the ruins

i have been living
in the ruins of me
picking through
the rubble
rebuilding walls
just to watch them
crumble
back down
stumbling around
my own disaster
hoping i will find the
blue print
needed
to rebuild…hiding
from the world
outside
feeling exposed
vulnerable
lost within my own
world
the world i made
the world i desperately
need
to
redesign.

more on my trying to figure out me. as i type this, i feel i am just as lost as ever. not focusing. but there are the kids & the house & the free store & an upcoming art show & everything else i am committed to & all i want to do when i get a free moment is sit & maybe have a beer & lose myself in a book.

day thirty-seven

& you find that
you have spent so long
pretending
as hard as you can
that everything
is okay
then comes the day
there is no reason
to pretend
anymore
& you are
flooded
with all those
feelings you kept at bay
& you realize
how fucking
miserable
you were
& how fucking
relieved
you are
to be done
with it.

i didn’t realize how much i hated the house i was living in until i moved out of it & into madness manor. it was always falling apart & we had to share it with hordes of rats.
& my landlords were slumlords only i didn’t realize because i was trying so hard to not fall apart & to be a good tenant so i wouldn’t have to worry about moving somewhere else.

funny how that works. what a person will endure to survive…only to realize how difficult the endurance was once it’s past. i have had plenty of relationships & jobs that fall into this category as well.
oh, and my childhood.

one month at madness manor

i was told
just the other day
that i need to back up
rewind the movie in my head
& replay it
with a new ending
so
now i have the angry mob
walk backwards down my street
put their torches out
and use the fire
to back cookies
which they bring me in baskets
with bottles of good whiskey
and they give me hugs
tell me what a good neighbor
i am
what a wonderful addition
to their community.

the other day i was driving home on the wind-y backroad i like to take, and i kept seeing rabbits. being witchy, i went home to check the symbolism of rabbits. rabbit, i read, calls his fear to him. he is so scared, he calls his fear right to him.
i feel like i am totally doing that.
terrified of being along. terrified of fucking up. terrified of everyone hating me.
i am so loud with these fears, that i am making them true.

so other than playing the movie backwards…what can i do?
(playing the movie backwards is helping–calming some of my anxiety)

slowly

my seven year old
wants me to imagine
a block a mile long
“that’s a long block,”
i tell him
“no. you just need to walk
slowly,”
he tells me
& i realize
that is how
i have begun to live my life
slowly
so it will last longer
instead of wishing away time
like i did
when i was younger
now i walk the block
slowly
turning steps
into miles.

this has been a profound realization for me. i was talking to my kids about my pregnancies which went 42 plus weeks instead of 40. and i thought about it. i do things more slowly. like how i wasn’t even able to have a successful pregnancy until i was 34. like how i (historically) have looked at least 10 years younger than i am.

i do things slowly & will probably live to be like 120 years (barring accidental death.)

my favorite stephen king story is called “mrs. todd’s shortcut” and is about a woman who drives fast on backroads & begins going through time/space? and even begins to get younger with all her shortcuts.
i think about it as i drive the winding backroads of the driftless. i love taking winding backroads and driving slow (not fast) as i just enjoy the ride.
because i think, going slow is the key to a longer life.

so sorry

i’m sorry things are rough right now
i tell them
i’m sorry
i’m always saying
sorry things are rough right now
i tell them
wondering
what will ever change
in order
to eliminate my profuse
apologies
are things
really
ever
not going to be rough?
what would that even look like?
i become a best selling author?
an internationally respected artist?
i find my prince charming
and his gallant steed?
& that’s when i realize
any hopes
for smooth sailing
are basically
fairy tales
& i cover my bases
by apologizing
once more.

seriously. is rough just the way my life is meant to be? do i keep doing it to myself? i mean, i could have kept renting & not have to deal with a house in need of attention…but of course, then i would still have the stress of renting….
and if we start down the road of coulda shouldas we are going to fall right down a rabbit hole and i have already spent way too much time in that rabbit hole….

