unwanted

journal entry from my birthday.
i spent a big chunk of the day locked in my bedroom crying.
i forget how those feelings come up & just bite a big hole in my heart.

sister

journal entry from the day before my birthday.

speaking of sisters…mine is visiting. i forgot what a terrible guest she makes. i am very sad about it. pissy. & feeling shallow for feeling upset.
people.
if you go to visit someone, bring a small gift & be helpful.
if you go to visit someone right after their 50th birthday, fucking bring a bottle of something or some nice jewelry & feed them!!
maybe my priorities are off?? but right now i feel like i am having to be a good hostess against my will.
which sucks.
my hostess skills are questionable anyway.
i can manage the feeding & cleaning involved…but being gracious goes against my nature when i feel pissy.
& i feel pissy.

ps. for anyone wondering what my new journal is…it is found here…& i love it….

hot august nights

except it’s still just july
it’s my birthday even!
here i am in my birthday tiara…looking…well…hot.
(i’m not sweating; i’m glowing…like a sweaty moon.)

dude, i wrote a book

or, rather, i wrote a bunch of comics & smooshed them all together & tara caribou turned it into a book!!
(this is the first proof)

so exciting.

in other news…i have a birthday this sunday & am way way older than i ever thought i would be when i was getting my first book published. like, 30 years older?

that is not this year’s tiara. that is my second tiara. (that old thing!) i do have a brand new one for my birthday. so much grander.
you’ll see.

more figure drawing

this is a nice way to get out of my usual rut.
to celebrate that i can still
grow
still
change
still learn new tricks
despite the half century mark’s
rapid arrival.

the featured drawing is one out of my own little head inspired by the work of lucy k draws

i drew two more using models out of a vanity fair…it’s a bit of a challenge finding a variety of body shapes in a mainstream magazine….

a half century of me

a week from today i will have survived for one half of a century.
(that is the best way my brain can interpret what is happening)
i have never struggled with a number before…but i really really do not feel like i could possibly be this old.

rage & sorrow

i don’t know which way is up.
it’s a bad time of year for me.
my mom’s burial…the anti-versary of being molested on the exact same day my dog died…the fourth of july…my dad’s birthday…then my birthday….
i’m hoping to stabilize by mid-july?

talk to me

obviously
i cannot come up with the
magic words
that will induce you
to talk to me again…
& maybe
maybe
you should tell me to “stop”
but i am pretty sure
my heart
would turn to dust
if you did
so i keep trying
some crazy stalker chick
to get your attention
recognizing
that you must know
my being ignored
only encourages me more
as i grew up
pretending
hostile silence
was actually deep
affection
a character flaw
i really need to out grow
& totally would…
but it’s you
it’s you
& i can’t stop
i can’t
please
please please please
talk to me
please
please.

it’s my birthday & i can obsess if i want to.
you know, if i ever did become famous…or infamous (really it could go either way with me)…if i ever did become renowned, this obsession of mine will make a great made-for-tv movie.

so sad

i’m so sad
you guys, listen
i’m so sad
i feel like part of me
is missing
i know it’s a fucking
cliche
i know i am supposed
to be
stronger than this
but
i’m not
i’m just
so
sad.

tomorrow i turn 48. i am not sure how to feel. like i wrote some posts back, i cry…but i don’t know why. birthdays make me sad…but i’m not sure why.

i used to love my birthdays. i would count down from six months away. everyone would get annoyed with my constant talk of my birthday.

then i lost the love of my life due to my own damage. then i dated a psychotic narcissist for a couple years. then i got married because i thought someone loved me for real only to have him tell me, one month into the marriage, “i don’t think i love you.” then i was divorced. then i married a different psychotic narcissist and became the invisible mom. then my brother died. then i was subjected to a seven year long vicious cycle of abuse while trying to leave the psychotic narcissist.

now i am a single…profoundly alone…mom.
living in rural illinois.
having an everyday struggle with motherhood
while obsessing over that long lost love from the early ’90s.
and i don’t even feel like weeding my garden anymore.

tomorrow i turn 48.
and now i’m crying again.

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