Private Writings: Chapter #9 — Talking Privately

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013
Private Writings: Chapter #9 — Talking Privately
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
First Posting March 19th 2013
Posted Weekly Early Tuesday Morning
Posted 14th May 2013

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

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

Private Writings: Chapter #9 — Talking Privately

Tuesday, November 27th, 2007

Dear Annie

We had a first chance after group today to talk one on one. You gave me time for the first time. If you only knew how much talking to you privately, even for a short time, meant to me. It gave me the chance to hear your voice separate from other people listening. I like the way your voice sounds. Its so much more relaxed. At least, that is the way it sounds when you speak with me. You’re voice is so soft and delicate. I didn’t get a chance to congratulate you on how well you led the group today. I was so shy while we spoke, I forgot. It was nice and such a relief not to have Mr. Xxx there today. It was great he took another day off. Your technique for running the group is so unique. If I told you since I was a teenager I’ve been in over five professional groups. This, I hate to say it, is the worse run group I’ve ever been in. It’s not the members. It’s the leader. At least, he didn’t have a nervous breakdown in the middle of a group session. That was pretty fucking weird. He was replaced by the novice therapist who sat in the group the way that you do.

You are a natural. People listen to you and you definitely don’t try to dominate the time of the session. Everyone got to speak and they were able to get out important issues. Mr. Xxx never lets us talk about anything. He’s so afraid someone is going to be triggered. What the fuck does he expect. We’ve all been traumatized. Of course, there are issues that will set people off. That’s going to happen in a group session or private session. Talking today about trusting people and how we feel about being touched were and are extremely important issues with everyone in our group. And they are not meant to be easy to talk about, but they need to be. How else are we going to heal the wounds they caused, if we don’t open up about how they effect us.

I wrote a poem a short while ago about touch. That’s how much the group has effected me. I haven’t written anything since the Diana poem the first month I started seeing Mr. Xxx. If I get brave enough, I will include the poem at the end of this letter. That’s if I get brave enough to let you read it. I don’t let anyone read my writing, creative writing that is. But I think I will take a chance and trust you. I don’t think you would hurt me if I let myself be vulnerable by showing you the words I write creatively. I really opened up in this poem. When I’ve finished this letter I will make the decision then whether to include the poem. I am leaning toward wanting to be brave and take a chance.

But back on the subject of the group. You got my friend Kristina to open up. She hates to say anything. Mr. Xxx always forces her into the light when she just wants to listen. It’s important to listen but we all need to speak out loud. But he does it against her will. That to me seems to perpetrate what our abusers did. You got her to talk by letting her respond to something Lisa said. It had to do with loving other women in an intimate relationship. She said that she didn’t understand it. Not in a disapproving way. One of her abusers was a woman. Someone who should have been a protector. She wanted to know how she could get close to a woman. She could have been asking the same question if it were a man that Lisa was getting close to. That was sort of what Lisa said. You’re attracted to who you’re attracted to. Lisa and I are both lesbians but still find some men attractive. We just wouldn’t want to have sex with them.

With me it wouldn’t matter either way. I don’t want sex with anyone. The abusers totally fucked that up for me. Would you believe I’ve never had sex when I’ve been sober. It’s sadly true. Drug of choice was pot. I needed to start out with a joint or a full pipe and keep it coming the whole evening. There would usually be alcohol on the side. Usually beer, wine, champagne, I loved champagne most of all. Scottie was strictly the strong stuff, so I would enjoy a game where one of us would take a small mouth full of booze and you’d pass the liquor back and forth through a super-sensual kiss. That made kissing more fun. The fun stopped before I stopped the drugs and booze. Sex was becoming a problem. Without too much detail, I’m not ready for that yet, what abusers did was catching up with me fast. There lessons were effecting the way my body responded to being touched. That’s all I can tell you right now.

