artconstellation

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny Sawle) — Sat, 18 May 2013 15:26:00 +0000

Yesterday I mailed out four drawings. It made me feel very happy. All four were drawings I had made in the hospital and while I really liked them in many ways- they were also pretty painful to me and so it feels like an enormous gift to have mailed out little bits of my beauty and struggle to other strong people so that they can hold a piece of my story with me. What a gift. Here is the fourth drawing.

I've struggled a lot with feeling like much of the abuse that happened was in some way my fault. I've really come to see that for a very long time it has been easier to blame myself for the abuse than to acknowledge fully how much I was hurt and betrayed by the people who were supposed to be taking good care of and loving me.

This drawing has some painful text written underneath the tissue paper layers of it- but I like the way the drawing looks and it makes me feel good that I wrote 'FORGIVEN' so large across the bottom- because that was me telling me: The abuse was not my fault. And I do not have to blame myself any longer.

I love so much the way that art is a container. Art can hold anything; art can hold everything. It can hold my biggest sufferings and my most enormous joys. I love that. I love it so much.

Thank you to every person who reads my words here and looks at these images that I make. Whether you comment or not or email me or not-- thank you for being here with me on this journey of my healing and my life. I am very grateful for all of the love and encouragement that I receive here. Here is a music-gift-thank-you from me to you today. xo Jenny

*This post may be triggering.

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny Sawle) — Thu, 16 May 2013 23:08:00 +0000

I got this tattoo a few months ago. I was upset one day and decided I was going to make a 'small list' of all of the worst things that had ever happened to my physical body. I felt better after I made the list- relief. And then I was sad- a mass of grief. Then I went and got the tattoo. The words say: asphyxiation, sodomy, poisoning, beaten, tied down, abortions, rape, urolagnia. Urolagnia is a fancy way to say: I was urinated on. I have thought of other things. I will probably add more to the list.

I am posting this photo today and writing about this list because I am struggling with so many things and I can not struggle with shame about what happened to me anymore. It's just too crazy. Today I was walking dogs for my friend who is on vacation and I was thinking of a conversation we had last week before she left- she asked me if it was ok to give her clients my email address and phone number and I hesitated. I hesitated-- oh, I think this is an all caps moment--- I HESITATED BECAUSE I WAS AFRAID SOMEONE WOULD GOOGLE MY NAME AND FIND OUT I'D BEEN FUCKED AND TORTURED BY MY DAD FOR 25 YEARS and then they wouldn't want me to walk their dogs.

Just writing that makes me sick with rage. There are so many things I hate about the abuse and how much it tore up my mind and my life and my heart but I always hate the MOST- the fact that it was all turned back around on me and in every way that I was suffering and the suffering was coming out all over my life- I was a promiscuous teenager fucking everyone, getting drunk, getting high, burning myself, cutting myself- to all of my suffering my abusers responded by saying, "See. Jenny isn't well." I WAS BEING FUCKED BY MY DAD AND ABUSED IN WAYS TOO HEINOUS TO EVEN TYPE HERE. It just makes me sick- how much all I could do with my world of pain was turn it all back in on myself and hurt myself more and then to have my abusers take that too- take my profound suffering and USE THAT AS THEIR MAIN WAY TO COVER THE SHIT THEY WERE BOTH DOING TO ME- it makes me sick in a way that I truly do not have any appropriate language for.

But I will say this: I'm not fucking everyone in my path now and I'm not drinking or doing drugs or burning or cutting myself. I'm sober and sane and healthy. I'm smart and strong and even though I still struggle through a lot of days- I WILL NEVER BE SILENT. I will never be silent about the abuse I lived through and I will for the rest of my life be an advocate for other women, children and humans that are being mistreated and suffering.

When I went into the hospital a few weeks ago it was because I was struggling so much I had started to think of killing myself- I was SO overwhelmed. School and memories- it had really worn me down. But I went into the hospital because I want to LIVE. I knew I didn't really want to die- I knew I just needed some extra help and a safe place to regroup my thoughts and get calmed down again- and it worked.

And now I carry on- each day is filled with struggle and with beauty and with a lot of love. I'm always struggling- I am always getting better.

And I was never crazy or unwell. I was hurt. I was very hurt.

