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Letters of Import: Visions Of A Future 8

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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

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 loves 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 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

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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

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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.

purpose P U R P O S E purpose

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purpose P U R P O S E purpose
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Art created by j. kiley
Created 04.13.13
Posted 04.13.13

purpose P U R P O S E purpose by j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

purpose P U R P O S E purpose by j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

Fireworks — Katy Perry

QUOTATIONS on PURPOSE:

“If you were all alone in the universe with no one to talk to, no one with which to share the beauty of the stars, to laugh with, to touch, what would be your purpose in life? It is other life; it is love, which gives your life meaning. This is harmony. We must discover the joy of each other, the joy of challenge, the joy of growth.” ― Mitsugi Saotome

“When you lost sight of your path, listen for the destination in your heart.” ― Katsura Hoshino

“The magic of purpose and of love in its purest form. Not televison love, with its glare and hollow and sequined glint; not sex and allure, all high shoes and high drama, everything both too small and in too much excess, but just love. Love like rain, like the smell of a tangerine, like a surprise found in your pocket.” ― Deb Caletti

“Those who have failed to work toward the truth have missed the purpose of living.” ― Gautama Buddha

“It’s funny. No matter how hard you try, you can’t close your heart forever. And the minute you open it up, you never know what’s going to come in. But when it does, you just have to go for it! Because if you don’t, there’s not point in being here.” ― Kirstie Alley

“Make your work to be in keeping with your purpose” ― Leonardo da Vinci

“In spite of where we were, how we had gotten here and why we had come, I felt that at this moment of our lives, this place was exactly where we belonged. We were not drifting but rising, rising toward something right and of significance.” ― Dean Koontz

“Spirituality is recognizing and celebrating that we are all inextricably connected to each other by a power greater than all of us, and that our connection to that power and to one another is grounded in love and compassion. Practicing spirituality brings a sense of perspective, meaning and purpose to our lives.” ― Brené Brown

“There are so many stupid things that steal that purpose from us. The stupid things that you believe a lie that we ‘re not as important as we really are. That our life isn’t as important as it really is. It’s important to the people that you love, it’s important to the people that you will love in the future, it’s important to the world around you and it’s so important that you fulfill the purpose that only you can fulfill the way that you can fulfill that.” ― Lacey Mosley

“I read of a man who stood to speak
at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
from the beginning…to the end.

He noted that first came the date of her birth
and spoke of the following date with tears,
but he said what mattered most of all
was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time
that she spent alive on earth…
and now only those who loved her
know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own;
the cars….the house…the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
and how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard…
are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left.
(You could be at “dash midrange.”)

If we could just slow down enough
to consider what’s true and real,
and always try to understand
the way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger,
and show appreciation more
and love the people in our lives
like we’ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect,
and more often wear a smile…
remembering that this special dash
might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy’s being read
with your life’s actions to rehash…
would you be proud of the things they
say about how you spend your dash?”
― Linda Ellis, The Dash Making A Difference With Your Life

“The great essentials to happiness in this life are something to do, something to love and something to hope for.” ― Joseph Addison

“Art has always been the raft onto which we climb to save our sanity. I don’t see a different purpose for it now.” ― Dorothea Tanning

this is my purpose. this is what makes my life have meaning.

this is my purpose. this is what makes my life have meaning.

Letters of Import: Welcome to My World Annie 4

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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

Letters of Import: Coming Closer 3

1 Reply

Letters of Import: Private Writings to a Psychoanalyst
Coming Closer 3
By Jennifer Kiley
Written 03.31.13
Illustrations by j. kiley
© jennifer kiley 2013
First Posting 03.19.13
Posted Weekly Early Tuesday Morning
Third Posting 04.02.13silver divider between paragraphsanyone living or dead is purely coincidentalsilver divider between paragraphsletters-divider for sections of books-heart echosilver divider between paragraphsletters - coming closer 3
Tuesday October 15th 2007

Dear Annie

I rather left you hanging in my last letter regarding my cancer saga. Not trying to be flippant but a touch less severe or dramatic. The story does continue. But today, there are other matters I want to write about. So, I will keep it brief that aspect of my past that has to do with my recovery.

After leaving you hanging on my near death experience and no diagnosis could be found, eventually they discovered a virus that was causing the effects of some tropical illness. Nothing would stay down. My insides were shrinking. They had to hydrate me. I was losing masses of weight. Over the course of one night i lost twenty pounds. I just could not eat and when I did it wouldn’t stay down. I was on a diet of jello and ginger ale and my regular medications. They had to switch everything over to IV.

There were these great blue parachute bags that opened up quickly and kept what came up well contained. No messes. I use to be bulimic and this was worse then that ever was. Losing weight did satisfy my anorexic mindset but as Scottie would say, “That is not the way to lose weight.” I think it became her mantra with me. Eating was not one of my favorite things. And now that I am feeling a touch better. I am so particular about what I want and can put in my stomach. Everything needs to be mild and mostly white.

As I began to feel better, all seemed like I was recovering. No more Chemo. Hurray! But still Monday through Friday Scottie took me to my radiation treatment. They were an experiment in visiting Hell. They were killing the bone marrow in my hip where blood was made so enters my anemia with an already compromised immune system this was affecting my ability to make red and white blood cells.

I will stop here. Without meaning to I wrote more than I wanted but I guess it is something I never talked to anyone about at any length. I kept it all hidden. Not even Scottie. She was overloaded with caring for me. She lived it. I’m sure she didn’t want to hear about it.