Emotionally, that is another subject altogether, I am really fucked up when it comes to expressing my feelings. I have no idea what they are or what they mean. If I am not depressed then I feel completely numb. I go from numb to being overly excited. Anger, anxiety and fear are the only things my brain know how to let me feel. Otherwise I am dead inside. I know who I love or at least who I want to be with. I know if I care about someone but I can’t translate that into feelings.

I, also, know if I am obsessed with someone. They are in every free thought in my head. My feelings for them are so powerful. Obsessions are all consuming. They devour my ability to think logically. I always thought that was what love felt like but that is so far from the truth. It tends to freak some people out. It had one of my therapists really freaked about. She must have had a bad experience with someone being obsessed with her. I may get obsessed but I respect boundaries. But I still freaked her a bit. Nothing I could do about that. I still don’t think I understand why I get obsessed. Do you know, what causes it in me to have that reaction but with only certain people. Why those people? Why only one person at a time? Just something to look into.

I’d like to understand that part of myself, My personality who is obsessed goes by the name Meg. She is highly emotional and was created around the time of our grandmother’s death and our obsession began with an actress/singer/writer who our grandmother told us to follow. That she would make for a great role model. We followed our grandmother’s advice. The person that we follow has had a powerful effect on us. I think we continued feeling some kind of love through her that otherwise would have been lost and we would have been lost with it.

But now I want to figure out about my nature to become obsessive. I think it is under some control but I cannot explain that now. I worry that someone else will bring me under that spell of oppression. Freudian slip there, I meant to say obsession. Maybe now I see it as oppressive. But to whom? Myself or the person who is the object of my obsessive need for them.

I think I have come to the end of my words for this letter. Now I need to decide about the poem I wrote. Let me look over it. If any or all of it feel like I can reveal the contents to you, I will include in this letter or a future letter. If I do include it I will post after the end of the letter.

Until next time.

Regards,
Madison

ATTENTION 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, I am freeing myself up to write whatever without censorship. On some future date, if trust grows, I will release my letters to you. What I write in honesty, I will keep confidential. On my honour, no others shall see these pages.
Regards,
Madison Taylor

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

LE 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 Mikey Toker & Patrick

glass enclosed pool le chateau de rocher

rain in garden gif

This is the poem I was telling you about. I looked through the poem I found that I needed to edit it down before I added it to this letter. Since I am not even sure if I am going to give these letters to you, I felt it is okay if I include the poem in this letter. And if some day, I change my mind and I hand my building collection of letters to you, then I will likely evaluate all that I have written to determine if all of the content of each letter feels acceptable to me to share openly with you. I may feel too shy to be so vulnerable. We will proceed as we have for now and see this as a way of recording the experience of getting to know you and in turn get to know how this all effects me as a record this experience in writing.

To Be Touched or Not To Be Touched
By Madison Taylor
November 26th 2007

To be touched or not to be touched
Never was that a question
As a child or as an adult
It was always assumed as an adult
As a child it was always forced
Only two exceptions
My grandmother who loved me
My grandfather who liked to hold my hand
Two special weeks every summer
I had them all to myself
Grandma Emily, everyday, talked to me on the phone
We created our own alphabet
Only we could read

Special dinners for the whole family
Food my grandma knew I loved
She would accidentally include carrots
I loathe cooked carrots, they make me gag
It was the Shadow Mother’s delight
To force cooked carrots on me
One of her tortures she relished secretly
No less than once a week
But often, more often
It was her Sadistic game
To force food in me I didn’t want
To deny food or nourishment
When it was needed
I was a waif as a child
Legs were like sticks
Water was what I got
To make it through the night

Til after midnight, I sat
Carrots would not go down
Or my stomach would growl
Hungry, a wild animal seeking prey
As I tried falling asleep
Before the break of day

Insomnia started back then
I was afraid of the night
Things happened in the night
Bad things
Out of my control
They haunted the dark
My sleep corrupted
I pretended sleep often
I lived on the ceiling
It came
In the darkness
If I was still
It would go away
But it always returned
The darkness
What came with the darkness

Don’t like the darkness
Now lights have to follow me
Wherever I go
Always there needs to be light
Do not want to open eyes
And just see black
Always flashlights
Always candles
Matches too
In case of a power out
I freeze in place
Until the light comes
I am only safe in the light.

