attachment disorder

dear sir or ma’am
not that it is an excuse
but i have recently
learned
about
that pop term
mental illness
du jour
& you know
how i always joke
about being that baby monkey
in those
horrific
experiments
jokes
about being raised by wolves
well
i’m so sorry
i broke your heart
turns out
being rejected by mum
really does a number on one’s
ability
to…
well
to fucking form attachments
to trust
to have faith
of any kind
to believe that someone
could
actually
love me
i can tell you now
without a doubt
i ruined
your life
because i am
broken
so….

i have decided to advertise myself as “beautiful but broken.” hey, at least i’m seeing myself as beautiful…i mean, that’s new.
sigh
i have been struggling to get up in the morning. struggling to get through the day. i’m not sure if it’s father’s day, my dad’s birthday, my birthday (all happening in the next few weeks) plus the anti-versary of being molested on the same day my dog got hit by a car…the dog that i had just realized i did love after not being able to bond with any animal after my cat was murdered….
i feel like i am being “dramatic” by taking my life seriously. by acting as if i have any reason to hurt when other people survive much worse…. yet, i feel like maybe i need to give myself permission to mourn…to grieve…but then i’m all “snap out of it” and not letting that happen.
and it all just starts over again.

unappealing

the more they ignore me
the louder i tell myself
i never needed them
anyway
the more unpopular
i am
the more inspired
i am
to perfect being a pariah
the less they see me
the harder i try
to stay
invisible
what happens if…
what happens if i fight
that reflex
what happens if i try
to be appealing…
holy fuck
the mere thought of it
goes against
my very fiber
hmmm
maybe “self-sabotage”
maybe
not
giving
a
fuck
is just how i roll…
i’m too fucking angry
to be appealing
to be soft
to be inviting
is there a way
to seek my audience
without
compromising
who i am?

the violence we inherit

i wonder as i replant all of the basil babies
my son’s cat
dug up in the night
i wonder
was there a voice in my dad’s head that day
a voice that urged him to stop
or to at least take a beat
& think
about what he was doing
as he loaded his gun
or was he too loaded himself
sound voices unable to reach a brain fevered
with the excitement of an excuse
to do violence
what did he think about 
as he blew out my cat’s brains
& destroyed the last of my childhood dreams of love
dreams of feeling loved
of feeling safe
as much as i want to do violence
to my son’s cat
i will not
i know the feeling will pass
i know it is important not to hurt my son
know if is wrong to hurt an animal
who is just doing what animals do
i hope my son
feels loved
i hope he feels safe
i hope his cat appreciates that even though i am 
sometimes void
of the empathy that normally haunts me
i am able to recognize right
from wrong
however
even though i assure myself that i am not
my father
i am grateful to the cat
for having the sense to hide
before i found my damaged seedlings
so that belief
did not have to be
challenged.

i don’t remember how old i was when it happened. i’m pretty sure a lot of the details were told to me. but i don’t remember by whom. all i know…or all i was told…was that my sister had put nester the bunny, my baby brother’s pet, on the deck in a cardboard box. my sister did this so she could clean the living room. she cleaned in an obsessive-compulsive way. she cleaned because it was something she could control. she cleaned to survive. so nester was put in a cardboard box on our deck so my sister could do what she had to do.

my cat was a farm cat as my parent’s didn’t believe in house cats. my cat was a big tomcat covered in scars. i loved my cat like nothing else. 

my cat found the bunny and with his own set of survival skills, he broke nester’s neck. this is what i was told.

i remember that midnight then ran under the deck to hide. i am not sure how he knew to hide. but that is where my dad found him. telling the story for years after, my dad would say my cat was laughing at him while my dad pulled the trigger.

what about me?

where was i? was i screaming? was i crying? i remember knowing. i knew my cat was going to be shot. what did i do? was there anything i could have done?

i was already damaged by this point in my life. recent readings have me wondering if i suffer from attachment disorder due to emotional & then physical barriers that kept my mother from bonding with me as an infant & into my childhood.and the violence my father was capable of kept me in a pretty constant state of fear. i am pretty sure i was just hanging on by a thread at this point. my dad had already been responsible for at least one other instance of killing someone i loved when he put my pet mouse out in the rain. 

i think this was it.

the straw that broke the camel’s back and left me unable to love. to trust. to bond with another living creature.

…until i had children of my own and found a fierce love somehow…somehow…still burning inside me.

