Out of the Gutter Art

Tag: recovery

  • 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.

      

      

  • well, there you have it…

    I’ve been blogging here for years. Fancying myself a regular superstar. But actually I’m not super, I am just Sue, and a regular Sue at that!

    You see, its an odd thing, Bipolar Disorder is. It lies. It tells me I’m so much more important than I really am. Makes me think the world should turn on my command. And this farce is perpetrated without mind-altering chemicals! Inevitably I come to find out that I’m not the be-all and end-all…and pffft…all the air right out of the balloon. Well, whadayaknow. Surprise, surprise.

    Wakey, Wakey!! You are not going to be world famous, Sue. You’re a 60 year old wannabe hippy who was born ten years too late… and your 23 year drug using career kind of put a blip in your wealth management portfolio! Just sayin’…

    Well, anyway, I’ve got my art in 2 Venues here in St. Petersburg this month. At the world famous Five Deuces Galleria, which truly is the best gallery in St. Pete…and simultaneously in the Art at 400 on 23rd Street South, in their show, Metamorphosis. Its the first time their group invited artists in, so I’m happy to be included.

    And my dear friends at The Ryan Licht Sang Bipolar Foundation have our Insights VI exhibition at the FSU campus this month for the first time!!!

    So, Sue, for a late starter you have many, many reasons to be grateful. And after writing this I do feel kind of special, kind of cool… Rock on…

  • Cruelty to Humans

    Cruelty to Humans

    Oh, Woe! To the Earth and the Sea!

    Oh, my. So much going on in the world today. So many sad stories, War and pain all around us. It can feel so…

    HEAVY.

    and it is. I feel it, the weight of this life… It’s not killing me today, though. Not like it used to in the Usingtime.

    There were days when I believed the pain of living was too much to bear. Days I self-medicated to blot out stark reality; the blinding daylight. Me in my little wormhole of misery, for 23 long years. It’s amazing how, after 24 years of sobriety, I can romanticize the Usingtime.

    Self Portrait, Pastel, ©Susan T. Martin

    How beautiful I was that night when, slobbering drunk, I danced like a lunatic at an all-night bottle club. Or, how sexy I was when I fell on my butt coming out of a biker bar. Yeah, that was one to remember. Thank God there was no YouTube back then. It’s seared in the “MeTube” of my mind, though. Yeah, those were the gritty days: searing stomach pains from drinking 151 Rum: black eyes and a broken nose from “talking back” to a drunken ex-husband. Hiding my arms with long sleeve flannel shirts in the dead heat of August, while my Mom visited me for 2 weeks. All I could think about was sneaking my next hit.

    Reader, “Is this just a sad, depressed jaunt down memory lane? Cause if it is, I have more problems, more sadness, worse pain than that.”

    No, it’s just letting you know there is a way out. A way up. To a higher plane, a happier life, a real life with joy and everything! I needed to remember, to remind myself that I’m NOT that girl anymore. I am a new person with a new personality. God saw my pain, He saw my heart and He drew me to Him.

    But I had to hit the bottom. Unfortunately, it is painful to stop using. Very. The light IS bright, and in it all your broken parts are visible. But you can’t fix what you don’t know is broken.

    Step into the Light, my friend…

  • Bear With Me!!

    Bear With Me!!

    As I Forge New Territory!!

    Dear Readers and Friends,

    I’ve had a presence here for a long time. Going on 16 years, which is mind-blowing! And I still havent learnd all I can do here! I wanted, for a long time now, to set up a store where I could sell my art. Something always holds me back… Excuses, lack of confidence…life in general.

    I recieved a scholarship for a 10 week “Art Business” course from the Tampa Bay Innovation Center and Creative Pinellas. I have learned so much, and have taken the plunge and registered a LLC. Oh boy. Exciting! and Terrifying! I will have to be all grown up now, and quit farting around!!

    So I am starting a whole new site, with a new domain, user name, everything…I will try to still post my “hardcore” art here, all the strange stuff that pours out of me onto whatever media is at hand!

    But for my “real” Art Business I am going to make what sells here in Beachy, Touristy Florida. Hopefully I will make it. I will sure try!

    I’ll come back here and let Y’all know when the other site is ready, and I will still share my witty wisdom here. Thank you all so much for being here to support me, to listen when I need an outlet, and to be here! Rock On my Friends!!

  • You Are What You ART

    You Are What You ART

    Feeding the Inner Creative

    What motivates you to create your art? When you hit a snag, where do you go to get your spark back?

    If I’m not careful, when I hit a slump I binge watch murder documentaries… Not good creative fodder. That just brings out negative vibes for me. So what I do instead is watch Art Documentaries. Now, these fire me up! If I watch one about the “Great Masters” then I want tp paint classical images, channeling Michelangelo…If I watch one about The Impressionists, then Pissaro is my guy, or Monet. How about Gaugin, well, the greens and oranges start to flow…Endless beauty, endless motivation…

    I’m having surgery on my left wrist tomorrow morning. So I wont be creating much art for a day or so. But I am going to consume a bunch of art. Feed my inner Artist.

  • A CLEAN SLATE

    A CLEAN SLATE

    oh so WHITE AND SHINY…

    Waiting for my pen, for my brush. I just cant stand the barrenness of it, stretching of into the infinite distance, saying nothing.

    I cant sit in silence either, in a social setting. I would be awful in an interrogation, babbling mindlessly- wait… not mindlessly. I do get chatty, but I always have something to say. The word “mindless” comes from tapes of a past life, a life that included words like “stupid”, “silly”, “crazy” and “dumb”. I am none of those things.

