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?

birthday drawing

once upon a time
my birthday was one of my three
favorite holidays
once upon a time
i would count down
from like six months away
telling an unwilling audience
every
day
how many days it was until my birthday
i never had a party
(tried once & nobody came)
i just would spend the day basking
In the glory of a day
that was mine…
then i married a man
who refused to celebrate me
then i had kid after kid after kid
and realized
no matter what day it was
i still was expected to be a mom
then my brother died
and i no longer got my birthday call
fromĀ  him
asking, “so what else is new,”
and actually listening to what i said….
once upon a time
my birthday was a glorious day
for me…
i want to find that girl again
she was damaged…but not as scarred as who i am
today
i want to find that birthday girl
and i want to celebrate her
anyway

i feel better today. back on my journey to healing. i feel better–stronger–more able to tackle life.
i wish my birthday didn’t knock me down like it does. i hope i can somehow recover my old sweet love for my birthday.
it is a journey…healing…and sometimes i wander off the path and into a patch of poison ivy….

my minions were sweet to me. iggy wrapped up a dozen rocks & shells to give me. fidgit drew me this awesome picture. misha made an elaborate show of hiding “barbie” dolls & stuffed animals for me to uncover for my birthday. my minions are awesome creatures…even poppy who is three but one day won’t be anymore (please god!)

so i survived another birthday and am back on my journey to being a better me.

still-life for sawyer

today is my birthday
so
of course
i deleted my facebook page
and turned off my phone
not
because
i don’t want people to celebrate me
but because
i so desperately do
want that.
so if it doesn’t happen
i will be hurt
and if it does happen
i will be suspect
once a year?
once a year you remember me?
once a year you stop by
to say “hello.”
i know.
everyone is busy with their own lives
and how often do i reach out?
but don’t you see
how difficult it is for me to reach out
when all i expect is rejection
and disappointment?
today is my birthday…
i want fireworks, fancy chocolates, and fancy drinks
with loud & happy people…
but i suspect that won’t happen
i’m not that special
no one would even remember me if it weren’t for facebook
so i hide
from disappointment
& insincerity
i curl up in a ball
& cry
because
today is my birthday

it’s like dusty. all of a sudden he is saying all of the things that i wanted to hear ten years ago. and he expects me to just jump into his arms and eat up the bullshit.
but i can’t
because it is bullshit. ten years too late and said in a voice that makes me think he is being coached by someone. someone else. he never listened to me when i told him what i needed from him. now he is listening to another voice that is telling him what to say to get me back. maybe an inner voice…maybe an outer one. should i be flattered that he is trying so hard? to win me back?
but i’m not
because it is insincere. it is trap. it is manipulation. it is his trying to survive by pulling me under and floating to safety on my body. i have to remind myself of this–that his sweet words cover up a poisonous person.

and when i reject his come-ons…he resorts to talking child placement. he starts talking about how he wants the minions half-time. it’s like his next move after i block his move to capture my queen. talking about what an excellent father he is and how much he loves them.
he never did value me as a mother. i have put everything into being a mother, and for a while, i even believed i was a good mother. but he spent the past 12 years belittling my role as a mother. 12 years basically ignoring the minions. he was a dad when it was fun to be a dad–but when it wasn’t fun, he abandoned ship. his character in my moses jones comic wasn’t intentional. i didn’t set out to make him be an absent father figure…but dusty is an absent father figure. he is literally here, but he is gone. away. making himself unavailable to us even though he is right in front of us. it’s a weird gift, i guess, knowing how to make people not ask for your help or your contribution even though you are right there and completely able…and now because i won’t play his game, his next move is to remove the minions from their primary caretaker on a homestead with room to run and a life to live, to live with him half-time. where? at his mom’s house? or when he meets another woman–her house? dusty isn’t one to get things doneĀ  himself…he likes to take the easiest route possible. how will he care for four wild minions half-time?

and it’s my birthday.
and i’m broke.
i can’t even bake myself a cake because i have no money to go grocery shopping, and i somehow didn’t get the renewal for my foodshare (yes, i am on foodstamps) so i am desperately trying to get the state to renew my foodshare so i can buy groceries. fortunately, we have a garden giving us potatoes, beans, herbs, & greens. chickens for eggs–though they do so reluctantly. and a small store of dry goods–but no flour or honey for a cake.
and i was supposed to buy two goats this week…but i don’t have the money. obviously…. i am torn–it seems like a good investment, but how do i pull money out of my ass for goats when i am not sure how i am going to take care of every thing else?

i need a life coach. i need a fucking life coach. there has to be a way to make money. i do so much every day. surely it’s worth something to someone?

fuck.

happy birthday, me.

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