What I really wanted to write to you about today is my connection to you in the women’s group. Ever since I returned, I want more and more for you to be leading the group. You may not say much but what you do say is so much more poignant than anything Mr. Xxx ever goes on and on about, blowing his bubbles, signifying nothing. You are so sensitive. You actually listen. He’s always waiting to jump in somewhere with what he wants to say next. He just has his stories he has to be sure to tell. And they never really focus on what you pour your heart into saying. That’s why I have pretty much given up. He has sucked any emotions I have out of me. I haven’t felt anything but panic and anxiety since I first started seeing him.

The closer I feel toward what you are meaning to the group and me the further away from Mr. Xxx I am growing. He has been my private therapist since I left doing therapy with another therapist. I never wanted to leave her but insurance caused us to end our relationship of over 7 years. Her name was Irene. I was so strongly attached to her. We met once a week and between sessions I would always need to call her to talk and I would write her a letter every week.

The month of our last visit was the same month and year that Princess Diana was killed in the car crash in Paris. I had started with Mr. Xxx right away. I was a basket case and needed to continue therapy without any interruption. After one or two of our sessions he asked me to write a poem about something, anything. I had told him that I was a writer and had written a novel and started many others. I, also, mentioned I was a poet from the time I was a teenager or maybe even before that.

I remember my grandmother and I had invented a secret alphabet in order to communicate privately with each other. We didn’t want anyone else to be able to read what we were writing to each other. I was pretty young when we did that. It was the signs of the beginnings of a budding author or someone with a keen imagination. That’s what my grandmother told me. She always encouraged me. She was the one person in my childhood that was not a nightmare to me or an abuser or bully.

Back to Mr. Xxx, while I was seeing him I did write that one poem. It was about the effect Princess Diana’s death had on me, which was very traumatic. It turned out to be the only poem and the only thing I wrote during the almost ten years that I have been seeing him. He slowly started sucking the life out of me. Everyone thought that I should replace him. I knew I needed a new therapist but I was too afraid of the change.

The people in my life were and are constantly putting pressure on me to terminate my therapy with him. They all feel it is a toxic relationship. I feel nothing inside with him. I am an emotional zombie with the exception of my alter Brad, who is filled with rage and comes out and tells him off all the time. He is always pissing Brad off. I should tell you up front Brad is a young teenager, male, who protects us all. He is our guardian. We want to confess to you that we have dissociative identity disorder. There are many of us inside but Brad is the most out going. He isn’t afraid of anything or anyone. Some day as we get to know you we will tell you more about us.

Back to the asshole, Mr. Xxx. I suppose we shouldn’t call him that with you. I will just tell you he makes us feel on the defensive all the time. We can’t trust him and for sure we never feel we can open up to him. We keep our true feelings or thoughts locked in a secure place inside us. Directness with him is like a battle for attention. Mr. Xxx always wants the floor or has an excuse for what he has to say.

He tries to make or causes us to deny our sense of realty. We would finally think we could tell him something real. But then we would feel like Charlie Brown kicking the football and he would become Lucy. I just realized she is a cheap therapist. So is he or should be. So, at the last moment he would prove once again we couldn’t trust him. He always has a way of twisting my feelings into being wrong and defends the person I am having the negative feelings about even though they were being mean as Hell to me. That’s when he would push me into a dark corner and Brad would come out in a raging fury and want to tear him apart for being such a Dickhead.

It was always more his session than ours. He has to show off how smart he is and would always try to one up on us whenever I said anything about art or what was happening in the news or any ideas. He always felt insecure or something and felt he had to prove he knew more than I did. I am not an egotist but I am rather brilliant and artistic and inside of my mind there is so much activity going on all the time and such a thirst for knowledge and philosophical thinking and creative ideas about subjects I wanted to write about. What I lacked was understanding from him. But enough about him or I’ll scream.

Now I would like to get a touch more personal with you. I told you some of the outline of my relationship with Mr. Xxx. It helps explain why I am thinking seriously about finding a new therapist. I know you are in no place for it to be you, at least right now. But someday, I want to know if I ever do ask that question whether the answer will be yes?

I should be completely honest with you about some of the ways that I feel. One thing that is strong in me is that I get jealous. I also get attached and can be rather dependent. I am in control of my behavior but I do feel very intense about people I care about. For an example, you seem to have a certain relationship between yourself and Robin. You engage in some intense conversations after group is over and then you give her a ride home. Now I am not exactly sure why this bothers me but it does.

Before I became ill I always took Robin home. We would have these intense conversations. Now I am not sure if I am jealous, just a touch because she talks to you, or you talk to her and spend time with her. What I am saying I think or feel I want to be in Robin’s place. I want the intense conversations with you. But also I want my friend back. That’s a real Catch-22.

We also take the same road home and I can see you both sitting in your car talking. How crazy am I that it bothers me. I don’t really want you two to be close. I can absolutely not talk to Mr. Xxx about what I am feeling. The Goddess knows what he would say. Not going to trust that.

I hope you are able to understand the trust I am placing in you being so direct and honest. Closeness with you is something I would like to build between us.

Until the next time I see you I will close with a thank you for listening.

