queen of breakdowns

exploring my relationship
with patience
exploring my non
relationship
with patience
i want it now
now now now
patience, that is
i want it now…
alas
though i do not prescribe to
good things come to those who wait
i do believe
if it is worth having
it is worth fighting for.

i can’t tell you how many letters i have written to this man since i have broken my knee. it started out like one a week…now it is two or three a week? i have so much to say to him…but he still has nothing to say to me. nevertheless, i keep writing. not knowing if the letters are opened or not. read or not. maybe that isn’t even the point. maybe it is all just an exercise in patience.
in knowing what i want & fighting for it.
i have realized, on the topic of vulnerability, that i do feel vulnerable to him…& maybe that is why winning him back–in one capacity or another–is so important to me. i cannot be vulnerable to just anyone. but i am to him. open & exposed.

in other news…
i have been going to an energy worker/chiropractor for a few years now. river of ahz in viroqua. he is totally worth it. i have seen him for my knee (& the resulting chaos to the rest of me) twice now. both times, after, my knee has felt like a new knee.
today i am even walking with just one crutch instead of two.
& i have put a rubber tip on my bokken to use it as a walking stick as i try to wean myself off of the crutches altogether.

& speaking of breakdowns…i have not even had one today–despite the usual challenges of motherhood. so we can set the sign to 1 day since mom’s last breakdown.
yay!

queen of breakdowns…9X12 inking on watercolor paper…suggested price of $45 to $75

break my heart gently

you know what?
i don’t need an editor because i fucking rock at grammar, etc
what i do need
is a test audience
readers
who want to read my novel
& answer a few questions for me
general feedback
like
do you like me…yes or no?
can you fit your fist through any of the holes
in the plot?
that kind of thing

my only taker so far is my younger sister aka my polar opposite. i am willing to let her read it because she does get me–at least sometimes. and we did come from the same place even though we took different exits (i was vaginal; she was a c-section; i ran away to become a fry cook; she went to college, etc….)

who else wants to read a better life through sock puppets? a darkly funny story of a runaway suicidal mom? yay!
just remember, in critiquing it for me…break my heart gently.

“break my heart gently” ink on watercolor paper. 9X12. suggested price: $45 to $75

going down (& not in the fun way)

sometimes you have to
go down
(down down down)
in order to
come up
sometimes you have to
fall
backwards
to figure out the way
forward
falling is sometimes
just
another way to fly
maybe it’s time
for you to stop
& breathe
& trust that you are on
the right path
despite
all the detours.

more thoughts on my recent emotional face plant.
all triggered by my epic motherhood fails which in turn knocked over the domino of my feeling so very alone in my single mom adventure.
and all the dominoes fell
spectacularly
burying me in my own substantial remorse.

but…i am slowly digging my way back out.
maybe today i will have the headspace to do the work towards getting an editor (unlike yesterday where i spent the day doing a jigsaw puzzle.)

also! i am up & about. moving slowly, but doing yoga, taking walks (on crutches still), and weeding my many gardens that have gone unweeded under the care of my four feral minions.

monster

i know i’m not
a complete
monster
because
as much
anger i feel
&
as much
vengeance i seek
i still worry
i will hurt your
feelings.

my reaction to yesterday’s post. i want to be mean…but i can’t be mean. bleah. i really don’t like hurting people.
i’m a retired siren.
i don’t want anyone crashing up on my rocks anymore.
however, even though i am comfortable ghosting
i don’t want folks to get the wrong idea.
i want them to know i’m pissed off.

i guess i need to find that line to walk.

alone again

i feel like
to survive my lonely
i have to isolate
to weed
out
every half-assed friend
& insincere
acquaintance
who only seems to care
when there is something
in it
for them
because
when i feel alone
i feel
even more
alone
for all the people
who fail me.

might be my inner pariah talking, but i find when i feel alone, all i want to do is isolate. like throwing out the junk food when you are starving.
hmmm.
so i find myself dumping my friends who aren’t really my friends.
and i am being fair & giving them the benefit of the doubt. i’m not just making heads roll…but still, what friends i have are not meeting even my lowest of standards.

i need new friends. substantial friends. no more junk food.
how does one go about meeting authentic people?

alone

feeling alone
so
profoundly
alone
triggers
a self-destructive
downward
spiral
&
nothing
makes me feel
more alone
than being
a single
mom.

