queen of swords II

before my whole fucktardery with dusty…
while my witchy friend was visiting, she & i read each other’s tarot cards. my near future card was the queen of swords. a card that often shows up in my spread–especially regarding dusty. the queen of swords has a high moral position and expects others to live up to it as well.
so is this a good thing?
a bad thing?
just a thing?
it’s true of me. i do expect a lot of myself & the same from others. dusty has never hesitated to fall under my sword.
then i’m all like–am i being too cruel? expecting too much? not accepting him for who he is?

fuck that.

i am the queen of swords.

off with his head.

as i protect myself & re-enforce walls that i had to build after letting him break my heart too many times, dusty does a dance & tries to appeal to my nurturing side. he is trying to get me to rescue him. he wants me to save him. he is trying to be sad & helpless while never admitting that he has done anything wrong.

so i’m going to go ahead & hold onto that queen of swords
because even though i am hurting right now
i know i am going to recover again
faster this time
& i need to make sure i finally remember this lesson
remember this heartbreak
& not let it happen again
seriously
for real this time.

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if you’re not nice to the mama…

“i’m a good father!”
he tells me
& tells me
& tells me
and to paraphrase shakespeare,
i think the fellow doth protest too much.
who is he trying to convince?
and i say to him,
“but you are a crappy partner.”
and something eggs at me
until i realize
you can’t be a crappy partner
and a good father
you just can’t…
to be a good father
you have to be good
to their mother.

(i had a full post written…and i lost it. so now i’m pissed off & trying to remember what awesome things i had written….)

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dusty came for the weekend because it was misha’s birthday and maybe–just maybe–i was trying to sabotage myself because i was feeling too happy…too healthy…too on top of my life….

was i trying to sabotage me?

well, if i was, it didn’t work! the day after he left i finished my application for the sustainable arts award for moms who are artists &/or writers. i got my shit together and even figured out how to make a pdf file of my pages of moses jones.
two days after he left, i finished all my rough drafts for “mistress of mud.”

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of course, why he was here, i was sick to my stomach. literally. nauseated the entire time. so so sick.
my body does that.
if my brain won’t listen…my body goes on strike and some sort of illness manifests. so many boyfriends have resulted in flu symptoms.
meanwhile, dusty is telling me what a good dad he is and thinking that my passivity due to nausea means i am flirting with him?

holy crap.

we were having a good conversation one night. we went out and watched the moon rise and stars fall out of the sky. it was amazing & awesome and we were there together.
then
i was like, “okay, i’m going to bed” seeing as i am always up at sunrise and pretty much always sleep deprived.
and it was a light switch.
gone was nice dusty
& out came hostile dusty.
fuck that bullshit.
he thinks we are going to somehow someday have some fucking happily ever after? and if i don’t reciprocate, i get treated like garbage?
i don’t want to lead him on. i want to be honest with him that it is over and would take a miracle of biblical proportions for us to ever be a couple again…
but i am afraid of his reaction.
i feel stupid for it. silenced.
why can’t i be civil to him without  him thinking that means he is going to get laid?
i want to be able to say, “no” without it turning into an attack on me.
fuck this bullshit.

fuck it.

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