behind blue eyes II

who made this monster?
i can’t blame him
he did throw fuel
on the fire
but if there wasn’t already
a spark….
i can’t blame them
they poke me
with sharp sticks
but they are simply
to make s’mores….
the ones who loved me
the ones who molded me
out of clay
they shaped me into this
& now i can only hope
that my destiny
is not to make
more monsters….

my ex likes to point out that i was already damaged when he met me. of course, he fails to realize that he could have helped me heal–he didn’t have to break me further.
& though my kids are matricidal maniacs…i don’t think it is intentional. i don’t know what evolutionary purpose it serves to drive one’s mother crazy…but i don’t think they do it on purpose.
i feel like it is my job to teach them a better way.
i feel like i am failing at my job.
yes, my parents made me into the raging bitch i can be at times with their layers of emotional abuse, physical abuse, and neglect….
but again, it is my job to heal.
to be better
if not for me, for my children
(but totally for me, too)

behind blue eyes

i hate being a mom
i fucking hate it
i want to drop them off
on their dad’s
& let him be a fucking martyr
for the next 17 years
i hate all this motherhood
it is not fucking worth it
i hate being the bad guy
the fall guy
the whipping boy
& scapegoat
taking all of the abuse
those matricidal maniacs
dish out
taking it
with a smile
isn’t motherhood a fucking

so this is the page in my journal that i wrote when i was in the middle of a meltdown

it had been a long day. one of those days that started really nice with my feeling on top of the world…but the higher you are, the further you have to fall.
first i tried to set up an arrangement with my 14 year old where he would keep the floors clean in exchange for a monthly payout. it was like negotiating with someone who spoke a different language & ended with my mopping the floor while he pouted.
and pouted
and pouted
(the boy can hold a grudge)
so later i suggested we all go for a walk–insisting he should come because the exercise would help him feel better. which it did.
but then it was my 8 year old’s turn. my 8 year old is like the velociraptor in jurassic park who jumps at the fence, strategically to find the weak spots. i am a rapidly deteriorating fence to my 8 year old’s attacks.
he stopped halfway through the walk and refused to move because he wanted me to make hot chocolate even though i explained (over & over & over) that we were low on milk and could not make it until tomorrow when i could get more milk. which of course he translated to my being an unloving mother….
long story short, i was fragile by bedtime.
since i broke my knee in june, i have been sleeping downstairs. the 8 year old & 11 year old insist on sleeping in the living room with me. the 11 year old has started waking up with headaches from sleeping in a chair.
so i decided it was time for us to more back upstairs.
i haven’t seen the upstairs in months.
i ask them to clean it regularly. they either ignore me or tell me they did clean it.
i should have known better.
knowing me & how i react to out-of-control messes & how i react to realizing no one has been listening to me…i should have known better. but i went up those stairs, saw the unbelievable mess of the upstairs, and had a meltdown.

i have control issues.
i have anger issues.
i have issues with cleaning up other people’s messes.
i have issues with being ignored.

it was more than i could handle. i became a monster.
through journaling (three pages in all) i worked through some of it & am hopeful that in the future i will handle myself better.
also, the next morning i had a talk with them. i apologized & tried to explain why i behaved as i did.
hopefully, i didn’t do too much damage 😦

into the abyss of me

i cannot control
my moods
the ebb & flow
the phases
of the moon
i can’t stop
my moods
i shouldn’t…
i can control
how i react
to my moods
celebrate & nurture
my moods
pay attention to them
lock them in a closet
not even
the ugly ones
give all of them
the attention
they crave
the attention
they demand
value the dark side
as much as
the full bright shining one
& every mood
in between.

going from zen as fuck to snarky & irrational opened some doors into how i deal with my mood swings…how i deal with my emotions.
instead of letting them control me as i try to control them, what if i just say, “hey, there’s that rabid anger again; i wonder what i need to address before i let it go?”
or something like that.
emotions happen for a reason, right?
instead of burying them or denying them, use them as a flashlight to uncover what is really going on.
& then let them go.

sober thoughts

just for fun
i’m only drinking
when i really
really really
feel like it
(not just as a reflex
happy hour for one)
not even then
opting to notice the *need*
& just
let it go…
so now
i notice
when my mind turns
to craving
the numbness
i am noticing
i wish to be

mostly it is times when being a mom feels overwhelming & impossible…or when my ex is picking picking picking at the energy field around me, whittling it away…

but today, my neighbor (mentioned yesterday) came to my house to complain about my twelve year old. yes. he is annoying. sneaky. manipulative. & plays really really rough sometimes (he has sensory processing disorder & doesn’t always respect boundaries) …but he is also a scapegoat for women/mothers like my neighbor. hyper judgey gossipy drama queens. i’ve noticed a pattern.
& it’s not like her kids are any better.
also, she is best buds with the kid who is my kid’s arch nemesis. another sneaky & manipulative boy about my son’s age.
so it’s kinda annoying that she thinks this kid is golden while mine is garbage?
& the other day i told this rotten neighbor kid to stop making drama & to play nicely with all the kids instead of causing problems.
he told angry neighbor lady (not his mom–i don’t even know who his mom is) that i yelled at him.
i did not yell at him.
so bitchy neighbor lady is telling me i cannot talk to kids? i have to talk to parents??? i told her bullshit–if a kid is causing problems with my kids–fuck yeah i’m going to say something.
who the fuck is checking these kids’ behavior?
if my kid is being an ass, i expect someone to tell him (nicely & as an adult) that he is being an ass.
it takes a fucking village, right?

