on the look-out for the next ex

relationships…

all i think about is relationships i don’t want to think about relationships why do i think about relationships so much?

bleah.

i recognize that part of me longs for the balance of a relationship.
i recognize that part of me loathes the idea of needing someone else.
i recognize that part of me is so injured that the idea of letting someone else in is terrifying.
i recognize that part of me is so damaged that i do not trust myself to choose a healthy partner.

ack!

this post is my letting go of obsessing about relationships.
sort of.
last night i dreamed about two exes.
back up…
recently i sent a series of “crazy” messages to my ex–the one i have trouble letting go of even though we broke up 21 years ago. i was angry because i keep asking him for help, and he ignores me. okay, sure 21 years, but he is always happy to respond when i am flirty & fawning…but not when i sincerely ask for help. when i sincerely ask for a friend.
i have spent 21 years apologizing to him.
for every fucking thing i did wrong when we were together.
and recently i realized something.
he has never once acknowledged that he did anything wrong in our relationship.
maybe he just doesn’t give a fuck.
maybe he doesn’t believe he did anything wrong.
maybe i am wrong to expect we could be friends after everything we went through. maybe our strong connection was just imagined, and i need to let it go already.

let it go already.

last night in my dream he wanted to talk to me about my “crazy” messages to him. first he wanted to do it in a crowded room–so i asked for a private conversation.
once we were alone, i felt the need to hide, covering my face with a scarf and–literally–sinking into a wall.
he started talking to me, but then was distracted by a celebrity entering the scene, and steered off to talk to that person instead, weaving tales to entertain this new person and completely ignoring me.
and then i got up & left to go make green bean casserole for my kids. i didn’t care. it was status quo for us and i was done with it.

i guess i’m ready to let it go.

other thoughts on relationships were addressed by chani and his weekly horoscopes where i was told (as a cancer):

Being thoughtful about who you partner with will help you to create more thoughtfully. Being deliberate about your collaborations will make them more effective. Being conscious of how your insecurities and your need to please can get in the way of protecting your energy is a game-changer.

You can’t take every partnership up on its offer. You can’t pour your energy into every vessel that has room for you. You can’t make good on your promises when you over-extend yourself. 

almost every relationship i have had i have actively sought out empty & cracked vessels that could not possibly accept my love…or i have found them on my doorstep and been like, “okay, i guess this is my boyfriend.”

hence my fear of even stepping towards a new relationship. if i like a person, they are probably damaged…& if they choose me, they are probably damaged.

sigh.

so i read up on the red flags. i read up on the narcissistic tendencies that i seem to attract. i read things about nice guys vs. good men and i try to keep these things up front in my mind…just in case i ever actually meet anyone.

meanwhile, however, you know…four minions and a homestead full of livestock. plus art to complete and vegetables to harvest….

but for those of you that think i should just forget about relationships and focus on kids & homestead & art, i have this to say:  i feel like that would be denying a part of me that deserves to be taken seriously AND i need to do the work. whether i am in a relationship or not, i need to do this work to heal the damage i have in the area of relationships or i am going to wake up one day & realize i am in another fucked up relationship.

speaking of which, i am letting dusty visit this week for misha’s sixth birthday, so–right there–reason to keep fresh what i want & do not want from a relationship.

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goddess

when i was just 19
i pulled a knife on a guy
well
i guess
actually
he was my boss
i pulled a knife on my boss
because he kept
grabbing my ass
not just grabbing
but fondling
stroking
caressing
my ass
i really don’t know
if i ever said “no”
i was a good girl
taught to
smile!
to be pleasant
to say “yes” to men
especially those with authority
smile!
be pleasant
so he would molest me
as i tried to do my job
working in this kitchen
in this college town
just 19 years old
and i probably
nicely moved away
nicely tried to keep my distance
nicely smiled
until
one day
i grabbed a kitchen knife after he touched me
not a sharp one
a notorious dull one in fact
but i grabbed a knife
and held it out
as a threat
as i smiled.
he smiled too
and walked into the knife
to show he wasn’t afraid of me
it barely scratched him
if at all…
but!
he never touched me again

goddess2.JPG

i have been embarrassed about this for years. i can’t believe i pulled a knife on someone. not just someone, but my boss. i don’t talk about this story because i felt like i was in the wrong. all these years, i have felt like i was in the wrong for doing it. i beat myself up and tear myself down for not having better coping mechanisms.

but i really didn’t. i was never taught to stand up for myself. quite the opposite.

so i snapped and went into fight or flight. flight hadn’t been working out for me. so i fought. and i won.

so why do i look back at this memory & cringe?

