i love my kids…but i hate being a mom….

i hate being the one in charge
i hate being the bad guy
i hate having to be the one who makes sure we don’t run out of
toilet paper
clean clothes
toothpaste
shoes that fit
food
i hate being the one that has to make impossible ends
meet
i have to
no one else is going to do it
i have to find ways to fix
messes that seem impossible to fix
i have to referee fights
that seem to have no end
i hate being referee
i hate being mom
i want to not have to worry about everything
to not be the one who is supposed to have all of the answers
i want to find room in my heart
for me
to not feel overwhelmed by them
i want to be able to breathe

it’s not them though
is it?
it’s not being a mom so much
as my being damaged
damaged by life
damaged by parents, damaged by exes
never taught to love myself
in the way a person needs to be able to
so that person can be a good mom
neglected by my own mom
leaving me unable to cope
abandoned
abused
by the man who was supposed
to do this with me
be there for me
now
i just want to hide, heal, and lick my wounds
but as a mom
i just can’t seem to
there are just too many other things
that need to be
done….

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yesterday i collapsed in a heap and all i could think was, “i hate being a mom. i hate being a mom. i hate being a mom.” it was both a relief to think it…and horrifying.

i didn’t always hate being a mom…if you read my wordpress profile thing-y here, it sounds like i used to really think i was a good mom….
(i wish i could remember that feeling.)

though it was a cruel awakening when i became a mom and realized i was working harder than i ever had before–but i wasn’t getting any pay or benefits. after a lifetime of supporting myself, i was now dependent on a partner who was–well–crappy. he would tell me my position as a mom was pointless and why was he the only one earning money? he would tell me to get a job. i was exhausted to my bones–and he was telling me i wasn’t earning anything therefore i was lazy…useless? and he wasn’t the only one. our society echoed him. subtle or blatant, i got the message loud and clear.

i was a mom now–and now i did not matter.

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gone was my independence. my ability to just pack up everything i own and go somewhere new. just go. whenever i wanted. be free whenever i felt caged. now i was anchored. by one..then two..then three..and finally four little anchors.

gone was time to myself. my crappy partner put that last nail in my coffin. no art. no writing. (right now i have a five year old begging me to color & i really really don’t want to color–i want to exorcise this demon–i want to write.) no exercise even because no one would let me. seriously. i was not allowed to do the walks i used to do daily to clear my head & keep my weight down. if i wanted to go–everyone wanted to go with me–and it became an unbearable circus…

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i know there are people out there devastated because they can’t have children. i used to be one of those people. i wanted to cry every time a friend or a sister got pregnant. i tried for 10 years before i got pregnant. i dreamed of being a mom. i dreamed of having that love in my life. of course, i thought, being a mom will fix what is wrong with me.

but i wasn’t careful about with whom i had my kids. that was my mistake. my biggest mistake. i didn’t realize how much that would change things…taint things. that partner who doesn’t value you–or your role as the mother of his children.

it’s devastating…at least for me…it has damaged me so deeply sometimes i feel like i am unable to love at all.

but i love my minions. i do. as much as i hate being a mom sometimes–i never stop loving them.
so that’s something, right?

something salvageable?

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(these illustrations are more  from the project i am working on “the mistress of mud” with a friend of mine. yesterday i posted that i hadn’t gotten any work done, but i realized i actually had…and i did the one at the top of the post last night as i played around trying to emulate david mack’s style.)

i told me so

i wanted to believe him
oh how badly i wanted to believe
that he really loved me
really wanted me
really saw now what he had done
wrong
how he had
wronged
me
i wanted so badly to believe
he really had changed
that things could really be
different
better
that there was hope still
even though the nagging little voices
in my head
assured me he had not changed
pointing out the little red flags
scattered around him

dusty and i were perfect and in love once. so so so in love. it was a long time ago. he was the center of my universe…and i’m sure i somehow fit into his universe.

and then i got pregnant with fidgit.
and everything changed.
i changed, my focus changed, shifted. dusty was no longer the center of my universe. he had to share the spotlight.
and dusty changed. a person emerged that i had never met before. a cold person. a cruel and judgemental person.

and that was the beginning of the end.

i was surprised when he started up with the love and adoration this last time. i guess i shouldn’t have been. i guess i should have remembered he will do anything he has to do to keep the status quo. but i was surprised because it has been awhile since he acted as if i were important to him. usually i am just a piece of the puzzle…but he started acting as if i were the puzzle itself. every piece.

but i told him “no” because i have to hold close the hurt he caused me so i don’t forget. like snapping a rubber band on my wrist whenever i want to believe dusty actually cares.

and last night i got my proof that i was right to do so.

while he was wooing me to keep our family together, apparently he decided to cover his bets & he also got back in touch with the woman he used to try to destroy me. the poor delusional twat who he would lie to as much as he would lie to me–except she believed him. i don’t know if she was crazy before he got a hold of her, but she was crazy by the end.

so, yay, they are back together.

i told me so.

