goodbye

it was as if the island did not want me to be there.
every sign an exit sign.
rain filling the tent
a sky clouding over as soon as we got to the beach
for a swim
crows crying out a warning every morning
relentless flies & pissy park rangers…
i wondered if it was an omen of bad things to come…
only to realize it was a letting go
like the end of the movie
when you have to set free the thing you love
have to chase off the thing you love.
the island was telling me to leave
to run free
& to not look back.

this has everything to do with dusty. i planned this vacation to madeline island with him. kind of a co-parent thing. i thought it would work out okay because things had been going more friendly between us.
but i really do not like being around him.
especially not for an entire camping trip.
we are so different in the ways we live our lives. the ways we see the world. the ways we parent….
it hurts me to be around him. i wish it did not…but it does. i am damaged a little every time i tolerate his bullshit. and i feel like i have to tolerate his bullshit in order to keep the peace.
…and i really really do not like tolerating bullshit.

it was totally his fault the tent flooded. i kept trying to nicely tell him the flaw in his thinking. the flaw that was causing the tent to turn into a leaky water bed…but he kept telling me how it was going to work. i had to wait it out, bailing out the tent more than once, before he would “let” me fix the problem (without any help from him.)

i once surmised of our relationship that if we were ever in a situation where we had to work together to survive–we just wouldn’t. we would be dead.

but i survived.
& the island made it clear to me that i need to let go & stop the nonsense.

super predator

i don’t think you were
a predator
when i met you
which makes me wonder
if i am the trigger event
they talk about
on “criminal minds”…
were you broken
but harmless
until i got ahold of you
unleashing
this creature i see
gazing seductively
in so many photos
sent to my phone
(& who else’s?)
photos that make red flags
fly
& cause me to run
even faster.

thoughts on my ex-husband. i was looking at pictures of him when i met him versus pictures of him now. he was this cuddly chubby dork…now he is an angular & smoldering with long curly hair & a devastating stare. whenever i see his big blue eyes staring at me, i get the heeby jeebies…which i am pretty sure is the opposite of what he wants….
i so totally miss the old him.
& i cannot help but hate the new him. i mean, he killed off the old him, right?
or was that me?
did i kill off old him?

landscaping

i need to prune
his tendrils
they keep
creeping
clinging
to
me
pulling me
into
quicksand dreams
of desperation
i need to prune
his tendrils
&
be free grow
tall & strong
once
again.

more art journal pages on the tendency of my ex to haunt my dreams. i really need to exorcise that ghost.

the queen of swords

when i was doing the pages, killing off dusty, a friend commented to me that it was strong magic i was doing–that it would have an effect on me.

i thought it would put the last nail in the coffin…however, it seemed to cause me to look at my dusty differently. like i had killed off his evil doppelgänger and the curse was lifted & we would live happily ever after.

what?
where the fuck did that come from?
so dusty came to visit when he returned the minions and i was all warm & fuzzy towards him….

what?

it’s true. sad, but true. i started letting myself fantasize the easy fantasy.
what it the father of my children wasn’t a narcissistic asshole? what if he could return to us and be there for me every day and help with the kids and help with the homestead and i wouldn’t have to be alone anymore and i would have someone to talk to…to laugh with…to cuddle and have delicious sex with….

so after he was gone away again, i kept trying to think of ways of making it work out. ways to invite dusty back into my life again. i didn’t want to make the same mistake i had made
over
and
over
and
over.
i would take it slow and think it through and make the right decision.

so i texted him asking if he was dating anyone. i thought this would be a good first step.
he texted back “well psychotic hello kitty cunt-face (not her real name) wants us to be dating but…”

holy fucking christ in a toaster

quick timeline for clarification
2013-2015 –cheating on me with phkcf behind my back while i am pregnant with his fourth child, giving birth to that child, and taking care of an infant & 3 other children.
2015-2016 –telling me he is going to break up with her/refusing to break up with her/ she meanwhile is stalking the both of us and leaving weird little notes, graffiti, presents all over the neighborhood we live in
2016 –i move to fucking manitowoc, wisconsin to get away from the two of them because he won’t break up with her. he immediately breaks up with her (after i have moved away) and supposedly breaks ties with her.
2016-2017 we move to illinois together & try to make another go of it but fail. he goes back to wisconsin where i realize he is back in touch with her & i tell him he cannot be friends with me while remaining in contact with a person who did as much damage as phkcf did.
2018 –i realize he may still be in touch with her because all of a sudden the kids are talking about max the cat whom last i knew he had given to her (in 2013) probably so he would have an excuse to see her. so he got his cat back from her. which means there was definite contact. he says nothing to me. then he casually name-drops her as someone he could be dating?????????????

does he not get it? does he not understand that i do not want this person anywhere near my life? if he wants me in his life in any capacity, she cannot be in his life. why does he not understand that? or does he just not care? he says she means nothing to him & that he wants nothing to do with her…and she is ruining his chances of having any kind of friendship with me…yet he still corresponds with her (at least–he could be doing more–it’s not like he tells me the truth about anything.)

fuck a duck.

