midnight, my love

when i was a little girl
i had a big, black tomcat named
midnight
that farm cat
was my best friend
i bonded with him
in that special way a child
can lose her heart
to an animal

one day
my dad shot & killed midnight
an event he joked about
for years after
did he know
he killed a part of me
that day?
did he care?

funny how one event
in a young child’s life
can fuck up that person
for ever after
one event
can crush a child’s ability
to find love
to bond
to have normal relationships
with neither animal
nor person*

so my parents are here
& my mom may or may not
be senile
i honestly can not tell
what is senility
& what is a fucked-up
mind games
but she keeps telling stories
about the only cat she ever liked
& she keeps calling that cat
midnight
finally my sister corrected her
& told her that the cat
she is thinking of
was actually named “licorice”
(which is my mom’s favorite candy…
so how could she forget?)

and my mom replied,
“then who was midnight?”

& my whole world went red
as forty years of rage
poured out of me
& at my parents

i have only once before
gotten that angry
& that was when i found my ex-husband
making out with another woman
just one block from our new home
where we were
“starting over”
again

at least this time i
(hopefully)
won’t get a citation
for disorderly conduct….

for all my screaming
& profanity
for as much as it relieves
that certain pressure
on my soul
for all my screaming
they still didn’t hear me

but maybe i can start healing
anyway….

 

*i’m sure there are more than one…but this one is monumental

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the gathering

so y’all remember when i became obsessed with lynda barry and tried to get her to be my friend?
no?
well, do you remember when i became obsessed with amanda palmer and tried to get her to be my friend?
fine…nevermind.
so i’m reading jenny lawson’s book furiously happy and i’m trying really hard not to message her or anything because i really don’t think i can take more rejection right now. i tried to comment on her blog…and the comment never showed up. so now i’m wondering if she just deleted it for being irrelevant? or i fucked up posting it? but i can’t risk trying again because…you know…the rejection part.
maybe if i had had more than just imaginary friends as a kid.
and as a grown-up.
i’m probably fucking up my kids by homeschooling them & not being enough of an extrovert to get them out to meet other kids and now they will someday stalk celebrities that they feel a false sense of connection with….

wait.
that was not where i was going with this.
so i’m reading her book….
i just lost my train of thought because poppy will not use the toilet on his own–he is completely capable–but will not do it. if i don’t take him, he screams at me until i do…then if i forget & wander off without carrying him back to where we started, he screams until i do. yesterday he broke a mirror because i didn’t carry him from the bathroom when he was done peeing…but that’s not where i was going with this either.
but it kind of was.
i cannot handle my life.
i fucked up by trying to have a life.
i cannot handle my dogs.
my kids.
my house.
my yard.
my chickens.
my sheep have overgrown toenails that apparently it is up to me to trim and i just don’t want to do it. i just don’t. i don’t want to do any of it. i want to quit.
quit.
quit.
quit.
but that’s not really an option. is it? i mean, i could sylvia plath…or kramer vs. kramer…but those options have a lot of terrifying consequences.

there it is!
so i am reading her book, and i am confused by her husband. first he seems like a pain in the ass. but she seems to really like him? i keep thinking of him as being played by colin firth and was going to message her that…but, you know, rejection.
so!
then i realize, he is like the voice of sanity in her life. he is her port of safety. then i think, i would really like someone like that in my life. you know, instead of always being in relationships with men who are looking for mothers & try to make me the sane one–the responsible one–the grown-up.
i’m not.
and all these years of having to pretend to know what i’m doing…
it has done it’s damage.
so i need jenny lawson’s victor.
except…i don’t think i could find a sane man (or woman) who would love me & take care of me and that would be asking a lot since i also want that person to help around the house…so i realized that i have to hire someone to be my port of safety.
i need a companion.
a nurse.
a personal assistant.
someone who can talk me in off the ledge.
and buy me ice cream.
i have to hire someone to fill this position. but i have no money. so i have to sell my art to make money to hire someone to take care of me.
that is my new plan.

(crap, looking at the original ink stain, i think i could have done more with this…but my brain feels like a bag of broken glass…so….)

inkstains-5