Out of the Gutter Art

Tag: Hope

  • Gone. Baby Gone.

    Gone. Baby Gone.

    The Weight is mine, mine alone. I tried to offer some lame kind of comfort, but I could feel the other pet parents staring right through me...

    .

    A sad situation…

      Pippy herself did not show anger, or hatred; I wish she had. Her gentle, knowing glance as the vets assistant lugged her away unceremoniously drove a spike through my heart.

    “Please take care, ” I whispered, so obviously a vile animal destroyer to the ten plus persons waiting for their babies.

      “WHAT,” the huge matron stopped in her tracks and did a slow spin, somehow holding onto dear queasy Pips in the jostling cage.

      All attention swung in slow motion, onto my horrified visage, the paint splattered clothes just screaming “loser”, “sinner” and “jail her”.

      Now struck dumb in my dismay, I gathered the last tiny drop of spittle I could muster, and in a voice only heard by Pippy and God, I said loud and clearly,

    ” I love you Pippy, and I’m sorry..”

      She heard, she knows and I will carry her in my heart always..

    How fo I say Goodbye?

    CHAPTER 5

       You see, Pippy had some terrible kind of mental breakdown that coincided with the introduction of my neighbor’s cat, Lilly, being brought into the home.

       Almost instantly Lilly pounced on and actively hunted Pippy, terrorizing her. The change in Pippy was swift. No longer social, friendly and well adjusted; Pippy became nervous and unsettled. Hiding, flinching and neglecting to groom. Or, the flip side: overgrooming. To an unbelievable degree.

      Now Pippy would spend hours, every waking moment, actively pulling out her fur. Rapidly, her underbelly was devoid of fur except for a few lonely tufts clinging onto her for dear life.

       Then, when I thought this was the extent of her problems: a disturbing new issue. Out of the blue, on a given Saturday, Pippy had some sort of twitching fit that escalated to her biting at herself and racing full tilt around the trailer. I was also beside myself, deeply regretting my lack of funds to take her to a vet. I called the SPCA to see if they would treat her free, they said, “No, there is no program.” I was at, what I thought at the time, feeling ultimately that I had caused her distress. I alone bore the guilt.

    Pippy knows: it’s me who betrayed her…

      In the aftermath of this episode, Pippy began hiding in the top.of my closet, in my studio. This posed no issue- I was glad she found a cubby hole. Until she refused to come out at all. Not to eat, not to be petted and, most devastating, not using her litterbox.

            To be continued…

    Poor Dear Pippy-puppet…

        I am so guilty…

  • Orange Baby

    Orange Baby

    CHAPTER 4

    THE SAGA CONTINUES

    Morning Mindmeld c.SUSANTMARTIN2022 (sold)

         I got off track in the last chapter…  

       Too many offshoots and alleyways. Let’s move along a few years to 2020…Pandemic lock down, I’m working on Zoom with some friends. Suddenly, Donna breaks in with a plea,

    ” Would anyone like a Maine Coon kitten?”

    All the girls pipe up with ooohs! and aaahs! The idea of a warm, fuzzy kitten is SO appealing, so comforting in this lonely isolation. I was down to just one outside cat, Frenchy. She was pushing 16, Fogerty and Ollie had died the year before. In the interim, I had also lost 2 of my beloved dogs to cancer and old age. My remaining little Shih Tzu, Kleo, had become much less active as she aged. Perhaps a kitten would be a nice addition to my little homestead.

       My little “not a Maine Coon” kitten as delivered within 3 days. Super fuzzy, a golden cloud, he is a special boy. I name him Zignatious Horatio Needlefingers, and I fall in love. The new routine wasn’t too bad. One catbox, one kitten, one dog to feed and vet seemed manageable.

       Things rapidly changed. My kind heart was about to be sorely tested. Approximately one month later, I rescued a half-grown boy cat who I found crying his little heart out in my neighbors front hedges. It was after a “fireworks” holiday; he had obviously run away in the horrible onslaught of noise. My biker neighbor had been feeding him lunch meat, but he needed proper care. I bundled him into the house and he quickly became the Zag to my Zig. They were now happy playmates. But the vet bills and catboxes had now doubled.

       WHY DID I ALWAYS HAVE TO BE THE SAVIOR? WHAT CHARACTER DEFECT MADE ME A SUCKER FOR LOST ANIMALS?

      

       Looking back now, I understand the pattern. I had been a mother to my alcoholic, abusive husband. The caregiver for my beloved Mom during her illness- even before. She was so needy all my life, telling me she “lived through me”. Finally, being mother/ caregiver to my dear Dad. Caring for his every need as his madness progressed into a second childhood and excruciatingd death. All those years of caregiving through all those events made me feel needed, wanted, and useful. Loved.

