in plain sight

i fall apart
in plain sight
where no one
can see me
you think by now
i would have learned
to stuff
everything
down
to not make a fuss
but
no
i fall apart
in plain sight
where
no one
will see me.

i lived in a housing co-op of over thirty people. i had two kids when i moved out; i was pregnant with my fourth when i moved out.
i mistakenly let my ex-husband also move into the co-op where he made my life a living hell.
i had multiple break-downs.
anyhoo! sometimes i would be struggling with my children & losing what little mind i had left, on the verge of crying or straight up crying in a room full of people…and no one would do a thing to help me.
they all just pretended it wasn’t happening.
which is a perfect mirror of our society.
we pretend the ugly/uncomfortable things are not happening. i am sure i am guilty of it too.
& it just fucking sucks ass.

(those of you who see a person hurting & reach out to them–y’all are amazing)

ps. this inking was inspired by the view from my front porch. i love my new house 🙂

my way

i’ve got a chip
on my shoulder
i’ve got
an axe to grind
&
fuck you
i’m gonna do it
my way.

more of this. anger…angst…figuring out who i am. the hero or the anti-hero…i think i am more of the second one. when i try to be the hero things just get messy.
so maybe the trick is accepting that i am not the hero.
& wondering if i ever really even wanted to be the hero.
i mean, i showcase my flaws–i don’t hide them under spandex. i definitely lean to the dark side while still holding something of a moral compass.
i guess things just aren’t as black & white as hero & villain. & who would want them to be? things are much more colorful this way.

a horse called fury

i am not a martyr
for my cause
i am not
going to suffer
so you can
live
without sin
i will ride in
on a horse called fury
i will swing
my sword
indiscriminately
&
i will
burn
this motherfucker
down.

you will all be relieved to hear i was able to download more criminal minds after i figured out that the site i use had changed addresses & i was following a dead link…. yup.
in last night’s watched episode, my favorite character (dr. reid) said, “everything falls apart…the trick is letting go.”
which i’m sure he was saying right to me–yes?
it feels to me like i am often watching everything fall apart.
add in trying to figure out who i really am…am i a good person? or am i a serial killer who just has not yet been triggered? i honestly lean more to the latter these days.
i am exhausted by thoughtless people.

speaking of! i am playing with two new ideas for comics.

the invisibles

and the misanthropic philantropist

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.

scabby

i push
everyone
away
because i can’t deal
with me
my children, my pets
the ones who least deserve it
i push
hardest
i hurt them for being
a mirror
to my own
bad behavior
my own
shortcomings
proof
that i suck
so i shove them
with all my might
push it all
away
so i can say
“see?
i am a monster.
see?
no one should love
me.”

do you ever just look at the illustration for one of my pages and think, “fuck this shitstorm,” and then flip on past?
i did not know i could draw anguish this well. holy fuck. i look miserable. and when i look at the drawing, i know exactly what it feels like even though i am not feeling it at the moment…i was still able to draw it, even though i am not feeling it at the moment.
turns out, i am one of those people who believes things heal faster if you pick at the scabs.
that’s what this art journal is at least half the time.
my picking at my wounds to encourage them to heal…or at least make a scar i have a good story about.

so. i love children and animals. i’m not always a monster. but a lot of my injuries are from my own childhood & around my relationships with animals. so i have a lot of unresolved issues with children & animals that i struggle with.
some part of me thought it would be funny to surround myself with animals & children.
haha. so funny.
like immersion therapy or something? it doesn’t work like that. and as much as i love animals & children, i often feel as if i am drowning in my own inability to heal. it’s more than just picking at the scab–it’s poking an open wound.
it’s all me. i know that. my goat isn’t trying to be an asshole. my dog isn’t trying to overwhelm me with neediness. my children don’t intend to drive me insane (at least, i hope not, that would speak badly of their survival instincts….)
i can’t have less children. i am trying to thin out the herd of critters. and focusing really hard on not having those days where i am all, “why don’t i get 16 more things to take care of (aka stress out about.) surely i can handle that.”
that’s my next page in my art journal–killing that voice. that fucking voice. that “everything is wonderful–good time to make your life more complicated” voice.

anyhoo.
so i hope you stick around for my shitstorm
because after the shitstorm, comes the rainbow.
just, you know, bring an umbrella

a new day

would i have
discovered
my strength
if i had
had
parents
who supported me?
would i have
learned
to love myself
if i had not have
had
to swim
in seas of rejection
for so much
of my life?
did i choose
this life
after all?
in some cosmic
challenge
an obstacle course
a scavenger
hunt
to find the best
version
of me
throw away the
“could have beens”
here is
who you are
here is
who you have
become.

the theme of “if only” is one that i have let hold me back for most of my life. now i find myself wondering if it was all for the best after all. i mean, it has been a long & tough fucking road…but now i am a tough fucking woman.
isn’t that who i want to be?
so maybe, as awful as my life has been, it has all been for a reason.