Lately still the acuteness of much of the pain feels almost impossible. But I am going to just keep going.

Tonight I am going to draw.

Much love,

Jenny

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny Sawle) — Thu, 16 May 2013 05:04:00 +0000

Three people contacted me about the drawing I posted below; so I am sending out these two drawings as well. I made these in the hospital too. I will put up more images of drawings I am giving away soon; there is a lot of story inside of me. Much love, Jenny

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny Sawle) — Wed, 15 May 2013 20:45:00 +0000

I'm going to start giving away some of my art. If you would like to have this drawing you can email me at: jsawle @ gmail.com and I'll mail it to you. I made this in the hospital, it's 10" x 8.5", crayon & ballpoint pen.
(*This drawing has found a home, thank you. I'll be giving away more drawings soon. xo)

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny Sawle) — Wed, 15 May 2013 01:39:00 +0000

This is my roommate, Tye. That's a lion around his neck and that lion is named Lllloyd.

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny Sawle) — Tue, 14 May 2013 04:19:00 +0000

The past was like a wild dog that came and ate all my insides out. No, I'm the wild dog. Did I eat my own insides? Did they go back inside of me then?
It's like that- the dissociation- it's that you're eaten alive by your self and then you're in you but you're all chewed up and for a really long time you didn't even know you'd survived. Then you finally get you are there- but boy oh boy you've really been torn up a lot.
I'm gathering up all my needles, all my thread.
I'm going to stitch myself back together now.
Lemminkäinen without a mother; Lemminkäinen with her own needles and thread.
Much love tonight.
Jenny

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny Sawle) — Mon, 13 May 2013 22:20:00 +0000

I am kind of struggling with a lot of hard thoughts and feelings- but here are two good things. First, we had two guests at our apartment this weekend and that was a lot of fun.

And then last night Ashleigh wanted me to help her cut her hair. I was extremely nervous because she wanted a bob like Louise Brooks and that seemed like it was going to be complicated. But I managed to do a pretty good job and then she died her hair black and it looks amazing- so that was fun. :)

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny Sawle) — Sun, 12 May 2013 23:05:00 +0000

A couple days ago my friend said he wanted to show me a funny video. I groaned internally but sat down to watch it anyway. Then I had a good laugh. ;-) Here it is.
xo Jenny

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny Sawle) — Sun, 12 May 2013 05:08:00 +0000

I got this tattoo two days ago. I was telling the tattooist some about my life. He asked if I'd been triggered by the news. I didn't know what he meant. At first he didn't want to tell me. Then he told me about Amanda Berry, Gina deJesus and Michelle Knight.

The calls are coming from inside the house.

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny Sawle) — Thu, 09 May 2013 18:06:00 +0000

One of the things I have struggled with for much of my life is a feeling of extreme loneliness. I have it a lot when I am physically alone; I have it when I am with other people too. The loneliness feels like something inside of me eating away. It's a thing that aches all of the time and for much of my life I have tried to fill the emptiness with a lot of things; food, people, hurting myself.

Now I am finally coming to know that this feeling of intense loneliness in me has been because I have not been able to know fully my own mind. I've been trying to find something for so long to stop the ache and the answer is: myself. It's just that I have not wanted to know myself because I have been scared away from much of myself for fear of running into painful memories about the past.

So I am working more to know that I am ok. I survived all of the worst things that still feel scary inside of my head; but I am working to talk about them more in therapy. Then the memories feel less scary; then I know more of myself and feel less alone.

I have so many things that I want to do. I have so many things that I want to make and create and see and read and listen to. I am never bored; but I am very often terrified of.... of having my own internal experience. Having my feelings now might remind me of old feelings I had in the past and a lot of them were not very pleasant. So after surviving the worst of the abuse the best way I could figure out how to live was in a pretty shut-down way. There have been times in my life when I have not even wanted to move my body because I fear so much memories about things that have happened to me.

Except now- more than ever- I want to do the things I want to do!! I want to make my art and listen to music and go to the museums and ride my bike and do all of the things that I love.

I still have so much fear of my own life and being in it. But I am just going to keep one-day-at-a-timing-it through this fear. Fear is a feeling and it can't hurt me. I am a tough woman and I am... I am going to face my fear- mostly my fear of myself- so that I can continue to free myself from the prison of the past.

