outsider

do i feel like
an outsider
because of a
childhood
on the outside
or
did i spend
a life on the
outside
because i believe
at my core
i am
an outsider?

i wonder this. i am comfortable on the fringe…but did society put me here or did i put myself here–convinced of my own pariah-hood?
i am going through another episode where i let myself get too involved with other people & then had a severe reaction to said involvement.
i am in now the process of isolating myself–which most people would say is bad–then why does it feel so good?
i am relieved to be separated from the herd once more.
i am relieved to be my own best company again with only my own projects to think about. i am happy to not be contributing to anything but my own present situation….
is this wrong? i know it is not thought to be healthy…but is that a western notion pushed on us to make us a more productive society? root out the weirdos & misfits & pound those square pegs into the round holes? did i feel i had to be involved in order to be whole? in order to fit in? even though trying to fit in just made me feel so much worse?

my introverted son seems to have no drive to join a tribe just for the sake of joining. he seems content to wait for the right moment to spread his wings. i have never pressured him to be social (only to be kind). he & i don’t desire to be alone alone alone–we just desire to only spend our time with authentic people….

my way

i’ve got a chip
on my shoulder
i’ve got
an axe to grind
&
fuck you
i’m gonna do it
my way.

more of this. anger…angst…figuring out who i am. the hero or the anti-hero…i think i am more of the second one. when i try to be the hero things just get messy.
so maybe the trick is accepting that i am not the hero.
& wondering if i ever really even wanted to be the hero.
i mean, i showcase my flaws–i don’t hide them under spandex. i definitely lean to the dark side while still holding something of a moral compass.
i guess things just aren’t as black & white as hero & villain. & who would want them to be? things are much more colorful this way.

becoming

who am i becoming?
so intent
on transformation
did i stop to think
what i would be
next
who i would be
now?
who do i want
to be?
i guess that
is the question
in becoming
i need to draw
a map
to the true me.

this is an ongoing thing. i am emerging from the trauma of having a birthday & am once again trying to move forward. i keep meaning to meditate on this…yup. that’s me, forgetting to meditate on who i am. that’s who i am…but is that who i want to be?

evasive creature

i am beginning
to suspect
that the narrator would describe me
as cold
distant
an evasive creature
funny though
i never saw me like that
&
i know me
i know i have a warm heart…
but fickle.
both courageous
& timid
who the fuck am i?
why are relationships
so fucking
hard
for me….
no i am not cold
& distant
maybe i’m just using
that mask
when it suits
me.

it’s like i do know who i am–but who am i? i was pondering this while getting energy/body work. i am definitely going through something. the body worker told me that as far as my physical body–i was in good shape. things were moving & improving. but in my brain, i am having lots of meltdowns & feeling terrified. panic attacks over mail being delivered (although my village clerk does keep sending me “helpful” information on lawn ordinances–so that might be part of that.)

sigh.
drawing all those flowers did help soothe me….

just me & my memoir

i put up another page of my memoir in progress, don’t tell, over on tumblr.

like my art journal, this memoir is a way for me to exorcise some demons. right now it is not really formatted…i am just ranting about what is on my mind for the day. connecting it all together, in the way i think it fits.
so it’s a mess. which is true to my history.

in this self-portrait, i have long hair. fun fact, for my first child, before my second pregnancy, i was guilty of having the mom bob. i had long hair for my first pregnancy because i just always pictured it that way…plus dusty wanted the long hair on me.
but then i had a baby that wouldn’t stop pulling my hair.
i freak out when my hair is pulled.
so i got a mom bob.

then i got pregnant again. had an identity crisis about being a stay-at-home mom. started wearing doc martin boots and shaving off my hair.

but for a brief time in my life. i did have long hair.

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