INKtober thirteenth

i hope
i want you
for healthy reasons
i hope
i have
grown
& am ready
to embrace
the ups & downs of a grown up
relationship
i fear
i want you
for unhealthy reasons
like
you almost destroyed me
once
before
maybe you can
finish me off
this time
i suspect
i want you
due to a gypsy’s
curse
how else
could my heart
swing
so suddenly
with every ounce of energy
it has
in your
direction
from out of nowhere
i fall in love
with
the
desperation
of someone searching for
post-apocalyptic
doritos.

INKtober twelfth (beached)

i am paralyzed
no matter which way i go
i am certain
i will fuck
it
up
i am trapped
my life
a torture chamber of indecision
i want to go
i just want to take off
run away
say “fuck it”
& start all over…
but if i do
will i soon regret it?
will i always
always regret it?
i don’t want to be
alone
anymore
but i will
surely
choose
the wrong company
the wrong companion
&
i will
find
myself
missing my solitude…
there is nothing
nothing
i can do
right
i am frozen
frozen
in fear
of
being
me.

so the official inktober prompt of the day (which i am by no means required to use in order to participate in inktober) is “whale.”
while i love drawing whales & am especially fond of humpback whales…it seemed more suitable for me to beach myself.
so this is me
beached.

on a similar note–i realized today that i have no idea how to spell “12th” as a word…good thing my 12 year old knew…(wait–i think i see a pattern)

& i am going through a rough patch. i find myself thinking i should quit the homestead adventure…or, at least, curtail it…. i also want to quit illinois & head back north/northwest (not in a hitchcock way.)
but all this is waaaaaaaaaaay easier said than done when one is broke but with a yard full of livestock living rent-free.
also
i want to be closer to my ex-husband…in more ways than one…& history shows that to be a bad idea…but i am notoriously bad about history.
both of these things are weighing heavily on me. resulting in mental exhaustion & severe bouts of crying as i question every motive i have and every bad decision i have ever made.
it super sucks.
i’m not sure i want to be me right now. i feel like i’m just a complete fuck up waiting for my next fuck up.

INKtober ninth

you’re sort of perfect
you’re sometimes
perfect
sometimes
just right
for me
sometimes
the worst thing ever
the thing that
tore me apart
turned me
inside
out
&
into someone
i no longer
recognized…
you’re sort of the devil
you’re sometimes
the devil
sometimes
the end of me
sometimes
my favorite family
&
my best
friend
being there for me
when
i
least
expect it
an every morning
coffee date
the warmest hug
in the whole
wide
world.

so many conflicting feelings as i sludge through whatever this is going on. i mean, i keep falling back in love with him. what happens next…i invite him into my life…everything is groovy…& then things go horribly wrong.
but what exactly happens?
is it him…me…the two of us together in one life boat?

also…i could not think of how to draw me. i was stumped. so i just drew, and this is what happened.

i dunno.

INKtober eighth

am i delusional
or spot-on
what is my motivation
here
is this a healthy urge
or a desperate
& warped
longing?
what is it i really
want?
i don’t know which ending
to root for
the one where we finally
work things out
see the error
of our ways
& determine to love each other
right?
or the one where
i triumphantly
move on?
if my life is a movie
would i be yelling at the screen for me
to run to him…
or away?

so many questions. i am trying to sit still and not do anything right now because my brain is obviously suffering some sort of…what? maybe i’m having a stroke. i just don’t know which way is up right now. the other day i googled “is it possible for people to change?”
i mean, i really want to believe he can change…sigh.
so basically i am emotionally paralyzed right now–or, rather, it’s like when they put a patient in a coma intentionally so they can deal with something life-threatening.
it’s like that.
i am in an emotional, self-induced coma for the time being.

INKtober sixth

is it something in the wind?
is it a changing of the seasons?
you try to remember the last time
you felt
like this
the last time
you realized
you
still
love
him
the last time you convinced yourself
to believe
things could be different between you & him
was it just a few months ago?
longer?
you remember screaming
at him
& throwing him
out of your house
your second son’s birthday…
the last time you invited him in
into your house
& opening
your heart
a little
just a little
the door peeked open
& he pushed his way in
& you pushed him back out again
& again
& again
until you wonder
why is there a revolving door on your heart?
& why
why
after all this time
all these years
why is he still
doing this dance
with you?

selfie with my dodo, y’all.

so i talked to my tarot cards tonight…about my crazy-ass feelings for my ex-husband, aka dusty…
i was told to control my impulses…to not jump into anything…to not abandon the path i have worked so hard on taking….
sigh.
my tarot cards never let me have any fun.
but, of course, they are right.
even if i were to work things out with my very handsome though emotionally stunted & narcissistic ex-husband, i should not–should definitely not–rush into it.
of course, i don’t know how to not rush into things…so i guess now is the time to learn.

in other news,
i lost my favorite pen. it has completely vanished. poof. gone. a replacement tip in the same size is $17.00 (i have several pens with clogged tips & could just switch out a new tip in the size of my favorite pen.) i have ordered one because the art must go on…but, i am on the verge of being very very broke & you know, donations are always welcome…as are purchases of my art.
should i set up a patreon page or something?
ack!
i need an agent/broker.

