update: mild to severe alarm

i’m not sure what i have said about my living situation.
in a nutshell, spring of 2016, i was living in manitowoc, wi, renting from a friend. i was looking around the area for property to buy to start homesteading. this is when my younger sister said to me, “i know some available land in illinois.”
she was referring to my childhood home, a large 3 bedroom house on 5 acres. my parents who have m.s. & parkinson’s disease as well as being mentally unstable, were deemed–by my younger brother–unfit to live alone in rural illinois. he drove them down to texas & dropped them off on my oldest sister’s doorstep. so the property was sitting empty & neglected.
around this time, my friend let me know she was kicking me out.
i had no money.
no child support.
no place to go.
so here i am, a glorified caretaker living rent-free at my childhood home. which is a beautiful place if you ignore the constant intensive corporate farming that happens on every side of the property.

all was well.  without my parents here, all the boogeymen seemed to have re-located.
oh, that’s another thing. i moved out of this place the week i graduated high school & over the years had less & less contact with my parents who are so fucking toxic. so toxic.
then
last christmas/new years my parents decided to visit. i did not feel i had a choice. they stayed for two unbearable weeks. go check out my archives from that time if you want to see exactly what happened to my mental health while they were here.
silver lining–while they were here, my mom declared that they would never return.

as it turns out, she planned never to return…my dad, however, is chomping at the bit to come back up here.
i got an email last night from my sister & her husband informing me that he would be coming up here in the fall to visit.

holy fuck.
seriously, i can barely take care of myself & my four minions. i am struggling on many levels.
how the ever-loving  fuck am i supposed to take care of an abusive alcoholic motherfucker with parkinson’s disease?
maybe i sound heartless & ungrateful. but fuck that bullshit. i get it–nothing is free. if i am here, i am expected to let that son of a bitch visit me.

thing is…i’m not known for doing things i don’t want to do. i just don’t. i quit bad jobs. i quit bad marriages. i quit my parents years ago.
and i am not going to subject my children to that toxic fucking monster again.

so i’m looking for another place to live.
which means i will have to find new homes for some to all of my animals…
and uproot & disappoint my children…
but maybe it is for the best. i never could bring myself to think of this as a forever situation. maybe it’s time for the next step of my adventure.

oh! and i need y’all to buy art so i can afford to move…maybe i should set up a fund-raiser page to get money…the great minion migration.

fuck…i hope i can take my goats wherever i am going…if you know an available midwestern property where i can have goats–let me know!

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unicorn me

i realized today
that it is a bit
redundant
for me to call
myself
unconventional….

it’s like if a unicorn was all like,
“hello! i’m a unicorn!”
(yes, i’m comparing myself to a unicorn & if you are all like, “as if!” you can just suck it. i am a shiny happy unicorn!)

i wrote this epiphany while hiding in my room on new year’s day after i screamed at my parents about the murder of my cat in the late 1970s.

they left on saturday. my mom was all, “thank you so much! you must visit us in texas!” whereas just two days before she was saying how she was going to spend the rest of her life drunk because of my being such an ungrateful daughter.

dusty suggested she has borderline personality disorder. i just feel sad. because if there actually is something wrong with her and maybe it could have been treated and maybe she could have been a good mom to me instead of always hating me for not being what she thought i should be….

sigh.

life goes on.

after they left, i felt like i did after my brother died. listless…unfocused…traumatized.
then it switched.
i started feeling free. like i had a second chance at life. like i had dodged a bullet and now i had the chance to turn everything around.

i need to start taking notes and putting thoughts in order and creating the comic that will exorcise this demon for good.

