Wednesday, 11 July 2012

My Memoirs.

You can purchase my book through my publisher here-

And you can read the first two chapters and purchase it here on Amazon - are some excerpts......

excerpt from chapter 1)
I was born on the twenty-third of June 1960, during a midsummer’s
eve thunderstorm. Mother resented me even while I was still in the womb, because—as she constantly reminded me and told everybody else—I lay on her spine for the entire pregnancy.
I crippled her, she said, by causing her severe sciatica. Although the doctors tried several times to reposition me in utero, I always returned to lying on her spine. It was one of her favorite stories.

During my recovery sessions with a therapist, I asked her why, out of all my horrific memories, I always became the most emotional over a silly, insignificant image: Mother holding my tiny hand as we crossed a busy street. The therapist said the image was immensely significant because it was the only time in my life that Mother actually protected me. I had clung to that single memory of her being a true mother to me, if only for a few seconds, because that was all that I had.
Even now, as I write this, tears well up in my eyes and heart for what could have been . . . what should have been.

(excerpt from chapter 11)
I opened the door to the balcony and stepped into the bitter winter air. I looked over the wall at the sparkling concrete nine floors below. I dragged a small table to the front of the balcony and climbed upon it, shivering with cold and fear. Crouching there, I waited for the area below to clear of people.
My tears felt oddly hot as they ran into my mouth. I imagined
my twisted, broken limbs and cold white face in a pool of frozen blood. Voices inside my head goaded me: Just do it! Go on, end your shitty life! Just do it! Just do it!
And I wanted to do it . . . I looked up at the clear, black-velvet sky, my tears freezing on my cheeks. The crescent moon and twinkling stars were so beautiful, so astoundingly beautiful. The table wobbled so violently from my shivering that I got scared and climbed down. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t jump. I was too pathetic and weak even to throw myself off a balcony.
So I decided to do something else instead. I removed all my clothes. I would die as I had been born: naked, and in the fetal position. I would fall asleep up here and freeze to death. Lying down on the rough, icy floor of the balcony, I curled myself up and waited for eternal sleep.

(excerpt from chapter 19)

The very first painting was of my mother. After I finished the canvas, I stared at it until a sense of revulsion and disdain replaced the indifference I had held for this woman for so many years. During that time I had kept my feelings in check because I had such conflicted emotions. Yes, Mother did do terrible things to me—but she was my mother.
Now I had placed my deepest and truest feelings about my mother on canvas, rendering her as a serpentine form with a gaping maw, insanely glaring eyes, and a clenched fist. For the first time I saw Mother in her true colors: blue to depict anger and power; red to represent pain. That was all Mother meant to me. Her portrait displayed no beauty whatsoever, no love. What stared out at me was pure hatred.
After that I decided to paint everyone who had ever abused me, and to depict how the abuse made me feel. I would become the photographer of my own life story.

I was no longer painting only for myself—I was painting for those who could not express their own pain in words or images. I was a voice for them, a release from their anguished silence. And the experience was as cathartic for them as it had been for me. My art is meant to appeal to those who can identify and connect with it, and thereby feel less isolated. In the realm of sexual abuse, just knowing that you are not alone helps tremendously. And realizing that what happened to you is not your fault aids in your recovery process. Survivors say that I inspire them . . . but the truth is, they inspire me...

Here are some comments about my book from some very kind readers!!

  This book will change the world April 20, 2012
A very powerful and moving work that addresses the two most extreme poles of the human condition. You will learn of a woman who overcame extreme acts of evil. And used her pain to create something beautiful. It is a testament to the power of the human mind. And a warning about the ability of the most evil among us. I hope that everybody will read this book as I have, because people need to know that the world isn't perfect, and that bad things happen. Bus also how strong we can be, and how much we can overcome. 
  I could not put this book down...even to sleep June 3, 2012
By Anna W.
Format:Paperback|Amazon Verified Purchase
A good friend highly recommended this book and lent me her copy. I, unwittingly, started reading at bedtime. I thought I would just read a few chapters and go to bed. Well, that didn't happen. Try as I might, I couldn't put it down, because I so invested I had to see what happened next. Three hours later, when I finished the book, I was too stunned to sleep. (It was worth the sleep deprivation!) Suzzan's story is thought provoking and an emotional experience that one cannot soon forget. Yet, in the end, it is a powerful one that inspires inner strength, courage and healing. I have since purchased my own copy and will be doing some recommending and lending of my own. Also, if you have the chance to check out the author's artwork, do it. She is amazingly talented! 
  A Heroine's Journey looking for her own Virgil. May 21, 2012
Format:Paperback|Amazon Verified Purchase
Reading Suzzan's story reminded me that if Dante (were alive), he would have to amend the Inferno to include such cruelty and abuse that Suzzan Blac had to endure as its own level of Hell.
Her inner child's strength and resilience is what I celebrated by the end of the book.
Art therapy is the greatest tool any child (or adult) could utilize to "draw" one out of the internal n external prisons.
I would say it's a difficult read, but not in the traditional sense.
It's difficult because I couldn't step back in time and help this brave child.
I recommend this book to be read to show how one can EMPOWER themselves no matter what life hands them.
Art supports sanity.
Suzzan Blac is proof of how a soul can triumph! 
5.0 out of 5 stars Suzzan is a lighthouse.., April 24, 2012
Amazon Verified Purchase(What's this?)
This review is from: The Rebirth of Suzzan Blac (Paperback)
I had become acquainted with Suzzan's incredible works of art through what she has shared on Facebook, but I knew little of who she was or her tortured past. When I got news that this book was to finally be released, I eagerly bought a copy and awaited its arrival. I had no idea what I was in for

From the very beginning, it reads like almost like a horror novel. Each new atrocity revealed page by page weighed so much on me that I didn't want to believe so much evil could possibly happen to a person, much less a child. But the stark honesty and undeniable soul in the voice of the narrative assures that the victim, our hero and humble narrator of the book, is intensely real and completely human. At times, I hadn't the constitution to keep reading... the accounting of abuse became too much and I shed more than a few tears knowing that not only did this happen to Suzzan, but it IS happening to far too many children the world over.

But just when things become the darkest for her, Suzzan pulls herself up by her bootstraps. There has never been a better example of 'what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger' as she proves herself to be unbelievably strong, and especially so when she is blessed with children of her own; children she showers with love and affection, and protects unfailingly from the evils which she endured.

Suzzan is an impeccable artist. But more than that, she is a survivor, a hero, a lifeboat and beacon of hope for all who have suffered the kinds of abuse that she has. Her art is simply a tool to helping fellow victims and exposing to the world great evils which have for far too long been kept behind closed doors.

'The Rebirth of Suzzan Blac' could not be a more apt and appropriate title for this triumph of a book.

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