note to self

i wanted to try finger painting with my inks.

crap. yesterday i drew tarot cards (again) & got “the tower” as my future card for the third time in a little over a month. i feel like i am supposed to be learning something but it turns into a negative feedback loop as i feel defeated every time i get a sign from the universe to stop being a fuck up…and then it’s all i can do to not be a fuck up.
am i lying to myself? am i building a house of cards that is just going to fall down? do i need to scrap everything & start over?
these are the questions prancing through my brain at 2am….

plus ever since i was rejected by an employer, i am convinced that everyone hates me. why not the universe as well?

so my finger painting was not nearly as inspirational as i had hoped it would be. now i just want to curl up in a ball & cry until i can’t cry anymore.

i’m a loser, baby

always being a fuck up
is difficult
enough
why should i expect
any more
from myself
if i know i am going
to miss
the boat
why should i even try
how do i turn the race
around
so my last place finish
is first?

i drew “the tower” card in my tarot deck again & this was my immediate response. bleah. self-loathing is exhausting.
but on the upside, i really am trying to figure out how to turn the race around so my last place finish is actually a win.
it would be a pretty neat trick if i could figure it out.

i’m a boy watcher

funny that it isn’t
that
different
15 year old me
standing at my locker
talking about boys
with my girlfriends
51 year old me
standing in my front yard
talking about boys
with the divorced neighbor lady
nothing has changed
while everything has changed
& i wonder if those boys
still
have the power to crush
my heart
& i wonder
do i still have the power
to grow a new heart
& try
again?

keep your distance

what’s wrong with me
it oozes
from my skin
i am different
they can tell
you can tell
there is something
wrong
with me
take a couple of steps
back
keep your distance
i might be
contagious.

spring is here & i am spending a lot of time digging in the dirt. which makes me happy.
so why am i so sad?
i was hired to work at this nursery which was super exciting for me because i love plants & was excited about learning even more about plants & landscaping. they hired me without even meeting me. there was an online application & a personality test. i was sure i failed the personality test, but the owner seemed excited about me & hired me.
then there was an orientation. i went & thought i was okay…. but there was a bit of a cold reception….. guy told me he would call me to schedule me in. that was over a month ago. first i was all like, it’s just the unseasonably cold spring. but then it got warm. then there was mother’s day. then on my trip to a different nursery (because i can’t bring myself to go to that one) i noticed how fucking busy it was now that spring is suddenly upon us.
but no job.
and i really can’t help but to take it personally.
now i just feel sad…& pissy.

football season

he is like lucy
with the football
assuring me
he is totally
one hundred percent
here for me
everything
will be okay
so i trust him
i run forward
& the earth falls away
& the wind is knocked out of me
& i am flattened…again
as he lets me know
it’s my own fault
while he places the football in place
again
& tells me
i should believe in him.

i am so hoping that i have broken the pattern. that i am no longer going to run up & try to kick that football. that i am able to walk away and keep on walking.
the man is not my friend.
he is not my family.
i cannot pretend otherwise, or i will get the air knocked out of me
again.

congestion

my nose & my chimney are clogged
is it me?
how do i get things
moving
without filling a house with smoke
or a handkerchief
with snot?

that free verse moment was brought to you by a congested head which is too tired & too muddled to continue its thought….
i keep forgetting i am a powerful amazing goddess…instead only seeing my lumps, bumps, and grey hairs.
however!
i have begun…or rather stopped…stopped pretending. in my relationship with the dad. i have stopped playing the game with him that we are some happy family despite the years of betrayal & my having divorced him. once literally and a dozen times more figuratively.

“hallmark moment” one of the many inkings to be found in my new book the invisible exhibitionist!

i have found that i have this desire to want to make people happy.
what the fuck, right?
okay, it might be a good desire…except for the fact that one person cannot actually make another person happy. and also the fact that i will then try to grant their wishes at the expense of my own happiness or comfort. and, sure, when it’s my kids, yeah, i can make the sacrifice on occasion…but when it’s my ex-husband? the one who is quick to turn on me? the one with the laundry list of grudges towards me? the one i cannot trust any further than i can throw him?
fuck that.
so i’m not playing house with the ex anymore. seriously. i’m stopping.

the beautiful artwork at the top of the post was done by my lovely daughter.

the invisible exhibitionist

the invisible exhibitionist was, in part, my response to social media. being a highly sensitive introvert, social media was especially difficult for me. why was everyone happy but me?
so instead of posting selfies with perfect hair, i inked how i saw myself, warts & all. instead of photos of my delicious meal or fantastic vacation, i posted free verse that glorified all of my short comings as a mother. as a daughter. as a friend & lover. 

i didn’t want to show everyone how well i was doing, i wanted to reassure others that they were not alone in their struggles.

the invisible exhibitionist is available through lulu.com or contact me for an autographed copy. 

image is “feral” one of the self-portraits from my book

notta not-a-boy page four

i got a fourth page written in record time!
in my defense, the way i do comics does take time.
especially when i am procrastinating…erm…percolating a story in my head.

and in case you are having trouble picturing the notta in me…this is 30 years ago at age 22:

no, you’re emo….

my heart is cold
& smells 
of rotting flesh
the turkey vultures
circle
sensing
my surrender
my heart is cold
& black
with defeat
it feels like a stone
in my chest
pulling me 
down
as i 
fall.

how was your mother’s day? 
why the fuck can’t i not sink into a terrible place on this day of mothers?
let’s not think too hard about it. let’s just have a drink and wait for the day to end.
i know it’s a hallmark holiday. i know it’s petty…but i can’t help but want to set fire to the father of my children and watch the burnt flesh fall off of him when i think about all he had to do was help the kids make me something/buy me something…some token…some little fucking whisper to say i am valued.
but no. impossible. totally impossible. even in this day & age where he likes to pretend he was baptized by dr. phil.
i know that on father’s day i will buy a rosemary plant (because he loves rosemary plants & killed the last one he stole from me) & put a ribbon on it & have the kids make cards & give it to him as if it were their idea….
and i imagine again the warmth that would come off of his flaming body….

i really don’t know if my kids value me or not. i really don’t. and maybe that’s another one of my shortcomings. another one of my flaws. maybe i fucked it all up. i mean, the two oldest are sixteen & fourteen and they can’t even be bothered to bring me something to plant? even after i told them where to go for it?

but i do like to pretend one day they will grow me a pot of marigolds and maybe bake a chocolate cake and say, “hey, thanks for being a good mom. thanks for sacrificing everything for us. we value you.”

ps. my kids did go & get me flowers to plant on the day after mother’s day…of course by then my mental collapse was complete.
my poor children.

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