clawing my way out

i feel like screaming
& scratching
& clawing my way out
of my life right now.

right now being the key words. i know things will settle down for me again. i know they will. and that is a huge step. my sister is going through a dark hell right now & is unable to have faith that it will pass.
it makes me sad, but it also makes me realize how far i have come & what intense work i have done to get to the point that i know i will be able to work my way back out when i am feeling only darkness & heaviness.

i hope my sister can find that faith within herself.

no matter

the world feels void of magic & nothing seems to
matter & i am fairly certain i am doing everything
wrong. motherhood is an experiment in futility; my
manifesto a blank page forever unread. i let the
darkness envelop me knowing it won’t be forever. i
watch the pieces of my soul fly from tree to tree &
part of me wishes all of me were crows on the wind
but then i remind myself, “i still have work to do.”

okay. so at this point i have spun out to the degree that i am no longer thinking in free verse but more in a prose style. string of consciousness as social anxiety and motherhood and depression and lonely and self-loathing wrap me up in a blanket and toss me down the stairs.
watch me fly.

twilight with sunflowers

is this my normal
is this my baseline
is happiness
just a
blip
on the scanner
every once
in
awhile
the status quo
however
is barely being able
to find a reason
to get out of
bed.

i’m feeling better since i wrote this. halloween gets me all giddy. i am making the kids do a dress rehearsal today.
but when i feel down down down in the dark dark dark…it does feel like a forever thing.
of course, when i’m back up again–it feels that much more magical.

obsolete

i
am
pointless
a redundancy
a misplaced narrative
that does not need
to be found
not really
just
let me gather dust
in a corner
forgotten
impotent
obsolete.

i have been super depressed the past few days. the world, of course, is a mess. i, of course, am a mess. my parenting skills are questionable. my relationship attempt with the ex crashed & left me heartbroken…again.
but i was so tired of myself
that i couldn’t even journal
so i just kept spiraling downward.
but!
i picked up my pen yesterday & managed to write these few words.
& that totally helped to exorcise demons & sweep away dark thoughts.

in related news, i am trying to start a creative group of people who can come together for support & encouragement. i got one text this morning after posting a classified on our little town’s local listings. yay! & i got support coming in from the community center i keep my freestore at (yes, my freestore is still a thing.)

moving forward, y’all. moving forward.
sometimes pretty fucking slowly, but moving forward nonetheless.

love for the lovely

maybe
love
is for other people
with perfect smiles
& perfect hair
& perfect lives
a love
those disheveled souls
like myself
can watch on tv
& dream
of never
having.

who saw this one coming? i have been the virgin mother, joan of arc, the queen of hearts…it was inevitable that i would get around to being venus?

credit to “the birth of venus” by sandro botticelli 

what for you bury me in the cold, cold ground?

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….
what for
you bury me
in the cold…cold
ground?
a quote from a saturday morning memory
back when life seemed like
something i was waiting for
surely something good
would happen
for all the bad
i had endured
but it doesn’t work
like that
does it?
people from bad childhoods
grow into adults
who only know what hurting feels like
who only recognize pain
as a feeling
who run away
honestly terrified
of anything that doesn’t fit
the fucked up pattern
their childhood
mottled onto
them.

 

the drawing is inspired by egon schiele
the quote is from looney tunes

same old song

yesterday i started crying
not because my four year old
was screaming at me
the entire drive home
to unbuckle his seat belt
so he could get out
not because of that
but because I had no one
no one
to tell it to
no one
to commiserate with
to vent to
to laugh about it with
this morning
i started crying
because the only one to fix me coffee
in the morning
is me.

the person i am in love with
does not love me back
& the father of my children
i cannot trust enough
to even have a conversation
& that leaves me
raising four kids
alone
desperately
devastatingly
alone.

i don’t think i can pretend anymore that there is a snowball’s chance in hell that seymour feels the same way about me that i do about him.
and then i wonder, if he did magically write me back or call me or show up on my doorstep, would that change the hole in me?
i am asking seriously.
i mean–i know that only i can fix me. i know that. and i have spent like forty years working on that and am optimistic that i might have made some real headway. i estimate that there is only about forty more years of work left to do.
but
my question is
will another person…a person i love truly and who truly loves me back
should that person happen into my life
would that fix my lonely?
the lonely that seems to spin in my chest
a black hole
of longing?
if the answer is no.
if that is the world we live in…
i’m not sure i want to live in that world. that “we are born alone; we die alone” world. that cynical and rational-minded world.

it doesn’t seem like the right world for me.