Regards,
Madisonsilver divider between paragraphsletters-divider for sections of books-heart echosilver divider between paragraphs(This note is to ensure that all 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

Maksim — Somewhere In Time
Theme Song #1 For “Letters of Import”silver 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

Haiku “Recognition”

3 Replies

Haiku “Recognition”
Written by Jennifer Kiley
03.20.13
Abstract Digital Art by j. kiley
Created 03.21.13
Poster 03.21.13

autumn tree gif

eye of universal energy by j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

eye of universal energy by j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

haiku recognition

silver ball by sl8r.co

silver ball by sl8r.co

blue orbit by j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

blue orbit by j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

Whitney Huston — Try It On My Own

QUOTATIONS on RECOGNITION:

“There are two kinds of taste in the appreciation of imaginative literature: the taste for emotions of surprise and the taste for emotions of recognition.” ― Henry James

“Love springs from the inside. It is the immortal surge of passion, excitement, energy, power, strength, prosperity, recognition, respect, desire, determination, enthusiasm, confidence, courage, and vitality, that nourishes, extends and protects. It possesses an external objective – life.” ― Ogwo David Emenike

“The applause was so loud and insistent that I had to respond with several encores. I was numb with happiness, when it was over, I knew that this alone must be my life and my world.” ― Leni Riefenstahl

“Writing is one of the loneliest of the arts; unlike the actor we have no immediate audience and must wait many long months, even years on occasion, for the splatter of applause to reach our ears, if indeed we are not damned by total neglect.” ― Bryan Forbes

“There are just two things that can make you famous.. being noble or notorious”
― Ram Mohan

“Dreams are extremely important. You can’t do it unless you imagine it.”
― George Lucas

“For most people, art is only valuable if other people say it is; and artists are only worthwhile if they are either rich and famous, or dead.” ― Wayne Gerard Trotman

Letters of Import: Private Writings to a Psychoanalyst

4 Replies

Letters of Import: Private Writings to a Psychoanalyst
To Begin 1
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Abstract Digital Art by j. kiley
© jennifer kiley 2013
First Posting 03.19.13
silver divider between paragraphsanyone living or dead is purely coincidentalsilver divider between paragraphsletters-divider for sections of books-heart echoOpening Announcement: This is an experiment that I am hoping will be successful. I am rewriting a manuscript and placing it on “the secret keeper” blog. It will be a short posting late every Monday night after midnight, so actually into the wee hours of early Tuesday morning. Today’s Post includes The Title Page; Dedication; Introduction; and the Beginning of the Book “To Begin 1”… I am hoping this works and is intriguing enough to encourage those who would like to, will read & follow it. It is a rather long manuscript, so it may take some time & many turns but hopefully it will be unique, entertaining, & thought provoking reading & teaches me more about writing & telling an enticing & inspiring story. It is, also, the inspiration for a screenplay I am working on separately from this writing project. I hope for the best. And now to draw the curtain back…letters of import title pageAll characters and events are fictitious. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental. Including the dedication and what follows. All are living well in my imagination and only until they are released will anyone know what shall appear on these pages. The writer, in this case, has the last call as to where this story’s tale will go and how it will develop and end.letters-divider for sections of books-heart echoDEDICATION

I am actually dedicating this book to Annie Haskell, a potentially fictional psychoanalyst. She is one unto herself & a culmination of all psychotherapists I have seen during my life since a teenager & up until the present day & beyond. There have been many, which I hope shall add a great deal of variety to the tale. I dedicate this book to all of them. To the positive and negative effects they have had on my life, still do, in guiding me toward my Enlightenment, Awareness, Encouragement, Support & Growth.

I wanted to add a special message, specifically for Annie, in which, the words are spoken in silence to her with truth, honesty & meaning, This passage means a great deal. My favorite passage from, what I feel is the most romantic film, “Somewhere In Time.” These words speak exactly what my former psychoanalyst means to me or at least what feelings I once held for her in my heart:

“The woman of my dreams has almost faded now. The one I have created in my mind. The sort of woman each woman dreams of, In the deepest and most secret reaches of her heart. I can almost see her now before me. What would I say to her if she were really here? “Forgive me. I have never known this feeling. I have lived without it all my life. Is it any wonder, then, I failed to recognize you? You, who brought it to me for the first time. Is there any way that I can tell you how my life has changed? Any way at all to let you know what sweetness you have given me?
There is so much to say. I cannot find the words. Except for these: “I love you”. Such would I say to her if she were really here.”

The character Elise McKenna spoke these words, while on stage in the middle of a theatre performance, to Richard Collier, who was in the audience, in the film “Somewhere In Time.” I changed the gender so it read as though a women speaking to another women:

This I still let remain in my dedication to you Annie. When one has such strong feelings, it is most difficult to ever forget the echo of such depth from one’s heart. So, you shall always be a part of my heart, mind and soul even if you are not in my life any longer.letters-divider for sections of books-heart echoINTRODUCTION

Our writings to Annie will include: our dreams, thoughts, notes, poems, lyrics, letters, emails, role playing, screenwriting scenes, quotes and inspirations along with reflective comments that we recall of times in between birth and now: from the inner workings of the mind of a person who is living with multiple personality disorder, also known as dissociative identity disorder.

Fortunately there is nothing wrong with our identities. We all just want to be allowed to be our selves. We may at present be either or are somewhat integrated or just rather quiet. Next is complex-post traumatic stress disorder, panic disorder, agoraphobia, anxiety disorder, bi-polar disorder. We prefer manic depression or bipolar brilliant and do not like the term mental illness. We prefer to be known as mentally interesting or mentally creative or having a brain disorder.

