i was working on this last night. i felt sad doing it. i mean, it’s my way of putting dusty in the ground so he can’t hurt me anymore…but i still wish it were a different reality where i didn’t have to put dusty in the ground in order to feel safe.
so i saw the real dusty on monday to get the minions back. i started talking about how i had a couple of local WWOOFers interested in helping out on the homestead. dusty then got really quiet & weepy-eyed. when i asked if he was okay, he said it wasn’t the right place to talk.
then he texted me today to talk.
i hate talking on phones. of course he knows this, but never makes it so we can talk in person & refuses to have written correspondances.
so i called him.
he wanted to know why i had tear streaks on my face when i came to pick up the kids. i honestly answered, “i don’t know. i am just generally sad.” which i am. not the greatest way to be, but i am. i am also generally happy. i told him, “i am sad about ways my life has gone.”
then he asked other stuff and before long we were in an argument.
he wants me to still love him & still want him.
i want to feel safe.
he is upset that i am turning to strangers for help when he is willing to help.
but his help comes with too much baggage.
and emotional abuse.
i told him that he has “narcissistic tendencies.”
then when i was talking about how i have to watch what i say around him & don’t want to have to change my personality to avoid misunderstandings with him he basically said, “who’s narcissistic now?”
so you might understand why it is just easier to use a katana….
i have started doing rough drafts because i really don’t like using pencils…even blue ones. so this is the rough for my next page.
are you excited?
(and a little sad)
before i met & married dusty and had an on-again/off-again dysfunctional relationship from hell with him…i had a practice run for two years with his kentucky twin.
in 1996 just after i lost the best boy i’d ever known, i fell in with this narcissistic, emotionally abusive asshole.
it should have just been a rebound…but he was so good at manipulating me that it lasted for two awful years. he conned me out of thousands of dollars, put my ego in the crapper, and cheated on me like crazy.
this poem was written about six months in.
i should have read these journals back when stuff started going funny with dusty. i had no idea what a narcissist was–not really. nor that they preyed on people like me…people with too much empathy.
i had no idea.
i thought it was love.
just like i thought it was love that kept me with dusty no matter how much of a fuck he was to me.
i should publish these journals as a warning.
so i’m not done yet…but i am still working on it!
i really like it so far, which makes me all the more worried about fucking it up.
but i am still working on it.
i have this idea that i would like every page to be able to stand on its own. so that is another challenge.
meanwhile, i guess the minions are off to wisconsin today. dusty was going to come here to stay for a few weeks instead of the minions leaving here. but just the anticipation of his being here was turning me into an ugly unbalanced madwoman. finally, yesterday, after learning of another lie he’d told me (regarding some mutual friends) i spun out & told him he could not stay here.
he wants to move closer & wants me to help him by letting him stay here & job hunt, etc.
which, in theory, makes sense.
but in practice will chip away at my soul.
it is difficult balancing my desire to help with my knowledge of how he likes to take advantage of my desire to help.
but now instead of being angry & angry…i am just sad that i will not see my minions for a week.
and relieved that dusty is not going to be here.
it’s like he thinks we can be a happy family again, but he won’t stop being an abusive narcissist.
i no longer want to be a family with him…but i know there is no escaping his being my children’s father.
maybe that’s why i’m killing him off in my dystopian fantasy world….
when last we left off with our hero, she was slaying zombies in the forest while foraging for supplies….
actually, i started a new episode after this called “the return of dusty.” but it puttered out.
i have been trying to get it re-started…but i really don’t think i want dusty in my story anymore. i think it is time to write dusty out of the script.
which i did, last night. i have yet to draw it though.
meanwhile, the real dusty is threatening to come visit. i am torn. while i wish i lived in a world where i never had to see him or his hell-spawn of a mother again…i also hate the idea of my minions going away to wisconsin again to spend a week with him & his hell-spawn of a mother again.
it is one of those things i have severe anxiety/control issues about. i mean i became a stay-at-home mom when i realized i could not leave my child at home. instead i was taking baby fidgit with me when i went out to pick up stray animals. he was sitting in on dog evaluations with me at the humane society where i was employed when he was born.
