brain on fire

there are some days
when it is all i can do
to make it through
the day
brain on fire
skin as a prison
just make it through
the day.

i’m betting i’m not alone with this feeling. especially these days. but we do make it through. together. i’m here for you.

mother me

defeated by the creatures who sprung from me
paralyzed by four energies
crafted from my own
left incomplete by my creations
who only seem to be happy
when i am miserable.

ack! motherhood is so not easy. that’s a fucking understatement. i keep hoping i will figure it out & things will magically get easier, but i am starting to think the trick is to realize it is a fucking nightmare & still manage to find the joy.

april fools

my world feels like it is falling down
around me
so why does my subconscious
take this time
to bring you alive
again
some cosmic april fool’s joke
waking from dreams
into more dreams
of you.

so many praying hands! then i realized i also had praying hands in yesterday’s inking…which i did not realize when i was doing this one.
what am i trying to manifest in my life right now? peace? faith? grounding?
trust in myself? trust in my path?
why so many praying hands?
also i am doing daily tarot card draws. a me card & a conflict card. yesterday was the tower card crossed by the inverted nine of swords (massive suffering) making me wonder if two negatives make a positive in tarot…. but when i drew the cards i was all, “yup…me crashing and burning…again”
today is a little better. today is six of swords crossed by sacrifice. six of swords is slow path to healing–the sacrifice card (for me) references issues of control (i get that one a lot.)
and i checked my journal…it was february 20th when i began this crash & burn, before that i was doing really really well.
too well.
now i am hopefully close to crawling out of the demolished tower of me to rebuild…again.

2001 a journal odyssey

nevermind
he broke my heart
something
wrong with me
i guess
i’m just something
to use
& toss
aside
unloved
unwanted

i’m tired
of men treating me
like i don’t
matter
how come no one
treats me
like i mean
something
do i think
so little
of myself
that i let
every asshole
take away
a part of me
& piss
on the wound?

these are words i wrote in journals in 2001 when i was 31. they were written as prose, but i could see how they would be written in free verse i journal in these days…so i put them in a page of my journal 20 years later.
maybe now you can see why i am scared of relationships?
granted most of these past 20 years have been spent in just one relationship…but, fuck me, it was a doozy of a mind fuck.

i like to think i have recovered some since i first wrote these words. my art journaling has definitely helped me to scab over some of these wounds.

now, i guess, i peek out of my hole & wait for spring. surely spring is coming? though not with a gentle blossoming but with a storm of the century….
(journal pages not yet written)

ps. though my handwriting & heartache stay somewhat of a constant…i am happy to report that my art has greatly improved!

the abyss of me

with hopes of renovating
with hopes of cleaning this place up
& inviting someone in
i cleared away
the debris
only to reveal
the extent
of the damage
a crack
to my very core
crap
i don’t know if i’m
habitable
after all
who could live here?
who could love here?
like
“hey–come on in
have a cup
of tea
just mind you don’t
fall into
the abyss of me.”

yup. more reactions to trying to open myself up to the possibility of a relationship should the occasion arise….
sigh.
two steps forward. two steps back.
just dancing by myself, y’all…nothing to see here.

these walls were made for breaking

i have had a block
against relationships
for as long
as i can
remember
it never stopped me
from loving
or being
in a relationship
but did
help me to leave easily
to disconnect easily
when i found myself
compromised
conflicted
abused
now i am figuring out
how to save
myself
maybe now
i can let go
of that part of me
& be stronger
for it?

my text of the written verse is altered to show some hesitation & less confidence about my moving forward with breaking these fucking walls down.
& the illustration shows some of the angst i have been feeling lately.
so much angst.
so much.

root bound

here is what i am working through in my journal now.
those feelings of worthlessness & being unlovable…those feelings that came out in my backwards movement recently.
i want to stop it.
i want to stop feeling worthless.

invisible threads

maybe he still holds me
with
invisible threads
cords woven
into my heart
maybe he still keeps me
in a prison
with no bars
i think i am free
but somehow
i am not…
how many times
have i left him
but maybe
he still holds
me
after all
in his
refusing to let me
go
he pounds another nail
into my coffin
telling himself
he is keeping me
safe.

as i was driving, monday, to take the minions to meet their dad, i glimpsed another passenger in my car when i glanced to the rear view mirror.
shortly after, i drove past a cemetery with a fresh grave.
i wondered, will their father be there, at the meeting place?
or am i finally free?
i was sure that my ex-husband had died.

however, as we now know, it was my father who had died, not theirs.

i thought that if my ex-husband had died, i would be a little sad. i mean, my kids would lose their dad…but i would also feel…
free.
kinda the way i felt when i found out it was in fact my father who had died.

on retrospect, i guess i shouldn’t be surprised that i got the energy of my dead dad mixed up with the energy of my ex-husband…i mean, there is a reason i often choose charming narcissistic assholes to be with.

& what i wonder now is…can’t i be free without anyone else having to die? how do i break the binds that he keeps me tied with? because i truly believe that his not letting me go is stopping me from being truly free of him.

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