don’t go

as soon as i graduated high school, i started leaving people. the week i graduated, i packed a bag and left behind all the people who i figured didn’t care anyway. who would be sad to see me go? it was not something that ever occurred to me would happen much less was it something i would worry about. 

four years later i did it again. i left behind everyone i knew without a second thought. i mean, i wrote down their addresses (it was the nineties) and later checked on them in social media when that became a thing, but i once again left assuming no one would miss me.

i don’t even know how many times i did it throughout the nineties and into the next century. i would pack up a car with all my stuff and maybe a dog or two and just take off. to kentucky. to georgia. to texas. to colorado. to illinois. and finally to wisconsin. i would write down addresses and phone numbers and have some drinks and. just. go. 

no second thoughts. these boots are made for walking. born to run. i didn’t believe i had made an impact or that there would be any tears shed. i just went forward, no looking back.

i landed in viroqua by accident even though she lived there. i met her while i was in madison and she was visiting. i must’ve given her my phone number because she kept in touch after she went back to chicago. she kept in touch as i went from madison to manitowoc to illinois. she would call me up and i would listen to her rants while wondering why she was calling me.

i never really trusted her.

i never really trusted anyone who seemed to like me.

to paraphrase groucho marx, it was difficult for me to trust any club that would have me as a member. 

then i got kicked out of illinois and needed a new place to land. 

i tried to go anywhere but viroqua.

i’m not sure why i had such a block against living near her, but i did. maybe i was afraid of commitment. maybe i still wondered what she wanted from me. maybe i just did not understand what friendship was and dreaded swimming in those treacherous waters.

but fate intervened, and i landed in viroqua.

where i became a reluctant friend.

i kept pushing her away. even though we spent so much time together that we joked we were a blended family, i was often phoning in my friendship. i kept a laundry list of why i didn’t want to be friends with her. i kept score of all the mistakes she made while i reluctantly admitted ways she was there for me. i seemed to delight in any new evidence to prove to myself that she was a lousy friend. i couldn’t wait for the day that she tired of viroqua and moved away. like me, she didn’t seem to stay put. unlike me, she didn’t want to make small town wisconsin her home. it was only a matter of time before she left me in peace.

then the scales tipped and i finally had definitive proof that she was a terrible friend. i could justify not only pushing her away, but shoving her—hard—and closing the door behind her.

by the time i decided to give her another chance, she had moved on. she had left me for someone else. not just a new friend, but a boyfriend—one whom i had not lost any love for. the chasm between us grew deeper and longer.

she and the detestable boyfriend started planning to move away from viroqua, and i was all, “good riddance.”

for many years i have been working on healing my damage. this involves, surprise, letting people matter to me. letting people into my heart. 

it’s not easy. it’s not like i can just set my heart out to thaw in the warm sunshine. 

it’s more like i take my heart out of the freezer, then i start to worry about bacteria and spoiled meat, and what happens if no one is in the mood for heart? so i put it back in the freezer. 

it’s been a long process. 

despite my fears, my heart has begun to thaw. so now all of a sudden i realize i do want a friend. so now all of a sudden i realize i do love her and value her.

i didn’t think she’d really go.

then she dropped on me, casually, that the house closing is not even two weeks away.

the house closing.

on the house she and the despicable boyfriend bought.

like my dog who got hit by a car right after i learned to love him…she bought a house three states away just when i realized i was able to let a friend into my heart.

just when i admitted to myself that i don’t want her to go.

my newly thawed heart broke. 

i guess i should have seen that coming. after so many times of half-assedly thawing it before throwing it back in the freezer, how strong could it be? turns out it’s pretty easy to break a damaged heart.

it’s not like in the movies where i can just admit that i need her and that i don’t her to go…and she stays.

it’s not like she will change her mind and come back to me just because i have realized that i don’t want to lose her. just because i have realized how much she means to me. 

she’s not going to leave the deplorable boyfriend at a rest area and run into my arms.

i’m alone again. broken-hearted despite years of trying not to get my heart broken.

isn’t it ironic.

up top: “follow your song” 9X12 mixed media on watercolor paper…$75

happy new year part 2

okay.
2022 wasn’t all bad
i did make leaps & bounds
in my personal healing
as well as
exploring and improving my art
& i have accepted
that i sometimes am a kickass mom
& mostly a beautiful person
while still enjoying my demons
& monsters
so!
here are some raccoons for your new year 🙂

over the river & through the woods

to candice, thanksgiving had become a torturous holiday of infighting, smoke filled rooms, droning televisions, & overcast skies inside & out.
food the color of the carpeting in her maternal grandmother’s sad apartment.
uncomfortable silences and meals that sat heavy long after thankfulness was forgotten.
all her boyfriends took it personally that she would not follow them on their annual treks to the houses of relatives who would make jokes at someone else’s expense causing candice to flinch from her invisible corner as some of the barbs (i’m just joking! can’t you take a joke?) hit a little too close to home.
candice dreamed of a day that the third week of november would blend seamlessly into the rest of late fall, no longer poking at the scars of her so-far survival.