© madison taylor 2007

candle flame flickering gif

QUOTATIONS from: Private Writings

“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

QUOTATIONS of TALKING/PRIVACY

“A conversation is a dialogue, not a monologue. That’s why there are so few good conversations: due to scarcity, two intelligent talkers seldom meet.”
― Truman Capote

“The art of conversation is the art of hearing as well as of being heard.” ― William Hazlitt, Selected Essays, 1778-1830

“The fun of talk is to explore, but much of it and all that is irresponsible should not be written. Once written you have to stand by it. You may have said it to see whether you believed it or not.” ― Ernest Hemingway

“The art of true conversation consisted in the play of minds.” ― Ved Mehta, All for Love

“Weird people don’t care if they’re weird. They are the most entertaining to converse with because nothing is off-limits.” ― Donna Lynn Hope

play is not just play meryl streep

Haiku: “Shattered”

Haiku: “Shattered”
By Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Created 04.04.13
Posted 04.04.13

haiku shattered by j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

haiku shattered by j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

shattered time --- artist unknown

shattered time — artist unknown

Time Warp — The Rocky Horror Picture Show

Two Time Warps Just In Case One Won’t Work

QUOTATIONS for SHATTERED:

“A fine glass vase goes from treasure to trash, the moment it is broken. Fortunately, something else happens to you and me. Pick up your pieces. Then, help me gather mine.” ― Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

“It’s what’s buried deep inside that frightens me because it’s broken, like a shattered mirror.” ― Jessica Sorensen, The Secret of Ella and Micha

“Heart of stone will be shattered.” ― Toba Beta, Master of Stupidity

“In dreams you can become everything you’re not. You can reverse the most fundamental truths of your life. You can taste death, the ultimate opposite.” ― Robin Wasserman, Crashed

“See, if you analyze stuff long enough, you’ll eventually break ideas down to the quantum level where nothing makes sense and there’s no longer any meaning to anything. And then when you try to put it all back together again, you realize the pieces just don’t fit anymore. Worse, you realize that the pieces never fit in the first place. And then you’re left with a heap of broken ideas and beliefs that are shattered beyond repair. That’s reality, and that’s what I write about.” ― P.S. Baber, Cassie Draws the Universe

“What started out as wishful thinking, angel given signs from above, was now just an imprisoned lot of dirty, broken pieces that used to belong to beautifully glistening wholes.” ― Elizabeth Lee

“Only in the shattering can the rebuilding occur.” ― Barbara Marciniak, Family of Light: Pleiadian Tales and Lessons in Living

“Blogging” alphabet challenge day #2

-“Blogging”
Experience Up To Now
By Jennifer Kiley
1.11.13
Alphabet Challenge “B” Day #2

vivre une vie équilibrée par j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

I started my first blog in 2011 as an outlet to express my thoughts. That blog eventually created a need in me to find an outlet for my emotional feelings. Inside of me was a deeply felt pain that needed to be exorcised. I decided to create another blog where I decided I would express my feelings as freely as possible, not holding back the truth or hiding the pain I felt and what was causing it.

I had no idea at first what exactly I was doing. I learned from scatch. As I created each post, I learned how to develop and make my blog grow. But something didn’t feel right. I stopped for a short time.

Then Whitney Houston died so suddenly that it shocked me. It created in me a need to express how her death made me feel. I wanted to write something or do something to honour her. The year before I felt similar feelings when Amy Winehouse died on my birthday, a need to write something about her and to get to know who she really was because I didn’t really know Amy Winehouse. With Whitney Houston the level of intensity went higher because of the way I felt for Whitney for a very long time. Discovery her when she first sang the song The Greatest Love of All caused a phenomenal change in my life. There was a strong attachment inside of me for Whitney Houston. She brought a smile to my face from the first moment I heard her voice and discovered who she was. I kept calling that college radio station to play her song. From there I followed her career. I still haven’t been able to watch the film “The BodyGuard” since her death. I am afraid if I see her so alive in that film that it will really upset me so much and make me have to accept that she really is gone. For some reason that is so hard for me to accept.

