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.

from my crow’s nest

(i am re-posting this as i totally forgot to include the illustration last time i posted it–oops!)

it took him years
to pull apart
the fabric of my joy
i guess its a credit to me
that the cloth was strong enough
to hold my joy
through so much sorrow
i must be like a crow
stowing away
bits of glitter
& strands of sparkle
weaving them into a nest
to hold my joy safe from all the hard stones
of pain
& isolation
some strange crow
in a fantastic nest…
now an older me
a wiser me
is tasked with collecting my joy
back to me
once more
rebuild the nest
reweave the cloth.

my ex is in my thoughts a lot with two of our children having birthdays in october. i am trying to give myself credit for surviving him. i did survive him after all.
also! in an attempt to value myself, i have decided to start submitting poems, stories, & art to magazines & whatnot. i haven’t actually done it yet, but i do have a list of possible periodicals to pester.
once upon a time i had the hoo-ha to send out novels & novels to publishers…back when you had to supply an SASE with every mailed manuscript. it’s been awhile since i have had the backbone to put myself in the line of fire for rejections…. but, i am working on it.

ps. misha suggested that this was an inking of the sun & the moon 🙂

goodbye

it was as if the island did not want me to be there.
every sign an exit sign.
rain filling the tent
a sky clouding over as soon as we got to the beach
for a swim
crows crying out a warning every morning
relentless flies & pissy park rangers…
i wondered if it was an omen of bad things to come…
only to realize it was a letting go
like the end of the movie
when you have to set free the thing you love
have to chase off the thing you love.
the island was telling me to leave
to run free
& to not look back.

this has everything to do with dusty. i planned this vacation to madeline island with him. kind of a co-parent thing. i thought it would work out okay because things had been going more friendly between us.
but i really do not like being around him.
especially not for an entire camping trip.
we are so different in the ways we live our lives. the ways we see the world. the ways we parent….
it hurts me to be around him. i wish it did not…but it does. i am damaged a little every time i tolerate his bullshit. and i feel like i have to tolerate his bullshit in order to keep the peace.
…and i really really do not like tolerating bullshit.

it was totally his fault the tent flooded. i kept trying to nicely tell him the flaw in his thinking. the flaw that was causing the tent to turn into a leaky water bed…but he kept telling me how it was going to work. i had to wait it out, bailing out the tent more than once, before he would “let” me fix the problem (without any help from him.)

i once surmised of our relationship that if we were ever in a situation where we had to work together to survive–we just wouldn’t. we would be dead.

but i survived.
& the island made it clear to me that i need to let go & stop the nonsense.

day 107

day 107 at madness manor…
i left my house
for four nights
to go camping
a reluctant vacation
as madness manor
sang to me
“please don’t go
i love you so!”
& i missed my house
like i would miss
a friend
what is the fun
of roughing it
in the woods
when i could be
roughing it
at home?

i always find myself wondering why people choose to go camping. vacation in such a way that you sleep on the hard ground, have to walk to get water, poop in a pit toilet, cook over a fire, combat bugs & possibly larger pests….
is it a thing like once you have done it, you feel more alive? feel like you have survived?
my every day is a struggle with survival.
my house is like camping.
so why did i bother to drive for a day to do everything i could do at home?
hmmmm.
which leads to the question–why do i choose to live my every day in a way that most would call roughing it?

when i was packing up to go on this trip that i really did not want to go on, my music mix started playing alt-j’s “breezeblocks”
i really did take it as a sign that my house was going to miss me as much as i was going to miss her.

but i’m home now. putting in heat & insulation & preparing for a winter in madness manor. yay!

tolerating the intolerable

one of my gifts
my dysfunctional super powers
one of the survival instincts
that kicked in
early
was an ability
to tolerate
intolerable
situations
breathe through
breath held
one day at a time
with the prize in sight
always
with my eyes on that prize
…escape
ignoring with all my might
the pain
surrounding
me
until the day
i would no longer
have to.

i spent my abusive childhood waiting for the day i could run away. i moved out of that house the week i graduated high school.
in every dysfunctional relationship, i plotted my escape. tolerating the intolerable until i could safely leave.
all the messed up places i have lived…i pretended it wasn’t so bad until the day i could move away.

motherhood is the only place i refuse to do that…
wait…or am i doing it? holding myself just together enough until the day my spawn finally fly away from me….
fuck…how can i even tell? it has become second nature.

inez malstom

being the embodiment of earthly punishments
used to bother
inez malstrom
but now she gets a slight high
just thinking of it
a case of the giggles even
sometimes
she thinks it would be nice
for once
to be an earthly reward…
but that is probably reserved for someone named
jillian.

i have written so many beginnings to stories. you never know. i might finish it…turn it into a comic, a short story, or even a novel, but for now it lives as a journal page.

i think i recently read in a book a quote by a poet to the effect of: i write instead of screaming
for the life of me i cannot access where i read this. i have been reading a lot of books lately.
nevertheless–this is true for me. my writing & my art are what i do to keep from losing my mind. so i take these dark little thoughts and try to make something beautiful (?) out of them…or at least something interesting.

comfortably conflicted

i am comforted
by the idea
of falling apart
hence
my conflict

more on that tower card conflicting me & my trying to figure out what the fuck…. i am more comfortable falling apart than i am feeling whole. this is a conflict to my healing.

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