once

i’m in love
with the idea
of someone
being
in love
with me
it happened
once
i met someone
once
who was in love
with me
i know it was true
because
i could smell
that sad & desperate smell
of love
on him
i know the smell
i know it well
as it oozes
oozes
out of me
me
who falls in love so easily
it is laughable
my heart
is a chasm
that only i
seem to fall into
except
of course
for once
when that other guy did
the guy
who
frankly–since i divorced him
i really don’t feel like
having him
in my chasm.

i dropped the minions off with their dad and while driving home listening to really bad middle of illinois soft rock radio, i started thinking about how much i want someone to be in love with me. how desperately i want someone to be in love with me.
and then i realized, other than the random guy who i married just because he was in love with me…i cannot bring myself to believe that anyone has ever been in love with me.
i mean,
i have been in lots–er, my fair share–of relationships. and they all say, “i love you.”
but i don’t think a single one of them was in love with me…except, of course, for the guy, my first ex-husband..who, actually, is still in love with me…or is just desperate & sad & we both mistake it for love…sometimes it is difficult to tell.

so i sit here.
drinking whiskey & being eaten alive by fleas…reveling in my sad desperation.
more journaling to come, i suspect.

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cable-knit sweater

i pull on my depression
like an off-white
cable-knit
sweater
thick & heavy
like an irish fisherman
would wear
& i pretend
it looks good on me
it’s comfortable
at least
my depression
well-worn
though it is getting
a bit ripe
from being worn
so long
i snuggle deep
into my depression
fantasizing
i can stay there
deeply mired
&
barely aware
of the daily
struggles
that
knit
me such a
snug
sadness.

my ophelia fantasies

why do i find
thoughts of death
my own death
by my own hand
so comforting?
when i am
weeping & wailing
& life seems so
so fucking unbearable
i just think of laying down
in the stinky
green
pond
back yonder
the one
the ducks
won’t even swim in…
just a short nap
y’all
then i’m sure
i will be as right as rain.

this is a comic i did. one page of confusion perfume. i wrote it a long long time ago…before i was a mom.
time has passed. things have changed. but i still have my olphelia fantasies.

bluebird of…sadness

sadness
like a blanket
like a fog
heavy
i let it curl around
me
i breathe
& it fills me
i want to tell someone
i want to cry
on someone’s
shoulder
i want comfort
but i find
only
sadness.

i do just feel so very heavy with sadness. this was all i could muster to write. my sadness has to do with my sister visiting & all the history there & everything that never changes but that i need so desperately to change…and then the sadness is my needing to talk to someone about it & having no one to talk to. you know what i mean, i need a confidant in my life. that person who listens to me bitch about my family. or talk to about my day. that person i tell all the cute things my kids did. or why i feel overwhelmed. or elated. excited. or…profoundly sad. that person who holds me without judgement & tells me everything will be okay.
so it turns into some sort of vicious circle. i’m sad about something…& then i’m more sad because i have no one to share my sad with. and then i’m super sad about that.
like a snowballing avalanche of sad.
that’s me…right now.

hidey hole

if you’re
looking for me
i’ve gone
backwards
down my tunnel
closing the entrance
off
behind me
burying any evidence
that i am anywhere
near
by
if you’re
looking for me
you
won’t
find me.
(i’m hiding)

i’m in the isolating part of my cycle…but thing is…i’m not isolating as much as i used to…so, good, right?
but i still wrote this post.

demons

my brain is congested. i feel ever so blocked right now. creatively & emotionally. everything i have written in my journal just seems dumb & badly written. maybe some of you are all like, “what’s new?” but usually i, at least, sincerely enjoy my badly versed random off-the-top-of-my-head thoughts & feelings.
but right now they are all crap.
i feel like there is so much to say–but i don’t know how to say it.
or draw it.

so i am working on some re-workings of older stuff while i stare at the blank pages of my current journal in disgust.
(i don’t hate you, art journal…it’s probably just hormones….)
this one–this one here–it is the self-portrait that got all of this nonsense started. i drew it in november of last year. i loved it. and then i just got carried away…almost a year & how may self-portraits later? (someone with a longer attention span than mine can count them–i know i have four pages up there.)
so here’s the one that started it all. a nice little picture of me hanging out with my demons.

IMG_1400

in other news….

today i heard the thompson twins’s song “hold me now” which i have sung along with in every every every relationship i have had.
& today, i realized, i have no one to sing it to.
no one.
i am undeniably alone…like i said in yesterday’s post–even in my imagination.
& then i started crying.

except of course for the single dads who are fishing for women on instagram? what’s up with that?
instagram is so weird.

and i am having nightmares like crazy. i have started having a re-occurring dream about wasps–the insects (i have daily fears of both kinds of wasps–people & insects.)
in real life, i am afraid of wasps. i have yet to be stung by one & one of my life goals is to not be stung by one.
so now i am having nightmares about wasps.
one had a wasp just hanging out on the back of my neck until my big brother (who was killed in 2008) got it off of my neck for me. my big brother has been in a lot of my dreams lately. just as him–not back from the dead–in my dreams he has never died.
then i had a dream that a wasp came & started stinging me on the arm. it didn’t hurt as much as i thought it would but i still proceeded to whack it to pieces as soon as i overcame the paralysis it somehow caused my whacking arm.

so far in my dream analysis i have:
wasp=fear (of what?)
brother’s help/whacking=overcoming fear

but that’s all i got.

last night i had the worst dream i’ve had in a long time. it was completely fucked up & i feel sick to my stomach just thinking about it.
i tried to write about it…but i can’t.

is anyone else feeling this? just curious. i know sometimes stuff like this can be cosmic.

ps. i just found a pad of 12X16 water color paper in my supplies cabinet. so–good news–i can start doing really large final copies of my art journal pages.
bad news–i will have to start using my camera again instead of the scanner i have. which means the quality of my posted art might suffer.

crap.

pss. i think my goat agatha is going to kid soon! she is all belly & her milk bag is getting full! looks like i’m going to be a grandma soon.

IMG_1362

if only…

i don’t know why
some days
it hurts so much more than
other days
except
wait
it hurts
every day
it’s just that i don’t let myself
look
at it
every day
the potential
how good it
could
have been
what could
have
if only
if only

if only

the other morning, i was laying in bed with poppy. he started talking about looking for blackberries with his dad…and i started thinking about all the good things about his dad…all the things that made him perfect for me.
all the things that could have been.
you know
if he wasn’t also a narcissistic & emotionally abusive assfuck.
that stuff.
i always do it with my folks too.
who would i be today if i had had supportive parents? parents who loved me & supported me…instead of being, you know, narcissistic & emotionally abusive assfucks.
sigh.
those fucking “could have beens….”