The post on Whitney Houston was just the beginning though. I listened to her music and cried everytime I heard her voice or thought about her. Her death lit a fire in me that started growing. I eased myself back into starting up my blog again. By the end of April 2012 I was writing at least a minimum of one post a day. On some days this would increase. People started following my blog. There were several regular people who seemed to be there everytime I would post. They would “like” my posts. That was and is extremely exciting for me. I do not take that for granted and I feel honoured. One friend and follower that I have reads everyone of my posts. That truly amazes me. She is an author who I also follow.

There is one person who started following me who started making comments. Really brilliant comments that made me have to take a deep breath that contained within it a touch of anxiety and a day to think how I would answer the comments this person left. It was like a mental and emotional game of word chess. My first challenges and also my first friend from writing my blog and I began to follow her blog. Her writing was/is brilliant.

It turned out my partner knew this person also, but I didn’t realize that. She actually won a signed copy of the book “The Dragon Keeper’s Handbook,” one of my partner’s published books, by guessing the date our kittens would be born from a stray pregnant cat that we had taken in. I came in second by picking the exact number of kittens born which was three. I, also, knew we were not going to be giving any of those sweet little boys away. Their names are Carter, Parker and Poe.

It was awhile after this when I asked my partner how to pronounce this person’s name that I found out the connection. I friended her on Facebook after that, when I got brave enough, but I was not going by my nom de plume that I used on my blog. So for awhile, I kept my identity a secret. I wanted the two worlds to be separate. It didn’t take her too long to figure out that we were the same person but I confessed my true identity before she told me she had figured it out. That was rather cool of her for letting me be the first to reveal the truth.

Eventually, I made an announcement on Facebook who I really was and that I was officially changing my name and only using my legal name for documents. From then on I was to be know as the name I use as a writer. My last name, as a writer, is a family name. It belonged to one of my Irish grandmothers for who I was named. I loved her maiden, so I took it as my own.

I continued writing my blog and started taking on challenges that I created for myself. I would publish several posts a day. I started getting brave and began writing poetry that I found the courage to post. I illustrated and added music to my posts. Each step led me to adding more ideas to create into post. The creating of my own art and posting it had been bubbling up for awhile and then one day I felt what I needed to do. That’s when I started to post my art work and to develop new ways to express myself in that art. The secret keeper was and is quite eclectic in what I post. My mind is too diverse to limit or focus on any particular form. And now I am writing and just starting to publish posts of my own film reviews. They will be a mix of older films alternating weekly with newer films. Since, I am limited in respect to going to the theatre, if there is a brand new film that is released that I am not able to see at that time, I will be sure to follow it’s progress and report through trailers and reviews from those whom I respect and often check out the site for “rotten tomotoes.” They are fairly accurate on the mix of comments and reviews from both the audience feedback as well as the professionals input.

In fact, in 2013, I plan to do an assortment of challenges and mix them up for variety. Have specific days for a film review every week. Days when I will write Haiku and/or Piku, a form of poetry which only have 3 lines with each and each has a specific count on syllables. I, also, will continue to create my ©transgraphics art to coincide with poems I write. I will also write longer poems. I want to showcase occasionally a poet from the past and a sample of their work in a meaningfully creative way as I have done with an e.e. cummings poem included in a collage. Collages have now been added to some of the art work I want to present. Other challenges that I am developing will be put into the mix and I will add some of my own photography once I develop them to the point I feel they are ready to be displayed.