fuck that bullshit.

today i am cheering for that poor little girl. today i’m ready to tell him where the fuck to get the fuck off. fuck intimidation. fuck molestation. fuck all that. i am proud of myself for finally standing up for myself…even if it was in a pretty drastic way.

goddess1

don’t look at my little heart

you haunt me.
21 years after i lost you
you still haunt me.
am i ridiculous?
why can’t i let go?
you did.
you left me.
even though i was the one
who got on the greyhound bus.
…every time i left you
i left you for someone
who wasn’t even half of who you are.
that should have said something
about how fucked up
i was.
and how much i wanted to destroy
myself.
when you left me
it was for a wife,
and some would say
you gave me too many chances
before leaving.
but in the end,
you did leave
and leave me
haunted.
if i ever had a heart
i lost it
when i lost you.
if i ever was
able to love,
it was only to fail
at loving you.
the universe’s way of kicking me down
when i boasted
that i didn’t believe in regrets
living my life without regrets
until i realized that my life is one big
regret.
regret…
i burned every picture
i ever had of you.
every
single
one.
cutting you out
and leaving myself alone
in an attempt
to get over you
but only making my regret
that much bigger
and myself
that much more alone.
haunted.

saint valentine’s day massacre

i am a mess.
i can’t seem to create.
i am all grumpy & screamy & desperate for space from children…& closeness with a grown up.

i tried to do an inking yesterday. it sucked ass. and then a minion got something on it. so i burned it in the fireplace.
it was called “unraveled”

yesterday i also got the bright idea to make valentines.
so i spilled red ink all over the place.
now i actually have to find the focus to make them.
when all i feel like doing is hiding in the closet with a bottle of whiskey.

i used to love valentine’s day.
you know, when i was stupid & optimistic
(i still am…now i call it “quixotic”)
i have no good experiences on which to base my love of valentine’s day.
just that annoyingly optimistic willingness to be loved.
i want(ed) so badly to be loved…that i was willing to enter hopefully into every valentine’s day.
i have never been the type of girl to get flowers from boys. no matter how much i wished it.
i’m just not that girl. i don’t know why. and sometimes i let it break my heart.
usually after i have a charlie brown valentine’s day.

i have written about my lost love of my life.
the one i have finally accepted that i will never get over (which really doesn’t make it that much easier to live with–my acceptance of my infliction, that is)
when our relationship came to it’s terrible conclusion, it was valentine’s day. he was in love with someone else, so he got me something i really wanted for valentine’s day.
a pair of white wingtip doc martins.
and i knew i had lost him.
guys only get me good stuff when they feel guilty about something.
that’s what i have learned over the years.
i get guilt presents.
not love presents.

i’m not a materialistic person. but i do like getting presents. i like flowers. i like feeling special. i like feeling like someone loves me.

i’m struggling with this so much right now. this crappy loneliness and heartbroken bullshit. i’ve had two lonely marriages. i have two ex-husbands actively regretting that they treated me so callously. do either of them get me flowers or a bottle of whiskey?

no.

they just lament treating me like crap.
loudly.
as if that helps.
it doesn’t.
because then all i wonder is where this devotion was when i was in love with them?
i’m not anymore.
i’m not in love with them.
but they behave as if i should welcome their renewed love
with open arms.

but, still, no flowers
no chocolates
no whiskey

and the one man who i want to hear renewed devotion from
remains quiet
except for the occasional flirty text:

what’s better than roses on your piano?

tulips on your organ.

and that’s the closest i get to a man giving me flowers.
and the closest i get to having a sex life.
sigh.

well, to make myself even more miserable
i put a price tag on my art.
to make myself feel even more rejected
i am putting my art out there…ish.

on the homesteading end of the spectrum that is me….

this is not artwork…i did not make it.
this is not a fruit or vegetable…i did not grow it.
yet i introduced tyler durden & anna the sheep. i built them a pasture. i make sure they have food & water & clean straw to sleep in should they choose to sleep inside.
so i feel like somehow i made this.
this beautiful little lamb that seemingly dropped out of thin air for as much as i had to do with her actual birth.
i took some friends out to show them our sheep, and there she was. just hanging out with her mama as if she had been there all along.

it was just imbolc, which actually is a word meaning “in the belly” and refers to the lambs inside the sheep at this time of year as we are halfway to spring.

it is time to make ready for spring. time to collect seeds. time to plan gardens. time to start plants that need more time to grow. time to commit to putting down roots.

