that i have not punched anyone in the face should prove what a hero i am that i haven’t torn the throat of the world out with my teeth should show what a humanitarian i am.
i was playing off of the legend of billy jack…but seeing as my given name is actually mary jo….
this is the other end of the suicide scope it seems. homicide. for everyone giving me unsolicited advice as i try to find my way through…i have not brought injury on to any of them. so throw me a fucking parade.
most days these days i want to kill myself except i don’t want to die so i guess there’s that.
more of that clawing my way out of my own life feeling. i am overwhelmed & frustrated & wanting to feel better but every time i see a glimpse of light, it gets stomped the fuck out. so then i just start fantasizing about horrible things to do to myself…but i don’t really want to do them…so why does the fantasy help me feel better?
bathe in the enlightenment that is me 1.) don’t give a fuck 2.) burn it all down 3.) take the money & run
yes. this was my trying to help my sister be as wise as i am. okay, look at it again. look at it with the eyes of someone who has been destroyed by emotional abuse. hey. it gets me through, this attitude of mine, it keeps me alive…and right now i’m just trying to help her stay alive.
told i could not swim & then thrown into the deep end my family of origin all of us fucked up in our won special way all of us thrown in the deep end trying not to drown & pushing each other under i was finally getting my stroke down making my own waves when they grabbed me by the knees pushed me down by the shoulders pulled under again
i have been struggling more than usual lately, trying to get my wonky head back on straight…. then my sister, with a history of mental illness, became despondent & suicidal and my being the only one living near her, put me in the position of rescuer & caretaker. this is not not not a position i enjoy &, in fact, i begin to fall apart even more when put in this position. so here i am trying as hard as i can to keep my head above water.
(at least i am able to be consistent in my metaphor…)
i’m not going to write a lifetime movie for you if you survive your suicide suicide something i have thought about far too much is an escape from your pain…maybe but it is also a big “fuck you” to everyone in your life so i’m not going to take you in my arms & tell you everything is okay you have so much to live for… i’m going to get you by the scruff of the neck give you a good shake & tell you “no! bad! knock it the fuck off!” if i have to be in this world endure all the pain of it then guess what you do too no cutting.
pun intended? my sister attempted suicide recently, and my reaction was to get really pissed off about it. so i wrote this instead of being mean to her. i know i have thought of doing myself in often, but i am aware that it is a shitty thing to do. i guess there are cases where the pain you are in outweighs the pain you will inflict on others…but those cases are few & far between as much as i can tell.
missing my would-be friend… an art journal page because i’m saddened by the death of a person i really would have liked to have taken the time to know better. sadly, he committed suicide & all i am left with is regret…i wish i would have reached out to him & shared my own darkness with him so maybe he would not have felt so alone & so lost.
though i feel comfort at the thought of a no-more a never-more i am invested in this story & long to know how it will unfold will i laugh? will i cry? i will not stop turning the pages of my life even if at times i feel like setting the book down & walking the fuck away, i come back i come back i pick up where i left off my story this is not the end.
originally posted on august 31, 2018
another one towards the one day realization of the invisible exhibitionist.
i tore up so many versions of this. i am still not completely happy with the final…but there is a lot i like about it too. i am not sure why i went with lewis carroll’s drawing of alice for this one. i do know that i have always loved this illustration. when i re-did it, i worked from my version of the illustration, without looking at his, which is my habit. to work from my own art that i first borrowed from someone else…. if that makes sense.
anyhoo! i noticed that this as well as my last post are about survival & not doing myself in as the little voices sometimes suggest…so that’s nice.
self soothing is thinking about the blade against my skin self soothing is a match to burn it all to the ground self soothing are the words rolling around in my rotten brain no one has ever loved you anyway self soothing is a free fall away from my nightmares and into a comforting emptiness love love is the easy answer if by easy you mean impossible death makes more sense no longer fantasizing about love saving me only hoping for death.
death. the ultimate distraction. no. i don’t really want to die. most the time i plan on living forever. but some days there is something deep & dark inside me. an overwhelming lack of hope. it has a lot to do with escape. that’s what the thoughts of death are. i mean, when i was in the midst of it, i thought, what if i didn’t die–but just disappeared? it was all the same to me. well. actually disappearing was more desirable than death. i am sure other mothers feel this way. i am sure none of us like to talk about it. i talk about it because i have to. if i keep things inside, it only gets worse. squeeze it until it bleeds…& then it can get better.
i am not sure how i feel about this illustration/self-portrait. i feel like i am…too sexy? is death sexy? i wasn’t going for sexy. i’m not sure it is even sexy. trust me, i do not feel sexy. i do like the illustration…it feels comic-booky to me. i just feel like a fraud for having drawn/painted it. don’t ask me why. i don’t fucking know.
they keep me
they keep me
dry my tears
they tell me
once i give up
send my demons
let go of my
but if i do
will i have
this post was inspired by yesterday’s post. yes, i am my own muse.
also, i have never seen the movie ghost…but this well-known scene popped to mind when i tried to picture my ever loving demons.
don’t know what this says about it all, but i accidentally gave my demon one of my tattoos–the one that is an engagement tattoo to an obsession i have done my best to let go of….
there are no accidents…right?
also, i totally think my demon is sexy.
i need to get out more….