queen of the imposters

it’s my grandma saying
“you’d be so pretty if only you dressed like a girl”
it’s my parents saying
“writing is a nice hobby, but what will you really do?”
it’s that boyfriend saying
“you might be sexy if you started jogging and lost some weight”
it’s the father of my children saying
“why do i have to work why you do nothing?”
the father of my children
questioning all my decisions while offering no help
the father of my children
insinuating i’m doing it all
wrong….
but they don’t even know
they don’t even know what they have done to me
that they have become a little voice in my head
telling me i’m an imposter
when i wear girl’s clothes & pretend to be pretty
i’m an imposter
when i say i’m a writer
i’m an imposter
when i feel sexy
i’m an imposter
when i try to mother my children….

a friend of mine was talking about how the judging voice in her head was “the white lady.” this made me wonder what the most disruptive voice in my head looked like.
so i meditated & journeyed into myself to confront the one who whispers “imposter” whenever i try to do certain things.
i couldn’t find anyone. no one came forward. i called & called, but no one answered. i assumed they were hiding from me.
but then last night as i lay in bed after being screamed at by my ex-husband who was visiting for our son’s birthday, i realized, my imposter voice was there…they just didn’t realize i was talking to them. they are oblivious to what they are doing to me. they think they have done nothing wrong. they see themselves as completely innocent.
this made me realize i need to start being oblivious to it as well. just drown it out by proclaiming, “i am not an imposter. i am a good mother. a good writer. i am pretty & goddammit, sexy too.”

inner child problems

my masculine is the
protective & loyal dog
my feminine
is the fiercely protective
bear
so who keeps opening the door
for strangers
with ill intent?
who keeps opening
my arms
to energy vampires
& narcissists?
there she is
my inner child
who grew up
confusing abuse
for love…
there she is
my inner child
ready to rescue
everyone else
because she hasn’t learned
how to be her own
hero.

i used medicine cards to determine my masculine & feminine spirit animals. totally accurate.
so then i was hiking a cold & snowy hill recently, trying to figure out why i could have such strong protection, yet still fall victim to abusive partners & friendships. i wanted to figure out why i let myself be such a victim when i have such a self-protective nature?
i need to figure it out so i can knock it the fuck off.
this is what i came up with. my inner child (and my empath) are mucking up the works by ignoring red flags in favor of trying to save everyone.
okay…
so now i just need to figure out how to teach them how to love themselves first? easy, right?

sucks

maybe the trick
is just
keeping the energy vampires
at bay
after a life spent
being sucked
dry
live a full life
a happy life
while they all go
fuck themselves.

i was inking this & was all like–a dodo bird! i have been inking all of these “guide” animals & have not even done one of my favorites…the dodo bird!
so i am totally trying to figure out where i fit in & who i am…this involves digging around through all the things i thought i knew about myself & about life…. it’s a bit exhausting.
i really don’t like falling prey to energy vampires, but it seems whenever i go out into society, i immediately get sucked dry by them.
so do i just not go out into society anymore? or do i make myself a nice garlic suit? or a combination of the two?

no more tears

driving home
with an eyelash in my eye
two hours
with an eyelash in my eye
wishing
a sad song
would play on the radio
because
for the life of me
i could not
make myself
cry.

unable to make myself cry and a surprising lack of sad songs on the radio made for a painful road trip. i’m not sure i know who i am if i am unable to cry at the drop of a hat? usually i can think about my childhood…my marriages…my loneliness…or the year of 2015, and i will start crying.
apparently now, there are times, when i am not completely tragic.

speaking of crying…happy mother’s day!

sin eater

what happens when the sin eater
can eat no more?
i feel like i have eaten the sins
of everyone i’ve known
parents, siblings, friends, & lovers
i’ve consumed all their sins
with a smile on my face
(or is it a grimace? no one looks
close enough to see)
i am the sin eater devouring your sins
but i can eat
no more.

i think my catholic is showing.
it is my empathic nature, i think, that leaves me feeling like a sin eater. absorbing all the energy, taking everyone’s anger & sorrow…making it my own.
i need to ask myself, is this what i want to be doing? or should i maybe re-think my role amidst the people i know.

shades of gray

i can’t shake the feeling
i’ve done something
wrong
the sinking sensation
that everyone
rightfully
thinks i’m an asshole.

more social anxiety. i went to a get-together a couple of weeks ago and left it feeling this way. i think i was picking up on someone else’s feelings that had nothing to do with me. that happens to me more than i like.
so someone felt overwhelmed or whatever, i picked up on it, and felt like it was my fault.
a spin-out that had already begun, was escalated by this one small event.
being me is fun like that….

my shadowing got out of control as i was inking the illustration so i was just like “fuck it” and colored it all gray making it look kinda like a fallen statue…i guess that works.

