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.

goddess1

ode to being pissed off

hey. you know what?
if i’m depressed and thinking about how nice it would be to just be dead…
to just escape
this
all of this.
it is not going to do any good to say,
“shut up, don’t say that, you have kids.”
because
here is the thing
one of the reasons i think death would be nice
is because i wouldn’t have to be a mom anymore.
do you get that?
please, get that.
but it did work out.
you pissed me off.
what? am i an incubator? am i just a big nipple?
am i not a person?
do i not matter?
if i had no children, would it be okay then, if i wanted to die?
do you only care about me
because you hate to see motherless children?
there are plenty of suffereing children. go rescue one. if you want to help me
you listen
you don’t tell me what i should be thinking or doing or feeling
you fucking listen.
so now i’m pissed off
which is good
because it is hard to be sad when you are pissed off.
now i want to spite you for suggesting all i am is a vessel
only valued for my contributions as a mother
(and frankly
never really valued for that either)
so now i’m pissed off and i’m going to live to fight another day
take that
motherfuckers.

my big epiphany for the day is that women are taught to not get angry. to be nice & pretty & to smile and to not make a big deal out of it.
and so we stuff all that anger down…and it contributes or results in a state of depression. we can’t be mad. we can’t be sad either…but it is easier to hide sad.
and mothers suffer it the most. we have to be everything. strong, but not too strong. always there. able to fix any problem. no time to think about yourself–why would you want to think about yourself? what? you’re thinking about yourself?? we have to love being a mother. it has to define us.
but what if it doesn’t? what if we have doubts?
stuff that down, too.

so i was depressed. now i’m just pissed off. which is good. all that sad is turning to mad and i am letting it out to go where it needs to go. i told those fucking exes who i have been reaching out to–out of loneliness–i told them what i needed to tell them. basically, to fuck the fuck off. i don’t need them. i really really really don’t. in fact, i am way better off without them. but i had to find that out. and i had to get pissed off.i had to realize that they actually made me feel more alone, because they couldn’t give me what i needed. and they don’t want to give me what i want. and i just have to get over it.

and get pissed off about it.

so maybe depressed women (men too?) need a healthy and appropriate outlet for their anger. maybe? i know it’s not that simple, but, hey it couldn’t hurt.

are you depressed? let’s go burn something down!
(at least we can burn a bridge to that toxic person in  your life who you keep around because you haven’t gotten pissed off enough)

cagey

as faux spring passes back into winter
i enjoy the brisk wind
as it pushes against me
and the fire of my brain calms
as my minions go off
to stay with their dad
i embrace my simple solitude
venturing out of the house
only to prove i can.
the anger has softened
the moon is new
i feel,
once again,
like i can handle life.

cagey3

i think it was really tearing me apart that i wanted to celebrate spring, but the spring i wanted to celebrate was actually a dangerous thing that could really fuck up the growing season (not to mention the world)…those beautiful warm days were a bitter reminder that we have an administration in power that wants to go backwards at a time where even going forward isn’t going to stop the damage that has been done. but it’s forward…not backward.

i mean, it’s hard to imagine people of this country, people of the world, embracing a carbon-free lifestyle…i mean, that was difficult enough…now knowing that there are people in power who want to fuck it all the fuck up….

it’s too much for me.

cagey2

warm days in winter spell death to me…not temporary spring…but death.

so as much as i wanted to enjoy those days of 60 & 70 degree weather. it was killing me.

so now that it is cold again, i feel like i can breathe again.
coincidentally, my minions went away to see their dad for a week just as the weather turned cold again.
and i feel like i can breathe again.

i love my minions…but often question whether i can be a mom or not. do i have it in me? was it a mistake? and why even wonder about this when i have four kids and it’s not like i can just say, “hey! do-over!”

but then they go away and i wonder how i would exist without them.

cagey1

lips

so i looked at this ink stain

inklips

and i did not draw a labia.
but then i was like, “lips are lips are lips.”
and drew the other set of lips one would find on a lady.

i am currently single and sexually inactive.