We are survivors of childhood sexual abuse and quite the variety: emotional, physical, psychological, and spiritual abuse, kidnapping, child pornography, and bondage. And then our near death experiences from cancer, near drownings, car crashes, with one death, fractured bones and two necks broken, one was mine & the other a good friend of mine. We were hit by a gunrunner. The cops found drugs in our glove compartment. Police said they would not press charges if we did the same. The drug runner was drunk and a government witness, so he helped the law but was a jerk.

And if that is not enough, they won’t even let us have medicinal marijuana to help for all this and the physical pain. Relax Peaceful and Calm are the safe words Annie gave to us and now spoken to us by our Muse and Inspiration during a meditation/relaxation session.

Namaste! Madison Taylorletters-divider for sections of books-heart echoTHE BEGINNING

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

A Dream

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

Tribute paid to playwright Christopher Marlowe for “Hero and Leander.”
“Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?”
From 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?
~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…” ~wrote Edgar Allan Poe~letters-divider for sections of books-heart echoletters - to begin 1Tuesday Oct. 2nd 2007

Dear Annie Haskell,

Today was my first day returning to the women’s therapy group. I had such a battle with Cancer. So many times everyone thought I was going to die. I tried not to think of it until that doctor, who thank goodness was not mine, told me so directly that I had about five years left if I survived now. Up until then, I never really thought about my mortality. It never occurred to me. Is that denial? Or I was just plain clueless.

I knew I was weak and my immune system was non-existent. But now, I felt no matter what my immune system was going through I needed to get out of the house and go someplace other than the hospital or the cancer center. It was time, whether I was fully ready, to return to my women’s group, even if it possibly compromised my health.

I looked presentable. My hair was a bit fuzzy but I liked the shortness. And I can write now that I was right. Call it my psychic intuition, but today was meant to happen the way it did. It was premonition & fortuitous that I chose Oct. 2nd 2007 to make my entrance. I needed to spend some time in the world of the familiar and the living. I didn’t realize how right I was until today turned into the day that I met you, Annie.

Who knew at that moment, when our eyes met that there would be a new woman entering my life. The Goddess was playing games today. When I first saw you, Annie, I knew immediately, in my soul that you were familiar. It didn’t register immediately but I should have known in that moment, that we had met before in some other place, in some other time. It was not in this life. It was in a past life or lives.

You had such a strong field of energy around you. The warmth was strong inside of you. I sensed right away. You’ve been in my mind since that moment. Subconsciously, my mind is working on what will happen next. I have a strong premonition about you. We will see what develops. There is a great potential for closeness between us. I feel it quite strongly. There is an attraction. What that is goes beyond what I can see right now. It’s too hard to determine.

Out of respect and the forming of a meaningful relationship I have no realization where our relationship could or will lead. There is a strong hint of our Spirits familiarity. I will write more about my thoughts in a future letter. I will reveal more as my muse inspires me.

I know you might be shocked by such a letter from someone you have only met today. I do realize that you are now a co-leader of the therapy group and boundaries must be respected but I cannot help my directness. There is a great tendency in me to be thoroughly honest with people, even if it is so recent as just meeting someone for the first time hours before now.

There is no need for you to answer this letter. No expectations there or ever. I just feel a need to write to you. In truth, I think I may make a habit of writing to you unless you in some way find this to be too forward or unwanted.

There is much in my mind that you have set off and I would like to tell you of those thoughts, feelings & ideas. I hope this will be a welcome opening into something that will grow. Until the next time.

With respect,
Madison Taylorletters-divider for sections of books-heart echoATTENTION: 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 comes into my mind, heart, soul & body. I will feel no need for 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.letters-divider for sections of books-heart echo

Maksim — Somewhere In Time Theme Song For “Letters of Import”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

Enchantment

5 Replies

Enchantment
Flash Fiction
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Written 03.09.13
Abstract Digital Art by j. kiley
Created 03.08.13
Posted 03.09.13

coeur de flamme par j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

coeur de flamme par j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

Enchantment
Flash Fiction
By Jennifer Kiley
03.09.13

Annie was waiting on the top step of the marble stone stairway, when Laura exited the bathroom on the second floor of the college lounge at Yale. They both were attending the Christmas celebration for the Gay Alliance on campus.

Annie met Laura in the doorway two months earlier at a house warming party for friends. Laura was closest to the door and felt compelled to answer the door when the bell rang. Her lover and a mutual friend had recently moved in to the new apartment. Opening the door Laura’s eyes met this new woman. She just moved down from North Bennington, Vermont where she had recently graduated with a Bachelor in Literature from Bennington College. Lynn had transferred a semester earlier to Yale to seek her Masters in Psychology. Lynn introduced Annie to Laura. Hermann Hesse wrote that “love happens when two people first look into the eyes of the other.”

Laura co-produced a Yale Gay Sunday Radio Show. She came up with the idea that the lesbians get together for a gathering to talk about their first sexual experience. Everyone was getting rather drunk while they made a tape to be played on the show. The co-producers felt it would be less embarrassing if it were presented on a tape rather than live. This is when her soon-to-be-ex-lover asked everyone if they were attracted to the new lesbian in town, Annie. When it came to Laura’s turn to respond, she became evasive but she did say, “I find her to be a very attractive woman but that she wasn’t really certain what she made her feel.” Laura’s then lover answered crassly, that she would jump her given any chance she had and thought that she was yummy and sexy. Laura wasn’t amused.