wanted: strong & silent type

this guy showed up in my tarot spread a couple of days ago in the “near future” position of my celtic cross spread.
he could either indicate something to be found inside me (self-reliance, closeness to nature, steady & practical) or he could indicate someone coming into my life.
please please please be my punk rock lumberjack poet! my own sweet shepherd.
i can live alone. i can do this. i can sort of be practical if i have to be, but i don’t wanna. i really really don’t wanna.

i read in the empath survival guide that there are three kinds of partners for the full blown empath (me.)
they are the intellect, the empath, and the strong, silent type.
i want door number three.
i argue with intellects; i don’t think i could deal with another empath; i need my lumberjack.

once upon a time i married a strong, silent type. a nice earthy earth sign (taurus.) it was nice. he had his room; i had mine. we ate together–but different meals (he was all meat & potatoes–i am fanatic about veg.) we would go out to live music shows & have cocktails & he would take me out to eat all the time (i like being fed.)
problem was, he didn’t know what to think of me.
and my empathic abilities could not deal with his waffling on whether or not he wanted to be with me.
he pulled away, and i pulled away even further.
like to another state.

but i think that he is the closest to a stable relationship that i have experienced.
fire signs ravage me & leave nothing behind.
air signs irritate me & make me want to do things jut to spite them.
other water signs are fun…but too much of the same leaves no room for passion.
earth signs. they sometimes irritate me too–because they are so fucking stubborn…but they also help ground me.
something i do need.

so, universe, if you are listening. i am ready for my punkrock lumberjack poet now.
thank you

so much anger in this one

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.

out of sorts

holy moly i am so out of sorts.
it’s a january thunderstorm. i quit drinking & facebook all in the same week. i’m already feeling all rejected by the men of “okcupid”–though the men there do seem way cooler than the men of “plenty of fish.” my kids are on overdrive and i keep thinking, “if i can barely deal with my life, how can i ever expect to find someone to jump in & be all–yes! this is what i want.”
other than dusty, who would jump back in in a heartbeat. which is a tempting thought sometimes when i am lonely & frazzled and then i have to remind myself of all the crap he has done to me. all the crap he says to me. and the crap i feel like when he is around.
crap.
and my berkey water filter has quit working.
all while i’m reading future home of the living god. reading books, as an empath, is risky. i get waaaaaay way too into the plot & characters and actually lose myself.
so i am currently lost in a dystopian nightmare.
and my end-of-the-world water filter has gone kaput.

i am so out of sorts.

i’m trying to draw this comic, but my kids are so super needy. plus there is laundry & dishes & food to make.
and i am crawling out of skin.

did i mention the winter thunderstorms of doom?

okay. here is an okcupid story to cheer us all up.
someone from the small town i live in messaged me via okcupid to tell me i should check out his profile and told me how he had read mine twice before he messaged me.
so, hey, he’s not physically my type, but i go check out his profile. first off, i see he is looking for a woman who owns a pair of heels and actually wears them–who dresses up every now & then.
the highest heels i own are on my motorcycle boots.
then he goes on to say in the “message me if…” that a woman should message him if she agrees that she should wear stockings & heels in the bedroom.
he says he read my profile twice?
i go on & on about sustainability in my profile & refer to myself as punk rock.
i don’t have on any make-up in my photos…i don’t even know how to put on make-up. my hair is short & messy–like it always is. (i’m assuming here that if he wants a woman to dress up every now & then he probably expects make-up and hair done.)
and in the “6 things i can’t live without” section, i have listed as my number one thing:  barefeet….
what woman who values barefeet would put on heels ever–especially in the bedroom??
why would dude think i was his type at all?

why not just have “message me if you are a warm body”?

internet dating is so weird.

re-cap:  end of the world, y’all, and my water filter is not working & i am still alone & lonely.
plus i have no beer.

my empathic heart

when my empathic heart
opens wide
it is a kaleidoscope
of emotion
washing over me
burrowing inside me
traveling through me
borrowing my tears
& my smiles
my sorrow
my anger
my elation
& no drug–or other person–could ever
make me feel
like i do
when my heart is wide open
& i am safe
to feel
just feel
the world around me
all of its beauty…its light & its darkness
this is me
this is mine
this is who i am & who i want to be
an open heart

when the minions are away, i have the opportunity to do things i cannot do when they are here. this is one. spreading my art all over the kitchen table. i love doing that. then i work on it, walk past it, add to it, debate over it, smudge & splatter and just be my art. ink ink everywhere.
makes me happy.
other things i do when i am alone:  talk to myself, revel in the bathroom being clean, binge watch shows on netflix, focus on myself & my healing….

sometimes being alone is a good thing.

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