me. If it were not for the support of the women from my therapy group, I don’t know what would have happened to me. To begin with, I am the only one that remains from the original group. As you could see from last week, everyone was so warm to me on my return after being away for over 8 months. And they really made me feel wanted, like I belonged. If you knew what world I came from you would understand how important that is to me.

When I was in the hospital, group members visited daily. I never believed anyone cared that much. It definitely made me feel good. My body was so weak. It was hard to find the energy to stay conscious while everyone visited. My health sucked. Dying wasn’t very far away. I had blood transfusions. It may have been exhausting to visit with my friends but I wanted them to be there. Some place inside of me and the help of their energy, I found an inner strength so I could stay conscious during their visits.

One special friend, Kristina, came every evening. We would talk or just hang out. We’d listen to the television. The nursing staff would check on me. Do their tests. Lots of needles. Hate needles. Kristina was a great friend. I never had to pretend with her. We talked about whatever thoughts came into our minds. Her friendship was open to any conversation and any topic. Nothing was taboo. She stayed until late just as I would start falling asleep.

I should mention that the hospital had open visitation twenty-four/seven every day of the week. Visitors sometimes slept there and joined in meals with friends or family members. It was an inviting place. I loved the nursing staff except one.

She would always wake me at 2am. One night, I could not believe it, a really bad night, I had finally fallen asleep. There she was, shaking my shoulder to wake me. She made me get out of bed so she could weigh me. If I had the strength I would have told her to GO FUCK OFF. But I was too tired and too polite. I relayed this story to another night nurse, she told me I should have told her to GO FUCK OFF. I could do that. Well, I did not know that. I was losing weigh rather drastically but please do not wake someone so ill when sleep is so precious and limited. I am surprised that murders do not happen in hospitals more often, but to the staff with people like that jack-ass.

My mate, Scottie, that I’ve been with for almost forever, wasn’t too partial to hospitals, so we spoke more on the phone, several times a day, and just before I went to sleep at night. She did visit me in the hospital every day but I could tell she was like a cat out in a rain storm, just not her place. Inside her head, the following words were reverberating, “GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!” And that is the correct volume level those words would make.

She was there for me completely, though. she was constantly on a deadline, an artist in great demand. She is a film director and writer. She was in editing during this time so she could be around more than usual. She was there for radiation treatments and three hours of chemotherapy. I usually fell asleep. Eventually, we decided I would contact her by cell phone a short time before chemo was over for the day. That seemed more than generous to me for her, then she wait with me all that time. I felt a touch selfish imposing on her, taking her away from her own time and demands. The studios weren’t going to so patient if she didn’t get her film edited by the deadline. Fortunately she was also one of the producers. So she did rule somewhat. But she didn’t need to watch me have poison dripping from a hanging plastic bag, coursing through my veins, gradually making me feel violently ill. Scottie didn’t need to be there for that. She needed the time off from me, too, and the things she needed to do for me that no one would want to ask anyone to ever do for them.

Unfortunately, the day came when Scottie was taking me to one of my usual chemotherapy treatments. She always waited until I was set up with my medicine bags and settled in before taking off. On this particular day, it seemed like it was taking forever for them to get things started. I had my usual blood tests before treatments. They always checked for blood counts and other important tests to be sure I was physically okay to receive the treatments. Scottie and I waited in one of the treatment rooms, which was near enough to the nurses’ desk. We could hear some of the words that were being exchanged between staff. We could hear the Doctor speaking. Not the specific words until I heard my name. Scottie looked at me. Both of us were puzzled. It was then I heard the word hospital. Plus no one had come to set up my medicine IVs. No one was coming to talk to us. It seemed like time had vanished. Nothing was moving forward. I was getting a bad sense that something was starting to move in the wrong direction. Motion stopped. Just sounds could be heard but nothing was making any sense.

Finally my doctor and nurse entered the treatment room. They faced Scottie and me. They revealed it was my body. The blood tests were not good. My body was not tolerating the Chemo. Instead it was close to killing me. (My words, not theirs. Their words were that I was extremely ill.) Scottie took my hand when the doctor told us that my blood count was basically nonexistent. My chemo had been cancelled and arrangements had been made to admit me into the hospital immediately. My condition was serious. I had a fever and an infection that they were unable to diagnose and no immune system to fight it. An expert from the Center from Disease Control was called in on my case. No one had any idea what was wrong with me. I was put into quarantine. Not sure if they were afraid my health would be compromised or whether I was a danger to the other patients in the hospital. All sorts of special procedures were initiated while treating me. No one was allowed to touch me or get too close to me. Any medical staff had to put on special clothing. It was all rather “House” or “ER.”

