my own reflection

alone
who can i blame
but me
alone
my screams
fall on my own
ears
alone
i look at my reflection
really look
this time
not me reflected
in someone else’s
eyes
but
me
standing before
myself
will i hold
myself
up
or push me
down?

i’m thinking of changing my look. i think i could pull off some faux fur. and maybe martinis might be in order.
i have been sober many days now…it is not pretty.

i am going through some stuff.
what? no? not you!
yes, but different stuff. like my usual stuff is sorted & put away, and now i am on to new stuff.
i feel like i am trying to wriggle out of an old skin…but i am struggling to get that fucker off my back.
lots of anger & snarky behavior…which then causes a spiral of guilt & oh-my-god-i-suckness.
fun fun fun.

i wish i knew how many layers this onion has…how many more levels i have to do before i win.

this is a card i’m sending to my sister for her birthday (shhh)

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disappeared

i want to just
disappear
no one loves me
anyway
i’m alone
so alone
& no one
not ever
reaches out
just to say
“hey–are you okay?”
i’m damaged
hurt & confused
it’s no fucking secret
i struggle
every
day
& no one
not ever
just for the fuck of it
checks to see
if i’m still
breathing
i’m alone
so alone
&
i have
already
disappeared.

i’m going through some rough shit right now. i don’t know what’s wrong with me.
i spent yesterday reading through select years of my journals to see if i could figure it out.
i don’t seem to be an inherently bad person. just stupid. so why does everyone gravitate away from me?
why does everyone leave me?
or just have nothing to do with me to begin with. not even the other lepers want to deal with me. i always think i am ghosting–but no one saw me in the first place.
(except for the narcissists. they usually stick around. which is all the more damaging as it turns out.)
what is wrong with me?

if i had a friend or a sister who was alone in the country with four kids, i would fucking check up on her. why does no one ever do that?
it makes me cry.
i have been crying for days now.

choosing to survive

except
i chose to be alone
i did
i did not
i did not choose
for my ex-husband to be an 
asshole
but i did choose
to live without an asshole
in my life
which meant
i was left all alone
& lonely
i accept that i have ultimately
made that choice
& am also
choosing
not to simply let anyone
any warm body
be
the company
i so desire
so
yes
i choose
to be alone
even if
i would rather not
be
lonely.

i felt that it was important for me to acknowledge this to myself. to know that i am not just a victim of my life. i make choices to try to be stronger & to try to heal the pain and damage i have suffered. though i believe my decisions of late will help me in the long run, that doesn’t mean i enjoy the immediate effects of them. 

meanwhile, i went to iowa city to check out their developing eco-village. it was beautiful & the people were really cool…but i do not have anywhere near to the money i would need as it requires actually buying a flat or duplex. 
i will talk to them to see if there are any options for a broke-ass mama like me…but i don’t think it is someplace i can move to anytime soon. so i am still trying to figure out my next move, a move back to community and away from the isolation of my homestead.
but i was happy to–briefly–be back in iowa city. i wish i had never left. 
i wonder what that parallel universe looks like….

on the topic of money. i have decided that i have to actually demand child support from my ex-fucker. i mean, dur. or rather, i shouldn’t even have to demand it–he should just be paying it. but that is not ever going to happen. he is paying just a token amount because i let him get away with that & now he actually has a job where he could afford to pay more…but he is not. he is not supporting his children because he doesn’t think he should have to. 
this makes me so sad. 
and i really do hate being the heavy.
and he is so good at making me feel like shit whenever he puts me in the position where i have to ask him for anything. 
oh! 
and i did tell him, when we did the minion swap, that if i were using him as a punching bag (as he likes to accuse me) that would mean i was angry about something else & taking it out on him. 
i let him know that he is not my punching bag because the anger i am directing at him is anger that i have at him–my frustration with him…appropriately directed at him.
fucking manipulative motherfucker. 

blunt

my life is just
a series
of fuck ups
sorry you got caught
up
in that
maybe
they should just
launch me to the moon
send me
to the bottom of the sea
get me as far as fuck
away
from
anyone
everyone
i can possibly
harm.

i am so very sick right now. in a literal sense. my face hurts from my sinuses being all jenky. so i did end up binging some netflix because i’m not good for much else. but at least i was watching a good show–get shorty–as it has been made into a series now. so totally worth the binge.
and i do like an irish accent.
but here i am sick. and now my washer is broken. amid all the other things i need help with in my life & all i can do is lament that i have no one to take care of me…never did really…and it so totally sucks.
this journal page started as a text to my first husband who has started contacting me again after a long silence that began with my telling him i wanted to smash his head.
i’m not the best ex-wife…or wife…so why do both my husbands keep coming back for more? so confusing.
anyhoo.
i didn’t think i would hear from him again. usually if i just look at him funny he does a quick retreat, much less my threatening the consummate condition of his head.
whatever.
i don’t need another ex-husband in my life.
i need someone who is going to stay
& take care of me…but that is a hard idea for me to swallow…
that anyone would ever do that for me…because…well, i’m me.

a simple but damning curse on mankind.

INKtober twenty-eighth

i am autumn
i am change
i am ready
to rest
to let go
to prepare
for
spring.

…if i survive winter.
i felt calm, hopeful even, when i wrote this as i watched the wind blow across the blue sky outside my window.
then something cracked & damaged inside me shifted. my rabies flared up.
now i am not so sure that i am anything other than a dead mom walking.
maybe i am not meant to rest.
like my own dear mother always said, “no rest for the wicked.”

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.

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.

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