The tape that was made at the drunken gathering was played during the next radio show. Remembering inhibitions were loosened and pot had also been passed around so being stoned combined with being drunk, the comments were rather sexually explicit. One of the women ran out of the radio show with a shirt over her head to cover her reddening face. She was so embarrassed. When it came to Laura’s turn, she was a touch mortified but faced her compatriots at the radio station as they laughed out loud at what everyone was saying. It was so funny because everyone was so bloody direct and honest. The fact that there were gay men sitting around amongst all the lesbians who had been part of that drunken debacle didn’t help bring down the sense of embarrassment. But it went over favorably with the listening audience. The show received a great many fan mail letters.

Laura noticed through her blushing face that the look Annie gave her wasn’t of disapproval or of judgment but rather of a certain familiarity and intensity. They held their look for the eternity of a moment that lingered longer than most and just enough to know there was something more than just the beginning of a friendship growing between them.

After the show, Annie asked Laura if she wanted to go out for a drink before they returned to their respective homes. Laura agreed. They went to the local lesbian/gay bar where they allowed dancing and the music played rather loud. Annie and Laura got their drinks from the bar, two beers, and found a quiet, dark corner. A candle enclosed in glass burned lightly and there was a small bouquet of flowers in the center of the table.

“I have been meaning to ask you for a drink alone since I first met you,” Annie leaned in to be sure Laura heard the words she had spoken.

Laura blushed but it was too dark for anyone to notice, not even Annie. “I have felt the same. Wanting to spend some time with you. I have felt the same urge but out of a certain loyalty to Lynn I restrained myself from saying anything. I kept hoping you would ask me.”

“That is good to hear,” Annie said. “It means you respect me. What about your girlfriend?”

“That is over,” Laura retorted with a certain contempt in her voice. “She was sleeping with a member of our singing group. She thought I was crazy for being jealous when I found out. It was all rather fucked up. The bitch gave me a sexually transmitted creepy crawling thing via my ex-lover. Don’t worry, with help from a doctor I was able to rid myself of all the pests, people and the crawly things.”

“That was nice of her, “ Annie said laughing. “I am glad to hear they are gone. May I ask you to dance. It’s a slow one. Is that okay?”

“Very much so,” Laura got up and took Annie’s hand and led her to the dance floor. Annie pulled Laura close into her body. Laura slowly rested her head on Annie’s shoulder. At that moment, the worst possible timing, in walked Lynn with her arm around another woman. Laura lifted her head to be sure she saw what she thought she saw. “Look.” She pointed Annie toward the entrance.

Lynn stared at the two of them for a long moment. Seeing how close together their bodies were and how familiar it looked to her. She looked at the woman she was with. They both suddenly turned and exited through the door as if someone with a gun were right behind them.

Laura looked deeply into Annie’s eyes and said, “Who was that with Lynn? Did I see what I think I saw? What was Lynn doing with her. My first reaction was to feel ashamed for being here with you. Then feeling what I am beginning to feel. But I am not ashamed. We were only dancing. I need to say something to you. I’m not going to lie. It’s time to be honest. From that moment I opened the door, the first time I saw you, I knew, but I wasn’t going to allow myself to admit it to you or anyone. But I think from that moment you have always been on my mind. Don’t say anything. I think I need to take you home. Let me at least take you home.”

“That’s if I still have a home. After seeing those two together and Lynn seeing us.” They walked toward the door and exited the bar.

Around 4am, Michael, one of Laura’s gay housemates, woke her to tell her she had a phone call. She couldn’t imagine who it could be since the phone had only just been installed the day before. She wasn’t fully awake so she wasn’t thinking very clearly. “Hello.” A pause of silence and the sound of someone breathing.

“Hello, who is this?” Laura asked a bit louder.

“It’s me, Annie.” A long pause. “She kicked me out. I have to be out of her place by the end of today.” Annie’s voice was shaking. “I don’t know what I am going to do. I haven’t a place to go. I don’t know anyone.”

“Yes, you do,” Laura said. “You know me. And yes you do have a place to go. You’re going to move in with me. This house has three stories and lots of rooms. You will move in here. I will set up a room just for you.”

“You would do that for me?” Annie asked,

“Of course, I would,” Laura reassured Annie, “Would you like it if I came over right now to pick you up?”

“It’s awfully early,” Annie hesitated. “It’s only a bit after 4am.”

“That doesn’t matter. Get your things together. Give me time to get dressed and I will be right over.” Laura said enthusiastically. “Why is she throwing you out?”

“She thinks we are having an affair.” Annie stated. “But we’re not.”

“Not yet,” Laura stated. “There is time to talk about that. What is she saying about that woman we saw her with? Oh, never mind that. I’ll be there shortly. We’ll get you out of that place as quickly as possible.”

They arrived back at Laura’s place, now their place. Laura and Annie carried her things up to the third floor, along with the three cat carriers with a single kitty in each one. They placed Annie’s things into the room that was just off of Laura’s bedroom, the largest in house. She did find the place and rent it, so she chose the first bedroom. Then opened the house up to other lesbians and gay men.

“Well, this is your bed. I put on fresh sheets,” Laura said.

“Would you mind if I slept with you tonight,” Annie asked. “I just want you to hold me while we try to sleep. Is that okay? I don’t want to be alone.”

“Anything you want, you got it.” Laura led Annie down the hall, carrying two of the cat carriers and Annie took the other one. They entered her room. Once in the room, Laura closed the door so they could release the three kitties. The first was the mother, and the other were two 6 month old male kittens. Their names were Molly, the mother cat, Scout, a dark grey tiger, and Patrick, a pure black panther coloured kitty. Laura had a kitty box already set up in her room for her single kitten, a 3 month old orange with white male kitten who looked just like a lion. His name was Spanky.

