hear me roar

i need my feminine
side
to support me
to nurture me
to accept me for who i am
to hold me
& whisper
“you are not a fraud;
you are not an imposter”
i need my masculine side
to get things done
to move me forward
to forge my path
to strike down my demons
& scream
“you are not a fraud;
you are not an imposter”

or vice-versa…i mean the feminine can be just as bad ass as the masculine & the masculine is capable of nurturing. i was just generalizing for the sake of balance within myself. just trying to get things moving.

obligations

i don’t feel like
moving
i just want
to disappear
but that’s not
really an option
is it
some asshole
had the bright idea
to become a single mother
a freestore manager
to buy a house
that needs so much
work
(so much work)
some asshole
gave me obligations
so now i have to
fucking
get out of bed
even though i just
don’t
wanna.

i talked about this yesterday. of course i wrote this page on the 7th of july & it’s like 10 days later? still feeling it, i guess. not as much though now that i’m past my birthday & don’t have my next painful anti-versary coming up until next month? september for sure…
meanwhile, fuck i have a lot to do.

the ruins

i have been living
in the ruins of me
picking through
the rubble
rebuilding walls
just to watch them
crumble
back down
stumbling around
my own disaster
hoping i will find the
blue print
needed
to rebuild…hiding
from the world
outside
feeling exposed
vulnerable
lost within my own
world
the world i made
the world i desperately
need
to
redesign.

more on my trying to figure out me. as i type this, i feel i am just as lost as ever. not focusing. but there are the kids & the house & the free store & an upcoming art show & everything else i am committed to & all i want to do when i get a free moment is sit & maybe have a beer & lose myself in a book.

becoming

who am i becoming?
so intent
on transformation
did i stop to think
what i would be
next
who i would be
now?
who do i want
to be?
i guess that
is the question
in becoming
i need to draw
a map
to the true me.

this is an ongoing thing. i am emerging from the trauma of having a birthday & am once again trying to move forward. i keep meaning to meditate on this…yup. that’s me, forgetting to meditate on who i am. that’s who i am…but is that who i want to be?

good friends

lamenting my lonely
blaming the monster
that is me
for the void
of relationships
in my life…
& then
amidst my fit of self-loathing
my son
the one most
like me
to whom friendship
does not come
easily
asked me
“then is it my fault
i have no friends?”
& i answered
for the both of us
“sometimes it’s hard
finding good friends”
knowing
that neither of us
wants to settle
for less.

last night i dreamed about a friend i had in my early twenties. a male friend. a really good friend in my dream thoughts. & waking up i wondered how much of my drama he had to deal with before he just stopped dealing with my drama…at which point i would have decided he was a crap friend.

then i wondered if i should just give up on having close women friends…but now that i’m older, maybe it’s more difficult to find male friends as well?
all of them married or worse….
ack!

meanwhile, i hold everyone to an unrealistic ideal and run and hide at the first sign of rejection.

and i spent my whole birthday crying because i just wanted someone in my life to be the one planning my birthday for me.
as scary as relationships are
it sucks being alone.

innocent abandon

with the help of a beer
& a novel
i realize
i will never love anyone
the way i loved him
innocent
abandon
eyes wide open
believing it would
never
end
now i know
all about
endings
& have trouble
seeing past them
to new
beginnings.

there are a couple of relationships this could describe. a couple of forever afters leaving me jaded after they crashed & burned.
will i ever be able to find another beginning? it just seems impossible.

a giant without you

& when i went to hug
him
i realized
i had grown larger
or had he
shrunk
or both
my thriving since
we fell apart
his diminishing
without me
he felt so
fragile
& i realized i felt
tremendous
indestructible
i have grown
into
a giant
without him.

day thirty-seven

& you find that
you have spent so long
pretending
as hard as you can
that everything
is okay
then comes the day
there is no reason
to pretend
anymore
& you are
flooded
with all those
feelings you kept at bay
& you realize
how fucking
miserable
you were
& how fucking
relieved
you are
to be done
with it.

i didn’t realize how much i hated the house i was living in until i moved out of it & into madness manor. it was always falling apart & we had to share it with hordes of rats.
& my landlords were slumlords only i didn’t realize because i was trying so hard to not fall apart & to be a good tenant so i wouldn’t have to worry about moving somewhere else.

funny how that works. what a person will endure to survive…only to realize how difficult the endurance was once it’s past. i have had plenty of relationships & jobs that fall into this category as well.
oh, and my childhood.

wrung out

my core
is a sponge
full of sorrow
saturated
dripping wet
with
sorrow
heavy
dense
with sorrow
wishing
wanting
to be wrung
dry.

i really love this inking of mine (i did not care for yesterday’s.)
i do not love feeling this immense sadness. “doing it alone is no fun,” i told someone after lamenting not being able to fix a dripping faucet.
day whatever at madness manor, i went to the “restore” to shop for flooring & plumbing for my once & future kitchen. then i realized that i was surely going to buy the wrong thing if i tried to buy anything. i had no idea what i was doing.
so i sat down & cried in a comfy chair. then i bought said comfy chair & went home.

home restoration is going especially slowly at madness manor.

ps. happy birthday to me xo

just another pretty face

maybe they are
all jealous of me
as dear old mum
liked to tell me
when i was sad
& lonely
& unable to find
my tribe
the other girls
forming packs
leaving me behind…
maybe they all think
i’m just another
pretty face
with nothing notable
to contribute
sure
put baby in a corner
she’s just an airhead
just another
pretty face
…says the lady
who doesn’t even believe
in her own
prettiness.

this was written during a meeting i was at where all the other women seemed to be pretending they couldn’t see or hear me.
i would like to think that the post-fifty competition wouldn’t really be a thing…but like my mum, i couldn’t think of a better reason for being left out of the clique.

here is my pretty face 2 days shy of my fifty-first birthday

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