realizing i could not leave him, i quit my job.
i know i cannot control their lives. it just seems dumb to let him take them to wisconsin when he doesn’t even know what the fuck he is doing with his life.
he is taking my minions to live in his limbo.
it just seems dumb.
so my choices are to let them go…or deal with dusty in my space.
fuck a duck.
so i am currently trying to figure out which hurts less….
in other news. i am having a crisis of faith with my art.
i guess that’s not really news….
today i tried to read a comic book & found i could not. comic books seem dumb to me now. maybe not all of them, but definitely the mainstream ones.
i tried to post my page that i made yesterday (archangel carl) on a facebook group called “women creating comics” along with my lament about my crisis of faith…but as soon as someone started suggesting things i could do to make my art more “acceptable” to the comic world, i deleted my post & almost quit the group.
what would van gogh do?
oh! i almost forgot! (thank goodness for blog titles)
so we recently entered year of the dog. i was born in the year of the dog. i looked back, and other than my 12th year, i could remember having a life changing event in every year of the dog since my birth. maybe there was one when i was 12 too–i just can’t remember for sure. in retrospect, every decision i made in my years of the dog were the wrong ones.
so this year
i am determined to get it right.
to be true to myself and to stay true to my path.
whatever it may be.
so with the first full moon of this lunar year…i am struggling to find the path that i have determined i should stick to….
wish me luck.
so much of my life
& letting myself be chosen
by the wrong people
people who will hurt
cut me down
make me feel
like i think
i deserve to feel
the rest of my life
seeking out people
& using equal energy
to push them away again
creating for myself
a comfortable limbo
what comes next?
another one largely influenced by egon schiele
i left this page largely empty for a reason. i was debating a background…but decided empty worked with the sentiment of the page. i might change my mind and go back in for a background. any thoughts? also, on this blog, i am making the pictures smaller. is this better or worse? should i go back to making them the featured image?
i guess on this art journal self-portrait journey of healing there will be a lot of diving into my sexual history & my romantic heart. both were influenced by the abuse i suffered. both shaped me into the person i am today.
i know it might be uncomfortable…& too much information…but i feel i would be remiss to gloss over this large chunk of my life & personality even if the catholic inside of me is completely horrified by my sharing of this information.
i don’t want to hurt you
i just want to survive you
are words that i would say to him if i could. sometimes i feel it is impossible to talk to him. impossible for him to hear me?
so he & my mom were here at the same time. with my mom here, he was the lesser of two evils.
when she left, i realized just how much like her he really is.
neither one of them can hear me. even before my mom was deaf, she had very selective hearing–only hearing what she wanted to hear…only hearing what was valuable to her–what she could use to her advantage.
she never heard me.
i was never valuable to her.
was i ever valuable to him?
did he ever listen to me? or is he only paying attention when i’m giving him ammunition to use against me at a later time?
i’m the bad guy
you’re the victim
it’s the script
i’m the bad guy
you’re the victim
did we do this
is it easier for me
i am the bad guy?
do you feel better
being the victim?
i don’t want to play
but you hand my mask
back to me
i throw it down
“if i am the bad guy,”
from behind that mask,
“why do i feel like
the bad guy
comes the answer.
always the bad guy no matter which way i play it. i am always the bad guy. i think the other day, when we were fighting about god knows what, i am pretty sure he said i had borderline personality disorder–as he had already diagnosed my mom as having. then, of course, i spin out wondering if i do have borderline personality disorder.
(he would not clarify to me what he actually said–another fun game he likes to play with me.)
why is it so easy for him to convince me i am the bad guy? oh…right… because i already believe i am.
but! i am in the process of changing that.
but the process is slowed down by long visits from the man who strives to be my victim. that weird narcissistic sadistic trick of posing as the masochist.
another thing i need to work on.
finding other people i can ask for help in dire times…people that are not my ex-husband.
that one is not so easy for me to remedy. in fact, i am more & more convinced that i am spending the rest of my life alone…and lonely.