surviving myself

i’m staring out the window of a bus
a bus parked forever more
in the hills of western wisconsin
clouds, forests, wildflowers, birds, & bugs (so many bugs)
are right outside my window
& all i feel
is paralyzed
trapped
unable to move forward
because renting requires income
getting a loan requires income
& i am on a bus
with four kids
my ex-husband trying to lure me
back to him
back to life
in an apartment
with him
& each day
i think a little more seriously
about committing
that crime
about sacrificing
myself
to make sure my kids
have a roof over their heads….
i just wish i could look at this amazing view
& feel free
& feel inspired
& feel hopeful
instead
of feeling
doomed
but right now
i have no idea
how to be
that person
how to be
anything
but miserable
& alone.

so i do still have a patreon page where–in theory–y’all could help with my income issues….

though i am not posting as much as i usually do as i am struggling with depression right now as well as the instability of being homeless–er, between homes, rather….
but i will try to get pen to paper & get some new posts up over there soon.

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once

i’m in love
with the idea
of someone
being
in love
with me
it happened
once
i met someone
once
who was in love
with me
i know it was true
because
i could smell
that sad & desperate smell
of love
on him
i know the smell
i know it well
as it oozes
oozes
out of me
me
who falls in love so easily
it is laughable
my heart
is a chasm
that only i
seem to fall into
except
of course
for once
when that other guy did
the guy
who
frankly–since i divorced him
i really don’t feel like
having him
in my chasm.

i dropped the minions off with their dad and while driving home listening to really bad middle of illinois soft rock radio, i started thinking about how much i want someone to be in love with me. how desperately i want someone to be in love with me.
and then i realized, other than the random guy who i married just because he was in love with me…i cannot bring myself to believe that anyone has ever been in love with me.
i mean,
i have been in lots–er, my fair share–of relationships. and they all say, “i love you.”
but i don’t think a single one of them was in love with me…except, of course, for the guy, my first ex-husband..who, actually, is still in love with me…or is just desperate & sad & we both mistake it for love…sometimes it is difficult to tell.

so i sit here.
drinking whiskey & being eaten alive by fleas…reveling in my sad desperation.
more journaling to come, i suspect.

lurking demons

the harder i try
to be
seen
the more invisible
i become
the louder i cry
out
the less
anyone can hear
me
the more i look
for love
the bigger pariah
i become.

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?
both?
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.
sorry.
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.
maybe.

creases & folds

i’m lost
in the creases
& folds
of a world that i just don’t
fit
into
lost & confused
by spaces where i should
fit
but
just don’t.

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.

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