church of the lawnscape

i know now
why we’re so fucked up
as a society…
it’s that we don’t get the therapeutic
meditative
cardio
workout
of mowing our lawns with a reel mower
& scythe
dude…
i’m serious here
as a hand dish washing
line hanging out laundry
reel mowing
she-ra
i am here to tell you
listen as i preach it
an easy life
is no life at all
work it, people
work it….

as the main representative of the church of the reel mower & sole member/candidate of the thunderdome political party….
i do need to start recruiting.

seriously, y’all. i just want someone to praise me…worship me…speak my name with such devotion….

i don’t know if y’all can see it, but i am mowing a little every day around the house to create some yard so the minions don’t have to go in the weeds if they don’t want to.
i am completely ocd about it. i get out there with that fucking mower & i cannot stop. then, when i finally do, every muscle in my body says, “goodnight.”
it’s clearing my head as i clear some lawn.
i really do think we as a society have lost our priorities. someday i will get that church going–get that political party started….
in the meantime, i am feeling fine.

also! i finished the seascapes i was commissioned to do.

in other news, i have been thinking a lot about direction. i feel that my self-portrait series is wrapping itself up. even though i was told to pay no attention to the critique that questioned my writing abilities
(thank you for your support, xxoo), i have been thinking about it. i want a strong narrative to go with my self-portrait series. so i think i am going to go back through all those journals and try to create that narrative. i don’t know if it will end up being more verse than prose or more prose than verse…or a mix of the two.
but it is time to embrace an ending to it…& also a beginning.

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so sad

i’m so sad
you guys, listen
i’m so sad
i feel like part of me
is missing
i know it’s a fucking
cliche
i know i am supposed
to be
stronger than this
but
i’m not
i’m just
so
sad.

tomorrow i turn 48. i am not sure how to feel. like i wrote some posts back, i cry…but i don’t know why. birthdays make me sad…but i’m not sure why.

i used to love my birthdays. i would count down from six months away. everyone would get annoyed with my constant talk of my birthday.

then i lost the love of my life due to my own damage. then i dated a psychotic narcissist for a couple years. then i got married because i thought someone loved me for real only to have him tell me, one month into the marriage, “i don’t think i love you.” then i was divorced. then i married a different psychotic narcissist and became the invisible mom. then my brother died. then i was subjected to a seven year long vicious cycle of abuse while trying to leave the psychotic narcissist.

now i am a single…profoundly alone…mom.
living in rural illinois.
having an everyday struggle with motherhood
while obsessing over that long lost love from the early ’90s.
and i don’t even feel like weeding my garden anymore.

tomorrow i turn 48.
and now i’m crying again.

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