blanket of anger

my anger is a blanket
i cannot
get out from under
no matter
how i struggle
i am suffocating
in my own
anger
i kick & kick & kick…
he cannot hear me
no matter how loud
i scream
& all i can hear
is echoes of him
in our children
i scream
& scream
& scream
& no one hears me
& nothing changes.

yup. more angst at the ex. fuck me when my kids start trying to gaslight me in a little mini-him gesture. i have no tolerance for it. i call them on it.
do i call him on it?
would it do any good?
i guess, at least, i can hope to raise a handful of men who do not gaslight. who know better….

i am wolf

some days i could conquer the world
howl at the moon
take no prisoners
other days i feel caught in a trap
unable to move forward
angry at myself for moving
backwards.

the other night i listened to the coyotes scream from my side porch. last night it snowed and blanketed my valley community.
looking out my window at the natural world that surrounds me is enough to keep me going even when i feel like i cannot possibly make it through another day.
and if i can actually get out of my house to be amidst the natural world…then i can ground myself & clear away all the poison that builds up in my soul.

“i am wolf. hear me howl.” ink on watercolor paper 9X12. $45

regrets

if i had known then
what i know now
will send me on an endless
loop
of regret
it’s an impossible wish
because no matter how i lived my life
i could always find something
i completely fucked up.

i am finding myself struggling with issues of control right now. being the child of an alcoholic control freak, i became obsessed with finding control over my own life. relationships have always been hard for me because i want control–so i can feel safe, but i am also programmed to be “a good wife.” those two things do not live well together. i usually end up resenting and alienating anyone who dares to date/live with/marry me.
then i became a mom.
talk about no fucking control.
so here i am now, trying to renovate a house, raise four kids, and navigate a friendly relationship with my ex for the sake of co-parenting.
i feel like i am drowning under all of the needs of the house, the kids, and even the ex. i want to fix everything…but so many things spin out of my control.
i am so burned out, y’all.

but i have my art. my art keeps me sane.
if i knew then…. 9X12 ink on watercolor paper…$45

resting…

sometimes
it is okay to rest
sometimes
i can let myself
step away
take a break
from trying to save the world.

i’ve got a bit of the covid, y’all. this is the second time i have had it. the first time being the fall of 2019. it was much worse that time, but i am recovering.
in addition to being sick (or because of being sick) i am in a god-awful mood. terrible mood. i am grumpy as fuck.
i am trying to re-imagine my world.
messing around with my art & writing.
feeling miserable about myself as a mom.
wishing i could just figure all this shit out….

i hope y’all are having a comparatively easy autumn slide into the holiday overtures.

fresh inkings

my “inspirational” inkings will cut to the chase
they’ll tell you what’s what
with a good dose of anxiety
depression
and troubled mothering…
you too can replace your “hang in there” kitten
with some fresh quixotic inkings

for sale directly from me via paypal (quixoticmama@gmail.com) or through my etsy store.
all are 9X12 $45.

promise me

sometimes
i can see my future
like a lightening
in my heart
easier
to breathe
easier
to believe
a warm hearth
on a cold morning
a promise
of a blue sky.

while digging up beds to plant seeds for spring flowers & herbs, i stopped and counted my blessings. i love my madness manor, incomplete but full of promise. i feel so fortunate that we found each other. not everyone has a home. and i have spent a lifetime searching for mine. how is it i can wake up one day & realize i have the home i have been looking for? the family i have been looking for?
it all seems incredible to me.

poisonous

my words are poison
& as much as i would love
to spit them at you
you will not understand my pain
you will not wither
& die
you will use my poison against me
you will use my poison to make your own
my thoughts are poison
but where can i put them
what can i do with this pain
how can i get it out of me
can i use my destructive urges as compost
to grow something beautiful & beneficial
can i find my meaning somewhere else
find my salvation somewhere else
grow without cutting everyone down
i have four children
but i am not a mother
how can i be
with all of this poison in me
i have to
have to find my meaning elsewhere
find my salvation elsewhere.

this is directed at my ex. i often find myself wanting to make him hurt the way he has hurt me…but i know from experience that that will not work & i will just end up hurting myself even more.
i was in a lot of pain for the birthdays of my oldest & youngest (one day after another) as my soul remembered the different pains of the experience of becoming a mother for the first time with an unreliable partner…& for the last time with that same partner.
the pain did lift…but it was intense while it lasted.
this incoherent vomiting of verse was my attempt to make sense of what i was feeling.

that last pregnancy

you didn’t love me
for that last pregnancy
for that last seed you planted in me
you didn’t love me
for a year & more after he was born
you didn’t love me
until i let you go
then
only then
you returned to me
like a no longer dormant venereal disease
hellbent on a rampage
love
some warped thing
that doesn’t even make sense
anymore.

i don’t think i have had good examples of “love” in my life. with my folks it was fucking or fighting. with my exes it would be crazy passion followed by extreme rejection…taking turns on the passion & rejection until one of us gave up for good. i am not sure i even know what love is supposed to look like. or how to do it.
i have to remind myself of these things, even if it is painful, because i do not want to get stuck in another fucked up relationship.

but would i even recognize a healthy relationship?

always

i’ve always loved the wrong men
giving myself away too easily
now i wait (im)patiently
for a true love that i am pretty sure
i will never find.

with babies’ birthdays to remind me of abuses past, i found myself examining my bruised & broken heart once again. my ex was not an easy man to become a parent with. i often felt like he was punishing me for becoming a mom.

reading for me

am i searching for signs
of me
in every book
i read
pleasantly surprised
when i see
myself
in a character
in the reflection
of another writer
so i can whisper
“i am not alone
i am not a complete
anomaly.”

i have been reading a lot lately. you can check out my fickle reviews on goodreads (i think there is a link on my sidebar?) i notice that i gravitate towards writers who remind me of myself, either in style or in the characters they create…or in the message their works seem to have.
being crazy empathic, i also disappear into stories sometimes, actually taking on the grief or anger or joy of a character. sometimes i wonder how healthy this is. especially when my kids need me, & i have vanished into someone else’s work of fiction.
if i am on a writing streak, i can also disappear into my own fiction.
i feel like maybe i need to ground myself more when characters are running amok in my head….

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