the tapestry of me

agony
is woven into my
soul
one part
of the whole
one color
in the tapestry
of me
there is much more
to me
than my
agony
but
i wouldn’t be the same
without it.

i am thinking a lot about balance lately. and realizing that even when i am not thinking about it, it is still present.
recognizing how i need my darkness. what would i be without my darkness?
probably bored.
& unappreciative of the magic times.
like right now.

balance doodle

maybe i should not go anywhere without my journal & pens. at least my energy worker/chiropractor had a set of magic markers for me to use when epiphany struck.

here’s the first page:

looking for answers

it was the early nineties when i had the dream.
i had been in therapy for awhile
terrified of the dark &
miserably unhappy
but one day it lifted and like a light switch
i was happy & no longer afraid–of anything
it was around this time i had the dream
was it before?
was it after?
are the two things related at all?

the dream was disturbing
a crazy-ass dream
where i was a mighty warrior
a tiger
and other clans would send warriors to fight me
i would mercilessly slaughter them
sometimes though
the other clans would send me young girls
to be with
as a way of collecting
my seed….

fucked up, right? that’s a fucked up dream for a 21 year old girl in iowa. i have been thinking about it a lot lately. wondering if the dream & my becoming happy & brave, have anything to do with each other. a past life remembering healing a present life hurting.

in the dream, i was represented as a tiger–but i was human. recently, googling like crazy, all i have been able to figure out is that tiger is representative of warriors and the such in china.
so i started reading up on china’s history to see if i can figure out anything about this dream…but i find myself more drawn to the mongols, of course.

i keep looking to so-called professionals & friends, but as usual, no one ever answers my emails. so i guess i’m on my own.
my own master
the answer to my own question.

the above illustration is a sneak peek at my patreon page post for today. i also have a glimpse of this post on longing to open from the other day:

as well as the very first postcard being sent out to a patron!!

oh! & all of these illustrations remind me that today is the spring equinox
balance between day & night…balance between light & dark…balance between rest & change.
wake up, it’s time to grow
happy ostara!

silly love song

silly love song

i’ve realized
you are the only person
i want to be
with
not someone like you
(as unlikely as that is)
not someone who treats me
like you treated me
but you
exactly you
only you
when i think of dating
of loving
anyone else
i feel repulsed
when i imagine
dancing in my kitchen
with you
waking every morning
to you
my whole body tingles
& i swear
i must glow
with sweet longing.

writing this was easy…sharing it–not so much. so i started wondering as i tend to do. why is it easier for me to share my dark & disturbing parts?
my sad & barely surviving parts?
my anxious & depressed parts?
my struggles & shortcomings?
my feelings of worthlessness & isolation?
my oh so crazy bits?
but sharing something i wrote about love…my feelings of love…for another person…i feel like i have gone too far.
i feel like i have crossed some sort of line.
this shouldn’t be allowed!
and, to boot, it is unrequited love i am celebrating.
yuck. so gross.
why do i react to love as if it is something unspeakable? unthinkable? illogical? is this cultural/generational or is it reflective of my damage? or…is my damage also reflective of my culture/generation?

there are entire movies. entire tv series. books, poetry, and songs. all of these. dedicated to love. all kinds of love.
so why do i feel so stupid admitting that i love someone?

so in art journal psychotherapy today we have learned that i am more comfortable with & even celebratory of my darkness & my damage and will happily shove it right in your face….
but when it comes time to share my thoughts of love & devotion & romantic longing…for a man of all things…to admit that i have these feelings…then i ready myself to fall on my sword.
i find being morose a more natural & acceptable state than being dreamy.
yet i call myself quixotic and think of myself as whimsical? a puzzle inside an enigma wrapped in a conundrum.
do you see the exhausting challenge of being me? of living in my head?
but!
in the interest of balance
here it is
a little of my yang for all of the yin
a silly love song.

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