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.
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.
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.
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.
i have a touch of the rabies.
my brain feels like it’s on fire.
i tend to absorb energy…something about being an empath…and i had a crazy distant relative show up on my doorstep with all her stuff, inviting herself to move in and tell me everything wrong with my life and me.
her energy was so fucking fucked up. i felt myself turning into her.
by the end of her surprisingly short visit, as she was escorted off of my property by the sheriff, i was terrified.
i hate being scared. i hate it. but i was having flashbacks to other times in my life where i have felt trapped by unpredictable and angry angry nasty people. you know, like last christmas.
i went into survival mode. repeating to myself, “do not engage. do not engage.” laying low and wishing i had a panic room and wondering how i let this person just walk through our front door and threaten my children.
how did that happen?
i don’t know if she triggered something…or if it is hormonal…or if i am just perpetually broken, but now i am spinning out feeling like an awful mom and just wanting to disappear.
so this is a doodle as i was trying to figure out how to draw my children in a journal page i am working on.
yes…children as pygmy demons.
my four year old hates me. seriously. maybe i will work on a journal page about that as well. but he does. he tells me daily. as well as telling me he wishes i was dead.
so, yay mom-time.
meanwhile, i might just have another beer and stare at the wall and practice my skill of vanishing into my own brain.
ps. i was working on this outside to spend time with my therapy goats…so there are some muddy (at least i hope it’s mud) footprints on my journal page.
so i made a comic.
do i want to be doing comics?
how can i incorporate everything i have learned from my ink stain experiment to my self-portrait adventure?
how do i make it all into one thing? maybe it can’t be one thing. maybe i have to keep making lots of things.
i love some of the self-portraits i did…but am not sure how to translate them to comic…but what else can i do with them?
i need a jiminy cricket…but one that gives advice on directions in art & life….
i kind of want to work again on “lizard brain” & definitely want to get back to “moses jones”….hmmm.
and now i’m going off in random directions with new comic ideas.
fuck it. i’m going to go do some yoga.
the harder i try
the more invisible
the louder i cry
anyone can hear
the more i look
the bigger pariah
put the last three journal pages together & it is my trifecta of torment.
poppy was screaming at me almost the entire time i was drawing & painting this. he wanted cream cheese & toast, but he has been holding his poop lately and i am afraid of creating a dairy stoppage…so i told him no.
over & over
as he screamed at me for cream cheese & toast.
i offered him other foods…but he only wanted cream cheese & toast.
eventually i relented.
which makes me the worse mom? having him scream at me for something that might make him sick? or giving in & giving it to him?
being a mom is a catch 22.
i woke up in a good mood this morning. however, fidgit & iggy were relentlessly cruel to me–in the way only children can be to their barely-holding-it-together, ultra-tormented mother–until i snapped.
which is why there are so many demons in my drawing.
i feel like i am filled with demons.
y’all are probably tired of reading my journal & looking at my self-portraits. y’all are probably tired of hearing about how i never wanted to do this alone. never wanted to wrestle with four headstrong children by myself. never wanted to be single & lonely & overwhelmed by my roles in life.
i’m still talking about it. still. it still weighs down my heart.
i’m still writing about it.
i’m still drawing it.
maybe tomorrow will bring something new.
is my own
i show it to you
make it yours
i love my
i’m not good
i’m pissed off at everything lately. everything.
whether it is my parent’s impending visit. the anniversary of my brother’s death. dealing with the passive aggressive assholery of my ex-husband. the fact that the minions cannot go a full two minutes without screaming and jumping on someone. or that the whole world is full of hateful hurtful people yet i remain…alone…alone with my hate & hurt.
all these things.
none of these things.
maybe i’m just an irritable asshole.
my self-portrait here seems to be a re-occurring theme. of course, van gogh did himself over & over & over…add a bowler, now with a pipe…
i like posing with my demons.
my lovely loving demons.
you can’t put your pain
in front of someone else’s
you can’t let your own darkness
because who are you then?
you are the monster
taking what has hurt you
& hurting others
who can tell i was raised catholic? i swear i am not obsessed with angels nor do i entertain delusions of my own divinity. just the whole concept of wings & horns. the weight they carry. the meanings they portray.
i’m healing from this last dance with darkness…should you be wondering. two steps forward, one step back.
and trying to heal
and forgetting to heal
but then remembering again.