so i have some thanksgiving baggage. i stopped going to my family thanksgivings as soon as i was able. i stopped eating turkey. i sought out thanksgivings full of music & non-traditional dishes with people who were also orphans of society.
one year, boycotting my first (& estranged) husband’s beige & dry family thanksgiving, i went out to a bar & asked everyone what they were doing for the holiday until i found a cutie who was going to a get-together of friends (hosted by a local chef.) i tagged in on his thanksgiving. the rest of that thanksgiving is a story for another day….
anyhoo
i like cooking (this year i tried to make potstickers for the first time) and i like drinking and i like hanging out with friends…but i still dread the holiday each year with flashbacks to a colorless palate of foods & people who were only spending time together out of obligation.
one day i hope i have banished all feelings of suffocation this holiday brings to me.

what now?

i was thinking about how i am reluctant
to sketch more ponies
right now
even though i think
i do a good job of it
& it might have more mass appeal…
i think back to that art professor
who was all like
yeah
but what do you
really
want to be doing?

what
do
i
really
want
to
be
doing?

creating stories with my drawings
telling stories
crafting worlds
& characters
merging my art & writings
in the most perfect way
possible.

drawing these pictures,
i wondered, who are they?
what do they want?
what would i do if i set them
free?

14 journals in 7 years

i just finished journal number 14 and am cracking open journal 15.

when i lived in a housing co-op, years ago, i found an 8X11 art journal in the free store. i took it and started using it in an art class i was taking at uw.
then in 2016, i did inktober for the first time and got in the habit of inking daily.
now i have a crate full of words & images that have spilled out of me. explorations of all the shadows inside me.
art journaling is now a total way of life.

here are some pages of finger painting as i finished up journal #14…

it’s always inktober in my heart

in 2016 i did inktober for the first time…
after thirty-one days of inking
daily
i could not stop
i did not want to stop
and six years later
i am still inking
almost every day
it has saved my life
it has made me a better person
it has helped me grow & heal
so
thank you inktober
you’re my hero.

i do not really participate anymore mostly because i only realize it is inktober several days into october. however, generally i have inked every day without realizing. mostly because i ink every day of the other eleven months of the year as well. when i don’t do art, i can tell, i start to go a little (more) crazy.

last night i had a total meltdown. like sinking lower than i have sank in awhile. terrible monster mom meltdown.
so what did i do? i inked it out…and i felt better…i started the healing process.
i will probably share that inking with y’all considering one of the reasons i share at all is because i want the ugly to not fester in a dark place but to come into the light…however i need a little time to process.

in the meantime, i wish you all a happy inktober.

the above doodle might look like watercolor–but it is totally ink 🙂

earth

to the earth
i go
to ground myself
because i so often
need
grounding
adrift
in my watery self
let me
dig in the dirt
& build
my home.

i’ve fallen & i haven’t gotten up

two weeks ago i fell off of a step ladder & broke my knee
monday i fell
tuesday i got around to going to the er
wednesday i went to an orthopedic surgeon
thursday i had surgery
now 10 weeks of non-weight bearing activity
believe you me
i have written plenty of pages about it & all the resulting epiphanies
however
i do not have internet at my house & it is difficult
to get out of the house & to the internet
so!
if anyone wants to donate money for internet
i got the paypal button on those pages for buying/donating….
otherwise
good things come to those who wait….

quixotic updates

i am working on this new ink on canvas tentatively titled “foxy.” i really like working on canvas & now that i am down to my last free canvas, i am thinking of buying more for future creations.
that bunny keeps hopping into my art lately. i have even started a children’s book starring him.
fun fact. after i wrote the text for said children’s book, i went to my sun porch, looked out the window, and watched three bunnies eating dandelions in my backyard. i stood & watched for at least ten minutes. if you have never watched a bunny eat a dandelion, you are totally missing out.

in other news, i went through all my journals looking for “fodder” for books & stories. i have decided to focus on one project at a time instead of being easily distracted & starting new projects without finishing old ones. after the children’s book illustrations are done, i will focus on finishing the text & doing illustrations for my novel, a better life through sock puppets.
i am trying to give myself credit for what i have achieved. i let myself be proud of the fact that i found so many random ideas & sketches worth working with! including the above gem from 2016.

so i am not moping. i am rebuilding that fucking tower & giving myself credit for doing a good job with it.
as they say in my home state of wisconsin–forward!

time for me to shine

truth is
i’m more comfortable
in the dark
more at home
in the shadows
truth is
i’m afraid to look
at myself
in the light
afraid you will see
all the broken parts
of me
truth is
i think i belong
in the dark
hidden
but the truth is
it is time
for me
to shine.

this is the follow up piece to the last one i posted.
this is something i am doing a lot of inner work on right now. bringing myself into the light. discovering my own magic. letting go of the fear i have held on to for so long. the fear of myself.

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