so basically it’s a negative feedback loop? i think…it’s been awhile since college & learning about said loops. but it is a difficult roller coaster to get off of. that’s for sure.
my kids go crazy & become overwhelming…i deteriorate. i deteriorate & become self-destructive. this in turn causes my children to feel insecure & act out.
yup. negative feedback loop.

in my novel i comment on a dance: 2 steps forward, one step backwards & straight off a cliff….

i feel like that’s where i am.

in other news. i have to research how to write a query letter & a synopsis for my novel in order to catch an agent.
also! if there are any qualified editors out there who want to read through my novel & give feedback in exchange for art, please contact me!

a littering of love spells

for many years now
i have been littering the universe
with love spells
looking for my one & only
only you know who
who evades me every day of my life
leaving me
today
to think
it’s just not meant
to be.

i have an aunt who divorced after having three kids with a man who cheated on her. she never re-married. i don’t think she even ever dated. i always wondered why, but now i am feeling her pain. it just isn’t an easy thing to do. to look for love much less to find it.
i look back through my journals full of lists as i put it out to the universe…my yearly vision boards with cut outs of men & symbols of romantic relationships….
i just feel like i don’t have the energy for it anymore.
i managed to hold my heart open for this long…but now it seems to be swinging shut again.

queen of the imposters

it’s my grandma saying
“you’d be so pretty if only you dressed like a girl”
it’s my parents saying
“writing is a nice hobby, but what will you really do?”
it’s that boyfriend saying
“you might be sexy if you started jogging and lost some weight”
it’s the father of my children saying
“why do i have to work why you do nothing?”
the father of my children
questioning all my decisions while offering no help
the father of my children
insinuating i’m doing it all
wrong….
but they don’t even know
they don’t even know what they have done to me
that they have become a little voice in my head
telling me i’m an imposter
when i wear girl’s clothes & pretend to be pretty
i’m an imposter
when i say i’m a writer
i’m an imposter
when i feel sexy
i’m an imposter
when i try to mother my children….

a friend of mine was talking about how the judging voice in her head was “the white lady.” this made me wonder what the most disruptive voice in my head looked like.
so i meditated & journeyed into myself to confront the one who whispers “imposter” whenever i try to do certain things.
i couldn’t find anyone. no one came forward. i called & called, but no one answered. i assumed they were hiding from me.
but then last night as i lay in bed after being screamed at by my ex-husband who was visiting for our son’s birthday, i realized, my imposter voice was there…they just didn’t realize i was talking to them. they are oblivious to what they are doing to me. they think they have done nothing wrong. they see themselves as completely innocent.
this made me realize i need to start being oblivious to it as well. just drown it out by proclaiming, “i am not an imposter. i am a good mother. a good writer. i am pretty & goddammit, sexy too.”

saint nobody

the tower falls
as faulty towers do
but could it be a blessing
& not a curse
like what if the tower
is built out of
all my terrible
relationships
what if it is constructed
out of my self-doubt
& insecurity
my believing i am
unlovable
has saturated
brick after brick
creating this monstrosity
of an
unstable structure
that needs
needs to be
knocked down
so a new me
can grow.

got the “tower” card in my tarot draw again. the scariest card in the deck. disaster! defeat! disrepair!
crap.
so i tried to look at it a different way. like, what if the unstable structure i have built–the one that needs to fall down–is my believing i am an imposter. a nobody. worthless…. could that tower fall?
could it not be a disaster so much as a chance to rise from those fucking ashes?
let’s find out.

washed away

i was letting myself
get washed away
in the current
when i got stuck
in a whirlpool
of me
caused by a pile
of my own
debris…
so then
so then i started
picking at
kicking in
fighting & crying
but the dam
held steady…
so now i relax
i float on my back
watching the sky
spin
above me
& i have faith
that my problems
will break free
make space
&
let me flow forward
once more.

more metaphors on my clogged stream of energy.

this inking is a self-portrait in honor of my upcoming self-portrait collection, the invisible exhibitionist.
my floating in a pool of me….

and also in the spirit of selfies. my publisher suggested i take a selfie with my book proof.

i am happy to say that reading through my proof made me laugh several times. it feels nice that i’m not making myself cry at the moment.

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