it’s my party i can obsess if i want to

steam rises from the fields
as spring rain
mixes with winter earth
& my heart turns
in circles
thinking of you
i can smell
the ground warming
preparing itself
for growth & green & everything
spring
& my heart turns
in circles
thinking of you
each day grows longer
a full moon wanes
to new
& my heart turns
in circles
thinking of you.

nothing like spring to fuck with one’s love hormones. i made this postcard to send to someone who has probably forgotten me, but it’s my party, i can obsess if i want to.
& i’m not obsessing, really, i just have to put those spring hormones somewhere…& i have no where else to put them. (i already quit okcupid again)
so what’s a harmless crush on someone? so what’s a harmless postcard just to say “hi”?
i know…famous last words….
but, after all, the dodo bird is my spirit animal.

i just got a phone call from my mom to let me know she will be selling the house out from under me.
i kinda saw this coming & was planning to leave anyway & there is no love lost between us…but fuck me my heart hurts right now.
she has no problem tossing out her single-mother daughter & her four grandchildren. at least she had the decency not to say “i love you” at the end of the conversation.
& she did call to let me know she would be selling the house instead of just doing it–my kids have been fearing that we will come home to another family living here….

meanwhile…
here are some glimpses of stuff going on on my patreon page….

Advertisements

needed: mad love

okay. i am still waiting on my sexy punk rock lumberjack poet.

speaking of lumberjacks, i am totally built like a lumberjack…or a linebacker, if you will. seriously. i have “man hands” and size 11 feet. my ideal weight is 150, anything under 145 would probably be too thin for my frame.
as an adult, i have only been that weight once, briefly. historically (before children) i was around 160. which was comfortable for me.
recently i went through my journals of that time in my life when i could have been called skinny (2002 to be exact.) i mean, i was eating well & exercising…but most of my life i eat well & exercise. plus, i was still drinking somewhat actively at the time…so….
i could not figure out what was different, but around the beginning of 2002, i lost a bunch of weight, it just fell off of me. i was super sexy & healthy. i worried that people might think i was doing drugs–that’s how fast the weight came off.
the reason i am obsessing about it right now is because i am all of a sudden at my heaviest weight ever. even heavier than i was during my pregnancies.
it’s disturbing.
okay, so i’m perimenopausal & that apparently wreaks havoc on one’s weight.
but holy fucking crap. i could feel fat rolls on my back today & my thighs are all of a sudden extra chunky.
so i’m kind of freaking out.
i am also cutting out dairy, simple carbs, and (sob!) beer.
i am doing yoga every day (i always do) and am starting to do a cardio exercise daily as well.
so
i was out walking today to get back in the habit (i used to power walk at least 2 miles a day back in the day but have fallen out of the habit since coming to rural illinois.)
& while walking, i remembered what happened just before i lost all that weight.
i fell in love with johnny shipley, an adorable punk rock muppet-looking bartender in lexington, kentucky.
head over heels.
& we dated for like a week before he dumped me for his rich little lesbian friend. however, i continued to stalk him for months. months. when someone tends bar in a pool hall down the street from where you live, it’s really easy to stalk them. & i still get a little tingly when i think of him now, so many years later.
sigh.
but i had just come out of a long & miserable (okay, year & a half) marriage where i felt so ugly & unwanted. proceeded by a two year relationship with a narcissistic & abusive fuck named travis. proceeded by being dumped by someone who said they would love me forever.
falling in love felt awesome.
& apparently, it triggered my body to become smoking hot.
love.
it makes sense.
mind over matter. hormones. all that.
i even dreamed it recently. i literally had a dream saying that falling in love would help me lose weight.
so
i need to fall in love.
it’s been a long & miserable time–17 years this time–17 years of dealing with my 2nd husband & being manipulated, rejected, cheated on, & treated like crap.
i need to fall in love & remind my body that despite it all, i am still young & lovely.

i am re-posting my version of “the kiss” by gustav klimt because i am too tired to ink something…it was this or a picture of mikel jollett looking super sexy (that’s redundant.)

death wishes

i usta sit
by darkened
winter windows
this same window
i now make art
with the light of
eons ago
i stared at the dark
reflecting little me
reflecting damaged me
back
waiting for him
to come home
praying
he would not
come home
death wishes
for daddy dearest
&
only forty years later
wishes
granted.

