Boarded Window – from “The Barrier Series” on Art and Healing

Warehouse in Winter

Boarded Window © 2011 Bo Mackison

Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way. ~ Viktor E Frankl, in Man’s Search for Himself

Cold.

Winter.

This barrier, solid.
No light, no sunshine, no blue skies,
nothing natural except the brittle vines.

Impenetrable barrier.
Frozen exterior, my world.
The bushes are skeletal in their winter bareness.

Dead vines cling to the bricks,
hang from the window’s edge,
collect in piles on the ledge.

The decorative bricks offer some respite,
though the window is boarded. Invisibility.

And yet, it’s been patched neatly, blue paint.
Sealed from view but with care,
What inside is worth protection?

And the vines?
Dead and withered, but the hidden roots,
alive, are under the snowy depths,
warm enough in the earth.
Roots which will sprout tenderly alive green shoots
in the spring.

This phase, the deep winter of my spirit-break –
a period of dormancy.

Winter’s wait for the thaw, for the return of spring.

— based on journal entries, 1990

 

The second photograph in the barrier series correlates to the time when I became unable to keep up with life’s day-to-day expectations and demands. I constructed a barrier, much like this, deep in my psyche, to provide myself with space and time, waiting for the passage of winter.

It was a time of silent waiting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the next two weeks, I’m re-posting an 11-part series I first ran in January, 2013 on art and healing. Feeling vulnerable doing this once again, but this message is too important to keep buried in the bowels of my blog. It is my hope that my journey will also inspire others. We are all on a journey of one kind or another. We are all pilgrims following our path.

Rapunzel, Rapunzel — Barrier Series # 5

Rapunzel, Rapunzel © 2012 Bo Mackison

“Above all be the heroine in your life, not the victim.” ~ Nora Ephron

This post is the fifth in the series of my story, an intimate exploration of art and healing. See the introduction and complete series at My Healing Journey

I was in my mid-thirties, a wife and mother of three children under the age of nine, when I had what I refer to as a spirit breakdown. Most people, including medical professionals, call this a mental breakdown. But truly, it was not my mind that could no longer carry my burden. There was a disconnect from my spirit, from my center, from my wholeness.

For years I had successfully woven together a life that looked much like any other woman’s in my neighborhood. I was married. I worked part-time in the physical therapy department at a local nursing home. I led Girl Scout troops, worked in the concession stands at Little league games, organized a co-op playgroup for my two-year old and her friends. I was active in church and school functions.

And then one day in an early October, I received a jury duty summons in the mail. Two weeks later, I was in a courtroom, one of thirteen jurors chosen to hear an assault case. The case was a first degree sexual assault case; the victim was a woman my age, married with three children, active in her church and neighborhood.

The woman testified repeatedly how she was unable to recall many details of her assault, how instead she’d had an out-of-body experience. She had floated above her body as the two assailants raped her and had observed the attack in a haze. In her dissociative state, she felt no pain, no fear. Even when she returned to her body, after the assailants had run away, she questioned what had actually happened. It was several hours before she went to a hospital, was counseled by a law enforcement/rape crisis team, and the necessary examinations were completed and documented.

This testimony caused quite a stir during jury deliberations. People were skeptical, doubtful. Many of the jurors, including most of the men, did not believe her. They accused her of telling lies to cover her own part in what they thought was a possible illicit affair. However the women on the jury found her testimony very believable. One woman juror, a recently retired nurse, stated dissociation was a well documented medical phenomenon.

I took part in the jury deliberations, but some of the time, as I listened, I felt an overwhelming sense of fear and anger. I felt threatened. I requested a break as I was feeling ill, but convinced myself  I’d contacted a flu bug in the close quarters of the courtroom.

After several days of deliberations, the jury found the men guilty.

“Only one thing is more frightening than speaking your truth, and that is not speaking it.” ~ Naomi Wolf

During the following six weeks, I could not stop replaying the woman’s story. Visions of her rape and dissociative testimony haunted me. I began to feel less connected to my life. Time became distorted. I struggled with my regular activities and my children’s schedules. I began having flashbacks from my childhood.

I felt the need to get away from my family. I felt unworthy to be a part of their lives.

I wanted to hide. I imagined myself in a place far away where no one would know me or expect anything of me. I dreamed of hiding in a tall tower, alone with my shame. I wished for a life like the fairy tale character, Rapunzel. I could live alone. I’d have no contact with anyone and no one would have contact with me.

During this time, I had glimpses of my truths; I refused to believe them. I wanted my life to return to normal, yet I vaguely understood I could never be the woman I’d been only a few months before.

Unsure and frightened, I was in limbo.

      – compiled from journal entries and letters, 1990-91

Next: Unlock the Art

Boarded Window – Barrier Series # 2

This post is the second in my photo/story series on my journey of healing and recovery. See the introduction and complete series at My Healing Journey.

Warehouse in Winter

Boarded Window © 2011 Bo Mackison

“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” ~ Viktor E Frankl,in Man’s Search for Himself

Cold.

Winter.

This barrier, a solid barrier.
No light, no sunshine, no blue skies,
nothing natural except the brittle vines.

Impenetrable barrier.
The frozen exterior the world perceives.
The bushes are skeletal in their winter bareness.

Dead vines cling to the bricks,
hang from the window’s edge,
collect in piles on the ledge.

The decorative bricks offer some respite,
though the window is covered with boards.

But wait, it’s been patched neatly, with blue painted boards.
Boarded closed, but with care,
Is there something inside worth protecting?

And the vines?
Dead for now, but the hidden roots,
alive, are protected under snowy depths,
warm enough in the warm earth.
These roots will send forth newly alive green shoots in the spring.

This phase, the deep winter of my spirit-break –
a period of dormancy.

A winter phase waiting for the thaw and spring’s return.

                 — based on journal entries, 1990

——–

The second barrier correlates to the time when I became unable to function, to keep up with life’s day-to-day expectations and demands. It was as if I constructed a barrier much like this one deep in my  interior, providing myself with space and time, waiting for the passage of winter and spring’s thaw.

It was a time of silent waiting.

Next: No Escape