Laura changed into her sleeping attire, a pair of sweat pants and a sweat shirt. It was only just the beginning of Spring and still chilly at night.

Annie had taken a long t-shirt from one of her bags. After removing her clothing, she tossed the t-shirt over her naked body.

After Laura threw back the comforter, blanket and sheet, she asked Annie, “Which side do you prefer?

“I’d like to sleep on the outside, on the left. Is that alright for you, Laura?”

“Yes, perfect.” Laura said, “I like hearing you say my name.”

They crawled into bed, Laura to the inside. It was the first time they had been that physically close, except while dancing earlier the evening before. Their world had just taken a dramatic turn. Annie lay on her left side facing away from Laura.

At first Laura wasn’t sure what the proper thing was that she should do. Her impulses took over. She brought her body closer to Annie’s and placed her right arm over Annie’s right arm and drew her body into her’s and held her as close as possible. Laura rested her head on Annie’s pillow. She could hear Annie quietly crying into the pillow. Laura just held her and slowly they both fell asleep.

It was the way that they began their life together, one holding the other in comfort.

This was what love is.

© jennifer kiley 2013

je t'aime par j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

je t’aime par j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

fireworks gif

fantaisie qui trébuche par j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

fantaisie qui trébuche par j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

Timing Is Everything — Garrett Hedlund

“You don’t blast a heart open,” she said. “You coax and nurture it open, like the sun does to a rose.” ― Melody Beattie, The Lessons of Love: Rediscovering Our Passion for Live When It All Seems Too Hard to Take

“And then I remember this morning and I wonder if it really happened or if I dreamed it. It was nice. And weird. And tender. I’m not used to tender…” ― Jennifer Donnelly, Revolution

“Tender,” she said again. “Tender is kind and gentle…” ― Brenna Yovanoff, The Space Between

“You can’t substitute material things for love or for gentleness or for tenderness… Money is not a substitute for tenderness, and power is not a substitute for tenderness.” ― Mitch Albom, Tuesdays With Morrie

“Falling in love was easy-when romantic attraction was combined with hungry, unsated desire, a bauble that could shatter as soon as it was grasped… Tenderness was a different story. It had staying power and the promise of a future.” ― Robyn Donald, Tiger, Tiger

“You know those little moments when an unexpected act or a spoken word affects your heart with sweet, satiating intensity – a simple gesture that possesses deep, personal meaning beyond what anyone realizes? You know those tender moments? …pressing…lips on your forehead and whispering, ‘I love you’.” ― Richelle E. Goodrich

“As she stooped over him, her tears fell upon his forehead.
The boy stirred, and smiled in his sleep, as though these marks of pity and compassion had awakened some pleasant dream of a love and affection he had never known; as a strain of gentle music, or the rippling of water in a silent place, or the odour of a flower, or even the mention of a familiar word, will sometimes call up sudden dim remembrances of scenes that never were, in this life; which vanish like a breath; and which some brief memory of a happier existence, long gone by, would seem to have awakened, for no voluntary exertion of the mind can ever recall them.” ― Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist

“You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She’s not perfect – you aren’t either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break – her heart. So don’t hurt her, don’t change her, don’t analyze and don’t expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she’s not there.” ― Bob Marley

“Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.” ― Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

“We fell in love, despite our differences, and once we did, something rare and beautiful was created. For me, love like that has only happened once, and that’s why every minute we spent together has been seared in my memory. I’ll never forget a single moment of it.” ― Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook

“I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) I am never without it (anywhere
I go you go,my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)”
― e.e. cummings

“Truly, there is magic in fairytales.
For it takes but a simply-uttered ‘Once upon a time…’ to allure and spellbind an audience.” ― Richelle E. Goodrich

“I had the most beautiful dream, and then I fell asleep in your arms and my dream turned lovelier still.” ― Richelle E. Goodrich

“When someone from Faerie ever tells you something, you can see it – you can feel it – you believe it. For the true value of enchantment and its glamour, is in the imparting of a truth – by truth’s own persuasion it makes itself real.” ― Gabriel Brunsdon, Azlander: Second Nature

“Art is enchantment and artists have the right of spells. … The success of later Shakespeare is the success of spells, where every element, however uneven, however incredible, is fastened to the next with perfect authority. The enchanted world shimmers but does not waver. A Midsummer Night’s Dream is the first of his plays to accomplish this, The Tempest is enchantment’s apotheosis.” ― Jeanette Winterson, Art Objects: Essays on Ecstasy and Effrontery

