so much anger am i angry because my brother was murdered & i am too polite to avenge him? am i angry that my ex-husband destroyed me leaving me a broken person rebuilding & no matter how many times i ink the story he refuses to read it? am i angry that my sons will never know how much i sacrificed to be their mother? am i angry at the world for being deliberately blind & ignorant?
from my dead brother’s birthday through his death anniversary through holidays heavy with bad memories & deeply ingrained anxiety…. this time of year i can become just a bubbling cauldron of angst. add in a good dose of idocracy fueled by a corrupt government & medical system…. i have only had one public outburst…so yay for that.
as i work to let go to soften to open to escape my cocoon i find myself remembering how so many times i would choose a relationship any relationship with any partner who required all of my focus so i wouldn’t have to focus on me & i wonder now if i also use my motherhood as a crutch & a get out of jail free card pay no attention to the man behind the curtain i have bigger fish to fry….
again getting loosey goosey with my metaphors…. i hope i was able to express what i was trying to express here. basically, to avoid working on me, i find broken people to focus on…or completely handicap myself with motherhood so i can pretend i have no energy left to look at me….
it’s the mama center of my body is that my problem? am i conflicted so very conflicted by motherhood? that all those ugly feelings have found a place in my mama belly so deep in there that even the most adamant yoga workout cannot root it out?
more on my body image issues. i cannot not wonder if my aversion to my stomach fat has something to do with my struggles to be a mom. plus, it’s a genetic trait from my own mother. so there is that. bleah. but, i am working on working it all out. trying to learn to love my body & believe that someone else could love it as well.
i hate my body i know i’m not supposed to hate my body i’m supposed to embrace me celebrate me lumps & bumps & all but instead i want to take a knife & slice off parts of me genetics & motherhood & age have conspired against me & left me this blobby mess.
this one is a pesky demon. when i was younger and my jeans stopped fitting, i just ate less & exercised more. voila! now, after four pregnancies & right into perimenopause…. crap. i feel betrayed by my body. add on stress and too many years with an emotionally abusive motherfucker and sometimes i look in the mirror and am so fucking disturbed by what i see….
i don’t want to be alone but i cannot imagine anyone loving me….
my broken bits shine in this one. it’s a deep fear of mine…or deep belief. i am working on rooting it out. as you will see in coming pages about my body image, mother image, and aging which affect and are affected by my feeling unlovable. hopefully i can exorcise this demon one day soon…or, entanglement of demons (the name of my next band.)
the whiskey tastes like cough syrup something i have an aversion to with vivid memories of my nurse mother forcing medications & sure enough i go to sleep & dream of her bowling with my mother something we never did in the waking world…. this will not be the first thanksgiving without my mother but it will be the first since she has departed this reality…. instead of my annual angst this year i feel peace & balance & i am swearing off the cough syrup whiskey.
the peace & balance waxed & waned. this time of year i am lucky to feel any peace & balance, so i am not going to look that gift horse in the mouth. i fixed a turkey for the first time ever. i played “mom” to my four children & two extra children & decided that the cough syrup whiskey wasn’t awful when mixed with eggnog.
this was the last page of this art journal that began on july 10th of this year. i inked on both sides of all the pages.
just for fun i’m only drinking when i really really really feel like it (not just as a reflex happy hour for one) & sometimes not even then opting to notice the *need* & just let it go… so now i notice when my mind turns to craving the numbness alcohol brings i am noticing now when & why i wish to be numb.
mostly it is times when being a mom feels overwhelming & impossible…or when my ex is picking picking picking at the energy field around me, whittling it away…
but today, my neighbor (mentioned yesterday) came to my house to complain about my twelve year old. yes. he is annoying. sneaky. manipulative. & plays really really rough sometimes (he has sensory processing disorder & doesn’t always respect boundaries) …but he is also a scapegoat for women/mothers like my neighbor. hyper judgey gossipy drama queens. i’ve noticed a pattern. & it’s not like her kids are any better. also, she is best buds with the kid who is my kid’s arch nemesis. another sneaky & manipulative boy about my son’s age. so it’s kinda annoying that she thinks this kid is golden while mine is garbage? & the other day i told this rotten neighbor kid to stop making drama & to play nicely with all the kids instead of causing problems. he told angry neighbor lady (not his mom–i don’t even know who his mom is) that i yelled at him. i did not yell at him. so bitchy neighbor lady is telling me i cannot talk to kids? i have to talk to parents??? i told her bullshit–if a kid is causing problems with my kids–fuck yeah i’m going to say something. otherwise who the fuck is checking these kids’ behavior? if my kid is being an ass, i expect someone to tell him (nicely & as an adult) that he is being an ass. it takes a fucking village, right?
long story short–i really could have used a drink after throwing said neighbor lady out of my house–but i did not partake. just noted the urge. & let it go….
i’ve noticed that i have inked faces familiar to the one on my journal page above several times. maybe i should name her?
it’s about welcoming the chaos not trying to control the chaos letting all all the energies the good & the bad move through breathe through with small treasures filtered out
working on balance in my household. my mothering requires that i not absorb all the chaos in the house or else i become overwhelmed & either shut down or freak out. however, trying to stop the chaos all together is fucking impossible (if you doubt this, i will be happy to send my kids over to your house.) so i need to find a way to filter through the chaos. accepting it & surviving it.
how am i still failing at something i have been doing every day for fifteen years? sometimes it is the only thing i do yet still i suck at being a mom the one thing i thought once upon a time i might be good at.
this is an ongoing thing for me. one day maybe i won’t feel this way? or the world will end….
there is a page now on the commons website about my exhibit! also, still available, that book i wrote….
i should try something different i think this obviously isn’t working i gesture to the life around me the chaos i am waist deep in the disorder the depression the overwhelming sense of helplessness… i should try something different i whisper to myself but for the life of me i cannot think of anything else i haven’t already tried.
dipping my toes in darkness…again. yesterday i was dancing…today not so much. but, you know, the dance of life, the dance we do as we try to get better–two steps forward one step back. which means, i am always dancing. but the music changes….