(In fact, in a future post for my film reviews, I intend to watch and review “The BodyGuard.” I think it is time to face the feelings of loss, not just for Whitney Houston, but for all those who leave this world when they are way too young. I will go into that aspect of life and death, losing someone you deeply love, when I get to writing about Whitney and her role in our culture and how much I love and enjoy her music and how profoundly her soul effects me. Listen to her sing: “I Look To You” which I recently posted with her lyrics and video. It’s a surrender and acceptance that you need power not to come just from yourself but from others and a place beyond you. The film review for “The BodyGuard” should be coming up soon.)

What started out as an experiment and a place where I just wanted an outlet for my feelings to be expressed has turned into a real creative endeavor that I must say I am finding quite addicting. My therapist feels it is a great outlet but she feels I also need to take it slower and develop my ideas for “the secret keeper” at a more manageable rate. Bipolar “Spectrum” Disorder, when one is in a high state can take you rather off to the end of the pier and you plainly just run out of space and inevitable you crash into the sea or up against an extremely crazy set of playing cards in Wonderland or you fall over the edge like in a dream and it’s better if you slip into a deep sleep before you hit the end of the darkness. (Question for Quora fans: Is there an End to the Darkness? Universe-Multiverse or other Dimensions…)

Outside of the blog I also work on writing creative works for short stories and screenplays and longer fictional pieces. I am reworking a screenplay now that I lost in the multiple crashes of two hard drives within two weeks of the other. I find that when you lose something so important, the rewriting of the piece tends to go deeper and develops into something much better than the original. I am hopeful that this will happen with this script.

To close, my blog is named “the secret keeper” on wordpress for a rather important reason. I felt as a child there were so many secrets. So much abuse of all kinds that never were ever spoken about or even recognized as happening. Whether there was a knowledge of any of it is debatable today. There are strong feelings that certain people conspired, a non-delusional conspiracy. But there was too much silence when things should have been spoken out loud. Now there are no secrets. I call myself the secret keeper for two reasons specifically. One, I will keep secrets that are meant to be kept in confidence and two, I will shout out loud those secrets that should never remain hidden or kept, especially by children that are being abused or if you are adult and being abused, that should not be kept a secret. What happens in the darkness that is evil should always have the light shone down upon it.

I should also state that I feel there are certain secrets that are kept silent that have to do with mental capabilities. Having bipolar is one example of something that I feel does not need to be secret for me. Being a lesbian, another thing some would like to have kept a secret. One’s beliefs, one’s ideas, speaking out against prejudice of any kind. Secrets bring into my mine another “S” word and that is “Shame.” It is all painted in the same portrait. The word “secret” has so many meanings. I believe in “Truth” and “Honesty” but I don’t believe in hurting someone. I think for the Alphabet Challenge, which this post is part of, the “S” word should be “Secret” and there I will elaborate further on what “secret” means and what it means to me. And I think, also, the word “Shame” needs closer examination. The Alphabet Challenge can fill many posts, not just 26 but it can start from the beginning again at “A” where I would like to examine the word “Artist” the next time around. jk the secret keeper…

Philip Glass – The American Four Seasons (Violin Concerto No. 2) Movement 2

Ten Rules For Being Human

TEN RULES FOR BEING HUMAN
Written by Cherie Carter-Scott
poster by j. kiley
01.10.13

ten rules for being human

Mr. Muckle-W.C. Fields “Kumquats”

This scene was my introduction to W.C. FIelds. It was a night that I had accidentally ODed but fortunately the ER did their magic on me. After going to my sister and brother-in-law’s place for the night after leaving the ER. I did not want to go home to my parents. (In fact, they never knew what happened that day.) I stayed up and watched late night TV. “It’s A Gift” came on and I was depressed and definitely not wanting to laugh. This movie cracked me up. Laughter connected me back to someplace that felt good inside. I was only a teenager and not much around me felt alright. Check this scene out. It may not be for everyone but I feel it is one of the funniest moments in a comedy. It was what I needed then and I need right now. If you do check it out I hope you enjoy it. jk the secret keeper