if you have read my blog, you  know what an incredible mess i am. today i had to sit my kids down and explain to them that my childhood was so fucked up that i have a lot of anger issues and that i feel really bad for being screamy and calling them “spoiled brats.” (not at all my finest moment…really really bad, in fact.) i tried to tell them that i had really bad role models. that my dad was physically & emotionally abusive. that i am trying–even when it seems i’m not. i’m trying to be a better mom. i get so angry when i feel like no one is listening. so angry. and you know what kids like to do? they like to not listen.
and my dad had us all doing chores from the age of five. like on a child labor level. and i don’t want to do that to my kids because it was awful. but then i get all pissed off when they don’t help me and say “no!” when i ask for help (hence the nasty name calling.)
and then my anger is intensified by the fact that i just spent the past 14 years with their dad who did the bare minimum…and had a bag of tricks for encouraging a person to not even ask him for help…
you know, like ignoring them…
or snapping at them…
or agreeing to help & then not…
until you got to the point where you just fell into a black hole of despair whenever you needed help. i mean, you can see the able-bodied man right there…but when he tells you you are “controlling” or “playing games” when you ask for help…you stop asking.
especially considering your parents did the same trick.
ignoring you when you asked for help.
ignoring you when you asked for attention.

sigh.

so, yeah. i have anger issues.
and i know my kids are the last people on earth who deserve that anger…but they are right there. and kids are brilliant at provoking. that’s what kids do. yesterday my three year old dumped paint on the floor and then later in the same day, dumped pebbles all over the floor. it’s what kids do. they test their environment. they push the envelope. they learn by doing. poppy is excellent at being a three year old.

recently on facebook, some trolls got mad at me because i said i choose not to spank because being spanked only taught me to fear my parents and to not trust them. i said i want my kids to not be scared of me–i want them to come to me when they are scared.
and that upset some women?
i’m really not sure why?
i try to never judge another person’s parenting because parenting is so fucking hard with so many fucking decisions to make.
but they called me a “sensitive twit,” and started commenting things like, “let us know when your kids go to prison.”

there are studies that show that screaming at your kids is just as damaging. i think so anyway. i’m kind of pulling that out of my ass. but i think i read that somewhere. i think about that every time i lose it and scream at my kids.

but i’m not going to hit my kids. i’m not. as much as i want to sometimes when the anger is white hot inside of me and my eight year old has just pelted me with a bouncy ball after screaming, “i hate you.” i’m not going to hit him or grab him by the arm or physically hurt him in any way. i’m not going to spank a three year old for dumping out paint…but apparently i will scream at an eleven year old for not putting the paint away….

parenting is fucking hard. especially doing it alone. their dad gets mad when i call myself a single mom because he thinks that is insulting to him??? we have been divorced since 2010, but i am not allowed to say i am a “single mom.” of course,  i have felt like a single mom even when we were “together.” the other day he hadn’t called in a while, and i started fantasizing that he had died. fantasizing that i was free to live my life. fantasizing that i could find the kids a new dad that would show them how to be nice to the mom….
and then i felt disappointed when it turned out he was still alive.
i am an awful person sometimes.

i want to be better. i want to heal. i want to know what to do and to believe i am not fucking up my kids–constantly. every day i make it through without screaming, i mark it as a win. i hope i can move that bar up a little bit…one day?

 

working on letting go

so i’m working on letting go
letting go of my anger
my abuse
my mistakes
letting go of exes
that i’ve loved & hated
letting go of lost chances
letting go of learned bad behaviors
i’m trying to let go

and i am fucking exhausted
i am everywhere
and nowhere all at once
i am light and dark
jekyl and hyde
i am breaking up the anger
that is in my bones
and pushing it out through my pores

i am letting it all go
into the universe
north, south, east, west
into the elements
earth, fire, air, water

plus the minions keep dragging me off to watch
doctor who with them

long story short
though i am trying to draw every day
i am not getting a picture finished
every day.
but here is what i worked on today:
letting go.

i am not yet done with the ink drawing
the second step after the ink stain
the second layer of ink
i will finish it
then i will use ink & brush
then i will finish with more pen.

stay tuned!