the longest night

this profound amount
of broken
that is me
my heart is on
the fault line
holding me together
& tearing me apart
i wait
to be
rescued
from me
knowing
all along
no one is coming
& that
my fantasy can no longer
sustain me
maybe i should just
go ahead
& break apart
an egg
a seed pod
a cocoon
releasing the me
i should have
been.

happy solstice!
this is another art journal page that started one day & was finished another day. started on a bleak day, finished on a brighter day. i swear the waxing moon fucks me up. my moods hop around like rabid ferrets.
plus the crap with anger & sadness about death & divorce anti-versaries.
but
it is a new day. the shortest day. the longest night. kind of like a new moon, the world is full of possibilities as days grow longer again.
i look forward to the quiet of winter to work on my art, writing, and momming. (just between you & me, i really need more work on my momming…but tend to wander off to work on the art & writing.)

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do not disturb

of course i’m falling down
try to walk around
with this broken heart
of course i need time
to rest; to heal
carrying the weight
of my bruised & battered
soul
i need my cocoon right now
but y’all know what happens
when this worn down
tired out
broken & struggling
creepy crawler gets a chance
to rest
to recover?

i guess if i’m going to let dusty break my heart for nine or twelve years, i can go ahead and take a week–or however long i need, goddammit–to recover.
back in the last century, after seymour & i broke up, i was seeing a therapist who started pushing pills on me because i was depressed. i fired her saying, “of course i’m fucking depressed, i just broke up with my fiance.”
seriously!
it’s like in this culture you aren’t allowed to suffer through anything. it’s weird to just suffer through. instead, here, take a pill.
suffering is part of healing. i don’t give a fuck what anyone says. i have to be sad right now. my second marriage (though it legally ended in 2010 & physically ended last year) just ended for me. i still had a little bit of hope for a happy ending hiding somewhere in my mind.
that hope just died.
of course i’m fucking depressed. of course i just want to sleep & do nothing else. and you know what i realized this morning? as much as possible, i should sleep & do nothing else. i should take care of myself. i should give myself time to heal.

so listen up world, i’m going to give myself time to heal. i’m not going to rush it or feel like i have to push through the pain or sedate** the pain.
i’m going to feel it.
feel the pain so i can feel how fucking good it feels when that pain goes away.

**(please note that i am not a medical professional, & i do not suffer from clinical depression or reference clinical depression when i do reference depression. also, i am being more metaphorical than literal…though i did have two unmedicated births, i cannot make it through a migraine without taking a tylenol.)

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