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.
a quick doodle as i brainstorm illustration & character representation in my hot & trashy memoir (without the hot & trashy part)
i’m in a piss-ass mood…
ironically…”don’t worry, be happy” is playing on my radio.
but we all know how that ended….
i texted dusty today to let him know i think is a terrible idea for us to live together again in any context.
so then he called…and i said i was busy…and he said “please, please, please” and i said, “no.” but he kept insisting i talk to him.
so i got on the goddamned phone and told him he needs to start taking responsibility for his shit. that i am tired of rescuing him. that he needs to stop taking the easy route and start actually working for a future instead of fantasizing about one.
i’m just so fucking desperate that sometimes dusty seems like a good idea.
so fucking desperate….
and still my inktobers are getting lukewarm receptions.
so i’m just doing whatever the fuck because no one seems to notice either way.
the story of my life
if you think about it
i will be doing some dark & depressing memoir bullshit comics….
again, looking for love in all the blog places, i plugged in the search word “homesteading” (when i searched “sheep” i just found a bunch of political posts–ha!) and was delighted to find a blog post titled “homesteading artist” only to realize it was one of my own posts.
the problem is:
1. i find me fascinating most of the time and want someone kind of like me (less anxiety; less depression; less control issues.)
2. i am a complicated person–an oxymoronic person–despite my desire to be simple and to make sense, and it is difficult to find another who might overlap in a complimentary way.
3. relationships terrify me.
for those of you saying to yourself, “didn’t she just break up with exhusband#2?”
the truth is that i left him a year ago new year’s day, and then HE decided HE wanted to work things out. i never decided that and remained in a state of limbo until shortly after we moved here–july-ish? where i finally said, “no, i don’t want to be with you.” and had him move out of my bedroom, ceasing all physical relationship with him as that was our only actual relationship qualifier since…what? before poppy was conceived? also. i divorced him in 2010.
depending on how you look at it, we have been broken up for between 5 months and 6 years. i feel as if we have been broken up for at least a year. probably more. the day i went to court and sat in that courtroom all by myself, wondering what would become of me…to me, that is the day our relationship was over because that was the day i realized he will never be the man i need him to be. that was fall of 2015.
long story short. i am over him and long for a relationship with a person who is capable of caring about me and for me.
so it’s not too soon for me to be looking for the next ex (haha–please let that be a joke)…in fact, i am overdue for a good relationship.
i have done my time.
show me the nice guys!
this is the ink stain i started today’s doodle with.
if you ever read my moses jones story, you might suspect i am partial to black and white…to shades of gray. i am.
color is nice, but somehow i find i enjoy the ones without color a bit more. they make me less anxious?
it’s probably not a good sign that i am googling things like “i just want to talk.” and looking on wordpress for blogs with “lonely” and “lost” in them. i would go on a dating site, but they give me the heeby-jeebies. i usually end up deleting my profile after a couple of hours. i end up getting way too much attention when i go on dating sites. how desperate are these people? i wonder. and i effectuate a hasty retreat.
what does it say that i find so many others when i use search words such as “lost,” “lonely,” and “just talk to me”?
maybe we are all lost & lonely & looking to talk to someone…anyone.
it’s been a long time, if ever, where i was in a relationship with a kindred spirit. someone i could open up to. someone with whom i did not feel lonely or lost. did i ever have that?
maybe. maybe once.
but i have spent a lot of my life feeling alone. i was born unconventional in a conventional small town. the quiet one. the strange one. it’s always been difficult for me to find people who understand me.
i know there are others like me.
i’ve seen the memes on facebook.
but somehow i have trouble believing they would understand me either. how can everyone be so different and strange? and how can i be so different and strange that i don’t even fit in with the different and strange?
i think i might be a different species. logical conclusion, right?
and i’ve decided that vincent van gogh is the patron saint of misfit artists. sorry. i was working on drawing while the minions made me watch doctor who. you know the episode with vincent van gogh? it makes me cry every time.
i don’t want to die alone. i mean, i know everyone essentially dies alone. born alone; die alone. all that. but i really mean, i don’t want to die alone. i want to find that one person. that one person who makes sense. and that one person who understands me.
i know that’s asking a lot.
but it could happen…right?