also, speaking of unintended paths & happenstance, this portrait may have been completely different if there had not appeared a small grease mark on my otherwise pristine page.
there are few things that irk me more than grease stains.
so after fretting about it a bit, i drew a flower on it.
then i drew another flower.
and another….
happenstance. that’s a good word.

the first page
in a fresh
journal
a new day

whispers

in a moment
of quiet
i try to conjure you
your face
your eyes
how it will feel
to be near you
but i am quickly
surrounded
by the ghosts
of boyfriends
past
& i find myself
taking inventory…
did i love
any of them
or did i just love
the idea
of being
loved?
the few i can remember
loving
were just whispers
in the wind
of the storm
of my life….
mostly i surrendered
to pretty faces
who
made me feel
i must be valuable
surely
i am valuable
if they
want
me.

more borrowing from gustav klimt for the illustration.

seriously. when i think back to the 30+ men who have worked as chapters of my life…i cannot remember if i actually loved them. was i actually attracted to them?
i can count on one hand the number of them that i did feel drawn to–and those were some of the shortest chapters.
did i scare them away with my intensity? did it just become safer & easier to let myself be adored than to seek out & ultimately be rejected by the men i adored?
the ones i adored were mostly broken men. men with a sadness about them. a beautiful sadness…. those were my muses. and they all slipped away from me, leaving me in a pool of narcissists.
sigh.
i can’t say that the men i chased would have worked out any better than the ones i let catch me. they were probably right to steer clear of me. i would have just broken them more. (not on purpose–i’m just made that way.)

so i don’t know what to imagine for the one who will love me as i love him. the one who won’t leave; the one i will not leave…other than a punk rock, lumberjack poet. surely a punk rock, lumberjack poet.

i finished my journal that i started on november 2nd of last year…which means i will be updating my “invisible exhibitionist” page.

good riddance

sometimes
he shows me
something
other than his wounded self
other than the
sad & scared
little boy
inside
the one he expects
me
to take care of
instead
sometimes
his true colors
emerge
brighter than the
blue of his eyes
fangs & claws
cruel words come easily
as jekyl
turns to hyde
& i am almost
almost
relieved
to see the one
he keeps
hidden
away
as much as it hurts
the pain is a
relief
compared to the
confusion.

after i wrote this (based on a text fight with dusty)…i began to wonder if this side of him is actually yet another of his chameleon colors. i mean, maybe he is channeling me when he becomes snarky like this? his interpretation of my behavior? is he showing his true colors or is he just copying my personality? like when he is like this, he calls me “dude.” that is totally me. i call him dude when i am frustrated with him.
and he is all bitchy at me.
recently, someone called me “charming,” and i let him know that he was the very first person to ever call me that.
he was.
no one calls me charming. i am too honest & too blunt. i don’t bother with filters. i am a “bitch” or “scary” by many assessments. however, i am a kind person. i do care deeply for others & will help anyone i can help & feel badly if i can’t. but i am not good at social niceties. i never have been and really don’t care to learn. though i am polite. i say “please” & “thank you….”
additionally, some of what he says feels like he is being fed lines from someone else. telling me not to use him as a punching bag when i call him on his bullshit. who told him to say that, i wonder.
does dusty in fact have a real personality or are they all borrowed?
i wonder.
but seeing this side of him does make me feel better about my decision to kick his ass out of my life. anyone who is capable of being a shit to me after all i have done for him…all those things that he pretends i never did, choosing to remember the times i stood up for myself & didn’t give him what he wanted…choosing to remember those times as my being unfair to him.

bleah.
whatever the fuck.
good riddance.

i did the illustration after i wrote this post. i really did NOT want to do another self-portrait of myself as a victim–suffering someone else’s bad behavior. instead i decided to celebrate my own bad behavior.

when i was just a girl

when i was just a girl
not yet a woman
i hung a sign on my wall
declaring
“i am destined
for greatness”
one day
a male friend
scoffed
“what? you’re going to marry
adam ant?”
i was
beyond
offended
(still am) as if! as if
a woman could only be great
through marriage
when i was still a girl
not quite a woman
i spent eight hours a day
writing
& writing
novels
first in longhand
then typed
it took about nine months
to birth one
when i was just a girl
not quite a woman
i was broken
already
broken by an
abused
childhood
an abandoned
childhood
i was broken
but
i was
still
whole
until one day
i discovered
the “greatness”
of men.

to say i was an awkward child would be an understatement. to say i was a strange child, also, understated.
needless to say, boys were not knocking my door down.
i was shy & dressed funny.
which was probably the best thing for me. i was safe from myself. however, once i figured out the whole boy-catching thing, things went downhill for me pretty fucking fast.
i let them tear me apart.
i gave them the best parts of me.
and i have been recovering ever since.

on the bright side–i am recovering.

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