motherhood – Quixotic Mama

dusty doesnt like it when i compare him to a hookworm

he’s not a bad guy
really
just the wrong guy
really!
he’s here again
at my invitation
it seems
though i cannot tell you
exactly how that came to be.
how is it that i invited him back
into my life
when i knew for sure
that i had finally
finally
gotten rid of him.
i knew i had seen the last of him.
but somehow
i invited him back?

my hookworm.
my favorite parasite.
the father of my four
other
favorite
parasites.

i’m not getting any work done
on my art at least
i did put up beehives today…
and i am keeping house…
and reading a really good novel…
but my art is suffering

is it because of dusty?
is it because of the endless display of
rainy days?
cloudy days?
sunless days?
is it because i have used up the quota
allowed me
of creative genius?
is it because the minions are nuts?
is it because of dusty?

so this is like, what?
all of april’s artistic efforts…
this?
yes.
this is all i have to show for my ink
in april.

when dogs flew

i have not lost my mind today.
and that is something
yesterday the chickens got out
and those fuckers like to tear up my garden
so my inner control freak
took the reins
as i ran like a madwoman
trying to herd chickens
shouting incomprehensible orders
at the minions
i did an awesome impression
of my abusive father
and how he would scream at us
because we weren’t doing it right.
even if we didn’t know what
“right” was
exactly
i went after poor fidgit
like a mad dog
which makes sense that he would draw
my fire
he is the one most like
me.
my nerves raw
from being a mom
and feeling always
like i am doing it
wrong
so a day
where i have not lost my mind
is a small celebration for me.

i have not had a beer in a week now. every day i feel like the universe is pushing me with all it’s might to go get some beer…or whiskey…my favorite ways to self-medicate. it’s not like i get drunk…but i am building up quite a tolerance. like the song says, it used to take one & now it takes four. which gets expensive…and does not help with my body image issues either as i get stouter & stouter.

so i’m trying to go without.

no one should have to parent sober. it’s a cruel thing. but now my inner control freak is seeing it as some kind of sick challenge & won’t let me get beer now even if i wanted to. i have started hinting to it that next week is st. patrick’s day & it wouldn’t be very irish of me not to drink beer then. for many many years my inner control freak never let me drink. my dad was a horrible nasty abusive alcoholic. so i did not drink. all my friends were potheads, junkies, and alcoholics and i hung out at bars & parties…but i never drank. not until i started drinking to spite an ex-boyfriend…but that is another story.

i don’t want to be my dad.

not wanting to be my mom affects my relationships with men.
not wanting to be my dad affects my relationship with my minions.

but i didn’t lose my mind today…and i did it without having a beer.
so…yay!

ode to being pissed off

hey. you know what?
if i’m depressed and thinking about how nice it would be to just be dead…
to just escape
this
all of this.
it is not going to do any good to say,
“shut up, don’t say that, you have kids.”
because
here is the thing
one of the reasons i think death would be nice
is because i wouldn’t have to be a mom anymore.
do you get that?
please, get that.
but it did work out.
you pissed me off.
what? am i an incubator? am i just a big nipple?
am i not a person?
do i not matter?
if i had no children, would it be okay then, if i wanted to die?
do you only care about me
because you hate to see motherless children?
there are plenty of suffereing children. go rescue one. if you want to help me
you listen
you don’t tell me what i should be thinking or doing or feeling
you fucking listen.
so now i’m pissed off
which is good
because it is hard to be sad when you are pissed off.
now i want to spite you for suggesting all i am is a vessel
only valued for my contributions as a mother
(and frankly
never really valued for that either)
so now i’m pissed off and i’m going to live to fight another day
take that
motherfuckers.

my big epiphany for the day is that women are taught to not get angry. to be nice & pretty & to smile and to not make a big deal out of it.
and so we stuff all that anger down…and it contributes or results in a state of depression. we can’t be mad. we can’t be sad either…but it is easier to hide sad.
and mothers suffer it the most. we have to be everything. strong, but not too strong. always there. able to fix any problem. no time to think about yourself–why would you want to think about yourself? what? you’re thinking about yourself?? we have to love being a mother. it has to define us.
but what if it doesn’t? what if we have doubts?
stuff that down, too.

so i was depressed. now i’m just pissed off. which is good. all that sad is turning to mad and i am letting it out to go where it needs to go. i told those fucking exes who i have been reaching out to–out of loneliness–i told them what i needed to tell them. basically, to fuck the fuck off. i don’t need them. i really really really don’t. in fact, i am way better off without them. but i had to find that out. and i had to get pissed off.i had to realize that they actually made me feel more alone, because they couldn’t give me what i needed. and they don’t want to give me what i want. and i just have to get over it.

and get pissed off about it.

so maybe depressed women (men too?) need a healthy and appropriate outlet for their anger. maybe? i know it’s not that simple, but, hey it couldn’t hurt.