       The convoluted and traumatic relationships and disfunction had left me with a void, a pit inside me. And I was filling it with warm, furry little bodies. Ever the caregiver, ever the mother. My self-worth depended on having people and/or pets to care for. 

       It would get worse.

  • Floating

    Floating

    The Dance

       Dance of life never ends

    Ebbs and flows, comes round again

                   Love, loss, joy, strife

    Husband dies bereaving wife

                  Child is born, flame ignites

    Plays, then works, attaining might

                Dawn rolls into darkest night

         She loves, in love, loves inspite

       Many times is love heartbreaking

            Relentless savage Time keeps taking

    Life rolls on, joys to be had

       Sping brings laughter

    Heart is glad.

    Creation astounds me,

    Love abounds in Thee,

                     Your mercy sets me free…

    Beauty surrounds me…

  • Dead Tired

    Oh Joyful heart, where are you today? From so much light I now feel only pain.

    Where did my optimism run away to hide,

    Why now this dread that cannot be denied?

    She thought she had come away unscathed, from the turmoil, the abuse

    …and rage.

    But disease was just below the surface all along, and now the Piper must be paid…

    Oh senseless one, unreasonable and blind, don’t mind your feeble, fluctuating mind, because as your marbles leave you, they are cast: to the wind and to infinity, at last.

    She had packed up all her winter clothes, put away her childhood toys, went to bed under many uncertain memories

    Must…hold…on. Must…hold…fast.

    Faith is a slippery pig. Love is a memory.

  • I Better Put Shades On

    The Master Worker
    ,©Susantmartin’24

    The Future Looks BRIGHT!

       Oh boy, I’m very excited. You know I go thru the highest of highs, then crash to the ground? Well, this time I’m doing something good for my future as a fine artist…I’ve been accepted to study classical art under a great Artist: Eduardo Salazar!! I am over the moon! I know it will take years of dedicated study, but I will soar to new heights.,.All the beautiful images in my head will have new ways to be rendered in my hands, with my new skills, new ways of seeing.

    I dreamed, ALL MY LIFE, to study under a great Artist…now , finally, this dream is reality. I hope you will come along on this incredible journey,!

    The Sentinel’s Prayer ©Susantmartin’24

    Tony”s Shuffle, Fin Average

    © susantmartin’24

  • FLASHBACK RODEO

    FLASHBACK RODEO

    Another Day at the Races

    ¡TRIGGER WARNING! This post deals with domestic violence, physical assault and ptsd flashbacks. Please use discretion!

    Ah, dear husband of mine. How you never leave me. I can remember your last punch like it was yesterday. Dear previous boyfriend; thanks so much for hitting me in the face so hard that you broke the hard contact lenses in both of my eyes. Oh, and for the chipped front tooth.

    Dear Ex-Fiance, the lovely memories of you stalking me never leave. I can still hear your trucks engine idling outside my bedroom window at 4 in the morning. A few weeks later you murdered your Dad, and yourself…

    And dear Husband of mine, how often I still hear your calling me “Stupid Bitch”, and can still feel your knee across my neck as my vision faded to black. I was sure I was dead, and I was glad. I would never again have to see the evil hatred in your eyes… But no, I wasn’t dead, I had six more years to live with you, memories of being stabbed, shot at and beaten unconscious. Oh, the memories…

       But I’m still here, after all this time. I’m alive, and my abusers are not. Maybe some still live, but I am free, and I am strong and I am beautiful.

       My God saved me from all of them.

       So, when the flashbacks come, and come they do…I know to hold on. Hold on tight to my faith. Hold on tight to what I know is real, and turn off the sights and sounds that rise up to try to torment me.

    My God loves me, and has put my feet on level ground. He has given me the priceless gift of a clean conscience, washed clean with the forgiveness purchased thru the life blood of his perfect Son. I am free of the chains of addiction, of abuse, and of my own self-loathing. I am grateful.  And free. Today was a hard day, in that the flashbacks came out to play. For whatever reason I was triggered , for a while.  But this day is over, successfully lived. I can rest me weary eyes and start fresh tomorrow…

    Head in the Clouds c. SusanTMartin2023

       I thank God for relieving me of the abusers, the abuse,  the sickness of thinking I deserved the terrible mistreatment I endured.

       It is a good feeling to care about myself…

    It has been a long road, including years of therapy and hard work.

       I hope I can help others find the courage to heal.