Homophobia & Bullying Needs To Stop

4 Replies

Homophobia & Bullying Needs To Stop
Post Created by jk the secret keeper
Opening Written by Jennifer Kiley
Created 02.27.13
Posted 02.28.13

bully film poster

I have the film Bully and intend to watch once my psychotherapist returns from vacation. Those are her orders. No Hunger Games or Girls With the Dragon Tattoo either. Subject matter too triggering. Here is a video of the trailer to Bully and a film review plus a synopsis from the producers. I will be writing a film review once I have watched this very important film. Originally, b/c of language & subject matter those that really need to see this film were going to be kept from viewing it. If I understand correctly that is no longer the case. Some of the children that are shown in the film ended up becoming so overwhelmed by their being bullied that they committed suicide. Suicide is a strong reaction but it is not usually b/c you want to die but you just want the pain to end. I have those words echoing in my head as a mantra. I have had my own experience with all of these issues as so many of us have. Here is the the trailer to Bully. Following the material representing the film Bully is a video made by a young man who is not gay but takes on the topic of homophobia, bullying & respecting one another. You will be shocked by some of the material he posts from Facebook pages in the comment sections. It is quite horrible that people would hold such violent hatred toward other humans who are “different” then they think they are. But in fact, we are all different & unique. Why bullies cannot see that they would not want to receive the same treatment as they administer to those that they bully. I have been reading the book “Orange Petals in a Storm.” One of the many imaginative & magical elements in the story that absorb you includes the quite intriguing way the young girl and main character finds the resolutions to the many situations she encounters such as that of bullying and abuse. Not to give too much away, those who bully & abuse are often victims themselves. That is not a reason to go on to become a bully yourself. When I hear about those who sexually abuse children speak up & tell that they were sexually abused themselves. NOT AN EXCUSE. THERE IS NO EXCUSE FOR BULLYING, ABUSE, VIOLENCE, DOMESTIC ABUSE, SEXUAL ABUSE or any form of sexual abuse toward a child or an adult. NO EXCUSE. NO EXCUSE IS ACCEPTABLE. By Jennifer Kiley

Bully Trailer Official 2012 [HD]

Directed by Sundance and Emmy-award winning filmmaker, Lee Hirsch, Bully is a beautifully cinematic, character-driven documentary. At its heart are those with huge stakes in this issue whose stories each represent a different facet of America’s bullying crisis. Bully follows five kids and families over the course of a school year. Stories include two families who have lost children to suicide and a mother awaiting the fate of her 14-year-old daughter who has been incarcerated after bringing a gun on her school bus. With an intimate glimpse into homes, classrooms, cafeterias and principals’ offices, the film offers insight into the often cruel world of the lives of bullied children. — (C) Weinstein

Film review of BULLY:
Bullied like me
COLIN COVERT
Minnesota Star Tribune
April 13, 2012

Documentary focuses on the torment faced by a handful of young students, including two who took their own lives.

Parents just don’t understand. That’s the message of Lee Hirsch’s powerful documentary “Bully.” The parents of kids who behave thuggishly to their classmates shrug off child-on-child abuse as “kids just being kids.” The families of children on the receiving end of nonstop mistreatment don’t comprehend their suffering. The parents of 17-year-old Tyler Long, allegedly the victim of longtime harassment by his classmates, didn’t realize how he felt until he hanged himself in his bedroom closet.

David and Tina Long have been battling school bullying in Georgia since their son’s 2009 suicide. Their story is one of five told in the film, which Hirsch filmed over the course of a year with no lights, no sound person and only a small video camera. While his film is limited in scope (all his subjects live in fairly rural settings), it reflects a sadly prevalent state of affairs.

From the Longs, the film moves to Alex Libby and his family in Sioux City, Iowa. “I feel kind of nervous about going to school,” says Alex, whose classmates ostracize him. “I like learning, but I have trouble making friends.” He enters seventh grade fearful it will be another chapter in a continuing story of humiliation. “They punch me, strangle me, take things from me, sit on me. Sometimes they push me so hard it makes me want to be the bully,” he says. Alex’s mom brings the problem to the school principal, who — apparently more concerned with saving face than addressing the problem — shrugs off her concerns.

But Hirsch’s film captures the perspective of Alex and other victims: physical abuse, insults and threats, school bus rides that resemble mob scenes from “Lord of the Flies.” It’s painful viewing, but necessary. Catharsis often involves going to dark places.

Related Article: Director’s Bully Pulpit
Director Lee Hirsch’s documentary “Bully” lifts the veil on a seemingly perpetual childhood scourge. Recording the experience of several adolescents with a compact video camera, he provides an authentic glimpse at conditions that some victimized students face daily…

Homophobia Needs To Stop

Published on Feb 24, 2013
A Statement made by the young man who created this video on Homophobia, Bullying & Respect

I’m not gay myself but even so. It’s a shame that things have gotten this bad. I’m sorry the editing isn’t very good, I wanted to get it uploaded asap. Sorry also for the speed of the screen shots, you may have to pause them. It’s a shame that ‘gay’ has now become some kind of derogatory term. It’s bad that in this day and age, people cannot be grown up about sexual orientation. Everyone is equal. It’s those that actually accept that are the winners.

Saxophonist Amy Dickson – Philip Glass’ Violin Concerto No 1.

“The sad truth about bigotry is that most bigots either don’t realize that they are bigots, or they convince themselves that their bigotry is perfectly justified.”
― Wayne Gerard Trotman

“One’s dignity may be assaulted, vandalized and cruelly mocked, but it can never be taken away unless it is surrendered.”
― Michael J. Fox

“Our love of lockstep is our greatest curse, the source of all that bedevils us. It is the source of homophobia, xenophobia, racism, sexism, terrorism, bigotry of every variety and hue, because it tells us there is one right way to do things, to look, to behave, to feel, when the only right way is to feel your heart hammering inside you and to listen to what its timpani is saying.” ― Anna Quindlen

“Some people won’t be happy until they’ve pushed you to the ground. What you have to do is have the courage to stand your ground and not give them the time of day. Hold on to your power and never give it away.” ― Donna Schoenrock

“I hate the word homophobia. It’s not a phobia. You are not scared. You are an asshole.”
― Morgan Freeman

“No, you don’t know what it’s like
When nothing feels all right
You don’t know what it’s like
To be like me
To be hurt
To feel lost
To be left out in the dark
To be kicked when you’re down
To feel like you’ve been pushed around
To be on the edge of breaking down
And no one’s there to save you
No, you don’t know what it’s like
Welcome to my life”
― Simple Plan

“Social conservatives seem to see a bigger threat to marriage from committed gay couples who want in on it than from straight ones who opt out of it.”
― Margaret Talbot

“1. Bullying is not okay. Period.