are you depressed? let’s go burn something down!
(at least we can burn a bridge to that toxic person in your life who you keep around because you haven’t gotten pissed off enough)

i am both, harold & maude….

no.
chances are
i won’t kill myself
because i have kids
& anxiety about death
but isn’t it enough
that i want to?
that i think about it?
a lot?
enough
for someone to take me seriously?
it was almost better when i didn’t
reach out & ask for help
when i didn’t try to create a supportive
community
it was almost better
because then i could only blame
myself
for not having anyone to
talk to.
and keep some hope
alive.

maybe i’m reaching out to the wrong people. problem is…there are only so many people i like. that i trust. that i feel safe or comfortable reaching out to. and none of them catch me when i fall.

maybe i should be a hermit. embrace my loneliness and dive into it. be my loneliness.

when i suggested to one “friend” that i felt like killing myself, he said, “shut up. i know you wouldn’t do that to your kids.”
another “friend” completely ignored my request for help, and i have not heard from him since.
another just treated it as business as usual and barely seemed to register my state of pain.

but, again, maybe i am reaching out to the wrong people.
maybe i purposely don’t reach out to the people who might be able to help.
maybe i want to be a mess.

or maybe i know it is easier to fail than to put in the work to save myself. or maybe i think i will fail and don’t want to know for sure…so i just don’t go there.

so i self-medicate with whiskey and netflix…and try to get through the day.

music helps.

lots of music.

cagey

as faux spring passes back into winter
i enjoy the brisk wind
as it pushes against me
and the fire of my brain calms
as my minions go off
to stay with their dad
i embrace my simple solitude
venturing out of the house
only to prove i can.
the anger has softened
the moon is new
i feel,
once again,
like i can handle life.

i think it was really tearing me apart that i wanted to celebrate spring, but the spring i wanted to celebrate was actually a dangerous thing that could really fuck up the growing season (not to mention the world)…those beautiful warm days were a bitter reminder that we have an administration in power that wants to go backwards at a time where even going forward isn’t going to stop the damage that has been done. but it’s forward…not backward.

i mean, it’s hard to imagine people of this country, people of the world, embracing a carbon-free lifestyle…i mean, that was difficult enough…now knowing that there are people in power who want to fuck it all the fuck up….

it’s too much for me.

warm days in winter spell death to me…not temporary spring…but death.

so as much as i wanted to enjoy those days of 60 & 70 degree weather. it was killing me.

so now that it is cold again, i feel like i can breathe again.
coincidentally, my minions went away to see their dad for a week just as the weather turned cold again.
and i feel like i can breathe again.

i love my minions…but often question whether i can be a mom or not. do i have it in me? was it a mistake? and why even wonder about this when i have four kids and it’s not like i can just say, “hey! do-over!”

but then they go away and i wonder how i would exist without them.

garden city

i never wanted to do this
alone
but i am
alone
profoundly everlastingly
alone
there is no end in sight
i try to ask for help
no one listens
& i remain
alone
always
alone.

i never planned to have four kids by myself out in the country. i crave community & i crave contact. i crave a connection.
i am an introvert, and i enjoy my alone time. but this is different. this is ridiculous.
i am alone with four children.
and i’m not sure i should be a mom.
i’m so tired of being screamed at.
i’m so tired of being peed on.
i’m so tired of losing my mind.
who am i?
am i a monster?
why can’t i do this?

no one should be expected to do this. be alone. alone with children.
no one should be expected to do this.
but even when i lived in a housing co-op, with 30 other adults…i was alone. i would be struggling, right in front of them, my audience. i would be struggling–& they would turn away. often literally.

it’s not just me is it?
it’s us. as a culture. so cut off from one another.
i thought it was just because i never ask for help,
but they turn away even if i do.
and leave me.
alone.

turquoise sun

i didn’t go to the women’s march yesterday. i thought about it. and if i still lived in madison, or somewhere where the closest march was not an hour & a half away, i would have been there. but waking up and getting four kids ready and packing food because we can’t afford to buy food. and filling water bottles. and driving. and finding parking. and herding four kids through crowds.

i let it overwhelm me.

if you read yesterday’s post, you know my mindset was not in the best place for movement.

after a day of reading facebook posts about the marches around the world, i did feel i wanted to be there. my mood lifted. seeing the solidarity. seeing the positive feelings. feeling the lift of potential darkness. glimpsing hope.

i realized one thing. i do march every day. i live my life the way i want the world to change. i truly do. i am marching every day. raising four white kids (three of whom are boys) to understand that all people are equal and all people deserve rights and respect. raising four children to honor the earth and live a low-impact lifestyle. teaching them to work with the environment to grow their own food. i can’t list everything i do right now…my mind doesn’t work like that–i will think of more later when i am doing something else. (i will eloquently explain what i am trying to express now later…in my own head…as i do yoga or dishes.)

i am marching every day. and i will continue to march. always. i will always be marching for women. for people of color. for lgbtq people. for the disabled. for the environment. for anyone who isn’t being listened to and honored. i will be marching.