i’m trying on my life
like a new pair of jeans
these are too tight
look how fat they make me
i will never wear these
why did i think these would
i’m trying on my life
realizing it’s my favorite
pair of jeans
in all the right places
& look how cute my butt looks
i’m going to wear these
i think, often, when i have this one precious week to myself, my head is able to clear and i figure a little bit more out.
i used to get into relationships so that i wouldn’t have to think about my problems. it was so much easier to focus on someone else’s problems.
it is funny to me to realize i now crave this time alone to examine my own problems and actually try to fix them.
just makes me feel so grown up
in all the right ways
my epiphany is that–consciously or not–i did choose this life. i was not hijacked by it–though i do believe, in a way, it also chose me.
but this is where i want to be. ultimately. i might fantasize about running away…a lot…maybe more than the average person, but this is
where i want to be.
who i want to be.
(and i know this isn’t going to magically fix me & make me happy and make me all gung-ho when usually i feel like crying. i know i’m still going to get pissed off & lonely & depressed…but i think i needed to accept that this is my path–this is where i am supposed to be. and start walking it so i can get where i’m going already…unless life is about the journey. then i guess i just need to stop moping in the ditch and hop to it.)
before my whole fucktardery with dusty…
while my witchy friend was visiting, she & i read each other’s tarot cards. my near future card was the queen of swords. a card that often shows up in my spread–especially regarding dusty. the queen of swords has a high moral position and expects others to live up to it as well.
so is this a good thing?
a bad thing?
just a thing?
it’s true of me. i do expect a lot of myself & the same from others. dusty has never hesitated to fall under my sword.
then i’m all like–am i being too cruel? expecting too much? not accepting him for who he is?
i am the queen of swords.
off with his head.
as i protect myself & re-enforce walls that i had to build after letting him break my heart too many times, dusty does a dance & tries to appeal to my nurturing side. he is trying to get me to rescue him. he wants me to save him. he is trying to be sad & helpless while never admitting that he has done anything wrong.
so i’m going to go ahead & hold onto that queen of swords
because even though i am hurting right now
i know i am going to recover again
faster this time
& i need to make sure i finally remember this lesson
remember this heartbreak
& not let it happen again
for real this time.
to cook for you
a bowl of beef stew
to make you coffee
just the way you like it
to pour you a glass of whiskey
& listen to you rant
to grow tomatoes in my garden
slice & salt them
to draw your portrait
over & over
until i know your features
better than i know
as a mostly wild & untamed thing, it surprises me when i feel this way towards another person.
when i was nineteen & in my very first relationship, that boyfriend curled up on the floor one evening and asked me, “would you take care of me if i had polio?”
having no sense of normal polite responses i could have made, i blurted out an honest one, “no!”
is it irony or not that he ended up dumping me after i developed a cyst that required his help in the daily draining of? ha! my first experience with being let down easy.
as a child, i watched my largely unnurturing mother give all of her attention to her giant toddler of a husband. i came to believe that it was weakness to care for & to care about a man. sure, i fell in love all the time…but to care about them? to care for them? to need them?
as you can guess, i was very popular with the boys. i once made a goth industrial dude cry when i told him i didn’t need him.
he was not the first or the last man i made cry.
love ’em & leave ’em crying.
except for the one.
i did break up with him twice, but in the end–he destroyed me.
but this is what i am wondering.
is it the end?
i know and–if you read my blog regularly & for more than a few weeks–you know too that this seems to be a cycle for me.
i realize i still love him & am devoted to that.
then i get pissed off at myself
& at him
and vow to forget him & to find someone else.
i try that for awhile
find i can’t stomach it
and realize again how much i love him.
if you have been reading my blog the past couple of weeks…you might notice i am once again winding up to devotion.
love & caring.
for just one man.
i have my kids. i have my art. i have my homestead. he is the only addition i would make to that. he is the only one i want.
whether that is stupid, silly, sentimental, & saccharine nonsense or not….i don’t care. it’s how i feel. i have spent so much of my life going over my psyche with a fine toothed comb. i cannot deny this. whether i ever see him again or not, he is the one & the only one i want.
