puzzle box

who i am
is
changing
how i do my art
is
changing
how i see myself
is
changing
it’s like
one of those puzzle boxes
where you move
one piece
&
all the other pieces
shift
into
place
dominoes
that seem to be
falling
but in reality
are creating
a bigger picture.

something is shifting inside of me. which is awesome, but i have to remind myself that just because i finally start moving, i can still get stuck again…or often, when one problem is fixed, another rears its head.
so now that i am starting to heal the ugly me & let her believe she is pretty, who will show up next?

i feel pretty II

if i am ugly
that
justifies
my feeling
like a misfit
an
outcast
i am more
comfortable
as a pariah
than as a
popular
so
i created
a monster persona
shave my head
&
bare my teeth
you best steer clear
of me
(they i can know
why i feel
so alone.)

i keep thinking back to when i started feeling this way. feeling like i didn’t belong & was surely the ugliest thing ever. a lot of it happened in grade school. i was a sensitive child, & i was weird. other kids didn’t really get me. so maybe it was easier for me to tell myself i was ugly?
easier than believing there was something deeper causing my pain?
my parents sabotaged my ego
my peers finished me off
& i stomped on any good parts of me that survived the rest of it….

owning my worth

you don’t have to love me
for me to know
i am lovable
you don’t have to buy my art
“like” my art
for me to know
i am awesome
you don’t have to read my words
or acknowledge me
in any
way
for me to know
i am
worthy
&
worthwhile.

fuck me if this isn’t a hard lesson for me to learn. a good lesson for me to learn! why is this so hard for me to understand? i guess maybe it’s all of us as a society…but i am done with it. like my art…don’t like my art; i’m gonna keep right on making it & putting it out to the world.
love me…don’t love me; i’m gonna keep right on falling in love.

everyone’s invited

i can be strong
& also be gentle
i can be scary & intense
while being
loving & accepting
i can be ferocious
while i am
kind & generous
both
all
exist in me
all kinds of me
ready
to sign a truce
to throw a party
& everyone
is
invited.

more journaling on my recent epiphany where i realized i am not all that bad.
that i can find balance in who i am.

my gentle heart

the demons
monsters
& sirens
were called forth
to protect
that soft & gentle
part of me
called forth
to keep my loving heart
safe
walls built
to keep said heart
safe
until a time came
when i forgot
all about
my gentle heart
& only saw
the thorny walls
& snapping beasts
who protected her.

those out grown defenses. one day i will write a comic about it. those dysfunctional super powers that we abused adult children are afraid to let go of.
watch me turn into a monster to keep my own heart safe.
yup.
time to find a new job for those monsters….

gonna buy me a dog…

who held the door open
for him to walk
through
who was supposed to
keep me
safe
who can i blame
when i run towards him
instead of
away?

the dad is bringing my minions back to me tomorrow…with intent to stay & hunt mushrooms. i don’t want him here, but it is hard for me to turn him away.
so begins the inner turmoil that comes with every interaction with him. that weird mix of wanting to see him, being almost excited to see him, but also wanting to scream at him until my head explodes & then bury him in a shallow grave.
so i turned to my dog today and began berating her for not biting my ex. she adores him. it’s embarrassing how much she throws herself at him. so i lectured her until i was in tears.
then i began to wonder who i really was angry at. who taught the dog that my ex is not a threat?
and i wrote this.
it sounded so familiar i looked back to january where i first wrote this thought.
in january i attributed this open door policy for assholes to my inner child who feels the need to rescue others due to her own need to be rescued.
but on second thought, i don’t blame her for this reoccurring theme in my life.
someone should have protected her.
someone should have taught her to protect herself.
my birth mother did not.
now it falls on me to do it. i need to be the fierce beast here. i need growl, to bark at intruders. bare my teeth and threaten their security. i need to protect me from those who would destroy me rather than wanting to be with them.
it is embarrassing that i have to learn that…that it isn’t just instinct.

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!

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