survival

i don’t want to hurt you
i just want to survive you

are words that i would say to him if i could. sometimes i feel it is impossible to talk to him. impossible for him to hear me?
so he & my mom were here at the same time. with my mom here, he was the lesser of two evils.
when she left, i realized just how much like her he really is.

neither one of them can hear me. even before my mom was deaf, she had very selective hearing–only hearing what she wanted to hear…only hearing what was valuable to her–what she could use to her advantage.
she never heard me.
i was never valuable to her.
was i ever valuable to him?
did he ever listen to me? or is he only paying attention when i’m giving him ammunition to use against me at a later time?

ex-husbands & mothers.

sigh.

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playing with demons

invoking one demon
to do battle
‘gainst another
inviting a demon in
to drive another
out
it’s a tricky thing
to do
& is oddly
entertaining
appealing
to see them tear
at each other
blood & gristle
claw & horn
pain that would
otherwise
be yours
your demons share
with one another
but…
when the smoke has cleared
you are still left
with one more demon
to banish.

aw crap. i called dusty to help. he came, & he helped. and my mom doted on him and said i never should have divorced him and she praised him while she defiled me. and he never stood up for me. he never confronted her until she spoke badly of him? of the minions? until he was grumpy & she was an inconvenience?

then they clashed. and battled. and i should not have enjoyed it…but i did.

in 2010, when i divorced him, my mom took him aside and told him, “it’s not your fault. she is difficult to live with” and he didn’t say anything. this past visit, there were multiple days of her talking about what an awful daughter i am.
and he said nothing.

so, yeah, a sad, sick part of me liked watching them scream at each other.

but now my parents are gone. we are left with no common enemy…just each other. and he has already projected that i am rejecting him.
now i am walking on eggshells not around my volatile parents but around my volatile ex-husband.

unicorn me

i realized today
that it is a bit
redundant
for me to call
myself
unconventional….

it’s like if a unicorn was all like,
“hello! i’m a unicorn!”
(yes, i’m comparing myself to a unicorn & if you are all like, “as if!” you can just suck it. i am a shiny happy unicorn!)

i wrote this epiphany while hiding in my room on new year’s day after i screamed at my parents about the murder of my cat in the late 1970s.

they left on saturday. my mom was all, “thank you so much! you must visit us in texas!” whereas just two days before she was saying how she was going to spend the rest of her life drunk because of my being such an ungrateful daughter.

dusty suggested she has borderline personality disorder. i just feel sad. because if there actually is something wrong with her and maybe it could have been treated and maybe she could have been a good mom to me instead of always hating me for not being what she thought i should be….

sigh.

life goes on.

after they left, i felt like i did after my brother died. listless…unfocused…traumatized.
then it switched.
i started feeling free. like i had a second chance at life. like i had dodged a bullet and now i had the chance to turn everything around.

i need to start taking notes and putting thoughts in order and creating the comic that will exorcise this demon for good.

midnight, my love

when i was a little girl
i had a big, black tomcat named
midnight
that farm cat
was my best friend
i bonded with him
in that special way a child
can lose her heart
to an animal

one day
my dad shot & killed midnight
an event he joked about
for years after
did he know
he killed a part of me
that day?
did he care?

funny how one event
in a young child’s life
can fuck up that person
for ever after
one event
can crush a child’s ability
to find love
to bond
to have normal relationships
with neither animal
nor person*

so my parents are here
& my mom may or may not
be senile
i honestly can not tell
what is senility
& what is a fucked-up
mind games
but she keeps telling stories
about the only cat she ever liked
& she keeps calling that cat
midnight
finally my sister corrected her
& told her that the cat
she is thinking of
was actually named “licorice”
(which is my mom’s favorite candy…
so how could she forget?)

and my mom replied,
“then who was midnight?”

& my whole world went red
as forty years of rage
poured out of me
& at my parents

i have only once before
gotten that angry
& that was when i found my ex-husband
making out with another woman
just one block from our new home
where we were
“starting over”
again

at least this time i
(hopefully)
won’t get a citation
for disorderly conduct….

for all my screaming
& profanity
for as much as it relieves
that certain pressure
on my soul
for all my screaming
they still didn’t hear me

but maybe i can start healing
anyway….

 

*i’m sure there are more than one…but this one is monumental

repulsed by romance

she is the reason
i divorce so easily
she is the reason
i fear relationships
no
them
they are the reason
it is the two together
i don’t want to end up trapped
you see
trapped in a marriage
to a man
like my father
slowly
bitterly
losing my mind
so i run
away
live in fear
craving a connection
but
repulsed
replulsed by romance.

this self-portrait pretty much captures how i feel right now.
like there is not much of me left.
a demon me with a halo of stars.
little bits of me.
flying away in the wind.

so dusty is down here to help me. and he has been so much help because as it turns out, i can barely deal with being in the same room with my parents. i am constantly nauseated and crawling out of my skin and looking for a place to hide.

so dusty was a life-saver…. except. i dunno. i was being nice to him–affectionate–trying to make sure he was surviving okay. doing for him what i would want done for me.
but i guess that was the wrong thing to do?
because then he got pissed off at me for sending mixed messages?
yelled at me and accused me of hurting him.
what the what?
so now even more of me has shut down.
i feel like i am barely functional.

my parents are here–they started my destruction.
dusty is here–he finished me off.

all my best destroyers in one house for the holidays.

worst

you can’t hurt me
i will hurt
myself
first
i will hurt myself
worst
you can’t degrade me
i will push myself
into the
mud
i will mock
myself
i will revel in my own
pain.

is it obvious i have been looking at the artwork of egon scheiele? wow. if you haven’t looked at his artwork…wow. lots of cocks & twats though, so don’t leave it laying out in mixed company.

i am trapped in the country with my parents.
the only way i made it out of the airport when i went to pick them up was to start wondering if i could use the experience in my artwork.
fuck a duck. i almost started crying. fuck a duck. does anyone else have parents like this? as soon as they came into view they were bitching about each other. and then at each other. and my mom kept telling the poor airport attendants about how awful my dad is. and the airport attendants were asking me if i needed help (both my parents were in wheel chairs) and i’m sure my eyes were begging them to help me–but, by god, i could not think of anything they could do other than wheeling my parents back onto the plane….

and crazy does as crazy needs–i immediately texted dusty for help.
i’m sure it is somehow his fault. so i asked for his help.
and, of course, he is coming….

but two negatives make a positive…right?

ps. i am not sure which is worse–when my mom is yelling at my dad…or when she is cuddling up to him.

i need therapy.

stat.