INKtober fourth

once upon a time
i got happy
every
time
you walked through
the door
once upon a time
my heart
beat
faster
beat
lighter
just for you
…what happened?
where does that go
when it goes
away?

i had no problem drawing him…but i kept fucking me up. this was my second attempt. hmmm. i kept fucking me up.
what does that mean, i wonder.

also
i totally went right off the page.

INKtober third

the world revolved
around you
but turning in circles
destroyed me
i am still
recovering
still turning
still dizzy
maybe
never ever
able
to trust again
but
at least
i have a dog now
someone
to warm that empty spot
in my bed
someone
to warm that empty spot
in my heart
i replaced you
i did
i replaced you
with a puppy.

this was kind of quick & messy. i based it on a portrait i found by googling “portrait with dog.” it was between james tissot’s “young lady in a boat” and a portrait of a topless woman gesturing to her dog. i was really tempted to do the topless one, but went with the more tasteful one…you’re welcome.

so after writing this i realized…. well, probably while writing this i realized…it seems…sigh….it seems i am still in love with my ex-husband aka “dusty.”
a shocking revelation…or not so much if you have followed my journals for more than a couple of weeks….
also! it is completely possible that i’m just trying to avoid my own healing by focusing on my feelings for him.
so, even though i have a dog to sleep with now…i find myself missing the warmth of an ex i thought i was mostly over.
fuck me.
i know i do this. i yo-yo.
fuck fuck fuck.

so my head is spinning again.
and i’m trying to work through it without accidentally finding myself in a relationship with him…again.
ack!
so…more journal pages on that.

(in case you were wondering, i almost never use the inktober prompts. as with the rest of life,  i prefer to go off script)

narcissus

he told me
he was a chameleon
yet i still fell prey
when he found his way
into my heart
by mirroring
everything
i loved
about myself
& even some things
i hated
i fell in love
with familiarity
i guess
it makes sense
that i left him
for me.

the story of my ex-husband is a sad story. his story is sad. his childhood was a nightmare. he became a narcissist & a chameleon because he did not know how else to cope. or, that is my take on it anyway.
i realized recently why he seems so attractive to me sometimes. he is literally adopting my personality as his own…or at least one aspect of his personality is mirrored from me. he is adopting my words, my style of dress, how i relate to our children, and even my neurosis.
it kind of blows my mind.
and then i feel really bad for him.
but it isn’t safe for me to feel bad for him.
so, instead, i draw pictures & write pages of verse to try to understand my own experience with it. to try to process my own experience…so i can heal & be stronger.

but, fuck, i wish so badly he could heal as well….

do you think hallmark is hiring?

my second inking inspired by/copied off of the egon schiele’s “mother & child.”

this one looks more sinister…which suits the topic, i suppose. i titled it “hallmark moment.”

so ink brush is a bit more tricky to manipulate than ink pen. i accidentally gave myself a very waspish waistline.
i do not, nor have i ever had, a waspish waistline.
in fact, i remember very clearly when i was in high school gym class and the instructor was measuring our waists before a fitness & nutrition chapter of the class. she looked for awhile, trying to find mine. finally she declared me “high-waisted.” i think she just gave up on finding my waist.
when i was twenty, i was working as a nurse’s aide in a care facility. i had a shaved head at the time. a lot of the folks with alzheimer’s were confused about me. but one day, while helping one gentleman, i was pronounced to be, “a stout, young lad!” he said it as if i should take it as a compliment. i found it hysterical & have touted myself as such ever since.

basically, i have a very dense & solid frame. i always have & always will. even at my lightest weight while still being healthy, i was 145 pounds. it’s just genetics. you should see my dad.
on the plus side, i am pretty indestructible, physically anyway….

just words

i never wanted
perfect
i would have been
happy
with
kind
i would have traded the world
for someone
who
loved me
best
but…marriage vows
are just
words
really
no matter
how pretty they sound.

there is this thing dusty says to me whenever he feels the need to shut me up. he mentions this mysterious thing he whispered into my ear during our wedding ceremony. he brings it up knowing i have the memory of a chipmunk on mind altering drugs. he brings it up knowing i was so stressed out on our wedding day that i barely remember being there. he brings it up knowing i will feel bad for not remembering his great declaration of love.
or maybe i’m wrong.
but i’m not.
he brought it up recently when we were texting back & forth.
he texted, “i meant what i whispered in your ear that day.”
so i asked, “which day?”
and of course it was our wedding day to which he referred even though that was no where near to being the topic of our conversation.
yes, dusty, you are one up on me. i don’t know what you whispered. i just don’t fucking remember.
so i texted him back to confess that i was too hopped up on anxiety to remember anything from our wedding day.
so he finally told me those magical words that he has held as proof of his good intentions all these years:

i may not be perfect, but i will always love you.

so of course my response was what the fucking fuck? who asked for perfect? i would have settled for a dude who didn’t escape into a pot-induced video game haze instead of being present in our marriage. i would have settled for a dude who didn’t insult me on the day i buried my brother. i would have settled for a dude who helped change the diapers & got up at night to help me with the babies…or who fucking didn’t berate me for being pregnant. i would have settled for a dude who didn’t fuck around on me to punish me.

sigh.

so i told him, those are just words. anyone can say words. without the action to back them up…just..fucking..words.

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