i don’t want to do this anymore
every life decision
is just my setting myself up
i don’t want to do this
but i have built myself
& i don’t know how to get out
& then i find myself thinking
well…there is that one way out…
the one we’re not supposed
& then i think
but when i read
i can’t help but think
this was just about as low as i got this week. of course, there is no escaping my life. it’s not like i can drop the animals off at the humane society & my kids off at the orphanage & go live on the french riviera…
instead i have to do the hard work. you know, learn how to cope. learn how not to resort to being an asshole & then hating myself & hating my life.
i guess i need to do that.
ps. though i like to draw myself nude because it seems to portray how vulnerable i feel. i have this weird (catholic?) fear of drawing my pubic area. i was pleased with myself for fashioning a “fig leaf” of sorts in this self-portrait.
i don’t like to ask
i will spite myself
slip deeper into my cozy pool of despair
rather than ask for help
i spent my childhood
in my parents’ blind spot
& instead of acting out
to grab their notice
i built my little throne of thorns
to sit quietly
glare & think to myself,
i won’t give you the satisfaction.
i spite myself
instead of asking
for the most human of things
why won’t anyone
as i close that door.
watch in real time as i battle my demons. tonight, oy, the last week…longer?…my demons have been chewing on the cords of my self.
no one tells you
how hard it is
to be both a mom
& a real person
that those flaws
as a real person
as amplified as fuck
when you become
because a mom is
both more than a real person
so a trifecta of mom journal page self-portraits today…but my demons are still not exorcised.
i feel bad for my kids…but i wonder if someday they will feel bad for me.
i am trying. i really really am. some days go better. some days i am able to be a so-called real person.
this is the second one today that borrowed from a famous novel.
first i was gulliver…now i am dr. jekyll.
(or am i mr. hyde?)
i’m trying not to be sad
i’m trying not to lose my mind
i feel music in my soul
not quite drowned out
by the screaming
my artist’s soul
& my mother’s heart
trying to live together
in my troubled
october 26, 2016 is the date inside my old journal. the day i started it. today is the day i end it. there is one page left…but i have already spilled some angst onto it and now just have to illustrate my own pain.
the first page of the new journal, also, is already decorated with thoughts fallen from my head.
i love being productive. i love looking forward to a blank page. i love writing down my silly, sad, sentimental, and sordid epiphanies to ponder with pen & ink brush.
i am not a poet though.
i thought that today when i could not think of the word for what some of you might call my “poems.”
i am not a poet.
i just vomit emotion, often & as colorfully as possible.
desperate for adult interaction
desperate to be heard
i share my thoughts with him
to have him
wad them up in a ball
& hurl them back at my
this may be weird…or maybe not, but whenever i touched my pen to the page to draw the lines of my face, i started crying.
i used a mirror. i don’t usually use a mirror. but i needed to see where the lines fell.
those lines made me cry.
there is a lot of pain
in the lines of my face.
there’s a story behind this. but i don’t know what it is.
that was the 11th. for the 10th i phoned it in once more with a half done inking.
and it is still not finished.
my life is overwhelming.
i am very angry about being alone. about doing this alone. so angry. and depressed. and feeling like this is it. this is the rest of my life. i am essentially alone–but! i am also stuck with dusty in my life. i am stuck with raising four kids mostly by myself while their dad complains that he wants to be more involved and i have to remind myself that it is a trick. their dad is an angler fish dangling “normal family” in front of me and hoping i will take a nibble. because he never actually gets involved even when he can be involved. he doesn’t. and i have to keep reminding myself of that.
which is a lot of fun.
so i’m grumpy and moody and do not feel like doing anything even though i know that doing something would help me to feel better.
just putting pen to paper makes me feel better.
just two more pages to go
and INKtober starts on sunday.
am i going to do it again?
it was really good for my art last year…in fact, i can’t believe it is time for it again already. it seems like just yesterday.
i did buy more paper & more ink.
because…well…you can never have too much paper & ink (what if a zombie apocalypse happens & i can’t get to the art store??)
speaking of zombie apocalypses–i was planning on doing moses jones after i was done with the mistress of mud.
and/or playing around with just using brush & ink….
but i suppose i could do both of those things during INKtober…
meanwhile, bees to get ready for winter.
tomatoes to turn into canned sauce.
basil to make into pesto.
pumpkins & squash to harvest.
lambs & turkeys to butcher.
winter gardens to plan.
new pastures to build.
and i am planning on buying and raising by bottle a billy goat all my own….
and, of course, raising & unschooling four minions….
speaking of all this. i am entertaining the idea of renting the basement out to dusty on the conditions that:
1. we are not in a relationship
2. he pays rent & buys his own food
3. he gets a job
4. he quits smoking
what could go wrong?
see, it’s just that i need need need the help, and no matter how hard i try, i cannot seem to lure peoples of a non-dusty nature to come here & help me.
i know it’s not a good idea. but i will kick him out again if it all goes south.