sober thoughts

just for fun
i’m only drinking
when i really
really really
feel like it
(not just as a reflex
happy hour for one)
&
sometimes
not even then
opting to notice the *need*
& just
let it go…
so now
i notice
when my mind turns
to craving
the numbness
alcohol
brings
i am noticing
now
when
&
why
i wish to be
numb.

mostly it is times when being a mom feels overwhelming & impossible…or when my ex is picking picking picking at the energy field around me, whittling it away…

but today, my neighbor (mentioned yesterday) came to my house to complain about my twelve year old. yes. he is annoying. sneaky. manipulative. & plays really really rough sometimes (he has sensory processing disorder & doesn’t always respect boundaries) …but he is also a scapegoat for women/mothers like my neighbor. hyper judgey gossipy drama queens. i’ve noticed a pattern.
& it’s not like her kids are any better.
also, she is best buds with the kid who is my kid’s arch nemesis. another sneaky & manipulative boy about my son’s age.
so it’s kinda annoying that she thinks this kid is golden while mine is garbage?
& the other day i told this rotten neighbor kid to stop making drama & to play nicely with all the kids instead of causing problems.
he told angry neighbor lady (not his mom–i don’t even know who his mom is) that i yelled at him.
i did not yell at him.
so bitchy neighbor lady is telling me i cannot talk to kids? i have to talk to parents??? i told her bullshit–if a kid is causing problems with my kids–fuck yeah i’m going to say something.
otherwise
who the fuck is checking these kids’ behavior?
if my kid is being an ass, i expect someone to tell him (nicely & as an adult) that he is being an ass.
it takes a fucking village, right?

long story short–i really could have used a drink after throwing said neighbor lady out of my house–but i did not partake.
just noted the urge.
& let it go….

i’ve noticed that i have inked faces familiar to the one on my journal page above several times. maybe i should name her?

dreams of cherry blossoms

this is…a curvy mermaid?
dreaming of orchards & springtime?
maybe….

here’s a funny story…i got 86ed from a tattoo parlor before even setting foot in the door.
okay…not funny?
i contacted them weeks ago. they told me, after i email in some ideas, that jake was the artist for me.
okay.
but he isn’t taking clients right now, so wait.
so i waited & waited & finally he schedules me for a “consultation.”
so i cancel other appointments, pack up my kids & drive them two hours away.
i am in the shower, getting ready to go to the “consultation” when i get a phone call telling me that jake can’t see me. that he isn’t interested in doing my tattoo. that he is taking his art in another direction.
i’m pissed, of course.
why didn’t he decide this weeks ago when i first sent my ideas in?
why did they tell me i should choose jake as an artist?
so i ask questions. why didn’t he decide this a lot fucking sooner? are there any other artists available? etc.
they kept apologizing, and then telling me it was my fault for trying to force an artist to do work he didn’t want to do.
what the fuck?
no no no–i want artists to do work they want to do!
this went on a loop for awhile until they finally told me no one there would do a tattoo for me???
and then i told them to go fuck themselves & cried for two days.
not because i couldn’t get a tattoo…but because i couldn’t even get them to understand/listen to what i was saying….
fuck a duck.

& then there is all the covid bullshit.
same story.
arguing a point with someone who won’t even listen.
i’m exhausted.

falling apart

i’m on the email list
apparently
for my old co-op & keep getting emails
about the upcoming reunion
fuck me
i want to burn that place to the ground
i moved in there
full of hope
i escaped there
a jaded & broken person
people are liars. people don’t even know they are liars.
but
they are liars.
they lie to themselves.
they lie to you.
they lie to me.
they pretend they want social justice
they pretend they want to make the world
a better place
they pretend they care about you
they are motherfucking hypocrites….

the carpet folks who saved my mom’s basement (where i live)
have not been paid
i contacted my siblings
before calling in help with the flooded basement
everyone told me to go ahead
call in professionals
the professionals came…did their job well…and saved
the carpet & wood siding
now no one is paying them
i don’t have the money
my mom does
my siblings do
not me
in my stupid stupidity moving here so my siblings could forget about this place
now my heart hurts
for a carpet company
who was unintentionally scammed
by me
it seems
am i a liar?
if i knew then, what i know now
i would have let this place
sink into the mud.

in one week
i will rent a u-haul
& go in a general direction
i have no destination
just
a
general direction
hoping
beyond hope
i will
somehow
land on my feet
once more.

here’s stuff going on over there:

the main image of this post is an art page that went south & so i just doodled the fuck out of it.

