eight years…

wordpress just let me know it’s my eight year anniversary
whoa
how my art
my writing
& my way of viewing myself
the world
& relationships
has changed in eight years…
maybe not anything earth shattering
but
everything
has gotten a bit more proportional at least

this is a character from a story i played around with eight years ago in an art class. a story i still hope to finish developing one day.
eight years ago i was about to give birth to my fourth & final child. i was in an awful & emotionally abusive relationship with the dad. eight years ago i was attending art classes at uw and had just spawned moses jones. eight years ago i was in a lot of pain.
i somehow survived.
now i love & adore my four little monsters even when they are driving me mad. i no longer go to the dark dark places i went to back then–or at least i can still see the light when the dark decends. i can successfully ward off the wooings of the dad (who just this past weekend tried his hand at seducing me again.) i can suffer through the loneliness knowing i am who i am & am not going to accept anything less. i am working on my third publication. i am (slowly) selling art. i am working on a novel while editing two other books i wrote years ago to see if they are publishable….
and! i have my madness manor & my breathtaking view of the hills around me. i have a home–in more sense than one.
i have found my home.

goodbye

it was as if the island did not want me to be there.
every sign an exit sign.
rain filling the tent
a sky clouding over as soon as we got to the beach
for a swim
crows crying out a warning every morning
relentless flies & pissy park rangers…
i wondered if it was an omen of bad things to come…
only to realize it was a letting go
like the end of the movie
when you have to set free the thing you love
have to chase off the thing you love.
the island was telling me to leave
to run free
& to not look back.

this has everything to do with dusty. i planned this vacation to madeline island with him. kind of a co-parent thing. i thought it would work out okay because things had been going more friendly between us.
but i really do not like being around him.
especially not for an entire camping trip.
we are so different in the ways we live our lives. the ways we see the world. the ways we parent….
it hurts me to be around him. i wish it did not…but it does. i am damaged a little every time i tolerate his bullshit. and i feel like i have to tolerate his bullshit in order to keep the peace.
…and i really really do not like tolerating bullshit.

it was totally his fault the tent flooded. i kept trying to nicely tell him the flaw in his thinking. the flaw that was causing the tent to turn into a leaky water bed…but he kept telling me how it was going to work. i had to wait it out, bailing out the tent more than once, before he would “let” me fix the problem (without any help from him.)

i once surmised of our relationship that if we were ever in a situation where we had to work together to survive–we just wouldn’t. we would be dead.

but i survived.
& the island made it clear to me that i need to let go & stop the nonsense.

changes

change is as startling
as a volcano
a tornado
changing the landscape of your life
so drastically
change is as gentle
as invisible
as a single leaf
falling
maybe you notice
or maybe
one day
you wake up & realize
the trees are all a different
color
& the air is no longer
stifling.

deep thoughts on change. one of my favorite topics. transformation. will it knock you down? or will it happen as subtly as a dream you can’t quite remember?
i was expecting a volcano…but i find myself watching the falling leaves & realizing everything is suddenly different.

broken

when you grow up broken
how do you learn to feel
whole?
when you grow up without
love
how do you learn to be
loved?

this thought was prompted by watching the second season of the end of the f***ing world (a very good netflix show.)

of course it is a thought that made a lot of sense to me. i wonder…do i even know what love feels like? my tarot cards are telling me of relationships…of moving past being injured to value myself & allow myself to be valued. but what does that look like?
do you think i can draw a picture of that?

hear me roar

i need my feminine
side
to support me
to nurture me
to accept me for who i am
to hold me
& whisper
“you are not a fraud;
you are not an imposter”
i need my masculine side
to get things done
to move me forward
to forge my path
to strike down my demons
& scream
“you are not a fraud;
you are not an imposter”

or vice-versa…i mean the feminine can be just as bad ass as the masculine & the masculine is capable of nurturing. i was just generalizing for the sake of balance within myself. just trying to get things moving.

i can do anything

if i can be a good mother
despite an abusive childhood
if i can find peace
amidst the chaos
if i can be happy
when it seems the world would prefer me
miserable
if i can learn to love myself
in this lumpy bumpy body
if i can let other love me
accept me
celebrate me even
despite my lifelong identification as a
pariah
then i can do
anything.

more of the epiphany as it unfolded for me while i lay face down on a chiropractor table. this idea amazes me. that i could do all the work i need to do even when i feel overwhelmed & outnumbered. that feeling overwhelmed & outnumbered could actually work towards my learning how not to feel overwhelmed & outnumbered.
wouldn’t that be fucking awesome?
i am feeling pretty fucking zen right now, y’all.

pulled heart muscle

i overextended myself
did too much heavy lifting & threw out
my soul
too many visits outside my comfort zone
now all i can do
is hide
or cry
or vomit
…dealer’s choice

in exploring why i am crying anytime anyone talks to me and avoiding social interaction for several weeks now…i have come to a few conclusions. this is one. it is as true as any of my other observations about my current state of intentional isolation.
i’m hoping once i have it all figured out, i can once again venture out of my cave…carefully.

focus

focus
just
focus
sounds easy right?
except
i have designed
a life
full of
distractions…
focus
just
focus
it’s my mount everest
my moby dick
if i could only
focus
nothing could stop
me.

going off of yesterday’s post, i came to realize that i need to find this mythical focus. it’s something i have always thought was impossible…but since starting down the path, i am really surprising myself.

falling to earth

i’m quite a way
away
from my comfort zone
(i cannot
see
my house from here)
major tom to ground control
who
do i think
i am?
my demons have launched
a counter
attack
(they are calling it
a rescue
mission)
to tow me back
to my comfortable
confined
cubby
where nothing happens
so i have nothing
to worry
about.

more anxiety art journaling due to venturing out of my comfort zone. i think these demons might live in many households, whispering, keeping people from doing things they want to do….
i think of that scene from labyrinth where sarah is manipulated by goblins into thinking she is safely back in her room with all her favorite things instead of rescuing her baby brother.
that’s totally what it feels like.

isn’t this cozy

my demons whisper
“what if you never
left
the comfort of yourself
ever
again?
wouldn’t that be cozy
not one bit
scary
just build a fort
out of your
journals & art
your books
& stories
rather than letting
the world
see your soft
& vulnerable
underbelly…
trust me
we are the only ones
who really
truly
care
now put down your pen
& come back
to bed.”

my demons are having a heyday. my art show being hung. a book being released. & last night i met with people interested in creating some magic here in the driftless. i left my house & risked my safety to interact with who knows who…but it was cool. i met an authentic person wanting to move forward with this vision. someone who shared a similar worldview…& who also had to wrestle a few demons to leave the house.

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