mother grim

open a beer
or open a vein
whiskey shot to the head
or gunshot
you don’t know
you don’t know me
& how it feels
sometimes
to try
every day
to be a mother
to these ones
every day
every day
every
day
i make this decision
bag of wine
or bag over the head?
relish these years
when they are little
they say
kids grow up so fast
you don’t want to miss it
they say
miss it?
i am deep as fuck in it
living it
despite myself
every day

have you ever heard of “highly spirited children?” yeah. i have four of those.
they are wonderful, beautiful, brilliant, funny, explosive, screamy, dramatic little things. i love them dearly, but sometimes i find my thoughts wandering over to the dark side.
right now they are with their dad–who again–challenged our placement agreement.
whenever he does, i examine my determination to keep being their primary caretaker–to make sure i am not doing it for selfish or controlling reasons.
i discovered that even though i sometimes think i am a crap-ass mom…i completely believe it is best for our children to have me as a primary caretaker. even though i sometimes feel i am going insane with the stress of being a single mom & of raising four strong-willed children, i think i owe them that little bit of stability that being with me gives them.
i have been there for them since day one. i have a commitment to them. so, sure, sometimes i think dark thoughts, but hopefully–expressing those dark thoughts will help me work out those demons so i can be a better mom.
that’s important to me, being a good mom.
not a traditional or conventional mom, but the mom they need me to be. a crazy-ass mom who (most the time) can roll with the punches.

ps. i don’t drink box wine or else i would have known to call it box wine not bag of wine. oh well….

Advertisements

demonic mom

every night
as they lay sleeping
my heart squeezes
& i think,
“tomorrow
i won’t be a crap-ass mom
tomorrow
i won’t lose my mind.”
then morning comes
& the demons inside me
come out to dance
with the demons
i spawned

i have a really bad habit of not waiting until the page is dry to take a picture. plus these are all on journal paper with the idea that i will do a bigger & better version on some nice watercolor paper or canvas even (ink on canvas is a gamble) if i ever get a chance & like the original enough.
so.
my page is all wrinkly & weird looking.

this is a dark subject that i have kind of made light about. because…well, i have trouble taking my pain seriously.

but tomorrow is another day.

bat accordian rough draft

so i guess today is the first day of the rest of my life
i know things won’t magically get better
just because i ousted the man
who helped me make myself
miserable
but i felt a ray of light
and thought,
“i’m just going to relax.”
when i faced this first day
officially on my own.
then i felt the need to defend my decision
to relax
as if i was doing something wrong.
but, fuck it.
i’m going to sing & dance & play
and be ridiculous if i want to be
the person
who made me feel as if
i had to be the grown-up
while he did whatever he wanted to do
is gone.

i spent the past two days taking dusty his stuff and severing those ties. we now live in separate states. separate physical states. i think we always lived in separate mental states.

so maybe the spells & stones worked after all? maybe i had to go to that dark dark dark fucking place inside me to find the strength to separate myself from him and all he has taught me i am in the years we have been together.

to let go, i had to die a little.

but it worked. i am free. maybe for the first time in a decade or more. maybe for the first time in forever.

i am free and i am going to work all this anger out of my bones. all the anger i have absorbed over the years. i am going to work it out and learn to believe that i am worthy of love.

that will be weird.

if i believe i am worthy of good things?
that would be amazing.

so while on the road, i only got this doodle done. so i missed two days of posting. but i’m back now and will finish this doodle. here is what it looks like with just the first ink on the ink stain. more ink to come!

so much anger in this one

if i were a dude
the brontes would write a book about me
but i’m a chick…so i just get ostracized
for my anger.
smile, it’s not so bad.
smile, you’re beautiful when you smile.
smile, don’t you know anger is pointless?

you mean, anger is not” feminine”
not “attractive.”
if i were a dude,
i could start a war with all this anger in me
and i would be lauded for my bravery &
my masculinity.

but i’m a chick.
an angry chick.
and that is only cute for a minute or two
depending on how cute i am.
then it becomes something
you walk away from.
everyone walks away
from me.

is that why i am so pissed off?
except,
they say i “drove them away.”
they say i “put up walls.”
but what if i was pushing
so that you would pull me closer?
what if i put up walls
so you would knock them down?

then i would know
you really loved me.
i don’t believe anyone has ever loved me.
i really don’t.
i don’t believe my parents loved me.
the hordes of boyfriends…yes, hordes,
because when you’re looking for someone
to love you
you look everywhere
but non of them loved me
not really.
my dogs don’t even love me.
and if they tried,
i gave them reason not to love me.
i joked that i had kids
so that someone would love me best.
now i wait for the day
they realize what an asshole i am
and stop loving me.

i’m a fucked up mess. i read about empaths being “light bringers” but all i feel inside of me is darkness. deep & black & oozing. darkness. i want to forsake everything and embrace the darkness inside of me. i don’t know why i feel this way. maybe the older i get the crazier i get. i never felt this deep & dark before dusty got a hold of me. i had my anger. i had my feelings of being lost & unlovable, but i never had this darkness in me until he showed me exactly how little i meant to him…. and now i struggle to get him out of my life–out of my house, and i feel like i have no control of the situation. for a person like me, a lack of control is like being buried alive.

so maybe the anger is the only thing i have right now.

(this drawing is a watercolor i did for a class when i was journaling about the topic of my choice. i chose to journal about me as a mother.)

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