itching to leave my cocoon

itching to leave my cocoon
itching to bloom
i’ve been in here too long
safe & snug
throughout my cold & dark
transformation
into a bright eruption
a moth to the moon
a bee to a flower
my purpose
awaits.

stream of consciousness verse. that’s basically how my brain works. if you ever have a conversation with me in person, it’s not too different than reading my brain outbursts here & in my art journal.
disjointed thoughts
mixed metaphors
backstories
in all the wrong places….

but i digress! i am itching to get out of my cocoon. i feel like that is what my time here at my childhood home has been. i feel like that is what my submerging myself into my art journal exploration of my dark & drippy psyche has been.
i’ve written out all the parts of my brain that i can right now. i’ve written them out to make room for new thoughts.
revolutions & epiphanies await.
just have to shake free of the rest of this
chrysalis
rise from my tomb
& go.

for a front row seat to all the amazing things i will do…just a dollar a month, y’all.https://www.patreon.com/emjemccarty

true love

when i was in my early twenties
a therapist tried to get me to
quit
men
& to figure myself
out
instead
i skipped town
& went on a cross-country
20 year long
man-spree
today
after a year (or more–depending)
of no men
i have found that i am doing that work
i mean
i have always had the hobby
of self-analyzation
but with only four kids to distract me
i can really get work done
on me
& you know what i figured out?
i am still
still that twenty-something
year old girl
i am still her
but now–now i have learned
(am learning)
how to be her
how to be true to her
how to be the best me
ever.

wake up, it’s time to heal

the voices came
& whispered to me
you are not this person
twelve years of anger
a lifetime of anger
you are not this person
it is time to heal
it is time to heal

page4

i recently learned about clairaudience. as soon as i read the description, i was like, “well, i have that.” imaginary friends, talking to one’s self, hearing voices, channeling advice, craving sound, hearing messages in songs….  i do all that.
so now i am trying to listen better.
last night–when i was trying to fall asleep–the voices came, & i was told that it is time to heal.

today is an anti-versary for me. 1997…so what is that? 20 years. 20 years ago, all in one day, i was molested & my dog got hit by a car and died. i have felt the weight of it every year since. i was in a terrible relationship. my life was a mess. i tried to straighten out the mess, but i kept going right back to it. the abuse. the neglect. the anger & hurt.

page5

now it’s time to heal.

it’s time to rewrite what today means to me.
today is the day i choose to start healing.
today is the day i choose to let go of the anger & hurt.
to embrace the beautiful in me & let go of the ugly that keeps me company while holding me back.

time to embrace my role as a mom.
time to celebrate who i am as an artist.
time to see what a healthy relationship looks like.

time to heal.

page6

 

narcoleptic woodpecker

i have whole files full of one line–one paragraph–one page stories. whole journals full of incomplete thoughts and epiphanies. are you ready? i’m going to make them all into comics. maybe. if you’re lucky. turn them all into visual art. use what i have learned in my ink blot tests. use what i have learned in my comic making. use my whimsy and my darkness.

are you ready?

it’s the next step of my metamorphosis. changing and staying the same.

i got a lot done today as i am off of facebook forever…again. i worked on art files & writing files. i had to move all of my stories to google docs because my microsoft word expired and i am one broke-ass mama.
really.
i have no money.
i am living off of credit cards wondering if my ex will ever send me child support. probably not. when the kids stayed the week with him, he sent all their dirty laundry home with me because he didn’t want to use his mom’s detergent as i might not like it.
um…?
so i nicely suggested he buy his own laundry detergent.
i was nice about it.
really, i was. i am working very hard on not being aggressive…passive-aggressive–reactionary…any of those things that kept me in that same destructive cycle with him. i am being a model of cool, calm, & collected.
(that was what it said under my dad’s yearbook picture. my dad, destined to be a violent alcoholic…cool, calm, and collected. so…maybe i will have to work really hard on it as my example of cool, calm, and collected is a bit skewed….)

but i wasn’t so cool, calm, and collected with my kids. i had a screaming fit that scared the crap out of them. what’s the good of not being physically violent with my kids if i am going to lose my mind & scar them accordingly?
“i am losing my mind!” my three year old will say to me.
right.
i always love when they model my bad behavior right back at me.
i have a long way to go on being a sane parent. sometimes i cry, wondering if i would have been a good mom if i had had a supportive husband. if i had had loving parents of my own. if i hadn’t of been broken so severely and completely and eternally.

baby steps.
until i run out of time.

narc2

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