I keep feeling like if I carry my journal with me- so I can write or draw at any moment- that I will feel less lonely and be ok. So that is what I'm going to do today; carry my book with me.

The abuse I lived through scared me so much- it took me away from myself. But I know now that I can have myself back.

Much love today,
Jenny

Thesis.

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny Sawle) — Thu, 09 May 2013 00:08:00 +0000

This is my work for the MFA thesis show. There were three poles with clothing pieces and one collaborative drawing that I made in the hospital with my friend Ben when he came to visit me there. Below are more photos.

Jenny Sawle, Jenny Holzer

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny Sawle) — Wed, 08 May 2013 17:40:00 +0000

spectacular, disaster

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny Sawle) — Wed, 08 May 2013 02:12:00 +0000

I've been out of the hospital a week. I feel like I'm struggling in a totally new way. The thing I came to understand about my past in the hospital- it made a whole bunch of other things shift in my thinking.
It's difficult to explain. I feel so messy in my head- I keep thinking that writing today is impossible- I can't explain anything clearly- on the train home tonight I felt like I was every way of being me that I have ever been. And I am not sure if it was good or bad- or if it just was. This is a photo I took today.

It was a peony that blossomed and was starting to fade and then fell apart in the rain. Sometimes I want to type things here that make no sense. Or they are thoughts that feel like they make no sense inside of me. It's so hard to explain how getting better can feel this bad, be this difficult- and I keep thinking- I should be doing better. I keep thinking that so many times a day. I'm not doing well enough, I'm not doing good enough- then I think of this other memory I had when I was in the hospital- of being in a situation that I could not get out of and then being left alone and my dad saying to me as he walked away- as he walked away from an immobilized me- he said, "Be good."

So today I keep thinking to myself, "Be good, Jenny." Be good and do better. And then that memory of not being able to go anywhere at all.

I'm really glad I started taking the medicine I started in the hospital. It feels so much better to be rested. The days can be really hard- so it is good to have a good night of rest.

Tonight I'm thinking of making a drawing that covers my entire bedroom ceiling.

Love,
Jenny

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny Sawle) — Tue, 07 May 2013 00:03:00 +0000

From an email I received. (Gift, thank you.)

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny Sawle) — Mon, 06 May 2013 23:55:00 +0000

"You are human. Very, very human. Dissociation and abuse aftermath can make one feel like a walking zombie, or a phantom of a person. The best description I ever heard was from 'The Courage to Heal', a woman described herself as "feeling like a raw muscle." You're worth fighting for. You're creative, brilliant, compassionate, loving, and a warrior - you've come out a loving and good person despite all the bad that was pushed into and onto you. That makes you morehuman, more worthy of praise. Even though it may not feel like it, you are a walking, talking example of the triumph of the human spirit.

I wish you healing and comfort in the coming days. Take care of yourself, you're precious."

Eve's day 60!

noreply@blogger.com (Eve) — Mon, 06 May 2013 15:54:00 +0000

So, I am thankful for many things and even thankful that I finally finished posting these....sorry for the delay! Today, I am thankful for photography. I took these this morning and am actually posting them:)

The way the world looks different then (now).

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny Sawle) — Sun, 05 May 2013 00:28:00 +0000

I keep thinking about what I wrote here earlier today; Jonah in the whale and my friend who said he thought God put him there so that he could pull him out too. I think for me it's not really about: is there a god or isn't there, did god make my life go one way or another. The thing that I keep thinking about (and what I like about the story) is the meaning of it. The idea that someone survives something hard and then tells about it.

It reminds me of a few years ago during a session with my doctor. I was upset and I said, "Why did all of this happen to me?" And then we talked about the fact that I will never have the answer to that question. And then my doctor said to me one of my favorite things he has ever said to me. He said that people have been asking 'why' and 'what does it mean' about life and hard things that happen for a very long time- and no one has ever really come up with an answer. He said he thought a better question to ask was: "What will I do while I am here?"