so here i am.
i let myself have the fantasy. i let myself go there.
now i am hurting for it.

i should have known better.
why the fuck didn’t i know better?

is it hope or stupidity or human nature or a damaged soul that lets me think he could change?

work in progress…

okay.
so i’m not done yet…but i am still working on it!
slowly slowly.
i really like it so far, which makes me all the more worried about fucking it up.
sigh.
but i am still working on it.

i have this idea that i would like every page to be able to stand on its own. so that is another challenge.

meanwhile, i guess the minions are off to wisconsin today. dusty was going to come here to stay for a few weeks instead of the minions leaving here. but just the anticipation of his being here was turning me into an ugly unbalanced madwoman. finally, yesterday, after learning of another lie he’d told me (regarding some mutual friends) i spun out & told him he could not stay here.
he wants to move closer & wants me to help him by letting him stay here & job hunt, etc.
which, in theory, makes sense.
but in practice will chip away at my soul.
it is difficult balancing my desire to help with my knowledge of how he likes to take advantage of my desire to help.
fuck!
so sucks.
but now instead of being angry & angry…i am just sad that i will not see my minions for a week.
and relieved that dusty is not going to be here.
so relieved!
it’s like he thinks we can be a happy family again, but he won’t stop being an abusive narcissist.
i no longer want to be a family with him…but i know there is no escaping his being my children’s father.

maybe that’s why i’m killing him off in my dystopian fantasy world….
ya think?

year of the dog

when last we left off with our hero, she was slaying zombies in the forest while foraging for supplies….
actually, i started a new episode after this called “the return of dusty.” but it puttered out.
i have been trying to get it re-started…but i really don’t think i want dusty in my story anymore. i think it is time to write dusty out of the script.

which i did, last night. i have yet to draw it though.

meanwhile, the real dusty is threatening to come visit. i am torn. while i wish i lived in a world where i never had to see him or his hell-spawn of a mother again…i also hate the idea of my minions going away to wisconsin again to spend a week with him & his hell-spawn of a mother again.
it is one of those things i have severe anxiety/control issues about. i mean i became a stay-at-home mom when i realized i could not leave my child at home. instead i was taking baby fidgit with me when i went out to pick up stray animals. he was sitting in on dog evaluations with me at the humane society where i was employed when he was born.
realizing i could not leave him, i quit my job.

i know i cannot control their lives. it just seems dumb to let him take them to wisconsin when he doesn’t even know what the fuck he is doing with his life.
he is taking my minions to live in his limbo.
it just seems dumb.

so my choices are to let them go…or deal with dusty in my space.

fuck a duck.

so i am currently trying to figure out which hurts less….

in other news. i am having a crisis of faith with my art.
i guess that’s not really news….
today i tried to read a comic book & found i could not. comic books seem dumb to me now. maybe not all of them, but definitely the mainstream ones.
i tried to post my page that i made yesterday (archangel carl) on a facebook group called “women creating comics” along with my lament about my crisis of faith…but as soon as someone started suggesting things i could do to make my art more “acceptable” to the comic world, i deleted my post & almost quit the group.

what would van gogh do?

hmmmm.

oh! i almost forgot! (thank goodness for blog titles)
so we recently entered year of the dog. i was born in the year of the dog. i looked back, and other than my 12th year, i could remember having a life changing event in every year of the dog since my birth. maybe there was one when i was 12 too–i just can’t remember for sure. in retrospect, every decision i made in my years of the dog were the wrong ones.

so this year
this year
i am determined to get it right.
to be true to myself and to stay true to my path.
whatever it may be.

so with the first full moon of this lunar year…i am struggling to find the path that i have determined i should stick to….
wish me luck.

 

chaos

good chaos
bad chaos
& all the chaos
inbetween
my muse
& my unamused

what keeps me busy, inspires me. what inspires me, keeps me busy.

on the bullfrog song homestead with me:
7 sheep
8 hens
8 pullets
2 chicks
7 muscovy ducksings
7 turklings
1 gosling
2 toads
1 tarantula
1 cat
1 dog
2 beehives
4 minions
and one ex-husband.

i welcome most of these things. okay, all but the ex-husband. i have realized beyond a shadow of a doubt that i do not want to live with him.

whether he’s good or bad, i do not want to live with him.
i want to get on with my life.
and he is not my future.
i do not love him.

edge of the world

i’m in kind of a “meh” mood about my art.
that happens.
periodically.
maybe i should work on a different project for awhile.
my memoirs.
or an illustration gig for a friend.
maybe make a zine.
or work on a new page of moses jones: apocalyptic mama. right? who remembers mojo? who misses mojo? i miss her sometimes.

