repulsed by romance

she is the reason
i divorce so easily
she is the reason
i fear relationships
no
them
they are the reason
it is the two together
i don’t want to end up trapped
you see
trapped in a marriage
to a man
like my father
slowly
bitterly
losing my mind
so i run
away
live in fear
craving a connection
but
repulsed
replulsed by romance.

this self-portrait pretty much captures how i feel right now.
like there is not much of me left.
a demon me with a halo of stars.
little bits of me.
flying away in the wind.

so dusty is down here to help me. and he has been so much help because as it turns out, i can barely deal with being in the same room with my parents. i am constantly nauseated and crawling out of my skin and looking for a place to hide.

so dusty was a life-saver…. except. i dunno. i was being nice to him–affectionate–trying to make sure he was surviving okay. doing for him what i would want done for me.
but i guess that was the wrong thing to do?
because then he got pissed off at me for sending mixed messages?
yelled at me and accused me of hurting him.
what the what?
so now even more of me has shut down.
i feel like i am barely functional.

my parents are here–they started my destruction.
dusty is here–he finished me off.

all my best destroyers in one house for the holidays.

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dodo dreaming

when i was a kid
i coped by mentally packing
planning
what will i take?
where will i go?
what will i do?
when i was in an abusive
relationship
i coped
by mentally packing
what will i take?
where will i go?
what will i do?
somehow
circumstances
have led me back
to my childhood
home
& the precarious situation
of having my parents
as my
landlords.
if things
should
turn
ugly
my brain is already
always
packing….

look at dodo bird me.
i wish i could say things with my folks were magically healing and wonderful. that my mom gave me a hug and said, “sorry i was such a crap-ass mom.” and then dad would apologize for being an asshole. and then unicorns would dance across rainbows.

my mom is not talking to me. my dad is avoiding me.
mom only talks to complain about me and to sing dusty’s praises–loudly in front of me. apparently he is a better daughter than i have ever been. for the life of me, i cannot think of anything i have done to her.
whatever it was it must have been super awful.
i had dusty come down. he has the super powers of a sociopath where he can be in the trenches and not be effected.
not mentally & emotionally
shut down.
dusty is literally a life-saver in this situation.
literally.

phoenix

talking about the anger
women reporting their abuse
& their intense anger
“why are they angry now,” he asks me,
“and not before?”
i answered,
“when you are in it
every day
when
every day
is abuse
you have to push it down
to survive.”
you have to
but once you let it out
that anger
once you let yourself
feel
& be
pissed off
you start to heal
& you also stop
being able
to tolerate
fucked
up
shit
…& that made me realize
why i was able to survive
my childhood
even though
today
even just a few hours
with my parents
is
pure
torture.

so much healing to do. so many epiphanies to be had.
when you are steeped once more in the madness that created you, you can either be swept away again…or you can learn from it.
i’m trying to learn from it.
i have a lot to learn.
many layers to peel.

death or marriage

so in the late 90s
i was contemplating suicide
life
just
seemed
pointless
then some guy i met in a bar
proposed marriage
after knowing me
just a few weeks
& i thought marriage
might be a little less
permanent
than death
so
i agreed
having the theory that
if i could
just
meet
someone
who did not irritate me
maybe i could make it work
…& that is how
i met my first
husband.

marriage. less permanent than death. there’s my tag line for the event.
we eloped to the smoky mountains in tennessee where a civil servant read us the words outside of his mountaintop home.
it didn’t last long.
the ceremony or the marriage.
he didn’t irritate me…but he was also pretty emotionally unavailable. and one thing i need to be available to me is emotion. a kind heart. a shoulder to cry on.

my parents here.
lots of epiphanies to why i’m a disaster in relationships. lots & lots & lots of little clues to that destructive part of my personality.
so much fun.

searching for the sun

should i dig my hole
and hibernate?
forever ever after?
or should i grab my
essentials
and set out
in search
of the sun?
my own bright
light.

i included my nose wart in this one. i kind of like presenting my “flaws” as part of my art.
this one is a solstice musing…but also–more actually–a commentary on my struggle with escapism & isolation versus putting myself out there and trying to be a part of something.

warts & all…as it were.

worst

you can’t hurt me
i will hurt
myself
first
i will hurt myself
worst
you can’t degrade me
i will push myself
into the
mud
i will mock
myself
i will revel in my own
pain.

is it obvious i have been looking at the artwork of egon scheiele? wow. if you haven’t looked at his artwork…wow. lots of cocks & twats though, so don’t leave it laying out in mixed company.

i am trapped in the country with my parents.
the only way i made it out of the airport when i went to pick them up was to start wondering if i could use the experience in my artwork.
fuck a duck. i almost started crying. fuck a duck. does anyone else have parents like this? as soon as they came into view they were bitching about each other. and then at each other. and my mom kept telling the poor airport attendants about how awful my dad is. and the airport attendants were asking me if i needed help (both my parents were in wheel chairs) and i’m sure my eyes were begging them to help me–but, by god, i could not think of anything they could do other than wheeling my parents back onto the plane….

and crazy does as crazy needs–i immediately texted dusty for help.
i’m sure it is somehow his fault. so i asked for his help.
and, of course, he is coming….

but two negatives make a positive…right?

ps. i am not sure which is worse–when my mom is yelling at my dad…or when she is cuddling up to him.

i need therapy.

stat.

the holly king

maybe I’m not
the asshole
i thought i was.
holding myself to an
unreasonable
standard
(an unreasonable standard
that i am happy to hold you to
as well)
maybe i am just
me
…me
regular
trying to be good
not so bad as i thought
me.

so i drew myself here…as usual.
however, my elaborate eyebrows put me in the mind to give myself holly for hair. knowing that this time of year is attributed to the holly king, i looked into that story for background and learned that the holly king is the darker half (winter half) of the horned god with the oak king being his lighter half (summer half.) i found this strangely relevant as the druid part of me very much identifies with oak trees.
i mean
here i am.
my dark half and my light half.
struggling to find our middle ground….

i dunno.
i thought it was cool.