fallen VIII

it isn’t all fun & games
when you’re
the devil
when your darkness
oozes & embraces
for one thing
you can feel
all the pain
in the world
you feel it
so intensely
& you no longer know
how to need
you long to feel
human
but you shut down your
humanity
you had to
in order to not collapse
under all the
torment
you can still feel
the desperate
lonely
your own desperate
lonely
but you cannot convince yourself
to
need
the antidote
is need
you need to let yourself need
but
you
can’t
you
won’t
for you to need
is a dangerous thing
that will rip open
too
many
wounds.

i am exploring need in my working the healing wheel. i have realized that i do not let myself need anyone. if you ask me, i will state, “i do not need anyone.”
and in my head, this is true. there is an exit strategy in case of loss. for everyone i know, i have instilled an exit strategy in case i lose them.
i suppose there is something deeply wrong with me
that i refuse to need anyone.
so, weirdly enough, i have realized that i need to learn to need…but i have no idea how to do that.

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seven hundred years

sometimes i feel 
like i have been alive
for seven hundred years
i barely
remember 
yesterday
so for all i know
i’ve been alive
forever
&
i wonder
if i’ll ever look back
on these days
of struggle
of isolation
from the comfort
of a soul mate’s 
embrace
look back
in wonder
& awe
how did i ever survive
such desolate
times
to feel peace 
in my heart
while remembering
a time when peace
was a fantasy.

this, and a few more pages to come, were written yesterday when i was feeling especially hopeless & suicidal. good times…. being a single mom with next to no support system. i need to tell y’all, do not try this at home.

strangely, once i accepted that there was nothing to hope for, i felt a bit calmer. that’s me. finding comfort in the concept that i will never find comfort. 

this page does not have my standard issue self-portrait…unless you consider that that is my soul flying under the full moon. 
owls symbolize being able to see what others cannot. i identify with the owl, though i assume everyone else can see what i see. 
which, i guess, is not the case.
so!
i make art.

i may have gotten a little carried away. i think i painted my words out.

emotional cargo pants

sometimes i think
i must be crying
someone else’s
tears
must be feeling
someone else’s
pain
must be haunted
by someone else’s
ghosts
how could one person
feel
this
much?
maybe i am cursed
maybe i am blessed
maybe it is
my destiny
to pocket
not just my own
suffering
but a piece
of everyone else’s
as well
people who don’t have
all the pocket space
i do
i must be a pair
of emotional
cargo pants
used to carry
all the woes
of the
world.

you know,  emotional cargo pants to go with my sweater of depression. to be found in my neurotic wardrobe.

this one’s a bit messier than usual. the thought was difficult for me to express in the right way. i suspect there is a spectacularly poetic way to do it…but i am falling short & struggling with it.
additionally, my rapidograph pens were being assholes….as is in their nature, but i still love them.

rain down my soul

i’m on hold
for the moment
neither
moving
forward nor backward
just
quiet
static
my heart beats
still
i breathe
i am
but i am also
not
the rain falls
&
i feel it
in my soul
maybe the rain
is my soul
falling from
great heights
to seep
&
soak
& to remind me
to feel
not just other people’s pain
but also
hope.

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.

i’m (not) fine!

old wounds
fall open
when you least expect
your insides
spilling out
on the hot
sticky
sidewalk
& you’re all like,
“that didn’t hurt,”
as you refuse
to let
anyone
help
you.

just stuff. processing everything, sometimes things surge to the surface and catch you off guard. but you keep processing through it. stitch it back in. continue the journey.

a foundation for failure

he’s built the groundwork
for my psychotic break
just one word
a whisper
& the grasp
i so desperately hold
on my reality
my sanity
crumbles
so many careful years
he spent
just building on
to damage done
by my parents
by other men
i even handed him
the ammunition
trusting
that he would not hurt me
with it.

though my ever-faithful tarot cards (as well as every other experience i have ever had with dusty) warned me there would be conflict and that it was best if i did not engage…just let it blow over…holy fuck, he knows how to get me to engage. i try so hard to walk away. i say over & over, “i don’t want to talk about it.” but dusty is relentless until there is nothing left of me. just a glimpse of who i used to be as i morph into something i never want to be.
one of my parents.

this was our last dance.
i asked for a sign, and i got it.
there is nothing left here.
i need to move forward.
like, nine years ago…but better late than never.

this journal page is dedicated to my friend nexus who has been very supportive & encouraging of my art…and who knows how it feels to burn at the stake ❤

queen of swords II

before my whole fucktardery with dusty…
while my witchy friend was visiting, she & i read each other’s tarot cards. my near future card was the queen of swords. a card that often shows up in my spread–especially regarding dusty. the queen of swords has a high moral position and expects others to live up to it as well.
so is this a good thing?
a bad thing?
just a thing?
it’s true of me. i do expect a lot of myself & the same from others. dusty has never hesitated to fall under my sword.
then i’m all like–am i being too cruel? expecting too much? not accepting him for who he is?

fuck that.

i am the queen of swords.

off with his head.

as i protect myself & re-enforce walls that i had to build after letting him break my heart too many times, dusty does a dance & tries to appeal to my nurturing side. he is trying to get me to rescue him. he wants me to save him. he is trying to be sad & helpless while never admitting that he has done anything wrong.

so i’m going to go ahead & hold onto that queen of swords
because even though i am hurting right now
i know i am going to recover again
faster this time
& i need to make sure i finally remember this lesson
remember this heartbreak
& not let it happen again
seriously
for real this time.

centaur heart

who would i be
if my tender heart
didn’t break so easily?
who would i be
if i didn’t fall in love
& love & love & love?
sometimes
i think
it would be nice to
find out
other times
i hope i never have to
find out

so i’ve drawn me as a mermaid, as a unicorn, and riding a dragon. i thought, you know what i haven’t been? a centaur.
yes.
a centaur.
misha says to me, “i love this picture so much.”
& that’s just the love i need.

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