“foxy” 16X20 inking on canvas…$200

no, you’re emo….

my heart is cold
& smells 
of rotting flesh
the turkey vultures
circle
sensing
my surrender
my heart is cold
& black
with defeat
it feels like a stone
in my chest
pulling me 
down
as i 
fall.

how was your mother’s day? 
why the fuck can’t i not sink into a terrible place on this day of mothers?
let’s not think too hard about it. let’s just have a drink and wait for the day to end.
i know it’s a hallmark holiday. i know it’s petty…but i can’t help but want to set fire to the father of my children and watch the burnt flesh fall off of him when i think about all he had to do was help the kids make me something/buy me something…some token…some little fucking whisper to say i am valued.
but no. impossible. totally impossible. even in this day & age where he likes to pretend he was baptized by dr. phil.
i know that on father’s day i will buy a rosemary plant (because he loves rosemary plants & killed the last one he stole from me) & put a ribbon on it & have the kids make cards & give it to him as if it were their idea….
and i imagine again the warmth that would come off of his flaming body….

i really don’t know if my kids value me or not. i really don’t. and maybe that’s another one of my shortcomings. another one of my flaws. maybe i fucked it all up. i mean, the two oldest are sixteen & fourteen and they can’t even be bothered to bring me something to plant? even after i told them where to go for it?

but i do like to pretend one day they will grow me a pot of marigolds and maybe bake a chocolate cake and say, “hey, thanks for being a good mom. thanks for sacrificing everything for us. we value you.”

ps. my kids did go & get me flowers to plant on the day after mother’s day…of course by then my mental collapse was complete.
my poor children.

buffering

“keep your distance”
is what my energy worker
tells me
is lurking in the energy field
just next to my skin
& i know
it is true
true of me now
& for as long
as i can remember
i don’t let
anyone
close
i am an open book
friendly even
sometimes…
but there is always
that invisible buffer
to keep you
form getting
too close
to me.

ah yes, the walls of the emje. carefully built & tended.
of course, in my tarot yesterday, i drew an upside down warrior who told me: putting up walls is a sign of weakness–not strength.
poop.
i guess i might need to dismantle the catapult and bake some muffins…
but seriously, after a lifetime of keeping everyone away, how do i learn to let people in?

dust devil

i feel like a swirling twirling dust devil right now
my anxiety is so so so crazy high
i just want to hide away
in my hidey hole
and not deal with any man ever…
my ex is playing money games with me
when i am extremely vulnerable
living on credit
my potential relationship is like three chapters
ahead of me
if we’re even in the same book
(forget being on the same page)
and i just feel like too many people are asking
too much
expecting too much
and as i’ve said before…the more that is expected of me
the less i want to give
contrary me…
i should be doing self-care
yoga & hikes
but
all i want to do is have a drink

blanket of anger

my anger is a blanket
i cannot
get out from under
no matter
how i struggle
i am suffocating
in my own
anger
i kick & kick & kick…
he cannot hear me
no matter how loud
i scream
& all i can hear
is echoes of him
in our children
i scream
& scream
& scream
& no one hears me
& nothing changes.

yup. more angst at the ex. fuck me when my kids start trying to gaslight me in a little mini-him gesture. i have no tolerance for it. i call them on it.
do i call him on it?
would it do any good?
i guess, at least, i can hope to raise a handful of men who do not gaslight. who know better….

when to vanish

i must duck
to avoid being
entangled
in the wires that hold
him up
i must crawl
under the smoke
so that i can endure
his fire
i must bob & weave
& even
run & hide
as if i were a silly rabbit
& he
a clever fox
not always does
a warrior stand tall
sometimes
she must know
how to
when to
vanish.

i haven’t gotten any new art done in a bit, but i did feel like coloring in some journal pages…so there will be a few days of those.
i have been working on stabilizing some bad energy…some saturating negativity that is clogging up my works. it all seems to be centering on my ex. he is trying to worm his way back in, and i am trying to figure out how to move forward. how to step over him to continue my journey.
i did go to a thrift store and buy a dozen pieces of framed art from which i will pillage the materials to get my inkings done to hang in a coffee shop in viroqua (magpie gelato)…i will keep y’all updated on that endeavor.

i am wolf

some days i could conquer the world
howl at the moon
take no prisoners
other days i feel caught in a trap
unable to move forward
angry at myself for moving
backwards.

the other night i listened to the coyotes scream from my side porch. last night it snowed and blanketed my valley community.
looking out my window at the natural world that surrounds me is enough to keep me going even when i feel like i cannot possibly make it through another day.
and if i can actually get out of my house to be amidst the natural world…then i can ground myself & clear away all the poison that builds up in my soul.

“i am wolf. hear me howl.” ink on watercolor paper 9X12. $45

fresh inkings

my “inspirational” inkings will cut to the chase
they’ll tell you what’s what
with a good dose of anxiety
depression
and troubled mothering…
you too can replace your “hang in there” kitten
with some fresh quixotic inkings

for sale directly from me via paypal (quixoticmama@gmail.com) or through my etsy store.
all are 9X12 $45.

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