eight years…

wordpress just let me know it’s my eight year anniversary
whoa
how my art
my writing
& my way of viewing myself
the world
& relationships
has changed in eight years…
maybe not anything earth shattering
but
everything
has gotten a bit more proportional at least

this is a character from a story i played around with eight years ago in an art class. a story i still hope to finish developing one day.
eight years ago i was about to give birth to my fourth & final child. i was in an awful & emotionally abusive relationship with the dad. eight years ago i was attending art classes at uw and had just spawned moses jones. eight years ago i was in a lot of pain.
i somehow survived.
now i love & adore my four little monsters even when they are driving me mad. i no longer go to the dark dark places i went to back then–or at least i can still see the light when the dark decends. i can successfully ward off the wooings of the dad (who just this past weekend tried his hand at seducing me again.) i can suffer through the loneliness knowing i am who i am & am not going to accept anything less. i am working on my third publication. i am (slowly) selling art. i am working on a novel while editing two other books i wrote years ago to see if they are publishable….
and! i have my madness manor & my breathtaking view of the hills around me. i have a home–in more sense than one.
i have found my home.

throw back

i found this while unpacking. it is super dooper old. the lion lady was done and then needed a new background at some point…so i cut her out of her original drawing & pasted her into a new a background.

like 20 years ago.

and that is the story of that.

this is what a mother looks like

i asked my kids
if
after i died of throat cancer
from screaming at them
if they would remember
what i said.
they answered “yes”
…but only because they didn’t really
listen
to what i was
saying
i’m not sure how to feel…
my throat hurts.

don’t ask how the packing is going…just…don’t ask….

these are images i did for a watercolor class some years back…a week of illustrations of how i felt as a mom. things haven’t changed too much.

searching for treasure

i am inside myself a lot these days
well, most days
okay, every day
i am also
beside myself
with loneliness & isolation
that i think would be relieved
by companionship
but maybe i am one of those people who
even after dreams are achieved
will remain
empty

i’m shopping for a publisher. i think my collection is complete, but i am so tired of proofing & editing, that i cannot stand to read through it even one more time to see what needs to be polished.
i am over on the poets & writers site looking though all of the small presses. i have found a few dozen, but i keep looking because i expect to be rejected multiple times and want to be prepared.
i am tired of looking at publishers.
much like my personal life, i just want someone to walk up my driveway and say, “i am here to take care of all your (publishing) needs.”

alas…my driveway is empty…and in serious need of being re-graveled.

the map painting is one of many treasure maps i have made for different art assignments at uw-madison. fuck me, i love a treasure map.

so much anger in this one

if i were a dude
the brontes would write a book about me
but i’m a chick…so i just get ostracized
for my anger.
smile, it’s not so bad.
smile, you’re beautiful when you smile.
smile, don’t you know anger is pointless?

you mean, anger is not” feminine”
not “attractive.”
if i were a dude,
i could start a war with all this anger in me
and i would be lauded for my bravery &
my masculinity.

but i’m a chick.
an angry chick.
and that is only cute for a minute or two
depending on how cute i am.
then it becomes something
you walk away from.
everyone walks away
from me.

is that why i am so pissed off?
except,
they say i “drove them away.”
they say i “put up walls.”
but what if i was pushing
so that you would pull me closer?
what if i put up walls
so you would knock them down?

then i would know
you really loved me.
i don’t believe anyone has ever loved me.
i really don’t.
i don’t believe my parents loved me.
the hordes of boyfriends…yes, hordes,
because when you’re looking for someone
to love you
you look everywhere
but non of them loved me
not really.
my dogs don’t even love me.
and if they tried,
i gave them reason not to love me.
i joked that i had kids
so that someone would love me best.
now i wait for the day
they realize what an asshole i am
and stop loving me.

i’m a fucked up mess. i read about empaths being “light bringers” but all i feel inside of me is darkness. deep & black & oozing. darkness. i want to forsake everything and embrace the darkness inside of me. i don’t know why i feel this way. maybe the older i get the crazier i get. i never felt this deep & dark before dusty got a hold of me. i had my anger. i had my feelings of being lost & unlovable, but i never had this darkness in me until he showed me exactly how little i meant to him…. and now i struggle to get him out of my life–out of my house, and i feel like i have no control of the situation. for a person like me, a lack of control is like being buried alive.

so maybe the anger is the only thing i have right now.

(this drawing is a watercolor i did for a class when i was journaling about the topic of my choice. i chose to journal about me as a mother.)

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