demons

my brain is congested. i feel ever so blocked right now. creatively & emotionally. everything i have written in my journal just seems dumb & badly written. maybe some of you are all like, “what’s new?” but usually i, at least, sincerely enjoy my badly versed random off-the-top-of-my-head thoughts & feelings.
but right now they are all crap.
i feel like there is so much to say–but i don’t know how to say it.
or draw it.

so i am working on some re-workings of older stuff while i stare at the blank pages of my current journal in disgust.
(i don’t hate you, art journal…it’s probably just hormones….)
this one–this one here–it is the self-portrait that got all of this nonsense started. i drew it in november of last year. i loved it. and then i just got carried away…almost a year & how may self-portraits later? (someone with a longer attention span than mine can count them–i know i have four pages up there.)
so here’s the one that started it all. a nice little picture of me hanging out with my demons.

IMG_1400

in other news….

today i heard the thompson twins’s song “hold me now” which i have sung along with in every every every relationship i have had.
& today, i realized, i have no one to sing it to.
no one.
i am undeniably alone…like i said in yesterday’s post–even in my imagination.
& then i started crying.

except of course for the single dads who are fishing for women on instagram? what’s up with that?
instagram is so weird.

and i am having nightmares like crazy. i have started having a re-occurring dream about wasps–the insects (i have daily fears of both kinds of wasps–people & insects.)
in real life, i am afraid of wasps. i have yet to be stung by one & one of my life goals is to not be stung by one.
so now i am having nightmares about wasps.
one had a wasp just hanging out on the back of my neck until my big brother (who was killed in 2008) got it off of my neck for me. my big brother has been in a lot of my dreams lately. just as him–not back from the dead–in my dreams he has never died.
then i had a dream that a wasp came & started stinging me on the arm. it didn’t hurt as much as i thought it would but i still proceeded to whack it to pieces as soon as i overcame the paralysis it somehow caused my whacking arm.

so far in my dream analysis i have:
wasp=fear (of what?)
brother’s help/whacking=overcoming fear

but that’s all i got.

last night i had the worst dream i’ve had in a long time. it was completely fucked up & i feel sick to my stomach just thinking about it.
i tried to write about it…but i can’t.

is anyone else feeling this? just curious. i know sometimes stuff like this can be cosmic.

ps. i just found a pad of 12X16 water color paper in my supplies cabinet. so–good news–i can start doing really large final copies of my art journal pages.
bad news–i will have to start using my camera again instead of the scanner i have. which means the quality of my posted art might suffer.

crap.

pss. i think my goat agatha is going to kid soon! she is all belly & her milk bag is getting full! looks like i’m going to be a grandma soon.

IMG_1362

Advertisements

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.

heavy

when someone close to you
dies
it becomes part of your description
she has brown hair
a nice smile
and her brother is dead

birthdays are the hardest
his last one
I didn’t know
it was the last
his voice sad on the telephone
my pledge to keep in touch
this time

we live in a world
where I can obsessively search for
intimate details of his death
available in short video
burning plane
gray matter splattered on a playground
his last words, “oh, fuck.”

notorious IT guy for the other side
the Forrest Gump of stolen elections
everything reminds me
of him
the sound of a single engine plane
sad songs on the radio
politics, Christmastime, and charismatic men

I drink Irish whiskey this time of year
but it was Scotch at his wake
four years now
four years since the last election
four years since the plane crash
a conspiracy theorist’s wet dream
murder Republican style

when someone close to you
dies
do you let it redefine you?
hello, I’m Connell
a mama, a student, an artist
let me tell you
about my dead brother

(written in 2012)

destroyed

i hate feeling like this
every year
since he has died
i hate it
i never knew
this level of hopelessness
with all the bad stuff
toppling
the way it
does

i hate feeling like this
every year
since he betrayed me
i hate it
i never knew
this level of hopelessness
with all the bad stuff
toppling
like it
does

my brother’s death
my ex-husband’s birthday
one day
that destroys me
every goddamned
year.

i used to joke that dusty and i would never be able to survive if we had to depend on each other in a time of crisis.

then my brother died
on dusty’s birthday
& i don’t think he ever forgave me for it.

i decided to divorce dusty the day of the funeral.
never had i ever seen a complete lack of empathy in a person
as i did that day
dusty intentionally hurt me as my brother’s coffin lay before us.

of course,
anyone who knows this story knows
i did not get rid of dusty for another eight years after my brother’s death
meanwhile dusty played me like a fucked up fiddle, even convincing me that it was my fault he was cheating on me…right in front of me….

sigh.

all this pain surfaces now.
this time of year.
my dead brother
my narcissistic & sadistic ex….

i lay awake at night & count my scars.

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