the legend of mary jo

that i have not
punched anyone in the face
should prove what a hero
i am
that i haven’t
torn the throat of the world
out
with my teeth
should show
what a humanitarian i am.

i was playing off of the legend of billy jack…but seeing as my given name is actually mary jo….

this is the other end of the suicide scope it seems. homicide. for everyone giving me unsolicited advice as i try to find my way through…i have not brought injury on to any of them.
so throw me a fucking parade.

two step

does feeling out of control
trigger
the anger
or does being angry
create this feeling
of being
out of control?
dancing this dance
leaves me wanting
to turn the
fucking music
off.

going through all of my self-portrait series journal pages tells me that i use “dancing” & “wondering” a lot. i am dancing with wonder? wondering about the dance?
going through all those journal pages is also bringing up a lot of feelings that i really don’t want to be feeling.
ack!
i hope i survive putting this book together!
if i do survive…surely i will be stronger for it….

burn it down

i want to
burn this world
down
i feel like there is
enough
anger & frustration
in me
to ignite
that fire
i feel like i am not
alone
that anger
that frustration
is in the air
&
i breathe it in
a world made
of
anger
“don’t fight”
i tell my kids
but really
what is there
left
to do?

into the abyss of me

i cannot control
my moods
the ebb & flow
the phases
of the moon
i can’t stop
my moods
&
i shouldn’t…
i can control
how i react
to my moods
celebrate & nurture
my moods
pay attention to them
don’t
lock them in a closet
not even
the ugly ones
give all of them
the attention
they crave
the attention
they demand
value the dark side
as much as
the full bright shining one
& every mood
in between.

going from zen as fuck to snarky & irrational opened some doors into how i deal with my mood swings…how i deal with my emotions.
instead of letting them control me as i try to control them, what if i just say, “hey, there’s that rabid anger again; i wonder what i need to address before i let it go?”
or something like that.
emotions happen for a reason, right?
instead of burying them or denying them, use them as a flashlight to uncover what is really going on.
& then let them go.

my stigmata is showing

boxcutter to the jugular
i joke
it’s a good name
for a punk rock band
but
inside
i find comfort
in the thought
boxcutter
to the jugular
what the fuck
is wrong
with me
that i can erupt
into this
pus-filled mountain
of pain?

i tried to draw a peaceful illustration to balance this one out, but she ended up developing stigmata.
so, you all have figured out by now, i spend a fuck load lot of time thinking about things. especially things about myself.
here is my thought in response to this post…people think anger is a bad thing…they think suicidal thoughts are dangerous…they frown at emotions, etc.
but what if these things are actually normal & to some extent healthy? violent action & follow through on suicidal or homicidal thoughts are bad–yes. however, what if you use your anger to resolve internal & external issues? what if you acknowledge those violent thoughts & then just let them go?
i know that as soon as i wrote this post, i started to feel better.
tomorrow’s post will address some thoughts on emotion. as i was trying to think of a title for it, i realized i could not think of a reference to emotions that was positive.
why are we so negative about emotions?
why do we try so hard to control them–in ourselves & in others?

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.

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