it seems like so many books i pick up to read
new fiction, this century fiction
so many end of the world stories.
right now i am reading louise erdrich’s
future home of the living god
and then there is lydia millet’s
mermaids in paradise.
i didn’t realize either one was about the end of the world
until i was reading them.
and of course, margaret atwood.
and so many others. so many.
so i was wondering if they know something.
all these women
is it intuition?
then i remembered that i have my own
end of the world story
i have been playing with for many years now.
for those of you not familiar,
this is the first page of my graphic novel
moses jones: apocalyptic mama
some people act like everything is game on as usual.
but when my kids talk of their future
and when they are grown up,
i can’t help but think,
“will there still be a world,
when you grow up?”
& if there is a world…what will that world look like?
because surely something soon is going to change.
for better or for worse.
to let go
just let go
you can listen to that song
on the radio
you can sing
you can remember him
& the good times
you can let go of the hurt
of the pain
it does not serve you
it does not suit you
it shadows your smile
(& you have
such a beautiful
so sing along
remember your sorrows
if you must
but let them fly
into the night
from the fire
of your soul.
ugg. i wrote this yesterday in a moment of so-called clarity when i could smell hope in a sunbeam & hear the unicorns whispering good things….
i illustrated it today after my soul crumpled & broke, spilling out onto the kitchen floor.
me, as joan of arc.
doomed to die in flames but under the illusion of the divine.
i was so trying to be more optimistic.
the harder i try
the more invisible
the louder i cry
anyone can hear
the more i look
the bigger pariah
put the last three journal pages together & it is my trifecta of torment.
poppy was screaming at me almost the entire time i was drawing & painting this. he wanted cream cheese & toast, but he has been holding his poop lately and i am afraid of creating a dairy stoppage…so i told him no.
over & over
as he screamed at me for cream cheese & toast.
i offered him other foods…but he only wanted cream cheese & toast.
eventually i relented.
which makes me the worse mom? having him scream at me for something that might make him sick? or giving in & giving it to him?
being a mom is a catch 22.
i woke up in a good mood this morning. however, fidgit & iggy were relentlessly cruel to me–in the way only children can be to their barely-holding-it-together, ultra-tormented mother–until i snapped.
which is why there are so many demons in my drawing.
i feel like i am filled with demons.
y’all are probably tired of reading my journal & looking at my self-portraits. y’all are probably tired of hearing about how i never wanted to do this alone. never wanted to wrestle with four headstrong children by myself. never wanted to be single & lonely & overwhelmed by my roles in life.
i’m still talking about it. still. it still weighs down my heart.
i’m still writing about it.
i’m still drawing it.
maybe tomorrow will bring something new.
can you not see me?
can you not
or do you
here’s another from last week’s severe depression. as you can see, (maybe?) it has been illustrated now that i have a little levity to my mood.
i assure you…when i wrote it i was in the depths of one of those funks where i don’t want to die…but i don’t want to be alive either.
a fucked up place to be.
see…my life overwhelms me. i mean, that is understating it…but my life overwhelms me. i feel like i am wrapped in squid five miles underwater. my life overwhelms me. i know other moms have done it. i know other women have done it. i know other people have survived worse…but my life overwhelms me.
…& i don’t want to do it alone.
in the creases
of a world that i just don’t
lost & confused
by spaces where i should
so last week, i was a miserable mess.
i think i am starting to recover. i usually feel better on a new moon. you know, new beginnings & all that. forever the hopeful nihilist.
but there are a few more journal pages from this time of feeling…so fucking lost. lost & forgotten. never to be found. a horrible horrible feeling. i hate feeling lost.
so you know.
that’s coming up.
but i feel much better today.
is me trying to be a better
which is hard
when half the time
i’m not sure i’m
so realizing how nice it feels to get birthday greeting and how happy my kids get when someone sends them a card, i am trying to send birthday cards–homemade birthday cards to people who are in my life.
this one is for my nephew, who is a doctor who fan.