so!
things are rough. they might always be rough. i guess, what i just need to do (to use yet another metaphor), is to develop my sea legs. ride out those rough waters.
enjoy the fucking ride even.

day twenty-six at madness manor

day twenty-six at madness manor
and i want to bury
my minions
neck deep in the backyard
i want to go back
in time
and live out my life as an old maid
a spinster
a parallel universe
where i feel a sad emptiness
for never having had
children…
breathe
center
ground…
remember
they are as out of sync
as you are
as stressed
& discombobulated
as you are
& they are up your butt
all the time
these days
because they haven’t figured out
where else
to be.

madness reigns at madness manor as we all try to live in a house that is not quite a home yet. tempers flare. i am told every day by at least one of them, “you don’t care about me!”
“i wish we never moved here!”
and much worse…
sigh…
the adjustment period.
why does it feel like it is a neverending story?

if i complete me

you don’t know what
to do
if you are not
falling apart
pain & disappointment
are your norm
your baseline
picking up the pieces is your
favorite
past time
falling apart
(again)
has become
a conflict
because
you are
afraid to accept yourself
as
whole.

this is my working thought. i keep drawing the tower card lately. the falling apart, crumbling down card. and i don’t feel like i am falling apart…so i wonder why it keeps showing up.
then it occurred to me that i don’t know how to do anything if i am not falling apart. falling apart is what i do. or, rather, holding it together with all my might….
so…what do i do if i am not holding everything together? how do i function without a bus load of stress running me down? there is fight & flight…where is the relax?

my new favorite word

finding enlightenment in the midst
of a crapstorm
finding equanimity
(a word i just learned)
this is my life
this is my path
no peaceful mountaintop
on which to meditate
i am deep in the valley of chaos
& stronger for it.

some days the clarity is easier to grasp than others, but like my posts about achieving what you need amidst constant setbacks…if i can find peace & balance within this life of mine, i will be able to find it anywhere.

i’m not sure what the image is about. although i did aspire to be a burlesque style stripper when i was five…that or a pro baseball player….

blown away

i feel like
i have kept myself alive
for far longer
than has served
any
purpose
done things
that never needed
were never meant
to be
done
&
now
cannot be undone
as i stubbornly plow forward
with this life
like a person
in a strong wind
holding tight
with all
their
might
so as not to be
blown
away.

ah more motherhood regrets as i feel like a complete shit of a mom. yay.
i am feeling better now.
it all seemed to accumulate on poppy’s birthday…all my festering feelings of not being able to hack it. & then getting physically sick despite my working so hard on my immune system–making it clear to me that i really really need to address my stress overload.
i wonder sometimes, if it weren’t for the whole/organic foods, art journaling, & yoga…would i just be dead from the stress.

gender bending

my first boyfriend
wore face powder
& lip gloss
(i still remember
the smell of kissing him)
his hair
was longer than mine
but once i shaved
off all
my hair
every one of my boys
had hair
longer than mine
because i so loved
the girly boys
with their long
slender
fingers
& their long
batting
eyelashes
every once in awhile
i dated
a chiseled-chin
dimpled cheeks covered
in manly stubble
all the more fun
to dress
them in
lacy lingerie.

this poem was inspired by a completely harmless innocent tiny little crush on my gender fluid editor-to-be…because i wouldn’t be me if i didn’t develop inappropriately intimate feelings for someone i am to be working with….

meanwhile, the ryan renolds movie marathon continues. (i watched the nines last night & loved it. i am pretty sure i am also a nine & that i have created y’all)
i bet ryan renolds would look hot as fuck dressed in “women’s” clothes….

in other news, i am having dizzy spells & my head feels weird…so i’m pretty sure i have a tumor. here is a conundrum…how does a hypochondriac know when they are actually sick? my anxiety manifests as physical symptoms…but what if i really am sick & just dismissing it as stress-induced?…(see how that can spin out fast?)

also, my lawn really really is supposed to be mowed by conventional standards, but i have a hard time thinking about mowing down all those innocent flowers.
if it weren’t for ticks & mosquitoes, i would totally have a wild as fuck lawn.

may the fourth be with you.

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