i wonder why

i wonder why
i so easily
put others’
needs
others’ feelings
ahead of my own
leaving myself
in my sad
cocoon
of resentment.

another dusty inspired journal page. since he has been fired from his job and is waiting for the universe to drop another one in his lap, he has been messing big time with the kid schedule and spending way way way too much time at my house. it has me all out of whack.
and angsty.
i decided to stand up and say something, and he conceded to me saying, “you get your way.”
that was after two days of my saying something as nicely as i could before finally getting morose. after almost 20 years, i still don’t know how to talk to him. every approach at having a mature conversation ends with my being punished.
i just want things to go back to the way they were–where i only saw him twice a month–briefly–to drop off/pick up kids.
my life is so much easier when dusty & i are not “friends.”

sunken treasure

whisper it
shout it out loud
call me by name
tell me you love me
i will pretend
to believe you.

i didn’t write on this one, but the above is what i thought of writing on it. sunken treasure…that’s me.
i am preparing for a solstice celebration that includes my ex-husband.
i don’t want to include him, but i feel i have to.
he is good at letting me know how alone & lonely he is. no matter how miserable it will make me, i can easily be swayed to entertain his misery.
every other year, he has had a job that kept him from ending up on my doorstep. not this year. so i feel bad.
especially since the 19th is his birthday
but also my brother’s death day…
so you can see how messed up i am going to be.
and a full moon.
fuck me.

“sunken treasure” ink on watercolor paper…9X12…$45….SOLD!

page 61

another page of moses jones: apocalyptic mama.
i have been working on this comic on & off since 2013 when i was in madison, wisconsin, attending university & living in a housing co-op.
my relationship with my ex. my children. and my experiences in a housing co-op have all heavily influenced this comic.
as well as my early exposure to apocalyptic dystopian themes in movies.

one day i hope to publish a collection of these.
one day.

without smooches

as the universe prepares
to dazzle me
with its vast mysteries
i just keep myself wondering
if i will ever get laid
again
for what is enlightenment
worth
without smooches

i did this page backwards. i inked an illustration and then wrote a thought around it. really. i could be having non-stop epiphanies & be the most brilliant thing in the universe…but i would still be all like, yeah–but am i pretty?

in other news, last night i had a nightmare that i remarried my ex-husband. in the dream i was lamenting the marriage just after it happened. wondering when i could divorce him again.
i have never been happier to wake up in the morning.
so–i might be lonely, but i’m not desperate.

punishment doughnuts

that’s what we called them when he brought them home to us in that plain white box that meant one thing:
doughnuts!
except this plain white box held plain cake doughnuts…no frosting. no sprinkles. no custard….
doughnuts….
we imagined them to be the doughnuts one bought to say:
“you did a subpar job”
“you barely passed your exams”
“it’s not me; it’s you”
punishment doughnuts

first world problems, i know, but it is now an inside joke with my oldest son ever since my ex brought us home a box of plain cake doughnuts. they actually weren’t that bad once we got past the disappointment of them not being chocolate.

april fools

my world feels like it is falling down
around me
so why does my subconscious
take this time
to bring you alive
again
some cosmic april fool’s joke
waking from dreams
into more dreams
of you.

so many praying hands! then i realized i also had praying hands in yesterday’s inking…which i did not realize when i was doing this one.
what am i trying to manifest in my life right now? peace? faith? grounding?
trust in myself? trust in my path?
why so many praying hands?
also i am doing daily tarot card draws. a me card & a conflict card. yesterday was the tower card crossed by the inverted nine of swords (massive suffering) making me wonder if two negatives make a positive in tarot…. but when i drew the cards i was all, “yup…me crashing and burning…again”
today is a little better. today is six of swords crossed by sacrifice. six of swords is slow path to healing–the sacrifice card (for me) references issues of control (i get that one a lot.)
and i checked my journal…it was february 20th when i began this crash & burn, before that i was doing really really well.
too well.
now i am hopefully close to crawling out of the demolished tower of me to rebuild…again.

dream lover

you showed up in my dream
again
always there
sweet as pie
miles away in the morning
but by my side
still
in my memories
in my wishes?

i was doodling my dream lover and then added these speech bubbles. apparently dream lover wants me to focus on comics. i’m cool with that. it’s not like i have a shortage of ideas.

misha’s birth day

i know another reason why i’m feeling warm & fuzzy towards dusty right now. when we were married, i surmised that if we were ever trapped somewhere, dependent on working together to get to safety, we would die.

my observation was true of every time i needed him to be there for me.
except one…misha’s birth.