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?

message in a bottle

i stay on the beach
because
i still have
hope
hope that someone
someone
will find my message in a bottle
the jungle
is behind me
will it be
relief
or defeat?
an end
or a beginning?
when i turn my back
on the sea
surrendering myself
to the solitude
of my forest soul…

so i quit facebook again. i honestly have no idea how to feel about facebook…but i end up feeling
well, feeling empty.
facebook leaves me feeling so incredibly empty.
yet i return to it again & again in hopes that somehow there will be an answer for me. that somehow, someone will know what i am looking for.

i don’t know how to explain it right.

i mean, i realized that facebook interactions can give me support when i have a house full of abusive relatives or when i have a constipated child…but they don’t know how to solve a problem like maria–nor do they even want to.
i see other people get reassurances for their crazy…but, mostly it’s men getting reassured & called brave for showing their crazy.
when i show mine, which i do a lot…i mean how many self-portraits have i done as i try to illustrate my struggle with my inner demons???????
yes, a small handful of people respond to me & my art.
but
mostly it’s crickets.
giant mocking crickets in my head (because i get so little feedback/support for my art/struggle with sanity.)

sigh.

so i wrote this before i quit facebook to explain to myself the reason why i stay on facebook. or social media at all is because i keep hoping someone will find my–

(fuck me, the police “message in a bottle” came on the radio as i was typing this!!!)

–message in a bottle.

death to tyrants.

i’m still a mess.
thank you for asking.
i’m pretty sure no one has even noticed my facebook absence.
i like the word “pariah.”
i often feel like i am one.
pariah.

maybe i shouldn’t live in isolation.
well, we did go to the park today.
so it’s not total isolation.
of course, we drove 15 miles to go to the park.
fuck.
we live in isolation.
in trump-ville, illinois.
okay, not everyone is a republican here, but the votes of this part of illinois are offset by the votes of chicago. this is the red part of illinois.
so red.
and i am here.
a freak.
a pariah.
at the park with my kids….

okay, it wasn’t that bad.
though i have lived in college towns the majority of my life for a reason. i don’t worry about sticking out–too much. college towns are liberal. pekin, illinois…not so much. (up until very recently, their highschool mascot was the “chink”)
fuck a duck.
but small towns can surprise you.
just like liberal towns can surprise you with how white they are
small towns can surprise you with how much they care about you–as a person.
as an individual.

one of the reasons i am so depressed & generally antagonistic
is that i am lovesick
which is extraordinarily dumb
because said person, my unrequited love, is just that
unrequited.
i love him still
after 20 years
or more.
i fucked up a good thing
and now leonard cohen is dead.
(he introduced me to leonard cohen…and yes, i broke down & bought some beer & now i am fuzzy.)

have you ever seen cat on a hot tin roof ? brick drinks to hear that “click.”
that is what it is like sometimes when i drink.
when i am depressed & drinking & just looking for the click.

fuck a duck.

god, i’m grumpy.

shortly after trump (or turnip as i drunkenly typed first) was elected, i was looking at the obituaries and found myself thinking, “ah…the lucky ones.”

anyhoo!
so this is a comic that i thought of today when i realized i could shout, “death to tyrants!” every time i swatted a fly and maybe the universe would carry the action of my killing a small parasite to a realm of the world where that energy could go towards stopping a big parasite….
so i did a comic.
remember, i do comics.
but i really get more satisfaction out of my daily ink blot tests….
hmmm.

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