yesterday as i was driving back from dropping off the minions, my cell phone rang & “pure evil” came up on the screen.
i did not answer.
when i got home, i listened to the message. my mom, telling me that she thought he was asleep, but that my dad is dead.
that’s my mom, phoning around for a reaction before actually calling the paramedics.
so…my dad is dead.
don’t say you’re sorry, because i am not & if you say you’re sorry, it will only make me feel like a bigger shit.

wanted: strong & silent type

this guy showed up in my tarot spread a couple of days ago in the “near future” position of my celtic cross spread.
he could either indicate something to be found inside me (self-reliance, closeness to nature, steady & practical) or he could indicate someone coming into my life.
please please please be my punk rock lumberjack poet! my own sweet shepherd.
i can live alone. i can do this. i can sort of be practical if i have to be, but i don’t wanna. i really really don’t wanna.

i read in the empath survival guide that there are three kinds of partners for the full blown empath (me.)
they are the intellect, the empath, and the strong, silent type.
i want door number three.
i argue with intellects; i don’t think i could deal with another empath; i need my lumberjack.

once upon a time i married a strong, silent type. a nice earthy earth sign (taurus.) it was nice. he had his room; i had mine. we ate together–but different meals (he was all meat & potatoes–i am fanatic about veg.) we would go out to live music shows & have cocktails & he would take me out to eat all the time (i like being fed.)
problem was, he didn’t know what to think of me.
and my empathic abilities could not deal with his waffling on whether or not he wanted to be with me.
he pulled away, and i pulled away even further.
like to another state.

but i think that he is the closest to a stable relationship that i have experienced.
fire signs ravage me & leave nothing behind.
air signs irritate me & make me want to do things jut to spite them.
other water signs are fun…but too much of the same leaves no room for passion.
earth signs. they sometimes irritate me too–because they are so fucking stubborn…but they also help ground me.
something i do need.

so, universe, if you are listening. i am ready for my punkrock lumberjack poet now.
thank you

anti-versaries

ah crap. it’s september…such a wonderful month for fall smells & sights…and the anti-versary of
meeting my first big love/heartbreak/betrayal
marrying my first husband
& meeting my last big love/heartbreak/betrayal

no wonder i feel like a big bag of hopelessly crappy crap.

fuck you, september
(please stop being hot now & at least give me some 70 degree weather)

image from an art class…moses jones as an archangel, slaughtering dusy–or, you know, the devil.

revolving door

i’m ruined
every time i see you
i’m ruined
how are you still able to break my heart?
how are you still able to make it beat faster?
i’m ruined
every
time
i
see
you
it sucks
so fucking hard
to realize
i still love you
i’m ruined
i have let you go
so many times now
i have become a revolving door for you
leaving me
ruined.

another page inspired by seeing dusty and having to fight the desperate longing for him that i thought i had managed to kill.
fucking dusty.

 

misha’s birth day

i know another reason why i’m feeling warm & fuzzy towards dusty right now. when we were married, i surmised that if we were ever trapped somewhere, dependent on working together to get to safety, we would die.

my observation was true of every time i needed him to be there for me.
except one…misha’s birth.

misha is my third child. my first two were c-sectioned because my body likes to take more than 42 weeks to perfect a baby–& doctors do not like to let a woman go much past 40.
so, twice, i let them cut the baby out of me because they said that it was for the best.
when i got pregnant with misha, i could not bear the thought of another c-section.
so i fired all the doctors.
problem was, none of the midwives in madison would support my birth because i had been deemed too risky.
i had never had a vaginal birth. i was 40 years old & prone to long pregnancies. these were my crimes.
misha is the one who suffered for  them.
i found an outlaw midwife who lived one state over & would travel to me when i went into labor.
second problem…i didn’t know what labor looked like because doctors had never let me get that far.
by the time i was certain i was in labor–& not wasting the midwife’s time–misha was on her way out.
she came out fast. relentlessly fast. none of the stages of labor i had read up on were observed by misha as she rocketed out of me.
there was one doula present and dusty.
we were in a kiddie tub on the fourth floor of a 30 person cooperative.
when misha was born, she was having trouble breathing. she probably just needed a few puffs of air to get her going, but none of us knew what to do. by the time the mom down the hall called her midwife to come help, misha was showing signs of seizure.
the paramedics took her away.
the NICU kept her for 12 days.
they told dusty & me, best case scenario: misha has coordination issues & learning disabilities.
worst case scenario: cerebral palsy or epilepsy
i cried so hard as they said that. my heart broke. it was all my fault. if i had just been unselfish enough to get the fucking surgery…to have another fucking c-section…misha would have been fine.
i waited for dusty to blame me. he blamed me for everything. it was always my fault.
this time he would be right.
except
he didn’t blame me. he told me it wasn’t my fault. he zoomed me around the hospital in my wheeled chair–being silly & sweet–as i was still too wrecked to walk much after the birth. he watched the boys while i kept vigil at her side. he came to be with her when i was forced to go home & sleep.
he took care of us.
he was there for me.
seven years later, just as i would remember & be traumatized by a bad event, the good things that happened feel as fresh as yesterday.
and i miss that version of dusty.

