gorey laundry

my dad
he was
embarrassed to be
my dad
he thought
i was weird
different
abnormal
my dad
he was
embarrassed
of me
of the way
i dressed
of my being
outspoken
with opinions
contrary
to his own
my dad
he was
embarrassed
to be my dad
embarrassed
that i wanted to be
a writer
an artist
he tried to convince me
of the mistake
i was
making
he did not believe
i could possibly
succeed
i would be a failure
…how embarrassing
he was
embarrassed
of me
my dad
a man who did not
show his hand
a man
who kept so much
hidden
my dad
he could not bother
to hide
his
embarrassment.

i was to give a speech at my high school graduation because i was the salutatorian of my class.
my dad did not want to go to my graduation because he was sure i would embarrass him.
on my perfect little sister’s wedding day, i was put in the uncomfortable position of being her maid of honor. my dad’s words to me?
“don’t embarrass your sister on her day.”
he told me i would regret following my dreams. he told me that no one actually follows their dreams. he told me i had to be practical.
my dad.
spent so much time pushing me down.
when i eloped with a stranger (because i just wanted to believe that someone could really love me,) he said, “you’re not my problem anymore.”
i guess
now that he’s dead
i can say that right back to him.

thanks to edward gorey for this illustration inspiration

i could tell “worse” stories about my dad. about his alcoholism and his violent temper & how terrifying my childhood was…but the weird thing is, though that stuff was terrifying…it didn’t hurt nearly as much as living a life knowing what he thought of me.

Advertisements

feeling gorey

over on my patreon page i did an art journal page about my dad. somehow, using edward gorey in the illustration seemed to work.
this is the first time i have borrowed from edward gorey–one of my favorite male artists & an early dark influence on my life & art & sense of humor. i was pretty excited about doing it. i might try to do more in the future when my posts are particularly dark & dreary.

i have also done some other art journal pages (on enlightenment &
on ghosting)

as well as another page of “stolen.”

speaking of…i watched warrior queen, a movie about boudica–a celtic queen who kicked roman ass.
i can very much relate to the ancient celtic lifestyle as well as their hatred of romans. does that prove i lived a past life as a celtic queen? who knows. but i am enjoying creating my story about it.

it’s all fun & games until someone ends up married

the thing is
you like me
better
when i’m gone
you like
the fantasy me
the unavailable
me
better…
every time i left
you fell in love with me
all over again
every time
i returned
you quickly remembered
what a pain i was in your
ass
maybe you drive me
away
so you can revel
in the pain of losing
me
without having to live
with the pain
of having
me.

this one goes out to ex-husband number one.
he was not one of the narcissistic assholes, he was category #2 of men i find myself with: emotionally unavailable men.
i mean, i guess the narcissists are emotionally unavailable too…but some are just emotionally unavailable, otherwise, not bad guys.

ex-husband number one is totally emotionally unavailable.
you should read my journals. we met when i was just about to leave lexington, ky. to keep me from leaving, he proposed marriage.
on retrospect
that’s a bit extreme. couldn’t he have just said, “i think we have something good here, would you consider staying so we could find out?”
but
of course
he never actually talked to me about his feelings, so….
and–being me–i married him. he barely functioned in our relationship, & we quickly broke up.
i moved out.
then he started half-assedly showing interest in me again.
i moved back in.
then he quickly lost interest again.
so i moved out. moved to texas. moved to georgia. moved to colorado.
coming back to him, over & over & over again.

durp.

then, get this, i texted him recently, being friendly–just friendly–& he wants me back…again. i was like, yeah, i show up with my four kids & you run for the hills.
he texted back, “try me.”
motherfucking fucker fuck.
what is his issue?
at least i’m smart enough now (& no longer interested in being his yo-yo) to keep my distance.
but it still pisses me off.
he was talking marriage…again. is he a sadist? a masochist? delusional?

i know the drill.
i show up, he freaks out, i leave again.
but this time with four kids in tow?

ack.
i can never ever get married again. never. no “third time’s the charm.” fuck that. i can never get married. not only can i not trust that people are who they pretend to be, but also am i just not cut out for domesticity.
i can blame the guys all i like
but truth is
it’s always a relief when those divorce papers go through.

maybe i should get it tattooed on the back of my hand for next time i am getting love-bombed & think that marriage might be fun in a happily ever after kind of way:
remember DON’T get married


invisible threads

maybe he still holds me
with
invisible threads
cords woven
into my heart
maybe he still keeps me
in a prison
with no bars
i think i am free
but somehow
i am not…
how many times
have i left him
but maybe
he still holds
me
after all
in his
refusing to let me
go
he pounds another nail
into my coffin
telling himself
he is keeping me
safe.

as i was driving, monday, to take the minions to meet their dad, i glimpsed another passenger in my car when i glanced to the rear view mirror.
shortly after, i drove past a cemetery with a fresh grave.
i wondered, will their father be there, at the meeting place?
or am i finally free?
i was sure that my ex-husband had died.

however, as we now know, it was my father who had died, not theirs.

i thought that if my ex-husband had died, i would be a little sad. i mean, my kids would lose their dad…but i would also feel…
free.
kinda the way i felt when i found out it was in fact my father who had died.

on retrospect, i guess i shouldn’t be surprised that i got the energy of my dead dad mixed up with the energy of my ex-husband…i mean, there is a reason i often choose charming narcissistic assholes to be with.

