inktober fifth

okay.
i’m tired of what i have been doing with ink brush painting.
yesterday i used some leftover ink to make random panels on a sheet of paper.
today i pulled a comic out of my ass…
about panels.

inktober5

and then i ended up spilling a bunch of black ink
so in the spirit of sustainability and not wasting and taking lemons & making lemonade,
i did a quick sketch using the spilled ink…which is the inking showcased at the top of today’s blog.
full moon long shadows.

i like it.
i like my art.
i like being me.

so there, world of no recognition…or very little recognition. i like my stuff. i know i am good. i don’t need your fucking “likes” (but, you know, they are nice)

on a personal note
because it has been too long without me over-sharing…
i had half-invited dusty to live here–as a paying lodger…but now i am re-thinking that. i mean, it sounds like a recipe for disaster.
he just won’t grow up.
and it’s not like i am so good at being a grown up…but i manage.
meanwhile, he pays a minimal child support…occasionally.
he has a crap job because he won’t bother looking for another one.
he lives with his crap-ass mom because he won’t bother finding his own place–nor does he have the money to do so.
and he has a crappy car that does not run because he just stored it in a garage for seven years while he made me give him rides.
and now he is dependent on him mom for rides.
and i keep thinking…why?
why won’t he just get up off his ass and do something?

well, i guess he’s just waiting for me to pick him up again.

so what happens if i don’t?

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to save olphelia

when i was young
and writing comics about
my disastrous relationships
i wrote one about my olphelia fantasies.
floating peacefully
serene
safe from love & madness…
you know, dead.
as i got older
and accumulated
more & more minions
my olphelia fantasies
were replaced by those of
sylvia plath.

olphelia2

i did this ink over the past few days. i saw olphelia floating there. and it seemed to me that all of these fantastic creatures had gathered to save her.
to save her from herself.
to save her from love & madness.

i thought that was a better ending.

notice the fantastic.
look for the magic.
let nightmare creatures
sink deep into the water.

olphelia1

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 inĀ  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.

poodle doodle

i wasn’t sure this drawing
was actually going anywhere
but it’s meditative
to doodle
so i doodled
i doodled a poodle

okay…that sounds…off.

i’m alone in a big house
my minions are gone
to be with their dad
for a week
i’m drinking beer
picking fights on facebook
and doodling poodles.

this is probably why the universe
sent me so many kids
to keep me honest
and to keep me
out of trouble.

here is a recap with the ink stain (and a flaw from my closing my journal before the pages were dry.) and the beginning of the doodle.

changing of the seasons

today
like every day of late
i struggle
between the dark
& the light.
as the days grow
shorter
i grow
darker.
this is a difficult time of year
for me.
all growing up,
the holidays were times
of more childhood trauma.
then my dad went into rehab
when i was 17
right in time for the holidays.
i didn’t want him to come back
and dreaded visiting him
staring at the houses full of holiday cheer
on our drive to dysfunction.
then as a grown-up
my brother died
right in time for the holidays.
then,
like when i was a kid
a messed up family life
became that much more obvious
with the holidays
when all other families seem so…
so normal…
in a good way
and all i feel is empty & lost….

this year i am trying
to swim my way back to the light
even as the days grow darker
with the season.
this year i want to fight
the dark that creeps
crawls
grasps at my soul.

this year i don’t want to just
survive
the holidays.
i want to thrive.
and i want to show my children
that there is light
in the darkness.

(my ink stain)

inkstainpan

not so tight

i like to be held
but not so tight
a million years ago
i wrote a short story
about a woman who would
sneak away from her lover’s grasp
in the night as he slept
she would dance
and stretch
and feel free
before sneaking back in
so that he would not feel lost
unloved
missing her

that’s kind of what it’s like
as an empath
in a dishonest relationship
giving the other person
what they want
no questions asked
and only sneaking away
if at all
to fulfill your own needs.

but no more.
no more for me.
i like to be held
but not so tight.

i turned off all my empathy
to push him away
i did not do it on purpose
i wanted him to leave
and sought protection for my empathic ways
but in the doing
i shut off all my empathy–my ability to care
and was left with only tremendous anger.
so much anger.

now i am working on
turning my heart back on
working the anger out of my soul
without leaving a gap
big enough
for him to sneak back in.

i found this article today
17 things that happen when an empath loves a narcissist

and i realized that i have been doing 1-12 since 2002
but i have finally reached 14!
it is a slow and painful
so painful!
process…
but i am moving forward now.
no more circles.
no more destructive cycles.

(crap…i forgot to take a picture of the ink stain)