littleones' self-portrait

Self-portrait moved to September 5.

Amy

     I am Amy. I am five. I remember wearing this dress. I liked it so much that ever since I have loved those two colors best.
     I also like horses (baby ones), dogs with curly fur and floppy ears like Flopsy [her nightlight]. I like ice cream, dollies, making cakes in my toy stove, bean soup with bacon and buttered bread, our piano (Daddy called it a "white elephant") and I liked helping Mommy in the kitchen.
     I want to learn to play the piano. I want to have a horse. I like cooking with Jerry! I liked having a dog and I like having a cat. I miss Mommy.

    Amy needs stories, ice cream cones, hugs, uninterrupted time to talk, reassurance, and love. These are some other pictures in our bedroom which feature her favorite color combination.
   

 

Sane and rational

     A friend is being harassed and tormented by her former sister-in-law.
     "She was recently diagnosed with multiple personalities," my friend told me, "so you know she is neither sane nor rational."
     I didn't know what to say. She doesn't know about us. So I said, "No, of course she isn't."
     In other words, I betrayed myself. I have multiple personalities and I feel perfectly sane and rational.
     At the moment.

Melissa?

Roses for Melissa from Jerry

     Mommy is letting me write in her journal and Jessica is letting me use her pink pen. I will try to be very careful.
     Mommy says I can write anything I want to. She would like me to write about myself, about the time I was three and I was so excited about the white material my mother bought so we could design something on it for her to make into a dress for me.
     I came downstairs early in the morning before my mother got up. At first I was disappointed she wasn't up yet but I was so excited I went ahead and started. I drew all over the material. I wanted to make something beautiful and I wanted to make a surprise for my mother. I always liked making surprises for her. I made surprises to make her happy. She would say how much she liked it and she would keep it and show my father and she would like me. When I was bad and she sent me to my room I made things for her so she would like me again.
     This time my surprise did not make her happy. I was so happy making it, coloring the houses and people for a long time. I felt so excited inside about how my mother would look at it and be surprised I got up so early and did it before she got up and be happy I made it for her. We would be happy together, making my dress! It would be a special time for just us and she would show the dress to my father and he would tell me it was pretty and maybe he would like me and say I was pretty.
     But when Mommy came downstairs and saw me marking on the material she rushed over to the table and said, "Oh, you ruined it! We were supposed to do it together, so I could show you how! Now you've ruined it!" While she was talking crossly she jerked all the material away from me and crushed it all together and threw it away.
     I felt very, very small and bad. When I feel that way I always try to be so still I am like a stone. I don't want to move at all. I don't move at all or cry or make a sound. I just stopped being a person so I wouldn't feel anything or do anything, so I couldn't hurt my mother anymore. I felt so bad that I had made her very angry and hurt her. I wanted to surprise her and make her happy so she would hug me and be happy. I did not understand why sometimes I make her happy and the next time I make her angry. I never try to make her angry or sad. When I do it makes me want to stop moving or talking or even thinking because I don't know what hurts her. Sometimes I guess right and sometimes I guess wrong. I never know. So it's better if I am very still and don't do anything. If I don't do anything I can never hurt her. I thought she wanted a picture. I thought she wanted something beautiful. I thought what I drew was beautiful. But it wasn't. It was bad. She said I should have waited for her. I didn't know. I was too happy about doing something with her and about making it before she got up so it would be a surprise.
     Some surprises are very, very bad. I don't know which kind are the good ones and which kind are the bad ones. I decided not to do any more surprises, just hide in the closet with the shoes and be very, very quiet. She likes me to be quiet and [the grandmother] keeps telling me to be quiet because Mommy is writing something important. So I know I am not important. I don't know how to tell what is important and special and beautiful. I just know if I don't move or make noise I can keep from being bad and nobody will be angry at me.
     I am sorry I used so much paper and ink. I hope you are not mad at me. Jessica cries but I don't cry because someone might get hurt or sad if I cry. I just stay very still and try to go to sleep, so I won't be a bother.
     Yesterday we watched K. dance. K. is a beautiful little girl. She is three. She has brown skin and beautiful cheeks and long eyelashes and long dark hair. It is black but in the sunlight there are red hairs in it like her mother B's hair. She is so beautiful. I love to look at her. Everybody loves K. She is almost always happy and she is fun and alive and B. never frowns with her face all wrinkled with sleep and says, "You ruined it!" I am so glad everyone is kind to her. She is too little to have that much anger put on her. She would curl all up and get so sad and quiet if somebody was mean to her like that. I couldn't bear it. I would hurt so much if someone spoke to her like that. She didn't mean to. She was trying to be good and make the mother happy. The mother just didn't understand. It wasn't the mother's fault. She just didn't think it might be a surprise, that the little girl didn't know it was scribbling, she thought she was drawing something pretty. She didn't know.
     But B. would ask. B. wouldn't get angry so fast without asking. She would bend down and talk in a kind voice first and say, "Did you come down early because you were all excited and wanted to make something pretty for me? Thank you. I meant for us to do it together and I had a different plan but I didn't tell you so you did it this way. We will make you a pretty dress with this picture on it that you made and we will show the father and everybody. I will take you on a walk and hold your hand and show everybody what a pretty dress you made!"
     K. is so beautiful and she is not afraid. I don't want anybody to hurt her. But yesterday D. and B. were having a spat--not fighting, not exactly arguing but they were not quite kind to each other. I did not exactly understand but K. went into the bathroom and when B. went in to check on her K. said, "You're scaring me! You're scaring me!"
     Please don't scare K.! She is just a little girl. Maybe she thinks you were both angry with her because she heard you not quite kind to each other. You talked to each other but you wouldn't look at each other and you only said little things. Just little, short things like, "D., you don't understand." "B., it isn't like that." "You weren't here, D." "B., you always get all upset about things."
     But she doesn't! B. is the good mother! D. said, "If she wants the nectarine, just give it to her." B. said, "I'll share it with her. I won't give it to her. It's mine and I won't give her something just because she has a meltdown over it!"
     K. ran into the bathroom but she didn't turn into a stone. She said, "You're scaring me! You're scaring me!" The mommy listened to K. and K. used her words and could say how she felt and the mommy talked to her in a kind voice and they settled it together. Then they came out of the bathroom and K's eyes were bright through the tears and she said, "I'm sorry I didn't cooperate." Then B. said, "K. is going to have a plum!" She got the plastic bowl of plums out of the refrigerator and took off the top and said, "Which plum would you like?" K. had a big smile and she pointed to the biggest plum and her mommy washed it for her and after she ate it she got to choose another one. No one yelled and grabbed everything off the table and the little girl didn't go hide in the closet and pretend she couldn't move or breathe so she wouldn't be bad.
      K. showed us what she is learning in ballet. I just love her little body and her light blue ballet suit with sparkles. It is so beautiful with her dark hair and eyes and skin. Daddy and Big Jessica and B. watched her dance and frolic around. They clapped and told her she was perfect and beautiful and did each thing right, even if it wasn't right at first. I loved her sparkles, all over her ballet suit. She has sparkles in her eyes, too.  
     P.S. I'm Melissa--well, I don't know if that is my actual name but you can call me that if you want to. I don't cry usually but I cried writing this. I don't think I would sleep all the time if I could use my words the way K. does and if people would listen.