i’m going to be the only blog
where someone makes art
talks about said art
draws & writes comics
& ink blot compositions
writes poorly constructed poetry
denies it is poetry at all
tells you her dreams
and analyzes those dreams for you
shares her tarot readings
and other pagan witchy rituals
talks about homesteading
sustainability & low-impact lifestyles
trying to be a locavore
goats, sheep, ducks, chickens, & geese
maybe turkeys too
and other demons perching on one’s psyche
isolation & life as a pariah
also randomly volunteering recipes
& book reviews
while begging someone to talk to her
or at least to marry her
and she may or may not
mention her menstrual cup
and how that is working out….
this is my solemn vow to you, dear reader. also, i challenge you to find another blog that offers you all that. and if you do know one, get me in touch with them so i can run away with them & we can be red-headed pirates together.
(i decided just today that i want to be a red-headed pirate…so my to-do list is to become a redhead & then become a pirate.)
speaking of dreams. i have been having crazy-ass dreams. i’m not sure what’s going on there. and i keep making out with dusty in my dreams and then waking up all pissed off. i need to figure out why i am having those dreams…and remember what fish mean in my dreams. i used to know, but i seem to have forgotten, and now i am having fish dreams like crazy.
also, i just put in a kencove fence to make more pasture because i am not sure i have enough hay for my ruminants. it occurred to me, just recently, that i could actually buy hay in the summer and store it for winter. however, i did not do that and now everyone is running low on hay (or have already sold it to someone else) due to the cold, snowy winter.
but the day was warm & pretty, and i put up this SO EASY to put up temporary electric fence. so now i have a third pasture. yay! and dreams of getting more so i can pasture in another chunk of yard where weeds & canada thistle have gone crazy mad.
plus i am working on a comic about a chicken who died this winter.
yes…a dead chicken comic.
it’s gonna be good.
i’m the bad guy
you’re the victim
it’s the script
i’m the bad guy
you’re the victim
did we do this
is it easier for me
i am the bad guy?
do you feel better
being the victim?
i don’t want to play
but you hand my mask
back to me
i throw it down
“if i am the bad guy,”
from behind that mask,
“why do i feel like
the bad guy
comes the answer.
always the bad guy no matter which way i play it. i am always the bad guy. i think the other day, when we were fighting about god knows what, i am pretty sure he said i had borderline personality disorder–as he had already diagnosed my mom as having. then, of course, i spin out wondering if i do have borderline personality disorder.
(he would not clarify to me what he actually said–another fun game he likes to play with me.)
why is it so easy for him to convince me i am the bad guy? oh…right… because i already believe i am.
but! i am in the process of changing that.
but the process is slowed down by long visits from the man who strives to be my victim. that weird narcissistic sadistic trick of posing as the masochist.
another thing i need to work on.
finding other people i can ask for help in dire times…people that are not my ex-husband.
that one is not so easy for me to remedy. in fact, i am more & more convinced that i am spending the rest of my life alone…and lonely.
i was so weirded out by the dragons in my picture
that i never stopped to wonder what a person might think
of my skull wearing fire goddess.
which then i obsessed about for awhile
wondering if i would be labeled too dark
mostly thinking of how my younger sister would see it
my conservative republican trump-voting highly delusional little sister.
then i thought
if i had a horned skull and a feather tutu
i would totally wear that.
so it must not be weird,
then i was fine with it.
and today i have another goddess portrait
a river goddess
wearing welding goggles
because, you know, to keep water out of her eyes.
so tomorrow i go fetch my minions back
the end to my alone time…
and i won’t get a picture done tomorrow…maybe the next day?
so tomorrow i see dusty
which is how i prefer it.
i haven’t missed him at all.
i can just pretend he is still sitting at his laptop playing video games
or getting high in the garage.
not much different with him gone.
and i finally read my tarot cards today.
i have been avoiding them ever since they yelled at me about not
taking my art seriously.
today they told me
“keep on keeping on–& don’t fuck it up.”
so that’s my game plan.
steady as she goes…watch out for sink holes & water falls.
and here is my ink stain. i could see a face and knew it was a portrait of someone wearing goggles. i fleshed her out. then i found the river.