I have been doing art therapy for a few months now, and at one point I brought in a postcard of a piece that I had seen at the Tate Modern. it is a very small and insignificant piece that I had seen a long time agao, but I could never get it out of my head. Its of a sash window, a view to a building opposite with light that comes in and hits the floor.
Recently my art therapy has gone from flowers and pretty to charcoal. My last piece was a very rough house with no windows downstairs and just me looking out. The house was on fire and my Mums favourite flowers 9that i hate) were in the garden.
Akk week i have felt panicky (I am even having an ecg on Monday ffs). I got in today and just started drawing a window, which became my window that my bed was next to when i was little and I used to hide behind the curtains. I can now remember my stepdad finding my ankles. I can smell the stench of drugs and my mum off her head drunk. I dont want to type any more because you will think I am disgusting and you would be right.
But here I am left with these memories. I feel like my art therapist has sent me to room 101 and shut the door behind me, and she will only come in once a week.
I dont want these memories anymore. I think I should just not go anymore. (Here goes my panick attack again, im so dizzy).
I wish I had never gone.
What the hell do I do with these fucking memories now?