badass

why do i so often
paint myself
as the victim
i honestly don’t see myself
as a victim
yes. i fall in love with abusers
but i also leave
yes. i come back
once or twice or a dozen times
(my heart is a loving
& hopeful place)
but i am a badass
& i will not stand by
to have abuses
heaped
on me
& ultimately
i rescue me
ultimately
i leave
ultimately
i heal
it might take a try
or two
but ultimately
i kick ass.

blast from the past

i don’t know why
men treat me this way
i don’t know what i’ve done
to deserve such cruelty
& apathy
i struggle to believe
i’m lovable
i struggle to believe
i’m a good person
yet somehow
i only get used
& tossed aside
i see these people
other people
happy & loving relationships
& i wonder
what’s wrong with me?
so i say to you
pretty boy
don’t worry
everyone kicks me
when i’m down…
it was probably
just your
turn.

another snippet from a 20 year old journal. it was written in prose form, but if i had written it today, i would have written it like this.
it reminds me of one or two of my pages of my the invisible exhibitionist. that last bit.

i’m hoping i have evolved past this lovelorn puddle of me…but if i happen into another relationship…will she return?

2001 a journal odyssey

nevermind
he broke my heart
something
wrong with me
i guess
i’m just something
to use
& toss
aside
unloved
unwanted

i’m tired
of men treating me
like i don’t
matter
how come no one
treats me
like i mean
something
do i think
so little
of myself
that i let
every asshole
take away
a part of me
& piss
on the wound?

these are words i wrote in journals in 2001 when i was 31. they were written as prose, but i could see how they would be written in free verse i journal in these days…so i put them in a page of my journal 20 years later.
maybe now you can see why i am scared of relationships?
granted most of these past 20 years have been spent in just one relationship…but, fuck me, it was a doozy of a mind fuck.

i like to think i have recovered some since i first wrote these words. my art journaling has definitely helped me to scab over some of these wounds.

now, i guess, i peek out of my hole & wait for spring. surely spring is coming? though not with a gentle blossoming but with a storm of the century….
(journal pages not yet written)

ps. though my handwriting & heartache stay somewhat of a constant…i am happy to report that my art has greatly improved!

pariah

one nice thing
about a lifetime
as a social
pariah
not much
time
nor
energy
is spent trying
to
fit in
with the
conventional…
indeed
you are able
to see
the
whole
picture
because your place
in the nosebleed section
allows
for a
panoramic
view.

i really don’t mind being a pariah. every once in awhile it gets lonely…but i like not having to worry about what people think of me.

another ardhaanarishvara…then it turned into an airship.
sometimes that happens
androgeny & airships…another one of my bands.

chaos theory

it’s about
welcoming
the chaos
not trying to control
the chaos
letting all
all the energies
the good &
the bad
move through
breathe through
with
small treasures
filtered out

working on balance in my household. my mothering requires that i not absorb all the chaos in the house or else i become overwhelmed & either shut down or freak out. however, trying to stop the chaos all together is fucking impossible (if you doubt this, i will be happy to send my kids over to your house.) so i need to find a way to filter through the chaos.
accepting it
& surviving it.

twilight with sunflowers

is this my normal
is this my baseline
is happiness
just a
blip
on the scanner
every once
in
awhile
the status quo
however
is barely being able
to find a reason
to get out of
bed.

i’m feeling better since i wrote this. halloween gets me all giddy. i am making the kids do a dress rehearsal today.
but when i feel down down down in the dark dark dark…it does feel like a forever thing.
of course, when i’m back up again–it feels that much more magical.

something different

i should try something
different
i think
this
obviously
isn’t working
i gesture to the life
around me
the chaos i am
waist deep
in
the disorder
the depression
the overwhelming
sense
of helplessness…
i should try something
different
i whisper
to myself
but for the life of me
i cannot
think
of anything else
i haven’t
already
tried.

dipping my toes in darkness…again. yesterday i was dancing…today not so much. but, you know, the dance of life, the dance we do as we try to get better–two steps forward one step back.
which means, i am always dancing.
but the music changes….

happiness

i
can’t bring myself
to believe
i have the capacity
for
happiness.

yup. written during my recent bout with all the crappy feelings.

i did enjoy that i drew differently in this one. while posting it on instagram, i wrote something about “wavy” hair. ha! it’s still funny.

don’t spin me right round

the grooves are set
deep
so the song will play
flawlessly
he loves me
he loves me
not
he doesn’t want me
i fall apart
i put myself
back
together again…
the record spins
round
i recover
i always
recover
until the song plays
again.

a half century of me

a week from today i will have survived for one half of a century.
(that is the best way my brain can interpret what is happening)
i have never struggled with a number before…but i really really do not feel like i could possibly be this old.

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