2. Freedom of religion does not give you the right to physically or verbally assault people.

3. If your sincerely-held religious beliefs require you to bully children, then your beliefs are fucked up.”
― Jim C. Hines

“What would my first sergeant do if he came across me and another girl getting it on? He’d want pictures. He’d want to join in. He’d want me and this other girl to double-team him right then and there. On the other hand, since most heterosexual men are homophobic and sexist, most straight guys figure gay men will treat them the way they themselves treat women- that is, like sex objects. And this freaks them the fuck out.” ― Kayla Williams, Love My Rifle More than You: Young and Female in the U.S. Army

“It gets better. It seems hard, you know, I think being different is always gonna be a tough climb. There’s always gonna be people that are scared of it. But at the end of the day you give those bullies, those people, that are so ignorant, if you give them the power to affect you, you’re letting them win. And they don’t deserve that. What you’re doing by being yourself is you’re keeping it real, and you’re being really brave.” ― Adam Lambert

“The whole world goes on and on about love. Poets spend their lives writing about it. Everyone thinks it’s the most wonderful thing. But, when you mention two guys in love, they forget all that and freak out.” ― Mark A. Roeder, Outfield Menace

“Could a scar be like the rings of a tree, reopened with each emotional season?”
― Magenta Periwinkle, Cutting Class

“I have almost completed a long novel, but it is unpublishable until my death and England’s.” — E.M. Forster (speaking of Maurice & England at the time.)

“When the Washington Post telephoned me at home on Valentine’s Day 1989 to ask my opinion about the Ayatollah Khomeini’s fatwah, I felt at once that here was something that completely committed me. It was, if I can phrase it like this, a matter of everything I hated versus everything I loved. In the hate column: dictatorship, religion, stupidity, demagogy, censorship, bullying, and intimidation. In the love column: literature, irony, humor, the individual, and the defense of free expression. Plus, of course, friendship—though I like to think that my reaction would have been the same if I hadn’t known Salman at all. To re-state the premise of the argument again: the theocratic head of a foreign despotism offers money in his own name in order to suborn the murder of a civilian citizen of another country, for the offense of writing a work of fiction. No more root-and-branch challenge to the values of the Enlightenment (on the bicentennial of the fall of the Bastille) or to the First Amendment to the Constitution, could be imagined. President George H.W. Bush, when asked to comment, could only say grudgingly that, as far as he could see, no American interests were involved…” ― Christopher Hitchens, Hitch-22: A Memoir

“The concept that really gets the goat of the gay-hater, the idea that really spins their melon and sickens their stomachs is that most terrible and terrifying of all human notions, love. That one can love another of the same gender, that is what the homophobe really cannot stand. Love in all eight tones and all five semitones of the world’s full octave. Love as Agape, Eros and Philos; love as infatuation, obsession and lust; love as torture, euphoria, ecstasy and oblivion (this is beginning to read like a Calvin Klein perfume catalogue); love as need, passion and desire.” ― Stephen Fry, Moab Is My Washpot

“Everyone I say stop bullying it is sad and tears someones heart apart and next thing they do is Suicide because they think that is the right next step! If you are a Person who gets bullied find someone who will stop this! Don’t just kill yourself for the other person to be happy because you are gone! They are just jealous of you and want to start problems and make you a troublemaker! Ignore those mean cruel evil people in you life and spend time with the nice caring sweet loving angels of yours! :D Because bullying is a dumb and stupid waste of time! Try to shake it off the mean hurtful stuff and keep on doing the right stuff that is going to help you become a better person and when i say a better person i mean more than a better person! ― Skye Daphne, The Witch who was a princess

“You could move.’ —”Dear Abby” responds to a reader who complained that a gay couple was moving in across the street and wanted to know what he could do to improve the quality of the neighborhood.”
― Abigail Van Buren

“….watch me rise like smoke from fire.

Watch me fly above your hate.

Watch me dance upon your meanness
like a ballerina with posture; grace.

Watch me laugh over your hatred;
watch me soar above your sea of grief.

And know that I am out there somewhere…

C R U S H I N G.”
― Coco J. Ginger

“We’re sick of hearing people say, “That band is so gay,” or “Those guys are fags.” Gay is not a synonym for shitty. If you wanna say something’s shitty, say it’s shitty. Stop being such homophobic assholes.”
― Pete Wentz

“You know, when someone hurts my feelings, somehow it does not comfort me to know that it was deliberate… On the other hand, knowing that someone else thinks they are assholes helps a great deal.”
“I think that’s some kind of rule for the universe.”
― John Barnes, Tales of the Madman Underground

“He had put his hand up in class, a declaration of existence, a claim that he knew something. And that was forbidden to him. They could give a number of reasons for why they had to torment him; he was too fat, too ugly, too disgusting. But the real problem was simply that he existed, and every reminder of his existence was a crime.”
― John Ajvide Lindqvist, Let the Right One In