a visit to my dark side….

i don’t think very many of my current readers were reading me back when this blog was obsessively dealing with my ex-husband’s infidelity.
my ex-husband had a relationship
with a crazy stalker chick (other than me.)
she would leave little presents
yes, like a cat
for him on our doorstep
& other various places
she would hide in the bushes
& wait for him
i would even find things hanging from trees
in our neighborhood
intended for him.
i became more than slightly unhinged by it all
i began searching his pockets regularly
kidnapping his phone
searching the neighborhood for clues (she liked to graffiti his name about the place)
& throwing various objects (keys to her apartment, love trinkets, & even his phone)
into the river by our house
it ended up being–i’m sure much to the delight of my narcissistic ex–a battle of the stalker chicks
hitting a climax when i found them together
kicked her in the knee
broke my own arm in the process
& got charged with disorderly conduct.
i will never forget having to talk to two cops on my doorstep–having them ask what everyone asks
why didn’t i kick him??
that’s how sick i was with the whole thing. sick & crazy & completely manipulated into being someone i was not.
why do i bring this up?
dude. there is a torn piece of a shirt stuck in the tree branches of one of the silver maples in front of my house, and it is all i can do to not have flashbacks to her weird little leavings meant for him ….

i’m trying to learn how to not hate him…maybe this is the universe’s way of challenging that?

in other news.
i have an appointment to look at a house in an idyllic little town in iowa. it’s an area heavy with norwegian roots–so i’m thinking–lumberjacks??? (or i dig vikings too)
i thought about putting up a new okcupid profile in the area seeing if i could find someone to help me unload my moving truck should i get this house i am looking at on sunday….

oh! & before i forget…stuff over on my patreon page:

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absolution

the one who
wronged me
the one who
betrayed me
the one i
still
love
i laid at his feet
to seek absolution
for my sins
against
him
i held his cold feet
in my hands
i bathed his cold feet
with my hair
with my kisses
he reached out to me
still believing
he
loved
me
but in all the wrong ways
…nevermind
i seek forgiveness
realizing that his sins
against me
are a black mark
on
his
soul
his own soul
to save
the only sins i need to worry
about
are my own
my own
sins
forgiven
i am
free.

the previous post i wrote in my bedside notebook just before falling asleep. this post i wrote upon waking. only while posting them here did i realize both are about sins & forgiveness…maybe that full blood moon shining on my catholic shadows?

this one is written about the dream i had before i woke up this morning. one of a re-occurring theme of my seeming to beseech my ex-husband for love & attention while he is cold & distant.
but this one took on the flavor of mary magdalene bathing jesus’s feet.
which i found to be awesome in its symbolism
(speaking of which…i once had a sex dream about jesus in which he got up & left after he finished but before i did, leaving me frustrated–to return to his flock of women–if i remember right…)

it seems like i have been trying to decipher the re-occurring dream theme about my ex-husband for years.
however, i think this is it. i think i have to let my sins against him be forgiven and not concern myself with his sins against me. i mean, they are his sins. he has to live with that. i have to live with my own.
so maybe its time i let them go.

thank goodness my subconscious finally decided to go with the mary magdalene theme so i could figure out what it wanted to tell me all these years.
though my ex-husband would enjoy it way too much to perceive himself as a jesus figure. he always loves it when someone tells him he looks like jesus (the blue-eyed version)–which happens way too often. fuck, what more would a narcissist want than to identify himself as the savior of mankind?

smoke & ashes

i don’t think
my lonely
could get any
bigger
i mean
where would it go
even?
that much
lonely?
it would fill
a hot air balloon
& float it
to the moon
i wish
i could
send my lonely
to the moon
root it out of
its nest
in my
heart
burn it
in a bonfire
on a dark solstice night
turn my lonely
to smoke & ash
& wait for the light
to
return.

with big feelings come art journal pages. as i learn how to celebrate my brother instead of mourning him…the other pain rises to the surface. the pain of a broken heart.
a broken marriage.
a man who could not be the person i needed him to be and instead became a monster set on destroying me.
devouring
me.
the lonely is so large right now as i don’t know how i will ever find love again.
but my heart still wants to look.

narcissus part II: echo & narcissus

he doesn’t know how
to be a person
so he pretends
to be
me
& i feel
sad
at his desperation
& emptiness
& i feel
turned on
because he does me
so well.

drawing dusty into this one, i realized how over the years, he even started wearing his hair like mine.
so weird.
he’s my single white male (movie reference.)
you know how the children of a couple tend to look like one parent or the other? well, our kids look like clones of each other. i realized, after they started popping out of me, that dusty and i basically could be brother & sister as far as our physical appearances go. therefore, our children all match.
so weird.
that’s when i realized how self-absorbed we both were. so self-absorbed that we basically married & mated with a replica of ourselves.

when i started researching narcissism, after suspecting it was a driving force in dusty’s personality and in his treatment of me, i realized that i also had some of the tell-tale signs of narcissism. well, not just me, everyone does. i even read one thing that stated just that. with society today, narcissism is just part of who we are.

and then
this morning i was having a dream about longing for dusty. in the dream i was texting him to lure him to me. i was offering to get high with him. to eat ice cream & watch a movie. i may have even thrown in the offer of a blow job.
trying to appeal to all of dusty’s base needs.
there was a time in my life, when i did throw myself at dusty like this. i don’t even smoke pot. i hate it. but i did it for dusty. to make dusty love me. to make dusty choose me. the mother of his (at the time) three children.
it was a sad & stupid thing to do, & i am embarrassed now when i look back.
but in my dream this morning, i was desperate for him…again.
i wonder what this is. my subconscious does it to me a lot, creates a desperate me in my dreams, longing for the dusty who is leaving me behind….

and then iggy woke me up to tell me he had fleas.

this is my day so far.

