shhhh…don’t tell

i’m still obsessing about…erm…
i mean
exorcising demons…
or rather
writing a memoir
over on tumblr…..

what for you bury me in the cold, cold ground?

that would be my message in a bottle
assuming a rejection
because it feels like rejection
all of it
my entire life
feels like rejection….
what for
you bury me
in the cold…cold
ground?
a quote from a saturday morning memory
back when life seemed like
something i was waiting for
surely something good
would happen
for all the bad
i had endured
but it doesn’t work
like that
does it?
people from bad childhoods
grow into adults
who only know what hurting feels like
who only recognize pain
as a feeling
who run away
honestly terrified
of anything that doesn’t fit
the fucked up pattern
their childhood
mottled onto
them.

 

the drawing is inspired by egon schiele
the quote is from looney tunes

eat me

i would make
a terrible martyr
i am more akin
to jonah
who had to be consumed
by a whale
before he could embrace
his destiny
oh!
to be eaten by a whale
sounds like a relief
compared
to celebrating
the path
dancing down that path
triumphant
in who i am
& what i need to do.

last night i was ready to give up. i went to bed crying. i don’t know what i’m doing. i feel like everything i do is meaningless. i try to take care of myself, but i still look like crap thanks to having four kids and whatever fucked up genes i have that accompany child birthing with seemingly permanent excess fat loads. i’m all like, who would ever love me? i look like crap. who am i kidding?
and then let’s take a look at my art…my so-called art. my terrible writing. do i even make sense? it sucks. i feel like i am a five year old scribbling in a closet hoping that someone notices…angry that no one notices…crushed that no one notices.
i went to bed crying.
i was going to stop.
stop art.
stop ever expecting love.
stop trying.
i was completely & totally planning on giving up on my so-called life.
no hope for love.
no hope for recognition.
no hope for ever earning an income despite working my ass off every day and going to bed exhausted every night….
my life is futile.
my life is a joke.

then. last night as i was crying in the shower, a spider stared me down. a big furry one. it seemed as disgusted with me as i felt.
then. as i sat dejected at my desk this morning, a swallow flew up to my window. three times. three times exactly.

so being a witch…i try to pay attention to the universe’s messages to me. like with the number thing. if you believe the universe is a living & connected thing, then like master ugwe says, “there are no accidents.”
(i that like better than “everything happens for a reason” which is difficult for me to believe…but, there are no accidents? that kind of makes sense.)
and a bird, a specific bird, flying to my window three times, that seems to be a message.

so i got on google and found this site and this information on swallows as a spirit guide. basically asking, are you fucked up? sad? disconnected from your true self? swallow is here to restore your happiness & to help you embrace your journey in a playful and carefree way.
well fuck me running, that resonated.
so i figured i should check with what spider was telling me in the shower. and there it is. finishing what i start. following my destiny. weaving my magic.
not being overwhelmed.
not quitting.

sigh

okay.
how do i do it? how do i embrace my destiny? how do i dance down my path instead of lying down in the weeds next to it & waiting for something to eat me?

to be continued…
(i wonder what spirit guide will show up next…or just fucking eat me.)

crazy broken love

*this is a work in progress

for anyone who wasn’t with me for my whimsical ink stain adventure (all of them are on one of the pages up there) that started with inktober 2016 when i discovered my love for making inkstains and finding pictures in them,
this is what the process looks like.
i make an ink stain, dripping ink randomly on wet watercolor paper.
i let it dry.
then i just stare at it.
for as long as necessary.

it’s therapeutic
and fun
relaxing
and it helps me to expand on my drawing style and discover new creatures.

i haven’t done it in awhile…not since last inktober when i started the month of ink…but then pooped out.
however, i was thinking
just thinking
of writing another letter to seymour
and i started this inkstain as a page on which to write crazy broken poetry about love
for seymour.

i keep asking the universe for a sign that i should either keep up my pilgrimage…or give up on it.
i mean, i guess you could say that seymour’s ignoring of my ongoing expressions of devotion is a sign in itself.
but i would really like something more definite…if that’s not too much to ask.

*i like to post the process of these pictures because it is interesting to me how they develop.

embracing my failures

i’m not living in the past
i’m not living in the future
i’m in the right now
& it fucking
sucks
it fucking
hurts
like hell
but i’m present
i’m here
embracing
my failures.

i was doing “yoga with adriene” last night. the theme was “embrace.” she asked us, her youtube audience, to embrace something.
being one to often cry during yoga
being one who having a hard day has become more of a given than an exception
being one to spend too much time inside my head
try as i might
all i could come up with was, “i embrace my failures.”

then cried some more because i had nothing better to embrace…cried while i stretched & toned in an effort to stay sane & fit.

i wondered at my embracing failure. it sounded like negative to me at first. like a failure in itself. i had not found anything good to embrace…only bad.
but then i wondered if it might be a good thing to embrace my failures.
right?
what else do you do with them?
hide them?
hidden things tend to fester…at least in my experience.
so maybe my embracing my failures is a step in the right direction after all.

embrace
resolve
turn around
try again….

so while that percolates on that flame of my brain, on another burner i have this noticing of a recurrence of the number six in my daily life. i have never gotten around to studying numerology, but i do notice when the same number keeps popping up. like when the clock shows my birthday…or my brother’s death day….
being a good (though recovering) catholic, i especially notice a triplet of sixes–which recently showed up on the odometer of the car i just bought. and although i do not cross myself…i do feel an impending doom when i see it.
however, being a born again pagan, i thought to myself today, what does numerology say about the number six?

i found this on a google. six as a life path number. basically spelling out all of the character traits that i have that i do battle with on a daily basis. i mean, yes, of course i want to change the world & fight for the little guy…but why can’t i just lay in the grass & drink a beer? or be a traveler with no responsibilities, leaving when things get rough? why can’t that be who i am? why do i have to be the ultra-responsible, high morality, wanna-be savior of mankind?
does mankind even deserve being saved?
can’t i take a vacation?

no. because i have actually shaped my whole fucking world around raising four children to be different. to not be like everyone else. to creating a better tomorrow in the only way i know how. by being a good mom. a strong mom. and i can’t run away from it. i have to stick to it and keep trying no matter how much i feel like i’m failing…even though it seems like i am always failing…i just have to embrace my fucking failures, and i have to keep
fucking
trying.

wow, see that?
i came full circle.

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