a visit to my dark side….

i don’t think very many of my current readers were reading me back when this blog was obsessively dealing with my ex-husband’s infidelity.
my ex-husband had a relationship
with a crazy stalker chick (other than me.)
she would leave little presents
yes, like a cat
for him on our doorstep
& other various places
she would hide in the bushes
& wait for him
i would even find things hanging from trees
in our neighborhood
intended for him.
i became more than slightly unhinged by it all
i began searching his pockets regularly
kidnapping his phone
searching the neighborhood for clues (she liked to graffiti his name about the place)
& throwing various objects (keys to her apartment, love trinkets, & even his phone)
into the river by our house
it ended up being–i’m sure much to the delight of my narcissistic ex–a battle of the stalker chicks
hitting a climax when i found them together
kicked her in the knee
broke my own arm in the process
& got charged with disorderly conduct.
i will never forget having to talk to two cops on my doorstep–having them ask what everyone asks
why didn’t i kick him??
that’s how sick i was with the whole thing. sick & crazy & completely manipulated into being someone i was not.
why do i bring this up?
dude. there is a torn piece of a shirt stuck in the tree branches of one of the silver maples in front of my house, and it is all i can do to not have flashbacks to her weird little leavings meant for him ….

i’m trying to learn how to not hate him…maybe this is the universe’s way of challenging that?

in other news.
i have an appointment to look at a house in an idyllic little town in iowa. it’s an area heavy with norwegian roots–so i’m thinking–lumberjacks??? (or i dig vikings too)
i thought about putting up a new okcupid profile in the area seeing if i could find someone to help me unload my moving truck should i get this house i am looking at on sunday….

oh! & before i forget…stuff over on my patreon page:

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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.

desperate to be heard

desperate
desperate for adult interaction
desperate to be heard
i share my thoughts with him
only
to have him
wad them up in a ball
& hurl them back at my
head
my heart
my soul
…crash

this may be weird…or maybe not, but whenever i touched my pen to the page to draw the lines of my face, i started crying.
drawing pain.
i used a mirror. i don’t usually use a mirror. but i needed to see where the lines fell.
those lines made me cry.
there is a lot of pain
in the lines of my face.

turn out the gaslight

he drinks from my glass
instead of getting his own
he says he would be in a good mood
if not for me
he accuses me of “gaslighting” him
& i wonder
or do i know
that he is gaslighting me?
he hurls words at me
words i said
stories i told
when i–in a state of delusion–
trusted him
he saves up the words i give to him
like ammunition
to strike me with
as his mask falls off
& he embraces
the person
he claims he no longer is….

yeah. things are not going well with dusty being here. two weeks now. every morning i am grateful for the help.
by nightfall, i hate him.

trying to save the dead

i have been working on the same inking for days now. playing sick (and actually being sick with a vicious head cold) from my art and blog life.
i think i am afraid to finish a new picture because i will have to blog something here about my life…& i’m not so happy about my life right now.seems i am back in re-runs again…but the inking is almost done, and i will post it tomorrow.

…so i buried a newborn lamb this morning.

not the cutie in the picture, but the twin that was later born…stillborn…sometime in the night or early morning. i found her curled up in her sac. perfect, still, and cold. i buried her, and then spent the rest of the day–first obsessing that i should have checked on buttercup (the mom) through the night and earlier in the morning. and then obsessing that maybe the baby wasn’t dead and that i just needed to get her out of her sac, rub her vigorously, warm her up, maybe give her mouth to mouth….

and then i wondered if i was doing the same thing with my relationship with dusty. obsessing over all of the things i’m doing wrong…trying to resurrect a dead thing.

because this just isn’t working out.

again.

his being here.

what went wrong?

other than everything.

it’s very possible i cannot be in a relationship with anyone. i have a touch of the OCD and am very particular about so many things…and he takes it personally. i have been trying to not let it get to me–you know, when he moves things from the place i keep them…or leaves things in a state that i would not have…. when i was nineteen, i thought if i ever got married i would have separate houses.

and then there are his issues. he goes on the defensive. he has started accusing me of gaslighting him (after i pointed out how he gaslights me.) he goes on the offense when he feels he has to protect himself. like mean & shout-y offense. an offensive offense.

and then i shut down.

and the circle spins. our vicious circle.

the best predictor of future behavior is past behavior. but i get so hopeful & deluded so easily.

maybe it’s not hopeless…but it sure as fuck feels that way.

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