misha is my third child. my first two were c-sectioned because my body likes to take more than 42 weeks to perfect a baby–& doctors do not like to let a woman go much past 40.
so, twice, i let them cut the baby out of me because they said that it was for the best.
when i got pregnant with misha, i could not bear the thought of another c-section.
so i fired all the doctors.
problem was, none of the midwives in madison would support my birth because i had been deemed too risky.
i had never had a vaginal birth. i was 40 years old & prone to long pregnancies. these were my crimes.
misha is the one who suffered for  them.
i found an outlaw midwife who lived one state over & would travel to me when i went into labor.
second problem…i didn’t know what labor looked like because doctors had never let me get that far.
by the time i was certain i was in labor–& not wasting the midwife’s time–misha was on her way out.
she came out fast. relentlessly fast. none of the stages of labor i had read up on were observed by misha as she rocketed out of me.
there was one doula present and dusty.
we were in a kiddie tub on the fourth floor of a 30 person cooperative.
when misha was born, she was having trouble breathing. she probably just needed a few puffs of air to get her going, but none of us knew what to do. by the time the mom down the hall called her midwife to come help, misha was showing signs of seizure.
the paramedics took her away.
the NICU kept her for 12 days.
they told dusty & me, best case scenario: misha has coordination issues & learning disabilities.
worst case scenario: cerebral palsy or epilepsy
i cried so hard as they said that. my heart broke. it was all my fault. if i had just been unselfish enough to get the fucking surgery…to have another fucking c-section…misha would have been fine.
i waited for dusty to blame me. he blamed me for everything. it was always my fault.
this time he would be right.
except
he didn’t blame me. he told me it wasn’t my fault. he zoomed me around the hospital in my wheeled chair–being silly & sweet–as i was still too wrecked to walk much after the birth. he watched the boys while i kept vigil at her side. he came to be with her when i was forced to go home & sleep.
he took care of us.
he was there for me.
seven years later, just as i would remember & be traumatized by a bad event, the good things that happened feel as fresh as yesterday.
and i miss that version of dusty.

(in the NICU…& one year later when the neurologist said, “oh…nevermind.”)

next page rough draft

i was working on this last night. i felt sad doing it. i mean, it’s my way of putting dusty in the ground so he can’t hurt me anymore…but i still wish it were a different reality where i didn’t have to put dusty in the ground in order to feel safe.
sigh.
so i saw the real dusty on monday to get the minions back. i started talking about how i had a couple of local WWOOFers interested in helping out on the homestead. dusty then got really quiet & weepy-eyed. when i asked if he was okay, he said it wasn’t the right place to talk.
then he texted me today to talk.
i hate talking on phones. of course he knows this, but never makes it so we can talk in person & refuses to have written correspondances.
so i called him.
he wanted to know why i had tear streaks on my face when i came to pick up the kids. i honestly answered, “i don’t know. i am just generally sad.” which i am. not the greatest way to be, but i am. i am also generally happy. i told him, “i am sad about ways my life has gone.”
then he asked other stuff and before long we were in an argument.
he wants me to still love him & still want him.
i want to feel safe.
he is upset that i am turning to strangers for help when he is willing to help.
but his help comes with too much baggage.
and manipulation.
and emotional abuse.
i told him that he has “narcissistic tendencies.”
then when i was talking about how i have to watch what i say around him & don’t want to have to change my personality to avoid misunderstandings with him he basically said, “who’s narcissistic now?”
fuck me.
so you might understand why it is just easier to use a katana….

anyhoo.
i have started doing rough drafts because i really don’t like using pencils…even blue ones. so this is the rough for my next page.
are you excited?
i’m excited.
(and a little sad)

clearly dragons

this is what i have been working on for a few too many days now.
it’s a simple inking…& clearly dragons.
but as usual…nothing is simple.
the minions are in wisconsin with their dad.
and i am alone.
but it’s more than that.
lately i have been feeling alone at a really profound soulular level.
(i just made that word up…is it working for you?)
so i’m lonely.
to the bone.
maybe it’s something i have always felt.
even as a child i believed i wasn’t from here, dropped off my my alien race because i had romanticized what it would be to be human….
and lately
the lonely is more profound
because i am not hiding myself in relationships.
i am facing the lonely. to some extent.
i got drunk with an old friend on saturday.
before that i was at a beekeeping class all day.
i fell in love with the vice president of the bee association.
then i convinced myself to pursue my old friend.
and when neither of these panned out, i texted my first ex husband.
he has been romanticizing me since i left him in 2002…
so he was happy to drive to see me & to live happily ever after.

i could have gone with that.
at least for a little while.
it felt nice to have someone come see me & pay attention to me.
i could have taken it further.
i could have started something back up with him.
so you know what my immune system did?
it went ass end up and i got sick.
he came to see me & i got a cold.
i have a pretty fucking solid immune system.
and i got sick.

there were no sparks.
even though i have been feeling electric
and feeling i could fall in love with the world.
i couldn’t do it.
i could not be dishonest with myself one more time.
i just couldn’t.
i was relieved when he left.
i mean, i loved seeing him.
but more importantly, i loved having that escape route cut off.
i cannot keep romanticizing exes because moving forward might be painful.

maybe he learned the same thing…i  hope he learned the same thing.

it’s okay to be lonely. it’s okay to crave a connection.

it’s not okay to lie to myself to get it.

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