woe is me

living inside
your own head
you forget
about
the world outside
a world that works against
single low-income moms
a world
that won’t take a risk
on you
no matter
how good your heart
might be
a world that is set up
to grandstand your options
telling you to
follow your dreams
but in the end
leaves you
very few choices
the more kids
you have
the fewer
choices
they say it takes a village
they don’t tell you
that the village
will quickly tack up
a “no vacancy” sign
when they see
you
coming.

how’s the house hunt going?
well, pretty fucking hard since i can’t even get out to look for a place…& then when i look at the average application for a rental & they want a job & income & job history…
all i feel is despair.
i have savings. i have enough to pay a year’s rent. i have sparkly clean credit. i have child support payments. i have government aid. i spend less money–with four kids–than the average u.s. citizen without dependents does. i am frugal as fuck. but i have to get face to face with a real person–the right person–to convince them that this is enough…& being seemingly physically trapped here at hotel california…how the fuck do i make that happen?
i was going to try to run out to iowa today to look for rentals & someone to convince that i am a good tenant. the minions come home tomorrow….
despair says, “why even bother?”
but i can’t just run over to iowa with four kids in tow. iggy hates road trips (he got that from his dad–not me,) & i don’t want to budget in a stay at a motel (though they do love motel tv.)
so three weeks until the next time i am able to run to iowa sans minions…meanwhile, the lawn grows free now as the lawn mower died on me. so i should get that fixed. i don’t even know how to go about that. i so so so hate being all alone out here.
yes, i’m a feminist, but fuck me if i want to do everything myself. i want someone here who knows how to do all the stuff i suck at. i want someone in my life who appreciates what i can do & who i worship for their ability to fix a mower…or clean a toilet…or just hold me & tell me it’s all going to work out when it feels like the world is spinning out of control.
sigh.

if you want to contribute to my “income”…. here are sneak peaks of some of the posts you would be able to see as a patron of mine….

the main image is of a character of mine that hopefully will one day have a story….

my life, my universe, my everything

this is an ink stain creation from…when? is there a date on it? there should be a date on it, but i think i cut it off in the scanning of it and the original was used as a piece of stationary to write a letter to seymour.
of course, seymour never responds to my love notes…
maybe if i put a “do you like me back” with a box to check yes and a box to check no.
seymour does not respond to my–i don’t even know what it qualifies as–dedication? obsession? true love? stalking?
who the fuck knows? not this socially backwards chickadee.
i’m sure one of the many mental health professionals that likes to follow my blog could weigh in…but would i listen…probably not.

in other mental health news…
i thought i had popped back out of my depression. i mean, while the minions were with dusty, i was functional and not too mopey. i got things done. i did not spend all day in bed…or drinking…or drinking in bed….
but then i had to see dusty in order to fetch the minions, and that seems to have triggered a fresh depression.
yay.
i just feel so much anger towards him. so much betrayal. so much frustration & helplessness. and i can’t talk to him about it, because he finds a way to turn everything i say to him into a weapon against me.
that is some fucking talent.
so he has been paying for my internet, and we have been using his netflix account. many months, this is the only child support i see from him.
but now his contract with the internet is up, & he is cancelling that as well as his netflex (or so i hear from the minions.)
for some reason, this leaves me feeling so fucking pissed off. so fucking pissed off.
i am already super isolated in the country with four kids. i mean, i assumed his canceling the internet was a financial decision, but a friend suggested it might be for the purposes of further isolating me…and i could not find an argument to the contrary.
abusive men do like to isolate.
however, dusty has not has a job since he lost his job last january by coming down here (and staying past his welcome) when i asked him down to help with my parents. he never even told me there were issues with his job. i only found out much later that he was fired for blowing his job off to come down here.
so, yeah, it’s my fault he was fired.
but then he found another job, recently, but quit it when he thought i might let him move in here. even though i told him it was a maybe and we could talk about it. then of course i was given that big neon sign from the universe that he is still a prick & will always be a prick & what the fuck am i thinking?
but, in the couple of days where i considered it–before sobering up–he went ahead & quit his job.
did he talk to me about it first seeing as his moving to illinois was dependent on my letting him move here?
or seeing as me & the minions are directly affected by his income or lack thereof?
no…mr. “let’s talk” did not talk to me before quitting his job.
and now he likes to mention it as if it is my fault.
it’s my fault he quit his job…of course it is.

okay. rant done.

so now i am depressed again. a garden sits waiting for rain and for me to get off my sad ass to turn the soil & plant more veg. one of my bee hives died and i need to address that. the new chicken coop waits for me to build it. and, of course, sheep…goats…ducks….geese…and minions.

in conclusion, if there is a wealthy benefactor and/or someone handy on a homestead out there waiting to pop into my life, now might be the time.

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