i put up another page of my memoir in progress, don’t tell, over on tumblr.
like my art journal, this memoir is a way for me to exorcise some demons. right now it is not really formatted…i am just ranting about what is on my mind for the day. connecting it all together, in the way i think it fits.
so it’s a mess. which is true to my history.
in this self-portrait, i have long hair. fun fact, for my first child, before my second pregnancy, i was guilty of having the mom bob. i had long hair for my first pregnancy because i just always pictured it that way…plus dusty wanted the long hair on me.
but then i had a baby that wouldn’t stop pulling my hair.
i freak out when my hair is pulled.
so i got a mom bob.
then i got pregnant again. had an identity crisis about being a stay-at-home mom. started wearing doc martin boots and shaving off my hair.
but for a brief time in my life. i did have long hair.
he is so good
at handing his problems
over to me
waiting for me to fix them
so he can blame me
when they just aren’t
does he even know
what i struggle with
he is so good at showing
his injuries to me
getting me to cry
over every little bump
to his heart & soul
does he even see
how my injuries
next to his
& leave me
okay. maybe you will understand. dusty thinks i have written him off because he was “honest” with me & told me about his still being in contact with hello kitty fuckface (not her real name.) he refuses to comprehend that the reason i am telling him to fuck the fuck off for good & forever is that fact that i have been asking him since 2013 to end his contact/relationship with her. that there should be absolutely no reason for him to be “honest” with me about her because she should not even be part of the equation.
five years of his using this other woman to manipulate me. holy fucking shit. why have i let him do this to me for five years?
seriously. what is the psychology behind that? am i a chump? a masochist? a desperate & lonely soul? that fucking desperate? that fucking delusional. that fucking dedicated to a happy ending?
what the ever-loving fuck.
and now i find myself having to learn to just walk away. it is so hard…so hard to just walk away. to suppress that urge to have the last word. to suppress that need for him to understand–to just fucking get it for once. i have to walk away. every word i say to him. every conversation i have–it’s the sticky strands of a spider web. his spider web. to keep me engaged…he just wants me to stay engaged…because then he somehow wins?
i don’t fucking know.
or fucking care at this point.
he keeps talking about how we need to talk…thing is, he never talks to me. he never listens to me…he just manipulates and plays me like a fucking pawn in his demented game.
guess what, motherfucker, i quit.
i am not the best advocate of mother’s day.
my own mother–my most vivid memory of mother’s day is when the teacher in grade school had us grow marigolds to bring home and when i presented her with the marigolds i grew for her…she said, “ug. i hate the way they smell.”
and then when i became a mom, everyone would turn to dusty and say, “what are you getting her for mother’s day?”
and he would reply, “she’s not my mother.”
not that he got his own mother anything either.
that was one of my first glimpses that our marriage was not going to be a blissful & magical one.
now i have kids who want to do nice things for me on mother’s day, and i just feel uncomfortable. i feel like a fraud as a mom.
i just feel like a fraud.
especially on mother’s day.
maybe i will spend the day planting marigolds.
i started working on a memoir over on tumblr (link is on the right hand side there… “meet me in the sunroom”)
i am writing it on tumblr because, frankly, i fit in better with the hopeless romantics over there…the open hearts & injured souls. i get more of a response over on tumblr than i do here. i mean, i totally appreciate y’all who do read me, but there just aren’t very many of you.
so i will keep this as my “website” for business (if that ever happens) purposes…but i might start doing my ranting over on tumblr.
i am trying to decide if i should delete my blog & just keep my artwork up? we’ll see.
anyhoo. in more efforts to exorcise demons, talk to ghosts, and figure myself out, i have started a memoir about seymour and myself. i used a stock photo of matt dillon to do this quick portrait. it doesn’t look like either one of them…but it does what i need it to do.
that’s all for now.
if i stop
to take inventory
i’m not doing
not so bad
if i stop
& take inventory
i see that
if i stop
to see who i am
i see that
i’m not so awful
not so awful
as i’d thought
if i stop
to see who i am
i see that
quite a good person
last night i kept myself from being drawn into a fight with dusty. a fight via texting. a fight we have had many times. furious messages flashing back & forth between his smart phone & my dumb one. (his messages flash a bit faster than mine.)
i did respond, with minimal engagement, to let him know i was getting his texts and that my feelings on the matter were indeed final. if i don’t respond, he will become more & more hysterical & paranoid. i can’t have him doing that while he is with our children.
but obvious ploys to evoke a response, i let them slip past me like keanu reeves in the matrix.
so i was actually quite proud of myself for that.
though i have an almost full bottle of whiskey, i chose instead to do yoga and have a cup of jasmine tea.
look at that, y’all. it’s like i’m growing up or something.
bonus for anyone who made it this far…i did a rough draft/sneak preview of moses jones page four. very rough…in fact, the final draft might not look anything like this….
it’s all inside
the whole world
& i can feel
all of it.
i don’t know about you other ladies out there, but my ovulation rocks. will i miss it when it goes away? or is there something else out there in my crone years–a different electricity?
the more i open myself up to feel, the more i feel. it can be pretty awesome. i have noticed this pattern of feeling extra open & extra electric a couple of weeks after my period.
so now i have to figure out how to understand & accept this open & alive feeling without compromising myself. how to celebrate my fertility & not just give it away to someone else.
you know, unless i make a conscious decision to–instead of letting my ovaries do my thinking for me.
because as soon as i feel that electric feeling, i start looking for someplace to put it. and maybe i just need to hold onto it. harness it into my life, my art, my creations…so, like, instead of manifesting something in my uterus…i want to use that energy to manifest something in my art, in my day, in my world.
i am still going at the pace of a page a month.
yikes…but i do like the way the pages are turning out…mostly.