i’m the bad guy
you’re the victim
it’s the script
i’m the bad guy
you’re the victim
did we do this
is it easier for me
i am the bad guy?
do you feel better
being the victim?
i don’t want to play
but you hand my mask
back to me
i throw it down
“if i am the bad guy,”
from behind that mask,
“why do i feel like
the bad guy
comes the answer.
always the bad guy no matter which way i play it. i am always the bad guy. i think the other day, when we were fighting about god knows what, i am pretty sure he said i had borderline personality disorder–as he had already diagnosed my mom as having. then, of course, i spin out wondering if i do have borderline personality disorder.
(he would not clarify to me what he actually said–another fun game he likes to play with me.)
why is it so easy for him to convince me i am the bad guy? oh…right… because i already believe i am.
but! i am in the process of changing that.
but the process is slowed down by long visits from the man who strives to be my victim. that weird narcissistic sadistic trick of posing as the masochist.
another thing i need to work on.
finding other people i can ask for help in dire times…people that are not my ex-husband.
that one is not so easy for me to remedy. in fact, i am more & more convinced that i am spending the rest of my life alone…and lonely.
in my witch’s garden
a quiet & gentle therefore atypical page from my journal.
the other night i found myself searching under pitch black skies for some parsley for a tomato sauce i was making. i miscalculated a time or two, but once i put my hands in the lush & fragrant patch of parsley–thriving despite the cold nights here–i felt as if i had found a treasure.
sometimes i love homesteading with all my heart.
of course, later that night, i re-injured my back lifting the canning vessel onto my stove in order to can my tomato sauce…and have been in more pain than ever since.
and due to re-injuring my injury, i have been unable to send dusty back to wisconsin…sacrificing my mental health so that my back can mend…
so! much more anguished journal entries to come!
i have woven
love & rejection
my earliest experiences with love
people become important to me
once they have
i focus on this rejection
i look for my worth
in the eyes
of people…of men
who reject me.
i feel anger that i am not
i let my anger become
who i am.
i am not my anger.
i am not that reflection
in the eyes
of people who cannot
when i was just 19
i pulled a knife on a guy
he was my boss
i pulled a knife on my boss
because he kept
grabbing my ass
not just grabbing
i really don’t know
if i ever said “no”
i was a good girl
to be pleasant
to say “yes” to men
especially those with authority
so he would molest me
as i tried to do my job
working in this kitchen
in this college town
just 19 years old
and i probably
nicely moved away
nicely tried to keep my distance
i grabbed a kitchen knife after he touched me
not a sharp one
a notorious dull one in fact
but i grabbed a knife
and held it out
as a threat
as i smiled.
he smiled too
and walked into the knife
to show he wasn’t afraid of me
it barely scratched him
if at all…
he never touched me again
i have been embarrassed about this for years. i can’t believe i pulled a knife on someone. not just someone, but my boss. i don’t talk about this story because i felt like i was in the wrong. all these years, i have felt like i was in the wrong for doing it. i beat myself up and tear myself down for not having better coping mechanisms.
but i really didn’t. i was never taught to stand up for myself. quite the opposite.
so i snapped and went into fight or flight. flight hadn’t been working out for me. so i fought. and i won.
so why do i look back at this memory & cringe?
fuck that bullshit.
today i am cheering for that poor little girl. today i’m ready to tell him where the fuck to get the fuck off. fuck intimidation. fuck molestation. fuck all that. i am proud of myself for finally standing up for myself…even if it was in a pretty drastic way.
i was so weirded out by the dragons in my picture
that i never stopped to wonder what a person might think
of my skull wearing fire goddess.
which then i obsessed about for awhile
wondering if i would be labeled too dark
mostly thinking of how my younger sister would see it
my conservative republican trump-voting highly delusional little sister.
then i thought
if i had a horned skull and a feather tutu
i would totally wear that.
so it must not be weird,
then i was fine with it.
and today i have another goddess portrait
a river goddess
wearing welding goggles
because, you know, to keep water out of her eyes.
so tomorrow i go fetch my minions back
the end to my alone time…
and i won’t get a picture done tomorrow…maybe the next day?
so tomorrow i see dusty
which is how i prefer it.
i haven’t missed him at all.
i can just pretend he is still sitting at his laptop playing video games
or getting high in the garage.
not much different with him gone.
and i finally read my tarot cards today.
i have been avoiding them ever since they yelled at me about not
taking my art seriously.
today they told me
“keep on keeping on–& don’t fuck it up.”
so that’s my game plan.
steady as she goes…watch out for sink holes & water falls.
and here is my ink stain. i could see a face and knew it was a portrait of someone wearing goggles. i fleshed her out. then i found the river.
i didn’t draw a picture yesterday
i posted a picture
but i did not draw a picture
the crying lady
six years ago?
a historian of me
and my art
would have you notice the lack of ink brush painting
the use of pastels
the relatively light–
but still inaccurate–
so i didn’t draw yesterday. i was rabid most of the day. evil nasty pissy me was in charge of my brain yesterday. i did do some ink splattering, however. i probably should have posted that, at least, but–you know–rabies.
so i started a drawing today after the weirdness of thanksgiving was done
(why did my elderly aunt ask me if i had gotten my concealed carry license???)
i started a drawing but did not get too far before the minions were begging me to watch more doctor who. (more, doctor who, mummy–more!…i love my minions)
there is a deer, clear as the day if the day were inside my head amidst the sparks & sinkholes.
a reminder to be gentle.
be gentle, deer me.
my bones ache and teem with anger. repressed anger. oozing anger. anger that is easily directed at undeserving targets and leaves me knowing i am going to have a lot to make up in my next life….
i see deer a lot since a friend read me a medicine card with a deer in it. of course i live in the middle of the prairie lands…but still. one day four walked across the road in front of my car in the middle of a town. one night driving home, a buck darted right in front of my car. a doe stood, making me come to a stop, several yards past him. one day while gardening, a deer made her way across the field next to my yard, stopping to stare at me whenever my movements rustled the leaves around me.
meanwhile, i have banished an ex-husband and another ex-husband starts sending flirty emails. but the thing about my exes, they all have such thin skin. i have found that honesty sends them skittering away. i’m not trying to be mean…honest…i just tell them how i feel when they use me as a distraction…and they skitter away.
honesty is brutal. but it is also gentle. lies may hurt less, but they will kill you in the end.
so i guess today is the first day of the rest of my life
i know things won’t magically get better
just because i ousted the man
who helped me make myself
but i felt a ray of light
“i’m just going to relax.”
when i faced this first day
officially on my own.
then i felt the need to defend my decision
as if i was doing something wrong.
but, fuck it.
i’m going to sing & dance & play
and be ridiculous if i want to be
who made me feel as if
i had to be the grown-up
while he did whatever he wanted to do
i spent the past two days taking dusty his stuff and severing those ties. we now live in separate states. separate physical states. i think we always lived in separate mental states.
so maybe the spells & stones worked after all? maybe i had to go to that dark dark dark fucking place inside me to find the strength to separate myself from him and all he has taught me i am in the years we have been together.
to let go, i had to die a little.
but it worked. i am free. maybe for the first time in a decade or more. maybe for the first time in forever.
i am free and i am going to work all this anger out of my bones. all the anger i have absorbed over the years. i am going to work it out and learn to believe that i am worthy of love.
that will be weird.
if i believe i am worthy of good things?
that would be amazing.
so while on the road, i only got this doodle done. so i missed two days of posting. but i’m back now and will finish this doodle. here is what it looks like with just the first ink on the ink stain. more ink to come!