& what i wonder now is…can’t i be free without anyone else having to die? how do i break the binds that he keeps me tied with? because i truly believe that his not letting me go is stopping me from being truly free of him.

death wishes

i usta sit
by darkened
winter windows
this same window
i now make art
with the light of
eons ago
i stared at the dark
reflecting little me
reflecting damaged me
back
waiting for him
to come home
praying
he would not
come home
death wishes
for daddy dearest
&
only forty years later
wishes
granted.

yesterday as i was driving back from dropping off the minions, my cell phone rang & “pure evil” came up on the screen.
i did not answer.
when i got home, i listened to the message. my mom, telling me that she thought he was asleep, but that my dad is dead.
that’s my mom, phoning around for a reaction before actually calling the paramedics.
so…my dad is dead.
don’t say you’re sorry, because i am not & if you say you’re sorry, it will only make me feel like a bigger shit.

ghosting illinois

in the spring of 2016
i lived in manitowoc wisconsin
i had begun volunteering
at a community garden
working with
farm to school
& helping to launch
a cooperative grocery
things i had wanted to do
most my adult life
i was doing them
joining a community
on the icy shores
of lake michigan

circumstances changed
my landlord decided
she needed more space
my ex decided
we should try again
my parents moved away
and i had a free place to stay
who doesn’t want
a free place to stay
but
as we all know
nothing
is free

i’m trapped in illinois
isolated
no community
no urban scene
any where near
for
gardening
& creating green spaces
i am stranded
right in the middle
of a giant fucking green space
(turns yellow though
when the corn has tassles)

i want to ghost
illinois
move to a town
large or small
but a town that needs
someone like me
a town that wants
someone like me
a town that loves
someone like me
a town
maybe
in iowa?

throwing a dart at at map. what about decorah iowa? it has nice assonance. i do enjoy a good ass..onance.
i don’t know. any thoughts? anyone?
i have to stay within kid-swapping distance of their dad in southern wisconsin…but i don’t want to be too close. plus people in wisconsin do not like me very much.
i used to live in iowa city. for the first four years of my adulthood i lived in iowa city. and i did love it. i ended up ghosting it because i was 22 & the world beckoned & my therapist wanted me to stop dating & focus on healing…so i skipped town & moved to illinois (briefly) & binged on boys before beginning a state-hopping escapade, full of boys.
but that is another story.
i liked iowa city. and i like the idea of going back to school & being close to friends…but i also like the idea of finding a small community in a picturesque setting.
hmmmm?

i’m hoping to be out of here by my birthday (july 12–mark your calendars!) as both a big happy birthday to me and as a fuck you to my folks who are headed back up here to wrap up loose ends.
i know, really mature…but you should meet my parents before judging my desire to avoid them at any cost.
plus my kids are still traumatized from their last interaction with my parents.
(never ever ever should have moved back here…but that is a lesson learned)

broken people

i’ve always loved the broken people
always always
i am drawn to them
but not like a moth
to a flame
because i am also the fire
my own all consuming
damage
at least as deep
as theirs
at least as bright
as theirs
i love them because i think
they will understand
they will know me &
they will love me
because i am like them…
thing is
when both of you
are broken
who is picking up the pieces?

this was originally posted on july 3, 2018. it was inspired by the song “broken” by lovely the band.

i can’t decide which one i like better. i think i like the original better. it’s creepier. and the leg splay is awesome. but i do like the rouge i put on the second version.

an open book

he says
i never told him
why
when actually
he just never
never listened
to all the times
& all the ways
i did tell him

i have always
been
an open book
that no one wants
to read
i make the words
louder
the pictures
brighter
only to have my cover
snapped
shut
that much quicker

i try so
so hard
to be seen
to be heard
fearing the attraction
i have never gotten
but craving
that
validation
so badly
so fucking
badly

this was originally posted in may of 2018. i re-did the illustration. now it is another finished piece for my the invisible exhibitionist project.  it was based on an egon schiele painting.

peeling the onion

what if
my overwhelming desire to be out
of that
relationship
by any means necessary
was not a reflection
on my
ability
to commit…
some sort of self-sabotage…
no, not at all
in fact
a survival instinct
what if
i knew he was wrong
wrong for me
wrong to me
even though on the surface he was
mr. right
what if
my escapist tendencies are all
the only thing
that keeps me from falling
into
the
abyss
of a relationship with a narcissist
not a bad thing
not at all
not something to punish myself for
20 years later
but!
something to celebrate
i
survived.

i’m finding layers, y’all. all kinds of layers. things are not just black & white, good or bad…there is all kinds of stuff going on in the layers.
my energy is shifting.
it’s kinda pretty awesome & i feel a giddy feeling about it. so giddy.

this is a thought i had about a person–many many posts on him. we were together and he said he was my true love and all i wanted to do was run and i did run a couple of times but i tried so hard to make it work and all i wanted was out.
then he left me for someone else. in a pretty fucking cruel way.
and i spent too much of my life thinking i did something wrong & fucked my entire life up by not being able to love him the way i thought i should have loved him.
then, i realized, though he did it a bit differently, he was pretty much the same as all the other charming assholes that my gut said, “RUN!!” about.

funny that instinct. not always a bad thing, running away.

the illustration is based on an egon schiele sketch.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