    It is 26 years now since I was physically with my last abuser, 24 years since my last drink, my last drug. I have worked tirelessly these past two and one half decades to become the real person I am today. It is truly a beautiful thing to be alive and in this space.

    I could wax poetic about my own marvelousness, (after all I am pretty cool…) but I would rather talk about you. You, my fellow human, out there wishing and wanting. I know it’s hard being you. I know you have reasons for not trying. put that aside for one moment, and give yourself a chance to succeed.

    I had someone tell me once, I think it was a person in AA, “Do the next right thing”

    THE NEXT RIGHT THING

    It will be the thing that raises your head up. The thing that makes you wipe your tears away. The thing that you do to believe in goodness again, the goodness inside you. You have not wasted time on this journey, that is not possible, because it took everything that came before to be right here, right now.

    I am really surprised that I feel as good as I do. Years upon years of hating myself, hating my life, hating society. I was angry and hard, and reveled in the pain. It was such a lonely place, even though I was surrounded my all kinds of angry people just like me. We all roared and growled together in our ugliness. I never saw myself surviving, never saw a way out. So I never tried. I believed all the lies I was told, I was a loser, a basket case, a burn out.

    I thought I loved my abuser, my “friends”, my family. I thought I was loved in return. But in reality, I had no concept of love. I thought it was possession, ownership. I had so many misconceptions, and they kept me in chains.

    So what changed, what happened that let me get out of that life? A series of events I never saw coming. A prayer answered that I thought I could no longer utter. A forgiveness so vast and profound that I finally felt the love and acceptance I was looking for my entire life. I allowed my God in. I told him how broken I was. and I asked him to lead me thru the maze.

    That was all I knew to ask. I was lost in a jungle and needed someone to lead me out, into the light.

    That was many years ago, and I have lived thru many heartaches, lost my loved ones, suffered major life upheavals and felt unimaginable pain. Just like we all have. But I don’t hate myself anymore. I am not desolate and lost anymore. I feel the joy of true friendship, and I have learned how to be a true friend.

    Please, my friend, keep pushing on. You will find the light. You matter. You are loved even though you may not believe it yet. There is always a reason to live, just do the next right thing. If you picked that needle up again, put it down again. I cant tell you how many times I tried and failed. But somehow I found a way to try again. You really are worth every effort.

    I would always tell myself , “KEEP PUSHING ON.”

    Please do.

  • That Happy Poor Girl

    That Happy Poor Girl

    (or That Poor Happy Girl)

    I am happy to be that poor girl…really! I have spent many days and hours working for very wealthy folks, and I am fine with my more humble surroundings. I see sparse, stark interiors; lots of steel, lots of neutrals. Blah. Bluk.

    I suppose it’s alright for a little while, just as soaring ceilings might do for a bit. But it’s just not my thing. I’m a cottage kind of girl, a cabin kid, happy in a hovel, at home in a trailer, a caravan, a tent.

    I do enjoy running water, electricity and heat/ac at the ready, though. “Younger me” was more of a survivalist, but my poor hands have arthritis now and wouldn’t be able to hold a match to start a fire. So yeah, electricity is pretty necessary.

    . Today I worked some hours on the road. I never told you, but I’m what they call a “gig” driver now. So I tote around a lot of different types of people. Today I was reminded to be grateful, after delivering some privileged little teenagers to a “European Waxing Salon”. Uh, yeah. They were speaking in hushed tones about homeless people, and how scary Miami is now. I actually joined in, and felt ashamed afterwards. Who do I really think I am? I’ve been listening to some music I like from some years back, and an Everlast song keeps going thru my head. Some of the lyrics say,

    ” Then you really might know what it’s like…to have to lose…”

    I had forgotten to be grateful. I’m not out on the street, sleeping under overpasses, stealing liquor, shooting coke…I’m not out beating people up, or stealing from my Grandma. I’m not out ripping and running…

    Anymore .

    I have to keep it real, keep it fresh. I don’t deserve anything I have. It’s all a gift.

    This is my old tomcat, George. He came up to me in my driveway one dark night a couple months ago. Could hardly walk, ears tattered and bloody, one eye squinted shut. All his backbone was showing, all his ribs. A big lump on his side; he could hardly walk and his meow sounded like a cough.

    But he’s here right now, on my warm lap. Purring his messed-up little head off. Does he want to live in the Taj Mahal? Well, maybe…but he seems pretty content right where he’s at.

    So am I💕.

  • Busting Out All Over/Head Banging

    Busting Out All Over/Head Banging

    DID you ever feel so immobilized that you wanted to EXPLODE?!? WELL, I DO!! I am so sick of myself, so tired of being tired, so FRUSTRATED at my own inertia that I could scream. I don’t think it’s “Long Covid” . I think it’s ” I’m a Super Lazy LOSER!!”

    (as I look back on this post I see that during this “Lazy Spell” I created all the following pieces!!!

    Argh. Maybe it is the Long Covid thing. I hate sitting still, but moving makes me exhausted!! Wendy Whiner on the rampage again. I must get out of myself. I get on a roll, painting my heart out, some of my best work, it’s SELLING! AND Splat! Headfirst,I dive, right into the couch. Any headwind suddenly gone without a whisper of a complaint from Miss Michelangelo… See: Loser.

    It will come again, the big Wind from Winnetka…( Those of you who know, KNOW.) And man, when it comes I’m going to paint my little butt off. Before it blows right out of town again. This time I’m going to harvest that energy and run with the ball, baby!! Just wait and see. I’ll get it right this time…Peace-out.