Well, I’d say that’s enough for now about the cancer. I want you to know that today I noticed you again, Annie. I couldn’t help but want to look at you but I didn’t want you to know that or anyone else to. I don’t like people to see my feelings on the outside, even in a therapy setting. It makes me feel too shy. Looking at you makes me feel shy. And it makes me feel awkward wanting to just watch you but feeling I couldn’t and shouldn’t. Please don’t misunderstand, I’m not a stalker. It’s just you. You’re hard not to look at. It’s not objectification. You must know that you are beautiful and there is something deeper than that. You have an aura of tenderness that surrounds you. I know I must not be the only one that feels this way or senses something really special coming from inside of you. I know I am really highly sensitive to other people. I feel what’s going on inside of them. That’s why I often need to block people out.

But let me put a question to you. Is there anyone in your life that tells you how beautiful and amazing you are? I mean on a regular basis? If you answer no, than I need to say that there should be. I, also, noticed how very quiet you are. It seems you are as shy as I am. But then, this was only the second time we were in the same room together, I could be wrong about the shyness. We’ll have to wonder about that for another time.

I saw my therapist later after group and I asked him about you. The first thing he told me was that you were there more as an observer, trying to learn about group dynamics. How they functioned in a real setting. Sometimes, he said that you would participate, but not that frequently. I must say that was a disappointment to hear. I was hoping for more but for now, simply your presence will have to be enough. He did inform me you are working on a college degree and training to become a psychoanalyst. That was the best part of what he said. That is somehow comforting to me. I am delighted to know you are working on becoming a psychoanalyst.

But even better for the present, I would be seeing you in our women’s therapy group every week. That to me made my day complete. I love that idea. But then he came out with the best part, he told me that if he wasn’t able to cover a group session, you would take over in his place. I held back my enthusiasm. He didn’t need to know how much that statement thrilled me. Just to have someone else cover a group session would have been enough but to have that person be you, well, that brought my day up to the highest level possible.

He, also, finally got to the place where he told me that last week, the week I returned, was coincidentally your first session with the group. That really surprised me. It made me wonder why he hadn’t introduced you last week to the group. But then I remembered I was a few moments late arriving. Anyway, I let it go.

Back to you entering into my life the same day that I entered into yours. I enjoy when serendipity happens. It creates a sense of magic in my mind and an opening up of so many feelings inside me. The best part is feeling the excitement that maybe someday I could actually ask you a super important question. It might sound strange coming from me right now but I’m going to ask it anyway. Here goes, I would like it if some day when you have completed your studies and are finally registered as a professional psychoanalyst, if you could or would see me in a professional capacity. Sometime in the future, I would like to be your client.

Surprised? At this moment, I will not explain why I would be asking you that question. Wait patiently and in some future letter, I will go into more detail on why, I feel, that question is appropriate.

Regards,
Madison Taylor

Ps. I believe in my next letter I shall drop the formality of signing my letters to you, using my family’s name. I will just use Madison. Let’s see how I feel then before I definitely decide.silver divider between paragraphsletters-divider for sections of books-heart echosilver divider between paragraphs
ATTENTION: (This I add to each letter I write to you, so that you know they are all written in the strictest of confidence.) To Annie, at this moment I am not trying to be a coward, but I feel if I hold back now or never send this to you, then I am freeing myself up to write whatever I wish with sense of censorship. Maybe someday, when I am feeling more familiar with just who you are and what you might mean to me, this parameter will be altered and a copy of this and future letters will be relayed to you. For now I want to maintain secrecy, to protect you, Annie, and to protect myself from over testing the barriers or boundaries of what the potentials could be between us and the development of our relationship. I am adding this in order that you, Annie Haskell, will know that I am trying to protect you and also myself from any humiliation. It will free up my words as I speak them upon the page. And on some future date, if I feel trusting enough, I will release to you what I write in honesty, but for now I will keep my words confidential. On my honour, no others shall see these pages, I promise you that. Regards, Madison Taylor.silver divider between paragraphsletters-divider for sections of books-heart echo