however, i have been feeling a bit trapped. i am living, as caretaker, on my parent’s land…in their house. i am completely dependent on them as i have no income and have failed to have children with a man who will actually work & pay child support…or show any support at all. the same parents i ran away from as soon as i was legally able to (living in bumfuck, illinois, i dreamed of actually being a run-away, but there was really no where to go & practicality won out & i waited until i graduated high school) i am now somehow indebted to for a place to live and a place to raise my minions.
i am back where i started.
trapped-ish.
depending on how i look at it.
sure, i can have my dream homestead…but it isn’t really mine…is it?

but i keep on keeping on because i don’t know what else to do.

no one is showing up in shining armor upon a white unicorn to save me from being a single penniless mother of four.
this is the best i can hope for right now.

and i kind of want to just cry about it.

i’m really behind on my artwork this month. it might be because on my to do list is just:
max out my credit cards with cash advances & fake my own death.

i know i should be thankful i have a place to live and am not starving or suffering or being deported or being bullied or living in fear…and i am…just some days i still wallow.

clearly dragons

this is what i have been working on for a few too many days now.
it’s a simple inking…& clearly dragons.
but as usual…nothing is simple.
the minions are in wisconsin with their dad.
and i am alone.
but it’s more than that.
lately i have been feeling alone at a really profound soulular level.
(i just made that word up…is it working for you?)
so i’m lonely.
to the bone.
maybe it’s something i have always felt.
even as a child i believed i wasn’t from here, dropped off my my alien race because i had romanticized what it would be to be human….
and lately
the lonely is more profound
because i am not hiding myself in relationships.
i am facing the lonely. to some extent.
i got drunk with an old friend on saturday.
before that i was at a beekeeping class all day.
i fell in love with the vice president of the bee association.
then i convinced myself to pursue my old friend.
and when neither of these panned out, i texted my first ex husband.
he has been romanticizing me since i left him in 2002…
so he was happy to drive to see me & to live happily ever after.

i could have gone with that.
at least for a little while.
it felt nice to have someone come see me & pay attention to me.
i could have taken it further.
i could have started something back up with him.
so you know what my immune system did?
it went ass end up and i got sick.
he came to see me & i got a cold.
i have a pretty fucking solid immune system.
and i got sick.

there were no sparks.
even though i have been feeling electric
and feeling i could fall in love with the world.
i couldn’t do it.
i could not be dishonest with myself one more time.
i just couldn’t.
i was relieved when he left.
i mean, i loved seeing him.
but more importantly, i loved having that escape route cut off.
i cannot keep romanticizing exes because moving forward might be painful.

maybe he learned the same thing…i  hope he learned the same thing.

it’s okay to be lonely. it’s okay to crave a connection.

it’s not okay to lie to myself to get it.

a little ditty

in the late 90’s i was living in lexington, kentucky, waiting tables at a pub with a club attached. one night i was next door at the club when random older guy starts talking to me. i was enjoying the conversation to some extent, when he mentioned that one of his employees had a huge crush on me.
i perked up & got a lot more interested in the conversation.
i have always loved the idea of secret admirers and spent most of my childhood imagining someone was secretly watching and would swoop in & show the world my genius…yes, i had a talent scout as an imaginary friend.

so guy is telling me not much about my secret admirer, except that he works for guy’s pool building business and that they often eat lunch at the pub, but my secret admirer is afraid to approach me & will not.

guy goes on to tell me that his own name is “chester.” adding that he is not a molester. note to y’all: if someone feels compelled to tell you they are not something–that is a red flag.

so chester who says he is not a molester invites me to go have some food at perkin’s. i am always game for free food and adventure, so i agree. i was not getting any too-weird of vibes off of him…and free food.
plus i wanted to hear more about my secret admirer.

so i went to perkin’s with him & he fed me & entertained me. when he finds out i have the next 3 days off (fourth of july weekend) he invites me to come out to his farm & ride his horses. he assures me that he has guests out there all the time & that he is very popular.

of course all i hear is “ride horses”…something i had never done despite my life-long love of horses.

i am not a normal person. if you read my blog, you know, i am special…& i say that with my tongue in my cheek. where most women would be like, “hell no, strange man, i will not go out to your remote farm alone with you at night.”

not me. i’m like, “sure!”

horses and a secret admirer…it was like he knew & was offering me my favorite candy to follow him home.

once at his place…i started to get the serious creeps. he had way too many antiques (i have a fear of antiques) and he kept standing way too close to me.

he had to get up early to work at his pool building company where my secret admirer worked and asked, “you can sleep in my bed of the guest room.”

GUEST ROOM! i told him.

“i have to warn you, i sleep naked.”

