just words

i never wanted
perfect
i would have been
happy
with
kind
i would have traded the world
for someone
who
loved me
best
but…marriage vows
are just
words
really
no matter
how pretty they sound.

there is this thing dusty says to me whenever he feels the need to shut me up. he mentions this mysterious thing he whispered into my ear during our wedding ceremony. he brings it up knowing i have the memory of a chipmunk on mind altering drugs. he brings it up knowing i was so stressed out on our wedding day that i barely remember being there. he brings it up knowing i will feel bad for not remembering his great declaration of love.
or maybe i’m wrong.
but i’m not.
he brought it up recently when we were texting back & forth.
he texted, “i meant what i whispered in your ear that day.”
so i asked, “which day?”
and of course it was our wedding day to which he referred even though that was no where near to being the topic of our conversation.
yes, dusty, you are one up on me. i don’t know what you whispered. i just don’t fucking remember.
so i texted him back to confess that i was too hopped up on anxiety to remember anything from our wedding day.
so he finally told me those magical words that he has held as proof of his good intentions all these years:

i may not be perfect, but i will always love you.

so of course my response was what the fucking fuck? who asked for perfect? i would have settled for a dude who didn’t escape into a pot-induced video game haze instead of being present in our marriage. i would have settled for a dude who didn’t insult me on the day i buried my brother. i would have settled for a dude who helped change the diapers & got up at night to help me with the babies…or who fucking didn’t berate me for being pregnant. i would have settled for a dude who didn’t fuck around on me to punish me.

sigh.

so i told him, those are just words. anyone can say words. without the action to back them up…just..fucking..words.

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safe, without you

i hate
that i still miss you
sometimes
i hate
that your sad
sadness
still tugs
at my heart
i hate
that i have to remind myself
not
to
love
you
keep myself safe
by re-living old pain
pain
that never stops
feeling new.

adrift

he is so good
at handing his problems
over to me
waiting for me to fix them
so he can blame me
when they just aren’t
fixed
does he even know
what i struggle with
every day?
he is so good at showing
his injuries to me
getting me to cry
over every little bump
& bruise
to his heart & soul
does he even see
how my injuries
bleed out
next to his
& leave me
empty?

okay. maybe you will understand. dusty thinks i have written him off because he was “honest” with me & told me about his still being in contact with hello kitty fuckface (not her real name.) he refuses to comprehend that the reason i am telling him to fuck the fuck off for good & forever is that fact that i have been asking him since 2013 to end his contact/relationship with her. that there should be absolutely no reason for him to be “honest” with me about her because she should not even be part of the equation.
five years.
five years of his using this other woman to manipulate me. holy fucking shit. why have i let him do this to me for five years?
seriously. what is the psychology behind that? am i a chump? a masochist? a desperate & lonely soul? that fucking desperate? that fucking delusional. that fucking dedicated to a happy ending?
what the ever-loving fuck.
and now i find myself having to learn to just walk away. it is so hard…so hard to just walk away. to suppress that urge to have the last word. to suppress that need for him to understand–to just fucking get it for once. i have to walk away. every word i say to him. every conversation i have–it’s the sticky strands of a spider web. his spider web. to keep me engaged…he just wants me to stay engaged…because then he somehow wins?
i don’t fucking know.
or fucking care at this point.
he keeps talking about how we need to talk…thing is, he never talks to me. he never listens to me…he just manipulates and plays me like a fucking pawn in his demented game.

guess what, motherfucker, i quit.

a foundation for failure

he’s built the groundwork
for my psychotic break
just one word
a whisper
& the grasp
i so desperately hold
on my reality
my sanity
crumbles
so many careful years
he spent
just building on
to damage done
by my parents
by other men
i even handed him
the ammunition
trusting
that he would not hurt me
with it.

though my ever-faithful tarot cards (as well as every other experience i have ever had with dusty) warned me there would be conflict and that it was best if i did not engage…just let it blow over…holy fuck, he knows how to get me to engage. i try so hard to walk away. i say over & over, “i don’t want to talk about it.” but dusty is relentless until there is nothing left of me. just a glimpse of who i used to be as i morph into something i never want to be.
one of my parents.

this was our last dance.
i asked for a sign, and i got it.
there is nothing left here.
i need to move forward.
like, nine years ago…but better late than never.