long story short–i really could have used a drink after throwing said neighbor lady out of my house–but i did not partake.
just noted the urge.
& let it go….

i’ve noticed that i have inked faces familiar to the one on my journal page above several times. maybe i should name her?

so not gmo

how many generations
of fucked
is there
in my bloodline?
if i were
i would have met
with the butcher’s block
to prevent further
the herd.
is it a crime
that i continue this
–yes, handsome, but
what of it’s
psychotic & chaotic
line of creation?

so…troubles with momming of late. convinced i am the lead monster of a pack of monsters….
have i mentioned how much being a single mom just sucks ass?

on another note, i really liked what i did here changing it up by using pink skin tones rather than white space.
it’s an experiment….


i had a pretty rough day the other day…there is going to be a bunch of these. any day i am struggling, i just put it all down on paper. pages & pages of paper…

status update: overwhelmed

the minions returned on tuesday–i drive & meet dusty half-way to wisconsin. usually we do the swap at a rest area, but dusty volunteered to meet at culver’s & have a birthday dinner for misha (for anyone not in the midwest of the u.s., culver’s is a wisconsin based hamburger chain–the only chain restaurant i willingly eat at.)
so i spent too much time with dusty for my own good–upcoming pages on that!
and i got my four wild children back for the rest of the month.
add on to that an explosion of ducklings. my muscovies enjoy hatching eggs, but then they abandon the babies leaving me to find duckling bits around the yard. if i am lucky, i find them before they are dead, but it’s about 50/50 at this point.
my brain is not able to completely come to terms with life & death on the farm & instead of staying up nights stressing about having to butcher lambs, i decided to get rid of my ram (so no more pregnant ewes) & to just have some fat, happy ewes eating grass. someone offered to buy my ram–luke (pictured above after a horn injury.) luke is a sweet ram & iggy (my child who is convinced i don’t love him–or so he says) is very attached to him. so there is a lot of drama over his leaving. we are all very sad. plus, the couple buying him wanted a ewe to go with him so they could start breeding. so we had to send our beautiful buttercup with him. which is also sad. plus buttercup left behind the other ewe & buttercup’s six month old lamb. so everyone, me–iggy–& all the sheep–have been crying since yesterday when luke & buttercup left.
good news. they are going to live on pasture of a small farm & get to have babies. the other options for sheep aren’t as nice. so i am happy they are going somewhere nice…but feel like a penniless jerk because i am unable to give them a home–forcing them into the scary move & causing all the other sheep (& iggy) to be sad.
but i keep thinking of winter & all the hay i need to buy…plus not wanting to “deal” with lambs when they get to a certain age & i can no longer put off the inevitable….
i’m just in over my head.
with four very demanding minions & a yard full of animals to take care of….
it’s overwhelming.
i’m exhausted.

i have pages written & two more canvas ideas…plus! one night while unable to sleep–i started writing more moses jones!! i have been stalled on that since, what, april?
so i’m taking my journal with me to a car maintenance appointment & will try to get pages done/mojo plot written.

everything happens

everything happens
whether there is a reason or not
everything happens
whether you like it or not

i started this picture a couple of days ago
it started out as yet another self-portrait…but i kinda morphed into some stephen tyler androgynous fairy person. then i didn’t know what to do about the background. if i had finished it that day, it would have been a completely different picture.
if i had finished it yesterday,
it would have been a completely different picture.
this is my day, today. my fairy heart is being devoured by the cat of angst.
or…you know…whatever.

so i was given a printer by a friend. and i used it instead of the camera i usually use to capture my art…but i am not sure what the fuck i did wrong. this looks weird to me…& fuck ups that i can’t see with my eye are showing up.

maybe i did the settings wrong?
maybe i will get this figured out?
or maybe it will just stay like this for now?
i guess we will find out.

*i did fix it…so if you are all, “wow, that does look like crap”…no, that’s just my art*

but do know this.
everything happens.

pages 15, 16, & 17

just two more pages to go
and INKtober starts on sunday.
am i going to do it again?
it was really good for my art last year…in fact, i can’t believe it is time for it again already. it seems like just yesterday.
i did buy more paper & more ink.
because…well…you can never have too much paper & ink (what if a zombie apocalypse happens & i can’t get to the art store??)

speaking of zombie apocalypses–i was planning on doing moses jones after i was done with the mistress of mud.
and/or playing around with just using brush & ink….
but i suppose i could do both of those things during INKtober…

meanwhile, bees to get ready for winter.
tomatoes to turn into canned sauce.
basil to make into pesto.
pumpkins & squash to harvest.
lambs & turkeys to butcher.
winter gardens to plan.
new pastures to build.
and i am planning on buying and raising by bottle a billy goat all my own….

and, of course, raising & unschooling four minions….

speaking of all this. i am entertaining the idea of renting the basement out to dusty on the conditions that:
1. we are not in a relationship
2. he pays rent & buys his own food
3. he gets a job
4. he quits smoking

what could go wrong?
see, it’s just that i need need need the help, and no matter how hard i try, i cannot seem to lure peoples of a non-dusty nature to come here & help me.


i know it’s not a good idea. but i will kick him out again if it all goes south.

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