And that's the question I'm really asking myself now. I survived all the abuse, I've done a lot of therapy to heal, I got through school... It's just slightly complicated because one of the things about healing from DID is that you come to know about things you always knew about but you were not fully able to tolerate knowing them. Then when you fully know them; it can change the way you see the world.

It's not just that you were in the belly of a whale and lived to tell about it... You were in the belly of a whale (!) and you survived it; but for a long time you didn't even know that any of it had happened. And then you did. Then you knew about the whale and the belly and the living through it and about how you had to forget because it was too scary to remember- but then you were able to know about all of it.

And then the world looked very very different because then you also remembered the way the world had looked when you were inside of the belly of the whale. And then the way you saw everything outside of that whale belly looked quite different then.

xo
Jenny

Singing heart.

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny Sawle) — Sat, 04 May 2013 21:45:00 +0000

I love this sculpture. It was carved by John B. Flannagan.

I want to preface what I am about to say here by noting that I am not a religious person and that I've struggled enormously for most of my life over the idea of: Is there a God and if so I have a few thousand questions I would love to ask him or her.

I became friends with a fifty year old man in the hospital who had been kidnapped by the Ku Klux Klan when he was twelve years old. He was verbally abused and threatened while held at gunpoint for three hours. When they finally released him they told him to "run for his life". He told me that he had run, but that he was terrified they were going to shoot him in the back as he ran to get away. He said he prayed as he ran. He asked God to save him and to let the men not shoot him. And they didn't. He got away. Now he's a preacher. He has PTSD. He travels and talks about his experience of being kidnapped by the Ku Klux Klan and how he believes that God saved his life.

I talked to this man quite a bit while I was in the hospital. Today I keep thinking of something he said to me during one of our conversations. He told me that God had put Jonah into the belly of the whale so that he could pull him back out again. Then Jonah would know what God was capable of and he could in turn tell other people about the power God has. My friend said: How else would Jonah have known of the things that God could do? God didn't put Jonah in the whale's belly to leave him there. God put Jonah in there so he could pull him back out again.

And so my friend said to me that this was why he had been kidnapped. He said that God had let it happen so that he could rescue him and show him what he was capable of- so that he- my friend- could go and tell other people about it.

And so he said the same was true about what had happened to me. He said God had let it all happen- all the abuse and torture that I lived through- he said that God had let it all happen so that he could rescue me and so then I could go on and tell the story of what I survived and help other people know it was possible to recover from terrible things.

As I mentioned at the beginning of this post; I've struggled with the idea of God for most of my life. I used to beg him to save me, I used to beg him to kill me. I used to beg him for a lot of things. Eventually I think I got very sick of begging to a god who I felt very clearly was not helping me and then I thought: If there is a god- I hate him. And then I kind of left it at that.

Except that's changed some in the past few years as I've made the biggest strides in my healing and in my capacity to be able to remember and tolerate more fully the memories from my own life. In the past few years I have often wondered: How did I survive all of that?

I have Dissociative Identity Disorder. I know I dissociated and that in many ways that protected me. But even DID doesn't quite seem enough to explain how I lived through all I did and not just that- but all the staying alive since then, the work and fighting I have had to do to heal and get better, the huge amount of pain I have tolerated, the losses and gains... How have I been able to survive so much, overcome so much, heal so much?

I am unsure. I know I'm strong and creative. I know I used to look at my dad and think: You're going to have to kill me if you want to break my spirit. I know I used to know that he could say or do anything that he wanted to me or my body; but I knew that he could not take away the thoughts in my head. He could take away a lot, my dad- my innocence, my freedom, my feeling of being a human, my childhood, my dignity... the list of what he 'took' or tried to is too long to say or write.

My dad 'took' a lot, but he never stole my hope. I don't know how or why I was able to hold onto the joy that I have in me- but I did. I held onto it. Maybe I was able to hold onto my joy so that I could say: Look. Look at all the beauty in this amazing world. My heart sings from it.

Much love today,
Jenny

To the woman who left a comment on my previous post.

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny Sawle) — Fri, 03 May 2013 15:00:00 +0000

If you could email me at jsawle at gmail.com- that would be great. Then I will have your email address. Thank you for what you wrote. xo

This photo is a piece of a drawing I made during my first year of grad school. At the time I felt like: This is unfinished- this is unresolved. This morning I saw the image and thought: I like that drawing. And it felt both finished and resolved.