      

      

  • I Miss My Friend Tonight

    I Miss My Friend Tonight

    This is for You, Beverly…

    My heart hurts.

    I miss your phone calls,

    every morning: 9 am

    Your voice cheerful

    Joking, coaxing me to rise

    To shine-Sleepyhead

    I’m sorry I snapped at you

    Once, maybe twice

    I wish you’d call now.

    I would laugh, and cry

    Happy tears.

    You wanted people to cry

    When you died; it means they love you so

    So I love you so I love you so

    I’d even rub your tiny feet

    And not complain…

    Now you are sleeping

    And you won’t call

    So I will cry, and eat ice cream…

    Because we did that together, you and I

    I will miss you Bevvie Green.

    You are a superstar ❤️

    My Beverly, in Her Favorite Purple Dress

    .

  • We Lost Her

    We Lost Her

    “Where I was Found is Where I Remain, a Scar on the Ground in The Land of Lost Names”©STMartin2022

    ***Trigger Warning* This post contains adult subject matter such as mental illness and loss of life by one’s own hand***

    ANOTHER FRIEND GONE:

    She is young, strong and beautiful. A gymnast, so good that she teaches the sport to younger girls. Not long out of high school, not quite an adult; just shy of 21. Working an interim job while she figures out which direction her professional life should go- perfectly normal for a young woman…right?

    To all outward appearances Katy seems perky, energetic and happy. Her easy laugh and warm greetings endear her to all she meets; she makes friends so easy. She couldn’t have a bad day; she’s at the top of her game as a young adult…right? I mean, isn’t she?

    I think to myself, what a lovely young woman, she’s got everything going for her. I envy her youth and vitality for a minute, then I’m swept up by her joyful personality. I am now counted as a friend, too. She loves my cats, all animals in fact. She loves all animals. She also enjoys talking about food; preparing it, learning new recipes. She always asks us what we had for lunch or dinner the day before, to the point that I commented once that it was an obsession of hers. I was half joking, and a little annoyed. I realized right away that I hurt her feelings, so the subject was changed and we are fine again, all is well…or is it?

    Then I learn the truth. Katy is not fine, all is not well. She is battling a huge monster, one that I am all too familiar with. I can’t believe it, but now I recognize the signs.

    You see, I was in a locked psych ward once. I was young, skinny, pretty. Going to Community College in Pittsburgh. Happy, lots of friends, getting through my last year of high school. A steady boyfriend. Sure, I liked to party, and it all seemed fine to my folks. But it was not fine inside me.

    I was severely depressed, and an alcoholic: a full blown addict. I hated my appearance, and would make myself vomit to keep from gaining weight. I would think dark and deadly thoughts and had attempted suicide more than once. No one understood , I never let them in. I put up a fantastic facade while I was dying inside. I had been molested as a child, raped at 13, was pregnant at 15 and my Mom had insisted I get an abortion, which she set up the day after I told her. I was so sick and sad, my boyfriend was abusive and I jumped out of his moving car one night when he wouldn’t drop me off at my house.

    At the emergency room the Doctor noticed how dilated my pupils were; the dam broke as he gently questioned me- I told him everything. He helped me talk to my Mom about my drug use, my depression, being suicidal, the whole sad situation. I remember her and I at a Friendly’s, eating ice cream afterwards, how shocked she was. She had no clue. She was busy all the time, so was Dad ..how could they know???

    I really worked at getting well in that stint at the Psych ward. Thirty days of intense therapy and I stayed clean for a few months after. But the mental illness and addiction raised their heads and followed me for another 17 years.

    I’m alive now at 59. Clean, sober and correctly diagnosed as Bipolar. I take my meds and treasure my life.

    But dear Katy is not alive. She took her own bright and beautiful life yesterday. The pain was too much. I’m so sorry, Little Sister.

    I wish I could have helped. I wish you were still alive, just one more day. One more chance to choose living. Because it DOES get better, my dear friend. It would have, and you would have looked back one day, maybe with your new baby in your arms. Looked back over the dark days and thought, ” I’m so glad I didn’t take my life that day. I would have missed all these beautiful days since…”

    You would be so grateful that you waited a moment, said a prayer, told someone you were hurting, made that phone call, put that syringe down, listened to that tiny voice inside saying, ” Save me, please!…”

    Please, if anyone out there reads this , if you are contemplating suicide, please take that moment to stop and think past the immediate pain. Give the future you a chance at finding joy in living. Just stick around one more day, for Katy. For your Mom, or best friend. For your cat, or for your kid brother. For some other lost soul to hear your story some day…

    “When Darkness Falls”© SusanToddMartin WIP