fuck

i feel like
there is
nothing
left of me
most of my past
15 years
spent with creatures
who only want
to know
what i can do for
them
what can i give
them
there is no one
it seems
willing to do
for me
willing to give
to me
&
i am a husk
nothing
left.

motherhood…sigh…definitely the hardest job i have ever done. made harder still by my lack of a support system or a nurturing husband-figure. in fact, i was dealt a very needy now ex-husband-figure…. my own fault surely. wanting to feel needed….
but now, i wonder, what about my needs?
crap.

this is what a mother looks like

i asked my kids
if
after i died of throat cancer
from screaming at them
if they would remember
what i said.
they answered “yes”
…but only because they didn’t really
listen
to what i was
saying
i’m not sure how to feel…
my throat hurts.

don’t ask how the packing is going…just…don’t ask….

these are images i did for a watercolor class some years back…a week of illustrations of how i felt as a mom. things haven’t changed too much.

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.

especially me

today
i hate
everybody
& wonder
if i should just
drink beer
for breakfast
because
what
the
fuck
i am stuck
in a world
full of
bullshit
& it’s all just
bullshit
&
yes
i know tomorrow
or later today
(after that beer probably)
i will feel
differently
& even might
find myself
aglow
with brotherly love
but
right now
i especially hate
that person.

another one still from this angsty week of mine. i’m a big old snarky mess sometimes. but, rest assured, the person i hate most of all is often myself.

ink & bamboo pens are wonderful for expressing messy feelings.

ps. if you are looking for some good stuff on netflix to have an angsty binge…i recommend happy and russian doll.

crusty & morose

my soul
is dislocated
i cannot feel
anything
but a raging fire
of
indifference
with light showers
of disgust
& several hues
of irritation
life feels like
lukewarm
leftovers
that i am hungry
enough
to eat
some of
but then the rest
is left
to become
crusty
a half-finished
bowl
of
disappointment.

it’s like a drinking game for mixed metaphors. ha! i am starting to feel better. doing art has relieved some of my angst. but it is still there. seeping. dripping. getting under my foundation and uprooting all my so-called progress (i had to throw in another fucking metaphor.)
i feel ugly & fat & my hair is just stupid & everything sucks.
but!
i will keep drawing & see if i can ink myself out of this corner. (does that count as a metaphor?)

credit to evelyn de morgan for the illustration today. she is pretty awesome & all of her artwork just oozes gloom & doom.

fickle & demented

fickle heart
demented mind

i am the moon
shining with my own
light
don’t listen
when the sun says
i am merely
reflecting his
this is
my light
& i shine
magical
fickle mind
demented heart

so what
maybe i am the one
who gave the sun
the idea
that i am merely
reflecting
his light
but
it is not true
& from now on
i will
totally
make my
own.

something is off with my words. i have been writing pages, but struggling with the words. i decided to go ahead & finish the pages & hope to maybe one day come back & get the words right.

sometimes i can see things in my head, but i have trouble translating them to paper.

or i’m glitching.

my dreams have been mad things lately. and though i am enjoying the perpetual autumn–there might be need for a deep & cleansing freeze to get me back in the rhythm of things.

also, my tarot cards warned me of treachery that would lead to sorrow & loss. so i’m a bit on edge.

this page is influenced by my lately super edgy feelings of angst towards men. men shining with my light–but saying i shine with theirs…something like that. i do like how the illustration turned out. i’m glad i decided to finish the page–despite feeling i have not communicated what i was trying to communicate….

INKtober thirtieth

i can feel my brain
clawing
desperately
looking for a way
out
a rat
scrambling to escape
a watery grave
or an all encompassing
flame
smelling her own
singed fur
choking on the smoke
realizing
her fate
a wolf
gnawing off her own
paw
to be free
of the trap
where do i think
i will go
who do i think
i will be
if i escape
myself?

so.
been feeling a bit angsty these past few days. i have not yet gnawed off my own arm, but it has been a close call a few times.
i have hated almost everyone i can name who is in direct contact with my life.
so much hate. so much anger. i just want to disappear sometimes. get a mind wipe & start over somewhere i have never been.
innocent & free.
sigh.
but now it is the witch’s new year. day of the dead. a waning moon. and new possibilities on the horizon.
fine.
let’s see what tomorrow brings.

fun fact: one of my eyebrows is higher than the other & one of my ears is lower than the other, so i cannot wear a pair of glasses without the glasses appearing to be crooked.

curtains

this same window
i spend my day
creating
art
from the light
shining through
this same window
i used to sit
as a child
staring at the dark
reflected
back
at me
waiting
for my father
to come home
wishing
for my father
to never
come
home
it’s a different window
though it is
the same
only light comes through
now
no
more
dark.

i scribbled this thought down a few days ago, and remembered it today while reading JGomez’s beautiful & powerful piece “Disintegrate Elsewhere.”
my father always came home…and his homecomings were generally stressful…if not terrifying. a family walking on eggshells while a father waits, determined to take his temper out on someone. i learned to be quiet. i learned to be invisible. i learned to not draw the disturbed glare of his blue eyes.
i watched as others took the brunt of his temper. wishing him away. wishing to feel safe.

i live in the same house…but it is a different house now that he is gone. i wish little me had gotten to feel the peace that i am now, finally, able to feel.

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