i let the wind
my anxiety away
i let myself
the happiness that resides inside
i let myself know
a quick smattering of words. a quick sketch. i don’t even remember writing this one little page of hope amidst mine troubled pages. but i do remember the feeling.
or, rather, i know the feeling.
when i was in my early twenties, i was in therapy. i know, right–me? in therapy? anyhoo. i had this awesome therapist who wouldn’t let me cut corners. she was tough.
and one day, i had a breakthrough.
honestly, the stuff of movies & novels.
i went from being terrified of the dark, to not fearing anything. i went from never knowing happiness, to having a glowing spot of joy in my heart.
i could feel it.
i could feel it in my heart. and i was terrified of losing it. i told my therapist this. i said it would be like flowers for algernon and i would lose my joy & know i was losing it because i had gotten to feel what it felt like. after a childhood of fear & unhappiness. it would be cruel.
my therapist assured me i was crazy & that i had the happy now in my heart & forever in my heart.
she was right. i check sometimes when things seem darker than than anything a person could survive…and the little glowing spot in my heart is still there.
when i want to feel it strong & bold, all i have to do is stand in the sunshine, watch the fluff of the clouds, and feel the wind blow over me.
maybe that’s why i am still here today.
we were supposed
we lost our way
we just reap
on the world
our own dark hearts
to block out the light.
this post kind of goes along with the last one. i am thinking a lot about this kind of thing. actually, i spend a lot of time thinking about this kind of thing…i just never know how to approach it in my art & writings. so i am trying to venture into that…but don’t worry. my heart broke all over again so there will be more of those posts coming your way very soon.
about this kind of post–which i hope to do more of in the future. i am reading scott russell sanders’s book hunting for hope and it has me thinking about hope–which i actually do have bucket loads of even though it may seem like i focus on the darker matters. i think i focus on the darker stuff because it helps me to shine light on the shadows of mine.
i want to be able to express that hope in a way that doesn’t sugarcoat but that actually heals.
so that is another goal of mine with my art.
and just for fun…here’s another picture of my face post bee sting epiphany.
a bee stung me
in the face
mowed down my ditches
i had left wild
with hopes of cultivating
for the bees
& then crop dusters
somehow within their
dive bombed the fields
leaving poison in their wake
& all i could do was worry
for the bee who stung me
for her sisters in the hive
for her sisters foraging
in the ditches & fields
because i know
without a doubt
& can see
despite my eyes being
almost swollen shut
that their lives
are vastly more important
vastly more meaningful
it is not that i think my life is meaningless. well, relatively speaking it is as well–but i was saying all human life is meaningless. seriously. what are we good for? we hurry around this planet acting so important & superior…but what do we do?
we are a plague worse than any other.
we destroy land.
kill off species after species.
why? what is our purpose?
the bee is an honest & hardworking creature. one with purpose. look to the flowers & fruit. that is the bee’s work.
have we ever done anything half as important as that?
my misery is evolving into epiphanies about the misery of all of us. this is exciting, right?
ps. check out my face!
that would be my message in a bottle
assuming a rejection
because it feels like rejection
all of it
my entire life
feels like rejection….
you bury me
in the cold…cold
a quote from a saturday morning memory
back when life seemed like
something i was waiting for
surely something good
for all the bad
i had endured
but it doesn’t work
people from bad childhoods
grow into adults
who only know what hurting feels like
who only recognize pain
as a feeling
who run away
of anything that doesn’t fit
the fucked up pattern
the drawing is inspired by egon schiele
the quote is from looney tunes
i used to think
as our song said
“i would trade all my tomorrows
for one single yesterday”
today i realized
as i proclaimed myself
free from my own
i want all of my tomorrows
all of them
i don’t want my
the past is gone
tomorrow is a new day
a new day
before i quit facebook, i had a male friend tell me, “you can do better” in regards to my obsession with seymour.
i don’t know if this friend knew my obsession was with seymour & disapproved of seymour (i knew them both in the same years & in the same town…but i didn’t know this friend very well at the time) or if he was just poo-pooing decades old obsessions in general.
said friend than went on to say, “but of course, janis joplin spent her entire career obsessed with one guy.”
what a coincidence. because it is janis joplin that sings the song that seymour & i would always call our song…”me & bobby mcgee.”
in the shower just now, singing that song, i was thinking…we should have picked a different song. but you know how it is when you are young and nothing can possibly go wrong with your enchanted romance.
later in our relationship, i picked a different song for us. one that felt like i felt when i was with seymour… like christmas.
and after we broke up…i stuck with the cyndi lauper to describe how i felt and this was the song that i related to seymour. (yes, i know it is actually a prince song…but my favorite version is the one cyndi lauper sings)
it was only recently–in the past handful of heartbreaking years with dusty–that i started feeling haunted by “me & bobby mcgee”…finding myself thinking that i actually would trade my tomorrows to have a day already gone just to be next to seymour again.
which is not a good way to feel…that kind of remorse & regret. it’s a dark place. a sad place.
i am pleased to report that i don’t want to trade my tomorrows anymore.
i want to keep my tomorrows.
i want to hold onto my hope & tell regret to fuck the fuck off already.
you are the only person
i want to be
not someone like you
(as unlikely as that is)
not someone who treats me
like you treated me
when i think of dating
i feel repulsed
when i imagine
dancing in my kitchen
waking every morning
my whole body tingles
& i swear
i must glow
with sweet longing.
writing this was easy…sharing it–not so much. so i started wondering as i tend to do. why is it easier for me to share my dark & disturbing parts?
my sad & barely surviving parts?
my anxious & depressed parts?
my struggles & shortcomings?
my feelings of worthlessness & isolation?
my oh so crazy bits?
but sharing something i wrote about love…my feelings of love…for another person…i feel like i have gone too far.
i feel like i have crossed some sort of line.
this shouldn’t be allowed!
and, to boot, it is unrequited love i am celebrating.
yuck. so gross.
why do i react to love as if it is something unspeakable? unthinkable? illogical? is this cultural/generational or is it reflective of my damage? or…is my damage also reflective of my culture/generation?
there are entire movies. entire tv series. books, poetry, and songs. all of these. dedicated to love. all kinds of love.
so why do i feel so stupid admitting that i love someone?
so in art journal psychotherapy today we have learned that i am more comfortable with & even celebratory of my darkness & my damage and will happily shove it right in your face….
but when it comes time to share my thoughts of love & devotion & romantic longing…for a man of all things…to admit that i have these feelings…then i ready myself to fall on my sword.
i find being morose a more natural & acceptable state than being dreamy.
yet i call myself quixotic and think of myself as whimsical? a puzzle inside an enigma wrapped in a conundrum.
do you see the exhausting challenge of being me? of living in my head?
in the interest of balance
here it is
a little of my yang for all of the yin
a silly love song.
i have no interest
in ever making cards
though if someone wanted to buy some
i wouldn’t say no….
what i mean is…
there seems to be a capitalism bone
missing from my body
i love to do what i love to do
but i don’t want to do it
money is dumb
here is the first card for my february calendar of birthdays. one of my nephews. he has never liked me. i used to take care of him as a baby, & he would so give me the stinkeye. but! always time to build better bridges…until it’s too late, that is….
i missed at least three birthdays in january. i have managed to make a grand total of two birthday cards this year.
but, hopefully, i will continue this little exercise
in being a better aunt, cousin, sister, friend, & person.
in complete opposition to my short poem about capitalism sucking…i would like to let you know that if you forgot to get me a valentine, it’s not too late. you can buy yourself a copy of the book i illustrated–mistress of mud–to show how much you love me!