the worst thing

what’s the worst thing
you can do
to the girl
who is full of anxiety
constantly looking to her worst-case-scenario
the girl with the abandonment
escapism
issues?
you.
her diabetic boyfriend
her diabetic fiance
the love of her life
you know what you could do?
you could go into insulin shock
once a week–at least
you could do that while you’re driving
even
crash your truck into a utility pole
& laugh it off
leaving her desperate
& terrified
you could do that
while never-ever realizing
never-ever admitting
that you are hurting her.

you were happy to let me take the blame
when our world fell apart.

this one. the one i should be over by now. but–you know–stuff it all down deep enough & you won’t have to deal with it. just keep piling more crap on top of it.
except…it seeps out. and i end up sending him psychotic communications. desperate pleas for forgiveness. and he just plays me like a game as usual.
i did awful things in that relationship. things out of my character. things i have never done to anyone else. and all i can do is blame myself…but what if i did it because i was so scared he was going to die on me?
i was sure i would come home & find him dead. so many times i came home to find him convulsing in insulin shock. what happens the one time i don’t make it home in time?

me.
a girl terrified of death. a girl terrified of being alone. a girl who would shut down rather than risk feeling for a creature that might die on her….

fuck the fuck.

it hurts so much to let this surface. i guess that’s good?  i mean–is healing supposed to hurt this much?

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on the homesteading end of the spectrum that is me….

this is not artwork…i did not make it.
this is not a fruit or vegetable…i did not grow it.
yet i introduced tyler durden & anna the sheep. i built them a pasture. i make sure they have food & water & clean straw to sleep in should they choose to sleep inside.
so i feel like somehow i made this.
this beautiful little lamb that seemingly dropped out of thin air for as much as i had to do with her actual birth.
i took some friends out to show them our sheep, and there she was. just hanging out with her mama as if she had been there all along.

it was just imbolc, which actually is a word meaning “in the belly” and refers to the lambs inside the sheep at this time of year as we are halfway to spring.

it is time to make ready for spring. time to collect seeds. time to plan gardens. time to start plants that need more time to grow. time to commit to putting down roots.

however, i have been feeling a bit trapped. i am living, as caretaker, on my parent’s land…in their house. i am completely dependent on them as i have no income and have failed to have children with a man who will actually work & pay child support…or show any support at all. the same parents i ran away from as soon as i was legally able to (living in bumfuck, illinois, i dreamed of actually being a run-away, but there was really no where to go & practicality won out & i waited until i graduated high school) i am now somehow indebted to for a place to live and a place to raise my minions.
i am back where i started.
trapped-ish.
depending on how i look at it.
sure, i can have my dream homestead…but it isn’t really mine…is it?

but i keep on keeping on because i don’t know what else to do.

no one is showing up in shining armor upon a white unicorn to save me from being a single penniless mother of four.
this is the best i can hope for right now.

and i kind of want to just cry about it.

i’m really behind on my artwork this month. it might be because on my to do list is just:
max out my credit cards with cash advances & fake my own death.

i know i should be thankful i have a place to live and am not starving or suffering or being deported or being bullied or living in fear…and i am…just some days i still wallow.

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