GUEST ROOM!

so i go to bed with my body on high alert. his dogs come and get in the bed with me. which is great because i trust dogs, even if they are owned by a molester. i wear all my clothes. i only take off my shoes.

sometime in the wee hours of the morning, he creeps into the room and shoos the dogs off of the bed and climbs in, naked, and cuddles up to me. i am rigidly laying there, pretending to be asleep, waiting for him to have to get up and go to work. like a opossum, playing dead/pretending to be asleep is one of my go-to defenses. not a practical one always, and it has pissed off many a boyfriend…but i just kind of shut down. i freeze. on retrospect i wish i had jumped out of the bed and kicked him right in the crotch…but i was conflicted, scared, confused, and had no idea where i actually was in order to escape.

he left for work.

i took his van…& left him a note??? what? another thing i would change on retrospect.

other than being totally creeped out & traumatized by mr. molester, my big worry was that he would tell my secret admirer that he had slept with me.

i know. what? really?

my boyfriend at the time (yes, i had a boyfriend, but he was an awful boyfriend who i just couldn’t seem to get rid of) blamed me. he told me it was my fault.

so i went back to work, but i kept an eye out for my secret admirer. here’s the thing about me. i love blue collar guys. i love cops & firemen & farmers. given the choice between a successful clean cut banker and a scruffy guy who builds his own cabinets and smells of the outdoors…it’s really no contest.

so i picked out my favorite blue collar guy who ate lunch at the pub. he was a little guy (i also have a thing for little guys–check out my adam ant post) with a shaved head and a big nose (yup, add big noses onto my list of attractions.) i would watch him whenever he came into the pub with his co-workers. but he never ever looked at me. we never made eye contact. it was almost as if he was actively avoiding looking at me.

but he stayed my favorite pretend secret admirer.

i left kentucky to escape the bad boyfriend. i waited until he went to work, packed everything up, left a note (again with the notes?) and had one of my sisters drive me to illinois. my plan was i would stay with my folks and save money & go to school in the fall. but my folks pissed me off and i packed up and headed back to kentucky where i was going to meet up with another sister who was going to let me move to galveston, texas with her. she had a couple more weeks before she was moving to lexington.

naturally, i went out to the pub & to see a show at the club. i was drinking and perched on the edge of the pool table, watching the band, when i noticed my pretend secret admirer was there and he was actually making eye contact.

so i hopped down and went over to say hi.

we got married about a month later.

he was the guy who was secretly in love with me. when he found out i was headed to texas, he proposed. again, normal woman would be like, “hell no, strange man, i’m flattered, but maybe we can take this slow…or, you know, too bad–you snooze you lose.”

not me. i married  him. thing about me is i want so badly to be loved, that i will marry a stranger if he says he loves me.

i think the only reason a serial killer hasn’t gotten me by now is that i wear pretty boring underwear that may or not actually be underwear. there isn’t much about me to feed those fetishes. but tell me you love me, and i will marry you.

i think it helped that i had been pretending he was in love with me for so long–and then to actually find out he was in love with me–it was like an overload to my brain.

a month after we were married, he said he didn’t think he loved me.
and i threw up.
and i moved out.

as i like to do (or else why would i do it so often?) we had an on-again/off-again relationship for three years. i divorced him in the middle of that time, but we often dated and even had long-distance relationships when i would leave lexington to adventure in other cities. but, overall, he was so withdrawn and barely present in our relationship, that my ego actually suffered and i spiraled downwards until i started losing all respect for myself and moved to wisconsin to get that kentucky funk off of me.

if you are still reading this, i will get to the point.

he emails now and then to flirt with me. i get pissed off because where was this devotion when we were married? and my being pissy sends him straight back to his cave.

but the other night i was out with a friend who reminded me of my secret admirer in a way. so i texted him, not realizing he did not actually have my current number. once he figured out who i was, i ended up asking him to come see me.
and he said yes.
and he is supposed to be here tomorrow.
and i am excited to see him…but worried i am setting myself up.
like i’m feeling too strong lately so i need to knock the wind out of my own sails.
would i do that–yes, well, i have a history of doing that….

he says he has changed.
he says he is a better man now.
i tell him that my other ex-husband says the same things.
i tell him that i have had two lonely marriages & don’t want to do that anymore.

he’s coming to see me, trying to bring baskets full of rainbows & unicorns & being together.
i told him, come see me, yes, but leave the promises at home.
i don’t trust promises.
he won’t get any promises from me.
i don’t want any from him.

what is it with my fucking ex-husbands and loving me after i am gone?

so, anyway, all that is why i haven’t gotten any ink done in a couple days. i have been busy, physically & emotionally.
but i should have this finished by the end of the day.