I am starting to think about how I am going to move things from my studio at school to my apartment. I have liked having a studio- but I also like the idea of having all of my stuff in one place and I look forward to having all of my art making stuff and my sewing machine at home.

"I like the idea of having all of my stuff in one place..." Hm. I think that is a metaphor about a coming together of thinking inside of my mind and my thoughts. Good.

xo
Jenny

Graduation, Roden Crater, being chained down in a basement.

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny Sawle) — Fri, 03 May 2013 03:34:00 +0000

Today was my final critique; I am done with my MFA.

Tonight I sent an email to James Turrell. It probably didn't go to him directly but I am hoping he will get it. I want to see the Roden Crater. It probably won't be possible- it's not actually open to the public and probably nearly impossible to get into. But I thought I would try and ask anyway.

If I am unable to go there I am thinking I might go to the Grand Canyon. I have also never seen the desert.

I realized once I was typing out the email to James Turrell (or to people very near to him) that my urge to see the Roden Crater is probably mostly about having spent a lot of time...... chained down in a basement.

I've been trying not to write about that. I wish it hadn't happened; I wish it weren't true.

But as I mentioned in a previous post- seven months ago I started having memories of being tortured by my mother and father.

I wrote yesterday that the first memory had been of him pissing on me- after that the memories got progressively worse.

Be the end of the semester I was trying to fall asleep at night in my comfy bed thinking of and remembering the uncomfortableness of sleeping on a cement floor. While chained up.

It's been a lot to think about. That's a pretty big understatement.

There are a few reasons I haven't written here about what I am struggling with- but I feel like I have no reason not to keep on writing out the story of my life here and using this as a container to try to contain some of my hurt.

I've been out of the hospital for 2 days- I don't want to die, I don't want to hurt myself, I don't want to be back in the hospital.

I am trying to talk less about the abuse to my friends. It overwhelms people around me and I want to keep talking about it because it is so overwhelming to me.

I like writing here because I can say: Thinking about this makes me feel very sad and also it wasn't so terrible then. I mean- it was- but it also didn't fully seem that way. In part because I dissociated from much of the abuse that was like that and in part because- it started when I was really little and so I was used to it.

So this is one of the big things I feel sad about a lot right now; memories of being chained down in a basement.

Tonight my roommate made an amazing dinner, fixed me a full plate of fantastic food, handed it to me and we watched RuPaul's Drag Race. And then we ate frozen yogurt. Fun times. It was good.

Now I will take my zoloft, klonopin, trazadone, prazosin cocktail and be off to bed.

Then tomorrow I can grapple with, in the new light, how to be human in the world after knowing that I was treated not like one.

I know I am not the first or last person to have this experience- it is just painful and difficult to figure out--- to figure out how to look at everything after being able to see this big piece of what I could not see before in my mind.

Jenny

I took this photo yesterday.

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny Sawle) — Thu, 02 May 2013 15:29:00 +0000

5.2.13

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny Sawle) — Thu, 02 May 2013 04:52:00 +0000

The reason I went into the hospital. (This post may be triggering.)

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny Sawle) — Wed, 01 May 2013 19:14:00 +0000

Seven months ago I started having memories of my father torturing me.

For years I have worked through the pain of remembering horrific amounts of sexual abuse. The memories I began having seven months ago were of a totally different... beast.

The first memory I had was of him urinating on me. I was profoundly upset. I was so upset- by that first memory of him pissing on me- that I bought a plane ticket to go to Paris for Thanksgiving. I had no idea how I was going to tolerate such a painful memory, in addition to all of the sexual abuse memories and.... COMPLETE MY SECOND YEAR OF GRAD SCHOOL!!! It was too much. I bought the plane ticket and began to try to look up and ahead to that.

The memories kept coming still; before I went to Paris for six days and in all the months that came after that.

I managed to stay in school and do well. I kept my usually coping mechanism of self-injury at bay as much as possible. I coped with the memories the best I could by talking about them with my doctor and several close friends and by making my drawings. I also started smoking 4 or 5 cigarettes a day, jogging 6 to 8 miles a day and struggled massively with eating/food disorder issues.

