wishes

i spend all of my wishes
desperately
holding my family
together
every wish on every star
to counter act
the wishes they make
against each other
against themselves
every eleven eleven
a prayer for a truce
an end to the fighting
i have no wishes
left over
for me.

this is kind of a reflection of something a lot of parents go through, i think. giving everything to your children & having nothing left despite the advice of self-care for better parenting…

i suppose every family fights? i have only known two families, my birth family & the one i have made. it seems that fighting is genetic.
but still it empties me out. watching siblings torture each other & then cry that they are not loved….

and then i wonder if it is my fault. if i have done something to make peace an unattainable goal. if my monstrosity is what fuels their bitter fights. something they learned from me despite all my efforts to not be a monster…. especially when i find myself wishing i could make a wish for me sometimes.

hide & seek

i used to hide
hoping someone
would come find me
no one
ever
did
(except once)
now i hide
knowing no one
is looking
for me
i am
alone
with my
siren song.

written on my birthday in case you were wondering how i fared on that day.
if you are curious about the one time someone came looking for me when i was hiding, check out my book confusion perfume and other neurotic comics where that phenomenon is documented. available through amazon!

i was hoping to feel better, but i am either sabotaging myself yet again or something else is going one…maybe the universe kicking me in the ass? like–why won’t my downloadable tv site work?? just let me escape into crime tv! please!

but no. my new (used) sink is leaking. i have failed the free store. my kids are out of control. the yard needs to be mowed. and i cannot download any television because the site i use is down….

sigh.

& i’m alone & lonely….

queen of all i see

celtic queen
to mongol lord
to russian
revolutionary
to vietnamese
rebel
&
finally landing
on
mother….
is it a fall from grace
though?
as a mere
mother
i still
rebel
i still
fight in the revolution
i still am a lord
& queen
so not a fall
but
an accumulation?

an art journal exploration of what i feel to be past lives leading up to this one….
clearly this was written when my kids were away with their dad & i didn’t feel like a complete fucking mess of a mother.
clearly i did some heinous crime in a previous life to land as a mother in this one.
crap.

the turkey stands alone

yesterday
all of my livestock went to live
with a very nice red-haired farmer
who knows what the fuck he is doing
& isn’t just winging it
like some kind of off-kilter homesteading maniac…
i think i learned
many many things
from my livestock experiment 
(not to be confused with my motherhood experiment)
although some of what i learned
is very similar to my motherhood
experiment…
yesterday
my yard emptied out
no more ducks…chickens…goats…or sheep
just the turkey stands alone
and i feel 
a lot
sad
but also
a little
relieved.

i’m telling the minions…it’s a new chapter…a new episode of our lives. change is not necessarily a bad thing. change can be good. really really good. 
but it’s still sad.

meanwhile, i have gotten a little done over on my patreon page.

and a birthday card & a patron card

i can’t play the game

the internet game. i can’t do it. i can’t do facebook. i can’t network. i am terrible at being anything but sincere. and i am completely crushed when my sincerity is not returned in kind. i take people at face value…so if they are disingenuous, i feel like it is a personal attack.

i can’t play the game.

i should be a bronte sister hidden away on the moors. dreaming my silly dreams and never being allowed to interact with others. then i can keep my hopes intact. i could just send my stories & art out in the post and hear back in six weeks as to whether my stories and art will make it to publication.

i can’t do the internet.

i hate how fake i sound when i post about my fucking chickens when i just want to twist their heads off because i have control issues, and chickens are just uncontrollable…unless they are nuggets. i hate how fake i sound when i post about something cute my kids did or my garden when i feel like i am falling apart. when i feel like i am the worst mom ever. when i feel like it is all a sham. why am i even here? what is the point? i just want to pack my bags and disappear.

i can’t do this anymore.

i wonder if anyone else feels like this? that the world has become one stupid photo op? one stupid witty quip. one stupid tweet. one stupid selfie. one stupid picture of what isn’t falling apart in your life. just don’t look too close at that picture and everything will be fine.

or am i truly alone.

on the moors.

with my dreams whipping away in the wind.

this is not the person i am supposed to be

i feel like a failure.
what’s worse is that i feel like i am a failure at being a failure.
other people seem to be able to make a life out of failing.
i can’t even do that.
i want to tear a hole in the world with my teeth.
there is so much pain inside of me.
and when it comes out–
i feel even worse because i am causing pain.
i won’t tell you.
but i am a monster.
an awful horrible monster.
and that is not who i am supposed to be.
i don’t know why i am a monster.
i want to be a good person. a helpful person.
a loving
and nice
person.
i can see that person in my head.
but i am not that person.
i am a monster.
i can see in my head
the person i was supposed to be.
kind & nurturing.
not a complete fucking mess
so angry at the world that it tears me apart
and spills ruination on anyone
everyone
around me.

i tried to so spells
wear stones
to help me find balance
let go of negative thought patterns.
i failed.
i think i somehow charged the stones
to do the opposite.
now i am an even bigger mess.

i started reading jenny lawson’s book
furiously happy
which highlights her struggles with mental illness
you know
in a funny & heartwarming way….

fuck me
i am frankenstein’s monster.
i am
i wanted to love…
but all i can do is cause fear
and disgust.
an abomination.
i am an abomination.

i was once a sweet child.
a hopeful child.
but i grew into an abomination.

 

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