not your problem

he is a problem
you cannot fix
a puzzle
you cannot solve
walk away, babe
walk away

so there is a serious decline in attention paid to me & my art & writings…which is kinda discouraging. hence my lack of color in this journal page.
luckily, my yogi tea keeps giving me support & love (i haven’t been drinking alcohol but have been drinking lots of tea–the yogi tea has little inspirational fortunes on every bag.)
i’m trying to stay motivated…but, then again, if no one is paying much attention to my obsessive journaling, maybe i need to start going in other directions. maybe i am stuck in a rut?
i am totally working on a novel. slowly.
& comics. slowly.
what else?
inkings with free verse (like my journal pages–but for sale!)

any suggestions? what do you all want to see from me?
xo

eight years…

wordpress just let me know it’s my eight year anniversary
whoa
how my art
my writing
& my way of viewing myself
the world
& relationships
has changed in eight years…
maybe not anything earth shattering
but
everything
has gotten a bit more proportional at least

this is a character from a story i played around with eight years ago in an art class. a story i still hope to finish developing one day.
eight years ago i was about to give birth to my fourth & final child. i was in an awful & emotionally abusive relationship with the dad. eight years ago i was attending art classes at uw and had just spawned moses jones. eight years ago i was in a lot of pain.
i somehow survived.
now i love & adore my four little monsters even when they are driving me mad. i no longer go to the dark dark places i went to back then–or at least i can still see the light when the dark decends. i can successfully ward off the wooings of the dad (who just this past weekend tried his hand at seducing me again.) i can suffer through the loneliness knowing i am who i am & am not going to accept anything less. i am working on my third publication. i am (slowly) selling art. i am working on a novel while editing two other books i wrote years ago to see if they are publishable….
and! i have my madness manor & my breathtaking view of the hills around me. i have a home–in more sense than one.
i have found my home.

bubbling cauldron

so much anger
am i angry
because
my brother
was murdered
& i am
too polite
to avenge him?
am i angry
that my ex-husband
destroyed me
leaving me
a broken person
rebuilding
&
no matter how many
times
i ink the story
he refuses to read it?
am i angry
that my sons
will never know
how much
i sacrificed
to be their
mother?
am i angry
at the world
for being
deliberately
blind
&
ignorant?

from my dead brother’s birthday through his death anniversary through holidays heavy with bad memories & deeply ingrained anxiety….
this time of year i can become just a bubbling cauldron of angst. add in a good dose of idocracy fueled by a corrupt government & medical system….
i have only had one public outburst…so yay for that.

body image

i hate my body
i know
i’m not supposed
to hate my body
i’m supposed to
embrace
me
celebrate
me
lumps & bumps & all
but instead
i want to take a knife
& slice
off
parts of me
genetics & motherhood & age
have conspired
against me
&
left me
this blobby
mess.

this one is a pesky demon. when i was younger and my jeans stopped fitting, i just ate less & exercised more. voila!
now, after four pregnancies
& right into perimenopause….
crap.
i feel betrayed by my body.
add on stress and too many years with an emotionally abusive motherfucker and sometimes i look in the mirror and am so fucking disturbed by what i see….

demons to wrestle, y’all.

miserable creature

was there ever
joy
in my life
have i always been this
miserable creature
i see
in the mirror
was my heart ever
a light place
or
was this darkness
just born to me?

so on top of a head cold, two of my sons had birthdays this past week. my seven year old was a difficult one. the pregnancy was physically easy, but emotionally a trainwreck.
dusty found a shiny new girlfriend while i was pregnant for poppy. that went on throughout the pregnancy, birth, & first two years of poppy’s life.
so, unfortunately, a day where i should feel happiness turns me into a puddle of misery as i remember how awful i felt for those years.

downward spiral

we are no longer
moving forward
this would not
worry me
as i know healing is a
two step forward
one step back
kind of dance
however
the dance we are doing
feels a bit too
familiar
this
neck-breaking
soul crushing
plunge
of a downward spiral
called you
& me.

moving forward? stuck in fucking reverse is more like it. dusty actually told me he felt we should re-visit the past. funny. i am willing to forgive him all of his betrayals with other women & move forward in healing. i felt we should address what was going wrong in the hear & now with our attempt at a relationship…he, however, feels the need to re-hash something i may or may not have said 10 years ago.
letting go? that man is clutching every wrong i’ve possibly committed & counting them as he sits on my grave.

big love

i’m willing
to love big
to love strong
i’m able
to love big
to love strong
i want to
love big
love strong
i need to
love big
love strong….
so what happens
when you push
that love away
refuse to love me
back
big & strong
what happens
to that love
what happens
to me?

i swear i have a big heart. i want to dote on someone & help them feel special. but how can i when i am treated poorly? then he thinks i’m some cold hearted bitch because i pull away. he thinks i reject him…but if i hadn’t of felt rejected, i would have been amazing.

desperate

when you walked
through the door
it was the best part
of my
every day
you were my best
friend
you were the person
i wanted to tell
everything
everything
i would have plucked
my heart
out of my chest
to show you
so you could see
what you meant to me


you took
what i gave you
& you
twisted it into
some
obscene
version
of what my love
was
you took
what i gave you
& you
gave me nothing
i am
nothing
to you
you took
what i gave you
& you
left me
empty
empty
& desperate
to hear
my dead heart
beat
again.

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