one of those lives
where it feels like
you can’t do anything right
living by example
trying to change the world
but your bees die
your garden grows
away from you
and no one can find
the duck eggs
you’re ready to throw in the trowel
on this homesteading gig
go back to town
have neighbors who don’t poison
the fields around you
kids for your kids
to play with
long walks to parks & libraries.
sure you have to give up
big clear skies of endless stars
& listening to the coyotes & bullfrogs
sing at night…
bury away a couple dreams…
you’ll dig up new ones.
i am sucking hard at homesteading right now. and this will be the third time i have used the joke “throw in the trowel” without one single chuckle.
why do i find
thoughts of death
my own death
by my own hand
when i am
weeping & wailing
& life seems so
so fucking unbearable
i just think of laying down
in the stinky
won’t even swim in…
just a short nap
then i’m sure
i will be as right as rain.
this is a comic i did. one page of confusion perfume. i wrote it a long long time ago…before i was a mom.
time has passed. things have changed. but i still have my olphelia fantasies.
like life is too much
like my little problems
are just too fucking
i try to remind myself
have more to deal with
my stupid life
i’m just so tired
tired of struggling
tired of being
tired of believing
every decision i make
is just going to make things
every decision i have made
has just made
(but i made this badger inking.
i did do that.)
the minions returned on tuesday–i drive & meet dusty half-way to wisconsin. usually we do the swap at a rest area, but dusty volunteered to meet at culver’s & have a birthday dinner for misha (for anyone not in the midwest of the u.s., culver’s is a wisconsin based hamburger chain–the only chain restaurant i willingly eat at.)
so i spent too much time with dusty for my own good–upcoming pages on that!
and i got my four wild children back for the rest of the month.
add on to that an explosion of ducklings. my muscovies enjoy hatching eggs, but then they abandon the babies leaving me to find duckling bits around the yard. if i am lucky, i find them before they are dead, but it’s about 50/50 at this point.
my brain is not able to completely come to terms with life & death on the farm & instead of staying up nights stressing about having to butcher lambs, i decided to get rid of my ram (so no more pregnant ewes) & to just have some fat, happy ewes eating grass. someone offered to buy my ram–luke (pictured above after a horn injury.) luke is a sweet ram & iggy (my child who is convinced i don’t love him–or so he says) is very attached to him. so there is a lot of drama over his leaving. we are all very sad. plus, the couple buying him wanted a ewe to go with him so they could start breeding. so we had to send our beautiful buttercup with him. which is also sad. plus buttercup left behind the other ewe & buttercup’s six month old lamb. so everyone, me–iggy–& all the sheep–have been crying since yesterday when luke & buttercup left.
good news. they are going to live on pasture of a small farm & get to have babies. the other options for sheep aren’t as nice. so i am happy they are going somewhere nice…but feel like a penniless jerk because i am unable to give them a home–forcing them into the scary move & causing all the other sheep (& iggy) to be sad.
but i keep thinking of winter & all the hay i need to buy…plus not wanting to “deal” with lambs when they get to a certain age & i can no longer put off the inevitable….
i’m just in over my head.
with four very demanding minions & a yard full of animals to take care of….
i have pages written & two more canvas ideas…plus! one night while unable to sleep–i started writing more moses jones!! i have been stalled on that since, what, april?
so i’m taking my journal with me to a car maintenance appointment & will try to get pages done/mojo plot written.
i am trying not to spin out. i’m at one of those–“no wait, this is the first day of the rest of my life” moments.
everything i have read today on wordpress has me thinking:
1.) well, i’m not alone
2.) wow, they wrote it so much better
so i’m waffling between it being pointless for me to contribute to an already strong tide of writing…and wanting to jump in & share my uniquely similar thoughts & experiences.
so i wrote a few pages.
but i also have a sink full of dirty dishes.
a carpet that has forgotten what the vacuum sounds like.
a pile of cucumbers on the table demanding i do–what–pickles? why do i have so many cucumbers?
laundry laundry laundry!
a 12 year old glaring at me because i used my sense of humor for parenting & did it wrong.
a 10 year old who wants me to go outside & bounce a tennis ball with him or it is further proof that i do not love him.
a four year old who desperately requires routine so it is imperative that after he poops i must not only wipe his bottom but also foot-race him down the hallway after he flushes.
and a six year old…wait…where’s my six year old? i should probably know where my six year old is….
i re-posted a couple of poems that i wish i had written (coming soon–my book, a collection of poems i wish i had written)
and maybe later i will get around to drawing some journal pages?
i’m so sad
you guys, listen
i’m so sad
i feel like part of me
i know it’s a fucking
i know i am supposed
stronger than this
tomorrow i turn 48. i am not sure how to feel. like i wrote some posts back, i cry…but i don’t know why. birthdays make me sad…but i’m not sure why.
i used to love my birthdays. i would count down from six months away. everyone would get annoyed with my constant talk of my birthday.
then i lost the love of my life due to my own damage. then i dated a psychotic narcissist for a couple years. then i got married because i thought someone loved me for real only to have him tell me, one month into the marriage, “i don’t think i love you.” then i was divorced. then i married a different psychotic narcissist and became the invisible mom. then my brother died. then i was subjected to a seven year long vicious cycle of abuse while trying to leave the psychotic narcissist.
now i am a single…profoundly alone…mom.
living in rural illinois.
having an everyday struggle with motherhood
while obsessing over that long lost love from the early ’90s.
and i don’t even feel like weeding my garden anymore.
tomorrow i turn 48.
and now i’m crying again.