(i just realized that if we had stayed married, today would be our 14 year anniversary)

a poem for the full moon

my anger clings
to me
so tight
i can’t breathe
i can’t breathe…
i want to shed my anger
like a skin
i don’t want it anymore
i don’t need it
anymore
i want a new
fresh
skin
to welcome the world
to paint pictures on
to tell stories with
to experience love
& wonder
& all the beautiful things
that my anger
keeps at arm’s length
in some misguided
attempt
to protect me
from life…
i want to shed my anger
like a skin
& be born again
light
free
& happy.

wake up, it’s time to heal

the voices came
& whispered to me
you are not this person
twelve years of anger
a lifetime of anger
you are not this person
it is time to heal
it is time to heal

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i recently learned about clairaudience. as soon as i read the description, i was like, “well, i have that.” imaginary friends, talking to one’s self, hearing voices, channeling advice, craving sound, hearing messages in songs….  i do all that.
so now i am trying to listen better.
last night–when i was trying to fall asleep–the voices came, & i was told that it is time to heal.

today is an anti-versary for me. 1997…so what is that? 20 years. 20 years ago, all in one day, i was molested & my dog got hit by a car and died. i have felt the weight of it every year since. i was in a terrible relationship. my life was a mess. i tried to straighten out the mess, but i kept going right back to it. the abuse. the neglect. the anger & hurt.

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now it’s time to heal.

it’s time to rewrite what today means to me.
today is the day i choose to start healing.
today is the day i choose to let go of the anger & hurt.
to embrace the beautiful in me & let go of the ugly that keeps me company while holding me back.

time to embrace my role as a mom.
time to celebrate who i am as an artist.
time to see what a healthy relationship looks like.

time to heal.

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the bat card…rebirth

i have woven
together
love & rejection
my earliest experiences with love
being rejection

people become important to me
once they have
rejected me
i focus on this rejection
instead of
acceptance

i look for my worth
in the eyes
of people…of men
who reject me.

i feel anger that i am not
valued
i let my anger become
who i am.

i am not my anger.
i am not that reflection
i see
in the eyes
of people who cannot
love
me.

when dogs flew

i have not lost my mind today.
and that is something
yesterday the chickens got out
and those fuckers like to tear up my garden
so my inner control freak
took the reins
as i ran like a madwoman
trying to herd chickens
shouting incomprehensible orders
at the minions
i did an awesome impression
of my abusive father
and how he would scream at us
because we weren’t doing it right.
even if we didn’t know what
“right” was
exactly
i went after poor fidgit
like a mad dog
which makes sense that he would draw
my fire
he is the one most like
me.
my nerves raw
from being a mom
and feeling always
like i am doing it
wrong
so a day
where i have not lost my mind
is a small celebration for me.

dogsflew3

i have not had a beer in a week now. every day i feel like the universe is pushing me with all it’s might to go get some beer…or whiskey…my favorite ways to self-medicate. it’s not like i get drunk…but i am building up quite a tolerance. like the song says, it used to take one & now it takes four. which gets expensive…and does not  help with my body image issues either as i get stouter & stouter.

so i’m trying to go without.

dogsflew2

no one should have to parent sober. it’s a cruel thing. but now my inner control freak is seeing it as some kind of sick challenge & won’t let me get beer now even if i wanted to. i have started hinting to it that next week is st. patrick’s day & it wouldn’t be very irish of me not to drink beer then. for many many years my inner control freak never let me drink. my dad was a horrible nasty abusive alcoholic. so i did not drink. all my friends were potheads, junkies, and alcoholics and i hung out at bars & parties…but i never drank. not until i started drinking to spite an ex-boyfriend…but that is another story.

i don’t want to be my dad.

not wanting to be my mom affects my relationships with men.
not wanting to be my dad affects my relationship with my minions.

but i didn’t lose my mind today…and i did it without having a beer.
so…yay!

dogsflew1

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.

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