I did the best I could. I'm grateful I got through the MFA program, I'm grateful I was able to take care of myself as well as I did. It really was the best I could do. Now, in retrospect, it feels to me like I did a phenomenally awesome job.

But by the end of the semester- a couple of weeks ago- I was so physically and mentally drained; I'd started thinking that maybe I couldn't keep living with the thoughts I was having.

And I couldn't. I keep living with them in the way that I was living. It was unworkable. It was completely unworkable. I mean- it worked in that I had gotten through school- but I was wasted from exhaustion and hurt.

Now I'm out of the hospital and I really do feel rested. I am a bit unsure what to do next; today I've spent most of the day in bed with pets.

Tomorrow is my final critique and then I have therapy; the first time I've seen my doctor in 2.5 weeks. I'm looking forward to 'officially' being done with my MFA and also to talking with my doctor.

I didn't write here about the memories as they were coming up because of my own denial about them still; as a way of trying to hold them separate from me still.

But that didn't work out very well either.

As Winston Churchill said, "If you find yourself going through hell, keep going."

And although it often seems like there is 'no good way' to tolerate or 'get through' the pain of remembering and knowing fully about things I could not tolerate knowing before.... The best way is always really: As soon as possible. The 'fastest way' through the often seemingly impossible pain is to try not to push away the thoughts and memories and feelings that hurt- but to accept and embrace them instead.

That is no small challenge. A lot of these memories have been absolutely awful. It has often seemed like it would be easier to give a grizzly bear a hug than to embrace some of the old memories I have been trying to accept. Anyway- it's difficult- not impossible.

So today- I'm in bed with pets, walking around the house in slippers crying a bit, trying to figure out my next move.

I'm not sure what I am going to do next. I'm just grateful that I am free today.

Much love,
Jenny

p.s.- I took this photo yesterday after I got out of the hospital.

Eve's 59!

noreply@blogger.com (Eve) — Wed, 01 May 2013 16:11:00 +0000

I am thankful for this quote, and going to keep workin on it:)

“Words have special powers. The power to create smiles or frowns. The power to generate laughs or tears. The power to lift up or put down. The power to motivate or de-motivate. The power to teach good or evil. The power to express love or hate. The power to give or take. The power to heal or harm. Choose your words carefully.”

A.D. Williams (1933-1990);

American football player

Ain't no shame in it. (From the hospital. Part 3.)

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny Sawle) — Tue, 30 Apr 2013 00:08:00 +0000

I will be going home tomorrow. Yay. :-)

I just took this photo of myself, smiling in my hospital bed. There is a big and unfortunate stigma attached to mental illness and to being in the psychiatric ward. But really there is no shame in coming into the hospital and saying, "I NEED SOME EXTRA HELP." My friend just visited me and I was telling her how glad I am that I came into the hospital and how much better I am feeling. I also told her that in the future- instead of thinking: "Should I kill myself?" I am going to try to ask myself: "Am I overwhelmed to the point of needing to go into the hospital?" And I feel like if I am able to ask myself that question I can probably figure out what I need to to calm myself down. But if I can not- I am going to come here. The hospital is good. People come to the hospital when they need more help than they can get outside of here.

My final critique of the semester will be this Thursday. I will surely be writing about that. :-)

Thank you for reading this and for kind emails and comments!

Healing from child sexual abuse is very difficult. It's not impossible; though sometimes it feels that way. I think that 'impossible' feeling (Will I ever get better? Can I really recover? Can I keep doing this work to heal?) is really how I felt during the abuse (How can you be hurting me? Is this ever going to stop? Why does this keep happening to me?). I wished then that it wasn't happening to me and it felt 'impossible' that my own father was hurting me. And so in my mind I made it impossible by imagining that I was not really me. And imagining I was not really me worked. It protected me from knowing about all of the things that felt too painful and 'impossible' to know. The problem though has been for a really long time that I have been scared and hurt and have not fully wanted to go back and claim all the parts of my thinking that felt like 'not me' because I have still been afraid of knowing more fully about the abuse. Marilyn Van Derbur wrote about this too in her book, "Miss America by Day". Anyway- it takes a lot of time and work and help to heal; but it is indeed possible. :)

Much love today,