my nose & my chimney are clogged is it me? how do i get things moving without filling a house with smoke or a handkerchief with snot?
that free verse moment was brought to you by a congested head which is too tired & too muddled to continue its thought…. i keep forgetting i am a powerful amazing goddess…instead only seeing my lumps, bumps, and grey hairs. however! i have begun…or rather stopped…stopped pretending. in my relationship with the dad. i have stopped playing the game with him that we are some happy family despite the years of betrayal & my having divorced him. once literally and a dozen times more figuratively.
i have found that i have this desire to want to make people happy. what the fuck, right? okay, it might be a good desire…except for the fact that one person cannot actually make another person happy. and also the fact that i will then try to grant their wishes at the expense of my own happiness or comfort. and, sure, when it’s my kids, yeah, i can make the sacrifice on occasion…but when it’s my ex-husband? the one who is quick to turn on me? the one with the laundry list of grudges towards me? the one i cannot trust any further than i can throw him? fuck that. so i’m not playing house with the ex anymore. seriously. i’m stopping.
the beautiful artwork at the top of the post was done by my lovely daughter.
the invisible exhibitionist was, in part, my response to social media. being a highly sensitive introvert, social media was especially difficult for me. why was everyone happy but me? so instead of posting selfies with perfect hair, i inked how i saw myself, warts & all. instead of photos of my delicious meal or fantastic vacation, i posted free verse that glorified all of my short comings as a mother. as a daughter. as a friend & lover.
i didn’t want to show everyone how well i was doing, i wanted to reassure others that they were not alone in their struggles.
i was letting myself get washed away in the current when i got stuck in a whirlpool of me caused by a pile of my own debris… so then so then i started picking at kicking in fighting & crying but the dam held steady… so now i relax i float on my back watching the sky spin above me & i have faith that my problems will break free make space & let me flow forward once more.
more metaphors on my clogged stream of energy.
this inking is a self-portrait in honor of my upcoming self-portrait collection, the invisible exhibitionist. my floating in a pool of me….
and also in the spirit of selfies. my publisher suggested i take a selfie with my book proof.
i am happy to say that reading through my proof made me laugh several times. it feels nice that i’m not making myself cry at the moment.
opposite this page in my journal is a list of ALL the people i have been “romantically” involved with from love letters to handjobs on amtraks to every position ever…. it is exactly the same as the number of u.s. presidents! i was looking for a pattern. i think i secretly have a math brain because i do enjoy me some patterns.
in other news. i picked up a copy of mark manson’s the subtle art of not giving a fuck at the suggestion of my friend & fellow blogger, jason sandberg. it’s pretty much a philosophy i have been following forever with many life suggestions i had already figured out through all my obsessive naval gazing…but it’s still nice to hear someone else say it. so now i am wondering what i have to do to get a quote from mr. manson for my book the invisible exhibitionist where i expose everything in my own struggles with and embracing of a couldn’t-give-a-fuck mindset. hmmm…. anyone know him?
something i am examining from mr. manson’s book is that i have chosen my own struggles. sometimes, when i am wallowing in my sinkhole–completely overwhelmed, i act as if my life is not of my own choosing…when it so much is. four kids & a fixer upper…life as a starving artist & single mother…. that’s all on me. i did that. like, on purpose even. now what? i will let you know what i figure out from this.
so i have art hanging at a local very hip cafe called magpie gelato. it’s pretty exciting for me. it has been a long time since i have put my art in a frame. and then, this spring-ish, my art will be in a book!
so much is happening. & best of all, i am excited about it instead of terrified!
emerge from the dark go through that open door fly higher urges the hawk
yesterday i was talking to a friend about the invisible exhibitionist telling the story once more about how i first became invisible i was the fourth of six children; i was the third of four daughters. i was a quiet child. once i asked my mother why my younger sister got whatever she wanted. “the squeaky wheel gets the grease,” my mom answered. rightfully so–this pissed me off. it made me more determined not to be a squeaky wheel but to earn reward by my own merit & my own hard work. to be noticed for being remarkable…not for being loud & obnoxious. so i waited quietly for said reward. sigh. i have stayed invisible all my life out of spite…and no one has noticed. now i find myself unwilling to promote myself for the same (misguided?) reason. i don’t want to get noticed just for being the fucking squeaky wheel. i want to be noticed for being amazing….
additionally! my latest meditation revealed that not only am i afraid to be noticed. but also i have purposely hidden myself for fear that if i am somehow noticed, i will be deemed unworthy of attention. i am more comfortable in the dark than i am in the light.
i knew this on some level already, but now i feel it is time to drag that belief out and really work it over.
my energy worker told me i am all twisted up right now. maybe it is time for me to twirl myself out into the light.
tara over at raw earth ink sent me a sample of things to come for my next publication the invisible exhibitionist! so exciting! for you who weren’t with me from 2017 through 2019, i was obsessively inking self-portraits & vomiting free verse in an attempt to root out the damage that kept me broken. i wrote about everything & anything that went through my head or that i felt inside me. i exorcised as many demons as i could find & ended up making friends with a few of them. i did almost 500 pages of self-portraits. during 2020, i hung up a show at a local art spot & more than one person told me it should be a book. so! it’s going to be a book. every time i read what i wrote back then, it makes me cry all over again. i was a raw as i could be. and i share that rawness in hopes that someone who needs to see it will. in hopes that i can help at least one person not feel alone. i am looking forward to seeing it all together in one book.