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

and so this is christmas

i used to joke
every year
“will this be the christmas
someone dies?”
dark jokes
somehow kept us alive
my dysfunctional family
…then
two years in a row
someone i loved
died
right around christmas time

my parents have
planned
to visit me
this christmas
unbidden
the thought
popped
right back into my head
again

so i drew my bottom half the way i always drew christmas trees when i was a kid. does anyone see that? i liked that idea.
my folks, whom i am estranged from–yet whose house i live in–are coming back to visit me? my kids? their house?
and i am terrified.
i think it triggered a lot of the darker stuff i have been posting in the last few days, their planned visit.
my parents…let me tell you about my parents….
(it’s a bladerunner reference…i’m not really going to tell you about my parents. that is a whole series of psychology books)

i buried myself

i try to bury myself
with life
with living things
land, plants, pets, livestock
children
i hoard
to try to fill a hole
that deep dark unquenchable
hole
i call my heart
to feel needed…
but that need
it overwhelms me
& all i want to do
is run away
to shed my skin
to start
anew.

i’m in a bad place. i wish i knew why. i am a bad person. i wish i knew why.
sigh.
my biggest fear is becoming my own parents.
tonight i felt like i have become their shadow.
i don’t want to be my parents.
i want to be a good person.

but as my mom liked to say,
the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

pray for me, my lovelies…

lips

so i looked at this ink stain

inklips

and i did not draw a labia.
but then i was like, “lips are lips are lips.”
and drew the other set of lips one would find on a lady.

i am currently single and sexually inactive.

if you have read my blog, you  know what an incredible mess i am. today i had to sit my kids down and explain to them that my childhood was so fucked up that i have a lot of anger issues and that i feel really bad for being screamy and calling them “spoiled brats.” (not at all my finest moment…really really bad, in fact.) i tried to tell them that i had really bad role models. that my dad was physically & emotionally abusive. that i am trying–even when it seems i’m not. i’m trying to be a better mom. i get so angry when i feel like no one is listening. so angry. and you know what kids like to do? they like to not listen.
and my dad had us all doing chores from the age of five. like on a child labor level. and i don’t want to do that to my kids because it was awful. but then i get all pissed off when they don’t help me and say “no!” when i ask for help (hence the nasty name calling.)
and then my anger is intensified by the fact that i just spent the past 14 years with their dad who did the bare minimum…and had a bag of tricks for encouraging a person to not even ask him for help…
you know, like ignoring them…
or snapping at them…
or agreeing to help & then not…
until you got to the point where you just fell into a black hole of despair whenever you needed help. i mean, you can see the able-bodied man right there…but when he tells you you are “controlling” or “playing games” when you ask for help…you stop asking.
especially considering your parents did the same trick.
ignoring you when you asked for help.
ignoring you when you asked for attention.

sigh.

so, yeah. i have anger issues.
and i know my kids are the last people on earth who deserve that anger…but they are right there. and kids are brilliant at provoking. that’s what kids do. yesterday my three year old dumped paint on the floor and then later in the same day, dumped pebbles all over the floor. it’s what kids do. they test their environment. they push the envelope. they learn by doing. poppy is excellent at being a three year old.

recently on facebook, some trolls got mad at me because i said i choose not to spank because being spanked only taught me to fear my parents and to not trust them. i said i want my kids to not be scared of me–i want them to come to me when they are scared.
and that upset some women?
i’m really not sure why?
i try to never judge another person’s parenting because parenting is so fucking hard with so many fucking decisions to make.
but they called me a “sensitive twit,” and started commenting things like, “let us know when your kids go to prison.”

there are studies that show that screaming at your kids is just as damaging. i think so anyway. i’m kind of pulling that out of my ass. but i think i read that somewhere. i think about that every time i lose it and scream at my kids.

but i’m not going to hit my kids. i’m not. as much as i want to sometimes when the anger is white hot inside of me and my eight year old has just pelted me with a bouncy ball after screaming, “i hate you.” i’m not going to hit him or grab him by the arm or physically hurt him in any way. i’m not going to spank a three year old for dumping out paint…but apparently i will scream at an eleven year old for not putting the paint away….

parenting is fucking hard. especially doing it alone. their dad gets mad when i call myself a single mom because he thinks that is insulting to him??? we have been divorced since 2010, but i am not allowed to say i am a “single mom.” of course,  i have felt like a single mom even when we were “together.” the other day he hadn’t called in a while, and i started fantasizing that he had died. fantasizing that i was free to live my life. fantasizing that i could find the kids a new dad that would show them how to be nice to the mom….
and then i felt disappointed when it turned out he was still alive.
i am an awful person sometimes.

i want to be better. i want to heal. i want to know what to do and to believe i am not fucking up my kids–constantly. every day i make it through without screaming, i mark it as a win. i hope i can move that bar up a little bit…one day?