do not disturb

of course i’m falling down
try to walk around
with this broken heart
of course i need time
to rest; to heal
carrying the weight
of my bruised & battered
soul
i need my cocoon right now
but y’all know what happens
when this worn down
tired out
broken & struggling
creepy crawler gets a chance
to rest
to recover?

i guess if i’m going to let dusty break my heart for nine or twelve years, i can go ahead and take a week–or however long i need, goddammit–to recover.
back in the last century, after seymour & i broke up, i was seeing a therapist who started pushing pills on me because i was depressed. i fired her saying, “of course i’m fucking depressed, i just broke up with my fiance.”
seriously!
it’s like in this culture you aren’t allowed to suffer through anything. it’s weird to just suffer through. instead, here, take a pill.
suffering is part of healing. i don’t give a fuck what anyone says. i have to be sad right now. my second marriage (though it legally ended in 2010 & physically ended last year) just ended for me. i still had a little bit of hope for a happy ending hiding somewhere in my mind.
that hope just died.
of course i’m fucking depressed. of course i just want to sleep & do nothing else. and you know what i realized this morning? as much as possible, i should sleep & do nothing else. i should take care of myself. i should give myself time to heal.

so listen up world, i’m going to give myself time to heal. i’m not going to rush it or feel like i have to push through the pain or sedate** the pain.
i’m going to feel it.
feel the pain so i can feel how fucking good it feels when that pain goes away.

**(please note that i am not a medical professional, & i do not suffer from clinical depression or reference clinical depression when i do reference depression. also, i am being more metaphorical than literal…though i did have two unmedicated births, i cannot make it through a migraine without taking a tylenol.)

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ribbons & curls

my insides
are all torn
to bits
a bloody battlefield
that used to be
my heart
or is that too
cliche
the mess of me
falling
apart
in ribbons
& curls
of
despair.

because my voice cannot be heard by the one i have tried & tried to talk to, i have started a work of fiction writing–no pictures. it is still forming in my head, but i have written the first paragraph. loosely based on the abusive relationship i am recovering from. i want to share it with people who might understand. also, i need to get it out of my head…and like i said, the person who needs to hear it the most, just won’t listen to it.

also, friendly reminder, there is a link up over yonder (with my pretty face on it) to other fiction pieces i have written & posted on medium.

the queen of swords

when i was doing the pages, killing off dusty, a friend commented to me that it was strong magic i was doing–that it would have an effect on me.

i thought it would put the last nail in the coffin…however, it seemed to cause me to look at my dusty differently. like i had killed off his evil doppelgänger and the curse was lifted & we would live happily ever after.

what?
where the fuck did that come from?
so dusty came to visit when he returned the minions and i was all warm & fuzzy towards him….

what?

it’s true. sad, but true. i started letting myself fantasize the easy fantasy.
what it the father of my children wasn’t a narcissistic asshole? what if he could return to us and be there for me every day and help with the kids and help with the homestead and i wouldn’t have to be alone anymore and i would have someone to talk to…to laugh with…to cuddle and have delicious sex with….

so after he was gone away again, i kept trying to think of ways of making it work out. ways to invite dusty back into my life again. i didn’t want to make the same mistake i had made
over
and
over
and
over.
i would take it slow and think it through and make the right decision.

so i texted him asking if he was dating anyone. i thought this would be a good first step.
he texted back “well psychotic hello kitty cunt-face (not her real name) wants us to be dating but…”

holy fucking christ in a toaster

quick timeline for clarification
2013-2015 –cheating on me with phkcf behind my back while i am pregnant with his fourth child, giving birth to that child, and taking care of an infant & 3 other children.
2015-2016 –telling me he is going to break up with her/refusing to break up with her/ she meanwhile is stalking the both of us and leaving weird little notes, graffiti, presents all over the neighborhood we live in
2016 –i move to fucking manitowoc, wisconsin to get away from the two of them because he won’t break up with her. he immediately breaks up with her (after i have moved away) and supposedly breaks ties with her.
2016-2017 we move to illinois together & try to make another go of it but fail. he goes back to wisconsin where i realize he is back in touch with her & i tell him he cannot be friends with me while remaining in contact with a person who did as much damage as phkcf did.
2018 –i realize he may still be in touch with her because all of a sudden the kids are talking about max the cat whom last i knew he had given to her (in 2013) probably so he would have an excuse to see her. so he got his cat back from her. which means there was definite contact. he says nothing to me. then he casually name-drops her as someone he could be dating?????????????