Maksim — Somewhere In Time
Theme Song For “Letters of Import”silver divider between paragraphsletters-divider for sections of books-heart echo

Dmitri Shostakovich — Jazz Waltz No.2 Theme #2 Letters of Import: Coming Close 2silver divider between paragraphsQUOTATIONS from: LETTERS of IMPORT: Private Writings to a Psychoanalyst

“A Dream

The beginning always starts out with a dream.
It is all a dream
And we are all players
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~
(1563-1631)

“Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?”
Christopher Marlowe for “Hero and Leander”

“A therapeutic relationship is often more psycho-emotionally intimate than a marriage, or a romantic attachment. I know things about my patients that they would never dream of revealing to their spouses or families. Why is that? One word — trust. If you do not have a connection with a therapist, you cannot trust them. If you do not have trust, you will not expose yourself, and if you do not expose your innermost being, what good is the therapy?” — unknown but ask any great therapist

“Men have called me mad, but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence…whether much that is glorious–whether all that is profound–does not spring from disease of thought…” — Edgar Allan Poesilver divider between paragraphs

Polar Opposites: Expectations vs. Madness

Polar Opposites: Expectations vs. Madness
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Abstract Digital Art by j. kiley
Created 03.20.13
Posted 03.20.13

celebration of life  par j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

celebration of life par j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

polar opposities expectations vs madness by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013

visioni mistiche par j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

visioni mistiche par j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

universal gravity by j. kiley © jennifer kiley

universal gravity by j. kiley © jennifer kiley

Evanescence — My Immortal

QUOTATIONS on IMM0RTALITY:

“I’m wishing he could see that music lives. Forever. That it’s stronger than death. Stronger than time. And that its strength holds you together when nothing else can.”
― Jennifer Donnelly, Revolution

“If a man can bridge the gap between life and death,if he can live after he’s died, then maybe he was a great man. Immortality is the only true success.” ― James Dean

“I would love to believe that when I die I will live again, that some thinking, feeling, remembering part of me will continue. But as much as I want to believe that, and despite the ancient and worldwide cultural traditions that assert an afterlife, I know of nothing to suggest that it is more than wishful thinking.” ― Carl Sagan, Billions and Billions

“The life given us, by nature is short; but the memory of a well-spent life is eternal.”
― Marcus Tullius Cicero

“Forgiveness is healing—everything is energy—thoughts create—we are all connected—what you resist persists—true love never dies—the soul’s immortality is the only true immortality—”
― Alyson Noel, Everlasting

“The faery lords are immortal. Those who have songs ballads and stories written about them never die. Belief worship imagination we were born of the dreams and fears of mortals and if we are remembered even in some small way we will always exist.” ― Julie Kagawa, The Iron King

“Every reader exists to ensure for a certain book a modest immortality. Reading is, in this sense, a ritual of rebirth.” ― Alberto Manguel, The Library at Night

“Dying is the fastest route to fame for an aspiring rock star. The dead man’s melodies become profound, acquiring deep mystery and rising into a realm beyond the reach of human criticism. In the stopping of a heartbeat, the rocker is transformed from decadent, depraved hedonist into misunderstood genius. Aye, death and musical stardom go together like Scotland and rain.” ― Mark Rice, Metallic Dreams

“Immortality: A toy which people cry for, And on their knees apply for, Dispute, contend and lie for, And if allowed Would be right proud Eternally to die for.” ― Ambrose Bierce

“Everything science has taught me strengthens my belief in the continuity of our spiritual existence after death. I believe in an immortal soul. Science has proved that nothing disintegrates into nothingness. Life and soul, therefore, cannot disintegrate into nothingness, and so are immortal.” ― Werner Von Braun

“In death – no! even in the grave all is not lost. Else there is no immortality for man. Arousing from the most profound slumbers, we break the gossamer web of some dream. Yet in a second afterward, (so frail may that web have been) we remember not that we have dreamed.” ― Edgar Allan Poe, The Pit and the Pendulum

“Dreams link us to those who have already left this life.”
― Doug Dillon

“He means to succeed, and a man who has centuries before him can afford to wait and to go slow.” ― Bram Stoker, Dracula