 

narcissus

he told me
he was a chameleon
yet i still fell prey
when he found his way
into my heart
by mirroring
everything
i loved
about myself
& even some things
i hated
i fell in love
with familiarity
i guess
it makes sense
that i left him
for me.

the story of my ex-husband is a sad story. his story is sad. his childhood was a nightmare. he became a narcissist & a chameleon because he did not know how else to cope. or, that is my take on it anyway.
i realized recently why he seems so attractive to me sometimes. he is literally adopting my personality as his own…or at least one aspect of his personality is mirrored from me. he is adopting my words, my style of dress, how i relate to our children, and even my neurosis.
it kind of blows my mind.
and then i feel really bad for him.
but it isn’t safe for me to feel bad for him.
so, instead, i draw pictures & write pages of verse to try to understand my own experience with it. to try to process my own experience…so i can heal & be stronger.

but, fuck, i wish so badly he could heal as well….

just words

i never wanted
perfect
i would have been
happy
with
kind
i would have traded the world
for someone
who
loved me
best
but…marriage vows
are just
words
really
no matter
how pretty they sound.

there is this thing dusty says to me whenever he feels the need to shut me up. he mentions this mysterious thing he whispered into my ear during our wedding ceremony. he brings it up knowing i have the memory of a chipmunk on mind altering drugs. he brings it up knowing i was so stressed out on our wedding day that i barely remember being there. he brings it up knowing i will feel bad for not remembering his great declaration of love.
or maybe i’m wrong.
but i’m not.
he brought it up recently when we were texting back & forth.
he texted, “i meant what i whispered in your ear that day.”
so i asked, “which day?”
and of course it was our wedding day to which he referred even though that was no where near to being the topic of our conversation.
yes, dusty, you are one up on me. i don’t know what you whispered. i just don’t fucking remember.
so i texted him back to confess that i was too hopped up on anxiety to remember anything from our wedding day.
so he finally told me those magical words that he has held as proof of his good intentions all these years:

i may not be perfect, but i will always love you.

so of course my response was what the fucking fuck? who asked for perfect? i would have settled for a dude who didn’t escape into a pot-induced video game haze instead of being present in our marriage. i would have settled for a dude who didn’t insult me on the day i buried my brother. i would have settled for a dude who helped change the diapers & got up at night to help me with the babies…or who fucking didn’t berate me for being pregnant. i would have settled for a dude who didn’t fuck around on me to punish me.

sigh.

so i told him, those are just words. anyone can say words. without the action to back them up…just..fucking..words.

i’m (not) fine!

old wounds
fall open
when you least expect
your insides
spilling out
on the hot
sticky
sidewalk
& you’re all like,
“that didn’t hurt,”
as you refuse
to let
anyone
help
you.

just stuff. processing everything, sometimes things surge to the surface and catch you off guard. but you keep processing through it. stitch it back in. continue the journey.

adrift

he is so good
at handing his problems
over to me
waiting for me to fix them
so he can blame me
when they just aren’t
fixed
does he even know
what i struggle with
every day?
he is so good at showing
his injuries to me
getting me to cry
over every little bump
& bruise
to his heart & soul
does he even see
how my injuries
bleed out
next to his
& leave me
empty?

okay. maybe you will understand. dusty thinks i have written him off because he was “honest” with me & told me about his still being in contact with hello kitty fuckface (not her real name.) he refuses to comprehend that the reason i am telling him to fuck the fuck off for good & forever is that fact that i have been asking him since 2013 to end his contact/relationship with her. that there should be absolutely no reason for him to be “honest” with me about her because she should not even be part of the equation.
five years.
five years of his using this other woman to manipulate me. holy fucking shit. why have i let him do this to me for five years?
seriously. what is the psychology behind that? am i a chump? a masochist? a desperate & lonely soul? that fucking desperate? that fucking delusional. that fucking dedicated to a happy ending?
what the ever-loving fuck.
and now i find myself having to learn to just walk away. it is so hard…so hard to just walk away. to suppress that urge to have the last word. to suppress that need for him to understand–to just fucking get it for once. i have to walk away. every word i say to him. every conversation i have–it’s the sticky strands of a spider web. his spider web. to keep me engaged…he just wants me to stay engaged…because then he somehow wins?
i don’t fucking know.
or fucking care at this point.
he keeps talking about how we need to talk…thing is, he never talks to me. he never listens to me…he just manipulates and plays me like a fucking pawn in his demented game.

guess what, motherfucker, i quit.

a foundation for failure

he’s built the groundwork
for my psychotic break
just one word
a whisper
& the grasp
i so desperately hold
on my reality
my sanity
crumbles
so many careful years
he spent
just building on
to damage done
by my parents
by other men
i even handed him
the ammunition
trusting
that he would not hurt me
with it.

though my ever-faithful tarot cards (as well as every other experience i have ever had with dusty) warned me there would be conflict and that it was best if i did not engage…just let it blow over…holy fuck, he knows how to get me to engage. i try so hard to walk away. i say over & over, “i don’t want to talk about it.” but dusty is relentless until there is nothing left of me. just a glimpse of who i used to be as i morph into something i never want to be.
one of my parents.

this was our last dance.
i asked for a sign, and i got it.
there is nothing left here.
i need to move forward.
like, nine years ago…but better late than never.

this journal page is dedicated to my friend nexus who has been very supportive & encouraging of my art…and who knows how it feels to burn at the stake ❤

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