i know who i am now
i am silly & sad
i am fierce & fantastic
i am passionate & magical
i am a fucking unicorn
i have been reading my journals from when i was in my twenties. it is different this time than from any time before when i have looked back, even a few months or a few moods, to see what i wrote.
even in the journal i am reading the younger me complains about previous entries–dismissing herself as melodramatic & dumb.
but not this time.
this time i find myself enjoying my journals, seeing my humor & my warmth, my passion and my ridiculous amount of hope.
thinking i was a pretty cool person.
i guess my self-portrait art journal project worked.
also, my exploration of my feelings for the long-ago boyfriend who captured my heart & never let it go again.
accepting all that. accepting myself warts & all. accepting my socially bizarre attachment to someone who is no longer in my life.
all of it.
it brought something to light for me.
it brought me to light.
i totally accept me
i completely love me
& i ridiculously celebrate me.
i’ve been thinking a lot about “letting go.”
i let go of you the minute i saw you behind the bar cleaning your brand new belly button piercing. you were gorgeous.
it wasn’t even a conscious thought. it was a reflex. perfect people don’t want me. i’m damaged. i’m trouble. i’m too much work & not pretty enough for it.
so i didn’t give you a second thought. a neurotic thought. instead i just talked to you. acted as if i had nothing to lose. because i had nothing to lose. a girl like me would never get a chance to lose a boy like you.
so i let go. i never thought–ever–of you as someone who could fall in love with me…so i never fell in love with you.
we became friends.
& you were the best of friends.
god you were so much fun.
& then you fell for me.
why? why did you fall for me? why me? when you are perfect & beautiful & not damaged…why would you fall for someone like me?
i am none of those things.
& i had already let you go because it doesn’t make any sense.
any sense at all.
that someone like you would fall for someone like me.
we liked to say
that we were bigger than the beatles.
& when things were good
i believed we were unstoppable
but that damaged part of me
that damaged part
was just waiting for the day you would leave me
one way or another
i knew that day would come
so i kept letting go
over & over & over
hurting both of us in the process….
after i lost you
i kept letting go. over & over i “let go” of you.
over & over.
i never let go of you at all
& i never will.
i thought loving you made me weak
i have never been
update…i found a drawing i did of this photograph–done from the photograph–back in a journal from 1995/96. so i remembered the photograph slightly wrong.
but my sentiment still stands.
i am feeling
instead of killing
i have been thinking a lot. go figure. it’s my favorite past-time.
this week, i took two of my lambs, my first two lambs, and i learned how to butcher them.
i had so much anxiety leading up to it. dread. serious contemplations on vegetarianism.
then the time came, and i was fine. i was more than fine. i was doing things i never knew i could do.
and it made me think about how emotional detachment has always been part of my damage…but sometimes…sometimes…it really comes in handy.
i started thinking about “dysfunctional life skills.”
the things we learn in order to survive a fucked-up childhood or an abusive relationship. those weird super powers. sometimes they cause us pain…other times they save us.
i want to explore this more.
but right now i am binging on jessica jones
and wondering why i am so attracted to the character kilgrave. is it just because he is played by david tennant? or is it another part of my damage to seek out other darkness? or is it just that i am empathetic to a fault and want to save those other damaged souls?
an empty house leaves too much time to think.
but here’s the thing
the only one
the only one
i still love
the only one.
i flush away
without a second thought
if i look in my heart
you are always
my drawing style is kind of bugging me right now.
i feel like my ocd figures in too much
i want to be looser…hmmm
as picasso said, “It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.”
i have no interest in painting like raphael, but i would love to be able to be more childlike in my art.
yesterday a drawing done by my friend usama alshaibi inspired me (after making me jealous) to play around with my style.
i also leafed through my journal and saw that not all of my drawings bug the fuck out of me. some of them i would even call good. but i think it is still good to play with style & to keep evolving my art….
before i got annoyed with my style, i was working on a new comic story. instead of paneling a page ahead of time, i am now just paneling as i go. it is more fun & much easier. however, now i am not sure i want to use this style of drawing for the story. so progress is paused….
it was always you
it was always you
the magic in my heart
my feelings of sunshine
on an overcast day
it was always you
laughing until my face hurt
like i mattered
you showed me a world
i had never seen
& have never glimpsed since
but i know it is there
i know you are there
& that is enough
it was always you
it always will be.
this is something i need to work through, y’all. being lovesick isn’t the most attractive of topics…but, he was more than just a boyfriend. more than just another warm body. more than just a chapter in the book of a serial monogamist.
please bear with me (or check back later to see if i have gotten any comics done)
my art journaling is an important part of my journey as a person & as an artist. my art journal is my way of healing…
i want to understand my heart & why it holds him so close,
when it is quick to let everyone else go.
so much of my life
& letting myself be chosen
by the wrong people
people who will hurt
cut me down
make me feel
like i think
i deserve to feel
the rest of my life
seeking out people
& using equal energy
to push them away again
creating for myself
a comfortable limbo
what comes next?
another one largely influenced by egon schiele
i left this page largely empty for a reason. i was debating a background…but decided empty worked with the sentiment of the page. i might change my mind and go back in for a background. any thoughts? also, on this blog, i am making the pictures smaller. is this better or worse? should i go back to making them the featured image?
i guess on this art journal self-portrait journey of healing there will be a lot of diving into my sexual history & my romantic heart. both were influenced by the abuse i suffered. both shaped me into the person i am today.
i know it might be uncomfortable…& too much information…but i feel i would be remiss to gloss over this large chunk of my life & personality even if the catholic inside of me is completely horrified by my sharing of this information.
to cook for you
a bowl of beef stew
to make you coffee
just the way you like it
to pour you a glass of whiskey
& listen to you rant
to grow tomatoes in my garden
slice & salt them
to draw your portrait
over & over
until i know your features
better than i know
as a mostly wild & untamed thing, it surprises me when i feel this way towards another person.
when i was nineteen & in my very first relationship, that boyfriend curled up on the floor one evening and asked me, “would you take care of me if i had polio?”
having no sense of normal polite responses i could have made, i blurted out an honest one, “no!”
is it irony or not that he ended up dumping me after i developed a cyst that required his help in the daily draining of? ha! my first experience with being let down easy.
as a child, i watched my largely unnurturing mother give all of her attention to her giant toddler of a husband. i came to believe that it was weakness to care for & to care about a man. sure, i fell in love all the time…but to care about them? to care for them? to need them?
as you can guess, i was very popular with the boys. i once made a goth industrial dude cry when i told him i didn’t need him.
he was not the first or the last man i made cry.
love ’em & leave ’em crying.
except for the one.
i did break up with him twice, but in the end–he destroyed me.
but this is what i am wondering.
is it the end?
i know and–if you read my blog regularly & for more than a few weeks–you know too that this seems to be a cycle for me.
i realize i still love him & am devoted to that.
then i get pissed off at myself
& at him
and vow to forget him & to find someone else.
i try that for awhile
find i can’t stomach it
and realize again how much i love him.
if you have been reading my blog the past couple of weeks…you might notice i am once again winding up to devotion.
love & caring.
for just one man.
i have my kids. i have my art. i have my homestead. he is the only addition i would make to that. he is the only one i want.
whether that is stupid, silly, sentimental, & saccharine nonsense or not….i don’t care. it’s how i feel. i have spent so much of my life going over my psyche with a fine toothed comb. i cannot deny this. whether i ever see him again or not, he is the one & the only one i want.