Written Monday, July 16, 2007 (typed and posted with her permission)

Colors

     I like being able to choose the color of the posts. But I wish we could keep the ones we choose. The blog is supposed to be pink until april's post and then green just for hers. That way, by the time we're through with all the introductions, we'd have a rainbow.

World views

     Life looks so bleak to me. Behind every door someone is hurting someone. Behind every door there is a woman or a child in pain. I can't help crying all the time. Who am I?


     Nothing works. From computers to can openers, nothing works the way it's supposed to and nobody cares. I don't have the patience to figure everything out and fix it. People can't speak grammatically any more and I find typos everywhere without trying to--even on menus in expensive restaurants. What is the matter with everybody? They don't care about quality. Their jokes aren't funny. They're stale. Everybody is thoughtless, selfish, superficial, careless and I don't want to be like this. I can't say anything that isn't critical, complaining and caustic. Who am I?


     The world is scary.  Everything is overwhelming.  I feel so small.  I just want to withdraw from the world and stay inside.  I don't know how to do anything.  Who am I?


     I can freeze without tightening a muscle. I can stay that way, comfortably, for hours. I can sob without making a sound. It is like being invisible or not existing. It makes me feel safe.


     I am mature, confident, competent, efficient, organized, godly and well-liked. People look to me to help them and I do. Who am I?


     I only come out in the dark, early hours of the morning and I worry about one thing after another, stay awake and worry. Toward dawn I slip away and she can sleep. Who am I?


     I like to play and tease and be silly and have fun. Jerry plays with me, takes care of me and makes me feel special. He likes me. Am I really __ years old?


     Life is easy. I like it simple, straightforward and structured. I read and pray and study Scripture and listen to classical music. Why get all involved in other people's lives? Why stress out like that? What is there to cry and get so emotional about? I have a good life. I'm very grateful.


     I want to do better. I want to be a better person. I am always falling short, I can't be good enough. I'm a failure at everything. How can Jerry stand living with me? I'm afraid he will leave. He deserves better.


     I don't need anybody. I'm better than almost everyone, more intelligent. I'm unique. I'm wasting my life with all these people. I should be hanging out with brighter, more interesting people.


                                                           WHO AM I?