puzzle box

who i am
is
changing
how i do my art
is
changing
how i see myself
is
changing
it’s like
one of those puzzle boxes
where you move
one piece
&
all the other pieces
shift
into
place
dominoes
that seem to be
falling
but in reality
are creating
a bigger picture.

something is shifting inside of me. which is awesome, but i have to remind myself that just because i finally start moving, i can still get stuck again…or often, when one problem is fixed, another rears its head.
so now that i am starting to heal the ugly me & let her believe she is pretty, who will show up next?

i feel pretty III

i used to worry
that people
would think that i think
that i am
pretty
now
i think
i will go ahead
& know
that i am
pretty
& not give a rat’s ass
whether they agree with me
or not.

i’m not going to go out & join any pageants or put together head shots for modeling…but i am going to stop ducking my head & acting like i’m offending people by showing myself in public.
so far so good

i feel pretty II

if i am ugly
that
justifies
my feeling
like a misfit
an
outcast
i am more
comfortable
as a pariah
than as a
popular
so
i created
a monster persona
shave my head
&
bare my teeth
you best steer clear
of me
(they i can know
why i feel
so alone.)

i keep thinking back to when i started feeling this way. feeling like i didn’t belong & was surely the ugliest thing ever. a lot of it happened in grade school. i was a sensitive child, & i was weird. other kids didn’t really get me. so maybe it was easier for me to tell myself i was ugly?
easier than believing there was something deeper causing my pain?
my parents sabotaged my ego
my peers finished me off
& i stomped on any good parts of me that survived the rest of it….

muted

you ruined my day
&
i can’t even tell you
because
it will just blow up
in my face
i’m muted
by my fear
of what you will say
what you will do
how you will react
if i tell you
you ruined my day….
you ruined my life
&
i could scream about it
until my face is blue
but
it won’t change
a thing
no matter
what i do
you will never care
never
notice
you ruined my life.

ah, quality time with the ex.
it’s emotional abuse–making someone terrified of speaking up. manipulating a person to the point where they are afraid to speak for fear of how you will react.
it is an emotional abuse i am very susceptible to & have extensive experience with…
& it pisses me off.

doodles & journal pages

see my soft belly?
it’s where i keep
my secret pain
that comes
with motherhood
all my worries
all my disappointments
all my frustration & anger
i store it away
in the soft baggy folds
of my belly
behind the scars & stretch marks
there is all the things
they do not tell you
all the lessons
you have to learn
yourself.

having a broken knee has taken me to a new level of pain as a mother. i need to journal more about this. my youngest, who i had a rough pregnancy with due to his father being an asshole, has taken to assaulting me every day with how much i do not love him….
& i cannot reason with him
& i cannot walk away….
so. so. so. much pain…but not in my knee.
it’s my heart that is broken.
it is me that is broken.

also, here is everything else i have been doing in my art journal.

pariah

i already suspect
everyone
hates me
yet when it is confirmed
that
someone
hates me
i spin out…
that familiar
downward
spiral
“they’re just jealous”
possibly
the only nice thing
my mom
said to me
her grade school pariah
am i a threat
i wonder
something to fear
or hate?
this makes more sense to me
than jealousy
but of course
odds are
someone has to love me…
following that
would suggest that someone
must hate me
&
if the whole world
can’t love
me
then
the whole world
can’t hate me
either.

trying to talk myself in off the ledge? i’m not sure this is working.

note to self

i wanted to try finger painting with my inks.

crap. yesterday i drew tarot cards (again) & got “the tower” as my future card for the third time in a little over a month. i feel like i am supposed to be learning something but it turns into a negative feedback loop as i feel defeated every time i get a sign from the universe to stop being a fuck up…and then it’s all i can do to not be a fuck up.
am i lying to myself? am i building a house of cards that is just going to fall down? do i need to scrap everything & start over?
these are the questions prancing through my brain at 2am….

plus ever since i was rejected by an employer, i am convinced that everyone hates me. why not the universe as well?

so my finger painting was not nearly as inspirational as i had hoped it would be. now i just want to curl up in a ball & cry until i can’t cry anymore.

football season

he is like lucy
with the football
assuring me
he is totally
one hundred percent
here for me
everything
will be okay
so i trust him
i run forward
& the earth falls away
& the wind is knocked out of me
& i am flattened…again
as he lets me know
it’s my own fault
while he places the football in place
again
& tells me
i should believe in him.

i am so hoping that i have broken the pattern. that i am no longer going to run up & try to kick that football. that i am able to walk away and keep on walking.
the man is not my friend.
he is not my family.
i cannot pretend otherwise, or i will get the air knocked out of me
again.

no, you’re emo….

my heart is cold
& smells 
of rotting flesh
the turkey vultures
circle
sensing
my surrender
my heart is cold
& black
with defeat
it feels like a stone
in my chest
pulling me 
down
as i 
fall.

how was your mother’s day? 
why the fuck can’t i not sink into a terrible place on this day of mothers?
let’s not think too hard about it. let’s just have a drink and wait for the day to end.
i know it’s a hallmark holiday. i know it’s petty…but i can’t help but want to set fire to the father of my children and watch the burnt flesh fall off of him when i think about all he had to do was help the kids make me something/buy me something…some token…some little fucking whisper to say i am valued.
but no. impossible. totally impossible. even in this day & age where he likes to pretend he was baptized by dr. phil.
i know that on father’s day i will buy a rosemary plant (because he loves rosemary plants & killed the last one he stole from me) & put a ribbon on it & have the kids make cards & give it to him as if it were their idea….
and i imagine again the warmth that would come off of his flaming body….

i really don’t know if my kids value me or not. i really don’t. and maybe that’s another one of my shortcomings. another one of my flaws. maybe i fucked it all up. i mean, the two oldest are sixteen & fourteen and they can’t even be bothered to bring me something to plant? even after i told them where to go for it?

but i do like to pretend one day they will grow me a pot of marigolds and maybe bake a chocolate cake and say, “hey, thanks for being a good mom. thanks for sacrificing everything for us. we value you.”

ps. my kids did go & get me flowers to plant on the day after mother’s day…of course by then my mental collapse was complete.
my poor children.

gonna buy me a dog…

who held the door open
for him to walk
through
who was supposed to
keep me
safe
who can i blame
when i run towards him
instead of
away?

the dad is bringing my minions back to me tomorrow…with intent to stay & hunt mushrooms. i don’t want him here, but it is hard for me to turn him away.
so begins the inner turmoil that comes with every interaction with him. that weird mix of wanting to see him, being almost excited to see him, but also wanting to scream at him until my head explodes & then bury him in a shallow grave.
so i turned to my dog today and began berating her for not biting my ex. she adores him. it’s embarrassing how much she throws herself at him. so i lectured her until i was in tears.
then i began to wonder who i really was angry at. who taught the dog that my ex is not a threat?
and i wrote this.
it sounded so familiar i looked back to january where i first wrote this thought.
in january i attributed this open door policy for assholes to my inner child who feels the need to rescue others due to her own need to be rescued.
but on second thought, i don’t blame her for this reoccurring theme in my life.
someone should have protected her.
someone should have taught her to protect herself.
my birth mother did not.
now it falls on me to do it. i need to be the fierce beast here. i need growl, to bark at intruders. bare my teeth and threaten their security. i need to protect me from those who would destroy me rather than wanting to be with them.
it is embarrassing that i have to learn that…that it isn’t just instinct.

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