edge2.JPG

speaking of…things have taken a weird turn with the dusty knickers of my life…okay…not so weird, if you are familiar with our on-again/off-again relationship which showed up in my comic as his disappearing every time moses got pregnant. my dusty never left me–in the physical sense, but did pull away emotionally. and behaved self-destructively. and was incredibly manipulative.
and i swore it was done and that i would never ever ever ever ever take him back again (i have broken up with him–maybe as many as seven times?–and he has inched his way back in, waiting until i am vulnerable….)
but i invited him back in, again, on a trial basis. and it is really nice to have him back. i am well aware that this is the “honeymoon” period…but–as cautious as i am, it is nice to have  him back.
so…can people change?
he had some life-changing stuff happen. he realized a lot of things about himself and how his relationship with his mom shaped his self-destruction, lying, and manipulative behaviors. and now…he is behaving in a healthy way that i have never seen from him. like…communicating…like…having conversations & being human.
it’s weird.
and even though i am lonely and desperate for company and tired of doing this alone…i don’t think i am vulnerable. i mean, i know i can do it alone if i have to.
but i don’t want to.
but i know that i can. and i am willing to do it alone rather than be in a fucked up relationship.

i guess we’ll see what happens.
i don’t have the best track record for making good decisions about men & relationships.

but…people can change…i mean, i have changed. i really have.

and you know what? i threw him out. i did it. i can do it again. i know i can. i know i am stronger now. more sure of myself.

he knows it, too.

edge1.JPG

ink clot

i figure that’s a good thing to call my artist’s block…an ink clot.

i stared at this for a couple hours last night while watching a romantic comedy which actually caused a little ptsd when trump made a cameo in it. there should be a trigger warning on the movie two weeks notice. how was i to know i would have to see the thing of nightmares in a fluffball of sandra bullock and that british guy who’s name is escaping me & i don’t feel like googling him?

i’m not that desperate at least.

part of my ink clot is a fear of fucking up my picture. all of a sudden. i guess if i’m taking myself seriously, then i have to worry about messing up.
crap.
i feel jinxed.
but i did work on valentine’s today…that i need to finish now if i want them to actually reach people in time. the valentine’s were fun because i don’t  have to worry about fucking them up.
but i put a price on my other stuff.
i was having a panic attack about over-pricing my art. i don’t know if i am over-pricing them. i guess i think they are worth it…but what if someone else doesn’t?
then no art for them, i guess.
that’s all there is to it.
they either sell or they don’t.

my big achievement yesterday, while not doing art, was to realize that i was born a radical.
i have been identifying very heavily with the more radical reactions to the current administration.
and then i realized.
i’ve always been a radical.
i spent my childhood challenging the patriarchy before i even knew what feminism was (it was a bad word in my childhood home–that’s all i knew about it.)
i spent my childhood challenging organized religion.
i spent my childhood challenging the constructs of gender and sexuality.

i have been in resistance from day one.

i also realized that i have no desire to try to convert any trumpettes over to my way of thinking. i know from experience (growing up with rabid conservatives) that there is very little chance of tipping that scale in my favor.
what i want to do is inspire wanna-be radicals.
what i want to do is normalize being radical the way they are trying to normalize being a racist piece of shit.
that’s my calling.
that’s what i was born to do.

one last thing.
i have been trying to stay in touch with ex-husband #1 who came for a visit after a drunken text from me on a lonely/horny impulse.
nothing happened while he was visiting (thankgodthankgodthankgod)
and i have broken it to him that i am not interested in anything ever happening. and when i said that, i said, “i hope you don’t go into hiding,” because usually if he senses any rejection whatsoever, he disappears out of my life (no texts, no emails, etc.)
he answered that he wants to be friends.
and wants to hear from me…but then i got this email from him last night:

And just so you know    Going into hiding is right behind gone missing as the stupidest phrase ever.

that’s all it said.
what the fuck is that?
who says that?
yeah.
so glad i didn’t have sex with him.

i’m trying not to write back something snarky. i am trying to just ignore it. i don’t know. maybe i should call him out on it.
what the fuck?

sometimes i hate men…or at least both the ones i used to be married to.

follow me

i struggled to lighten some of the darker bits with white ink.
struggled.
but i think it worked out…ish.

just my second ink in six days. february is off to a very unimpressive start. my horoscope says that my career will boom this week…for my sun sign & my rising sign. so perhaps the rest of this month will be more impressive.

and i am working on an illustration project. something i need to start spending more time with. i meant to work on it more than i did during my minion-free time…however, i spent too much of that time thinking about getting laid. and trying to figure out how to get laid. and then realizing my best option for a little sex was not an option at all because i really did not want to go there after all.

then i start wondering. the world is falling apart…should i really be this concerned about love & being loved & finding someone to love?
but love is all the time.
i mean…sarah connor managed to fall in love while being chased by a kill-happy terminator.
people fall in love during war & famine & plague.

right?

so looking for love during this god-awful time isn’t completely unheard of…right?

i’ve got two ex-husbands willing to come to my rescue. of course, their idea of rescue is mostly self-serving and has very little to do with me. i have to assure the two of them that i do not need rescuing…while i secretly hope that some strapping redhead will come to my rescue.
i have some weird viking/lumberjack fetish going on.
i really don’t know what that is about.
this might all be some perimenopausal hormone explosion.

or maybe after a lifetime of crappy relationships
and always having to rescue myself
i’m finally willing to be swept off my feet.

and then i just want to make fun of myself for being a silly romantic.

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