(in the NICU…& one year later when the neurologist said, “oh…nevermind.”)

ancient history

before i met & married dusty and had an on-again/off-again dysfunctional relationship from hell with him…i had a practice run for two years with his kentucky twin.
in 1996 just after i lost the best boy i’d ever known, i fell in with this narcissistic, emotionally abusive asshole.
it should have just been a rebound…but he was so good at manipulating me that it lasted for two awful years. he conned me out of thousands of dollars, put my ego in the crapper, and cheated on me like crazy.
this poem was written about six months in.

holy crap.
i should have read these journals back when stuff started going funny with dusty. i had no idea what a narcissist was–not really. nor that they preyed on people like me…people with too much empathy.
i had no idea.
i thought it was love.
just like i thought it was love that kept me with dusty no matter how much of a fuck he was to me.
i should publish these journals as a warning.

on the look-out for the next ex

relationships…

all i think about is relationships i don’t want to think about relationships why do i think about relationships so much?

bleah.

i recognize that part of me longs for the balance of a relationship.
i recognize that part of me loathes the idea of needing someone else.
i recognize that part of me is so injured that the idea of letting someone else in is terrifying.
i recognize that part of me is so damaged that i do not trust myself to choose a healthy partner.

ack!

this post is my letting go of obsessing about relationships.
sort of.
last night i dreamed about two exes.
back up…
recently i sent a series of “crazy” messages to my ex–the one i have trouble letting go of even though we broke up 21 years ago. i was angry because i keep asking him for help, and he ignores me. okay, sure 21 years, but he is always happy to respond when i am flirty & fawning…but not when i sincerely ask for help. when i sincerely ask for a friend.
i have spent 21 years apologizing to him.
for every fucking thing i did wrong when we were together.
and recently i realized something.
he has never once acknowledged that he did anything wrong in our relationship.
maybe he just doesn’t give a fuck.
maybe he doesn’t believe he did anything wrong.
maybe i am wrong to expect we could be friends after everything we went through. maybe our strong connection was just imagined, and i need to let it go already.

let it go already.

last night in my dream he wanted to talk to me about my “crazy” messages to him. first he wanted to do it in a crowded room–so i asked for a private conversation.
once we were alone, i felt the need to hide, covering my face with a scarf and–literally–sinking into a wall.
he started talking to me, but then was distracted by a celebrity entering the scene, and steered off to talk to that person instead, weaving tales to entertain this new person and completely ignoring me.
and then i got up & left to go make green bean casserole for my kids. i didn’t care. it was status quo for us and i was done with it.

i guess i’m ready to let it go.

other thoughts on relationships were addressed by chani and his weekly horoscopes where i was told (as a cancer):

Being thoughtful about who you partner with will help you to create more thoughtfully. Being deliberate about your collaborations will make them more effective. Being conscious of how your insecurities and your need to please can get in the way of protecting your energy is a game-changer.

You can’t take every partnership up on its offer. You can’t pour your energy into every vessel that has room for you. You can’t make good on your promises when you over-extend yourself. 

almost every relationship i have had i have actively sought out empty & cracked vessels that could not possibly accept my love…or i have found them on my doorstep and been like, “okay, i guess this is my boyfriend.”

hence my fear of even stepping towards a new relationship. if i like a person, they are probably damaged…& if they choose me, they are probably damaged.

sigh.

so i read up on the red flags. i read up on the narcissistic tendencies that i seem to attract. i read things about nice guys vs. good men and i try to keep these things up front in my mind…just in case i ever actually meet anyone.

meanwhile, however, you know…four minions and a homestead full of livestock. plus art to complete and vegetables to harvest….

but for those of you that think i should just forget about relationships and focus on kids & homestead & art, i have this to say:  i feel like that would be denying a part of me that deserves to be taken seriously AND i need to do the work. whether i am in a relationship or not, i need to do this work to heal the damage i have in the area of relationships or i am going to wake up one day & realize i am in another fucked up relationship.

speaking of which, i am letting dusty visit this week for misha’s sixth birthday, so–right there–reason to keep fresh what i want & do not want from a relationship.

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