does he not get it? does he not understand that i do not want this person anywhere near my life? if he wants me in his life in any capacity, she cannot be in his life. why does he not understand that? or does he just not care? he says she means nothing to him & that he wants nothing to do with her…and she is ruining his chances of having any kind of friendship with me…yet he still corresponds with her (at least–he could be doing more–it’s not like he tells me the truth about anything.)

fuck a duck.

so here i am.
i let myself have the fantasy. i let myself go there.
now i am hurting for it.

i should have known better.
why the fuck didn’t i know better?

is it hope or stupidity or human nature or a damaged soul that lets me think he could change?

trying to grow

have i properly processed
my feelings?
have i managed to grow
past events
that shackled me
from
years & years ago?
am
i
healing?
am i ready to move
on?
my brain festers that much
less
rabid thoughts
calmed
i stopped
i took
time
i listened to
me…
did it work?

ack! i have not finished the page of moses jones yet. okay…fine…i have barely even started the page.
fear of fucking up. i have to wander past my fear of fucking up.
but if i don’t draw
don’t write
at all…i go a bit mad. just ask the minions.
so it’s another art journal self-portrait to keep insanity at bay.
yay.
the one who i professed my love to…he ignores me. so my little head spins. is he ignoring me because he does not love me back? is he ignoring me because he loves me too much? so i find myself trying to shake off my obsession–
& just live.
just…breathe.

trying to grow.
always

trying to grow

bigger than the beatles

i’ve been thinking a lot about “letting go.”
i let go of you the minute i saw you behind the bar cleaning your brand new belly button piercing. you were gorgeous.
it wasn’t even a conscious thought. it was a reflex. perfect people don’t want me. i’m damaged. i’m trouble. i’m too much work & not pretty enough for it.
so i didn’t give you a second thought. a neurotic thought. instead i just talked to you. acted as if i had nothing to lose. because i had nothing to lose. a girl like me would never get a chance to lose a boy like you.
so i let go. i never thought–ever–of you as someone who could fall in love with me…so i never fell in love with you.
instead.
we became friends.
& you were the best of friends.
god you were so much fun.
& then you fell for me.
why? why did you fall for me? why me? when you are perfect & beautiful & not damaged…why would you fall for someone like me?
i am none of those things.
& i had already let you go because it doesn’t make any sense.
any sense at all.
that someone like you would fall for someone like me.

we liked to say
that we were bigger than the beatles.
& when things were good
i believed we were unstoppable
but that damaged part of me
that damaged part
was just waiting for the day you would leave me
one way or another
i knew that day would come
so i kept letting go
over & over & over
hurting both of us in the process….

after i lost you
of course
i kept letting go. over & over i “let go” of you.
over & over.
except
i couldn’t
turns out
i never let go of you at all
& i never will.

i thought loving you made me weak
i have never been
more wrong.

update…i found a drawing i did of this photograph–done from the photograph–back in a journal from 1995/96. so i remembered the photograph slightly wrong.
but my sentiment still stands.

petejournal6

only human

you will never know how much
i mourn that we are not
a happily ever after. i mean
how sweet would that be?
forever love with the man
who’s four children i have birthed?
a team? the same team?
all of us–together? instead of this
terminal, yawning loneliness.
instead of struggling alone
alone alone alone
to raise four kids?
you will never know how my heart
breaks & how i believe i will
spend the rest of my life
alone & lonely.
that that part of me that craves
a connection will just dry up
& blow away in the wind.
i wish things were different.
with all my heart i wish everything
were different. i do.
but no matter how hard i wish…
nothing changes.

i have had this illustration idea in my head for the past few journal pages i have done. but when i went to draw it, other images appeared instead. so it finally found its home with this journal entry. while typing out the journal entry, i was happily surprised to see i drew dandelions in a post about wishes & blowing away in the wind. see…part of me is paying attention.

(note to self:  ask fidgit to teach me to draw a snail.)

dusty asked me if i ever cried watching other people play with their kids. he wanted to let me know how much he missed the kids when they are with me.
i could only respond by telling him how i cry every time i see a happy couple. every time someone clearly loves their wife. every time i see a normal functioning pair of humans.

humans.
that’s what poppy calls people. he asked me if i was reaching for a tree in this picture. i asked him where the tree is. he responded by asking if i was reaching for a human (he pronounces it “who-man.”) i told him, yes, i am reaching for a human.