this journal page is dedicated to my friend nexus who has been very supportive & encouraging of my art…and who knows how it feels to burn at the stake ❤

ribbons & curls

my insides
are all torn
to bits
a bloody battlefield
that used to be
my heart
or is that too
cliche
the mess of me
falling
apart
in ribbons
& curls
of
despair.

because my voice cannot be heard by the one i have tried & tried to talk to, i have started a work of fiction writing–no pictures. it is still forming in my head, but i have written the first paragraph. loosely based on the abusive relationship i am recovering from. i want to share it with people who might understand. also, i need to get it out of my head…and like i said, the person who needs to hear it the most, just won’t listen to it.

also, friendly reminder, there is a link up over yonder (with my pretty face on it) to other fiction pieces i have written & posted on medium.

the queen of swords

when i was doing the pages, killing off dusty, a friend commented to me that it was strong magic i was doing–that it would have an effect on me.

i thought it would put the last nail in the coffin…however, it seemed to cause me to look at my dusty differently. like i had killed off his evil doppelgänger and the curse was lifted & we would live happily ever after.

what?
where the fuck did that come from?
so dusty came to visit when he returned the minions and i was all warm & fuzzy towards him….

what?

it’s true. sad, but true. i started letting myself fantasize the easy fantasy.
what it the father of my children wasn’t a narcissistic asshole? what if he could return to us and be there for me every day and help with the kids and help with the homestead and i wouldn’t have to be alone anymore and i would have someone to talk to…to laugh with…to cuddle and have delicious sex with….

so after he was gone away again, i kept trying to think of ways of making it work out. ways to invite dusty back into my life again. i didn’t want to make the same mistake i had made
over
and
over
and
over.
i would take it slow and think it through and make the right decision.

so i texted him asking if he was dating anyone. i thought this would be a good first step.
he texted back “well psychotic hello kitty cunt-face (not her real name) wants us to be dating but…”

holy fucking christ in a toaster

quick timeline for clarification
2013-2015 –cheating on me with phkcf behind my back while i am pregnant with his fourth child, giving birth to that child, and taking care of an infant & 3 other children.
2015-2016 –telling me he is going to break up with her/refusing to break up with her/ she meanwhile is stalking the both of us and leaving weird little notes, graffiti, presents all over the neighborhood we live in
2016 –i move to fucking manitowoc, wisconsin to get away from the two of them because he won’t break up with her. he immediately breaks up with her (after i have moved away) and supposedly breaks ties with her.
2016-2017 we move to illinois together & try to make another go of it but fail. he goes back to wisconsin where i realize he is back in touch with her & i tell him he cannot be friends with me while remaining in contact with a person who did as much damage as phkcf did.
2018 –i realize he may still be in touch with her because all of a sudden the kids are talking about max the cat whom last i knew he had given to her (in 2013) probably so he would have an excuse to see her. so he got his cat back from her. which means there was definite contact. he says nothing to me. then he casually name-drops her as someone he could be dating?????????????

does he not get it? does he not understand that i do not want this person anywhere near my life? if he wants me in his life in any capacity, she cannot be in his life. why does he not understand that? or does he just not care? he says she means nothing to him & that he wants nothing to do with her…and she is ruining his chances of having any kind of friendship with me…yet he still corresponds with her (at least–he could be doing more–it’s not like he tells me the truth about anything.)

fuck a duck.

so here i am.
i let myself have the fantasy. i let myself go there.
now i am hurting for it.

i should have known better.
why the fuck didn’t i know better?

is it hope or stupidity or human nature or a damaged soul that lets me think he could change?

ancient history

before i met & married dusty and had an on-again/off-again dysfunctional relationship from hell with him…i had a practice run for two years with his kentucky twin.
in 1996 just after i lost the best boy i’d ever known, i fell in with this narcissistic, emotionally abusive asshole.
it should have just been a rebound…but he was so good at manipulating me that it lasted for two awful years. he conned me out of thousands of dollars, put my ego in the crapper, and cheated on me like crazy.
this poem was written about six months in.

holy crap.
i should have read these journals back when stuff started going funny with dusty. i had no idea what a narcissist was–not really. nor that they preyed on people like me…people with too much empathy.
i had no idea.
i thought it was love.
just like i thought it was love that kept me with dusty no matter how much of a fuck he was to me.
i should publish these journals as a warning.