I’m so tired and mad. Why am I awake at 2am, 4am, 6am. Why am I not hungry or too hungry, not sad or too sad, not talking to my body or letting my body shriek at me. 

No consequences for Ray other than the divorce really. I hope it hurts. Of course this one consequence also rests on my shoulders. 

“Every time I talk to you you’re unhappy, I’m worried about you,” fuck you mom. Absolutely zero concept of what the last several months have meant, any of it. Even what I did tell her seems to have made no impact on her brain. I am always glad I did not tell her more. 

 2/17

i have this continual fantasy where i get to wake up in a soft bed in the sunday morning sunshine, knowing its a day off, next to the person i love and who loves me, and it's all white sheets and yellow light
usually deja vu only brings me odds and ends, snippets of future me at work or in conversation, but maybe someday it will bring me a moment like this

i don't want to breathe your dust any more -- and i will count my seven years till every one of my cells has forgotten your touch.

there is nothing in the world other than people. i try to convince myself i will always have a home. chameleons always do. watch me match, watch me play this role. i am wholly capable of disappearing.

so i give myself the gift of your heartbeat pressed under my ear-- the small joys of jealousy and fear-- the satisfaction of navigating someone else's body of trauma. i will always make you cum.

cage me in your chest: cardinals, sparrows, and i beating ourselves against the confines of our own mortality. i can see shadows passing across my gaze. there are only voices and the voiceless in this world. i can sing anywhere, but in my body i secret the tendons and talons required to predate those who would harm what is bright, lithe, fast, healthy in me. i have always deserved to be myself. 

2/8

on the day i thought ray might kill me i worked full time and i worked full time the next day too and the next and the next and the next

that's it's own trauma

trauma is that tiny ice cube sitting between my heart and reality telling me i will hurt sky someday and also not care, the distance that sits between that warm alive good person and the frozen density of myself 

trauma is loving coffee, having it as a self-drawn thread through years of my own trials and experiences but ray gives me IBS so now i can't drink coffee any more

it's just everything all the time and i'm so tired but i can't do anything, like what am i supposed to do quit my job and lose my house and collapse in order to spend the weeks to put my brain right after someone else fucks it up for the millionth time

i think a lot about getting myself pink slipped but there's no point to even that brief reprieve since i'll just exit to increased medical debt, lost income, and lost time at work

i could let the thousand barking dogs of your ego drag you across the too-white sun
but where then would i go
in whose bed would i purl my rages and string them out across the brittle branch of someone else's thin-pressed lips

lol seeing people i love in person really fucked me up i guess

i don't want to leave the house ever again 

 2/10

i need a more intensive program and time off to function normally

i need time off to get my mental health back

i don't have any hours off left at work

reducing my hours at work will make me lose my insurance

losing my insurance means i can't access care

without care i can't function normally

IF I DO IT'LL BE A WHOLE FUCKING THING OKAY

 2/5

sometimes i daydream about the people i hate most calling me or showing up somehow in my life and the joy i would feel in being able to finally say what i know is true

this is never true of ray

sometimes i wonder what 2019's friends think of me, ray's friends, drag or music friends. i imagine crossing paths with them too. i don't know what i would say. i wonder what they would say. 

i feel a strong urge to protect sky from myself. 

 2/1

i have howled outside your door too long, strung between the confines of history and the strain of my new heart. when i am quiet i imagine your mouth on my skin, on my skin. your fingers pulling me taut against the confines of myself. the way my body welcomes you. hear me and your name, taste me on your tongue, feel me in and around you. the delicate combinations only you know how to seek. i can't remember if i existed before this moment when my identity and my dreams await the crest of your mouth. tie me to your trajectory, lash me hard against the promise of my youth. the beat of my heart separates old blood from new and puddles at your feet. where were you before me, where was dawn before this heat? thrown free in the wide waters of hope i trade on the tide of your gravity, swept into safe harbor at last. 

 1/29

i had a great idea yesterday

i forgot to write it down

i'm so tired. i'm also very shaky today. all my big muscles.

I AM REALLY GOOD AT MY JOB WHEN I AM TIPSY
(the correct calculation is 1.5 beers)

i am so tired. how can this be what people do why do we have to live in structures that make us live this way

i can't even choose suicidality because i will just walk away with $10k in medical debt unless i succeed and i don't want to die i just want to REST and in a coffin is ok

 1/27

waking up slower, older, alone. my whole body hurts.

i'm not dumb, i remember fucking everyone after my grandpa died.

open your legs and tell me how to please you.

RA left me the most beautiful voicemail. #stillinlove

i think i am a psychopath when my heart turns off and my eyes don't translate the depth and warmth of others. 

i want to hug wallace. 

 1/26

i might lose my mind

i think about sex and sky and sex with sky constantly

pretty sure i'm just witnessing my brain reroute addictive tendencies to sex and physical stimulation

there is no point to being sober

I AM NAUSEOUS

*

i could replicate and replace every individual memory i have with ray one by one

*

to hear a sound alone at night and know instantly what it is: the next trauma

 1/25

it is possible that the sky is falling down

every car door is ray

here to take the dog here to hit me or scream at me or push his way into the house or throw a cinderblock through the back door break into the garage scream at all the neighbors make the cops come

write another police report

i have had to go to the mat too many times already how am i 32

the wasting of entire years, thousands of dollars, on people who make me feel like i'm at home with their manipulation, use, and abuse

how do i think it impacted my view on intimacy? I DON'T WANT IT

i would let sky help me, support me, resource me. let her make me cum in my bed where ray never slept. opened, pried apart by another round of trauma, she thinks i'm sexy...?

some parts of my body have come alive for her. are talking to my brain in a way they never used to. are attention seeking beggars and i am lucky to have sky to catch me when i swan dive into my sexuality.

i don't want it     i don't want it     i don't want it    

         i don't want it     i don't want it 

 1/20

i did not expect to cry that hard at the inauguration

i feel quiet

i feel hurt

i feel fortunate, arbitrarily lucky, to have survived this long

dear sky

it is 330 in the afternoon and i'm not sober

i'm very messy and needing a lot of support

and you shouldn't have to clean up someone else's mess

and i wish i could be stable or together or supportive back

but i am full of problems

and you're so strong and smart and achieving goals and 

i feel barely human 

 1/5

mostly i feel like i live in grief beyond end-- that this is normal now, and there will be no exiting it-- that this is all i can do or be any more-- and i will spend what is left of my life with my back against the wall of that fact

i will never be as whole or capable or functional as i was before 

 1/19

i feel like i have been alone for a very long time. it's weird to reflect on how lonely i feel. wasn't i just married? wasn't ray my partner and soulmate?

i am only weeks removed from some of the worst trauma in my life and my brain is very willing to put it all down and walk away. 

even with ray i was alone. won't i just be alone again with sky?

talk about cycles-- rereading my book like YUP I ALREADY SAID IT and ray is so afraid i'll "use him in my art" like i might never write again so what is the true impact of october 2020 on me and ray and the world

i wish i could insulate myself more effectively-- i don't want to have all five senses i don't want to be sober i don't want to be here

will i just cycle thru addictions until one kills me?

i wish i was divorced. i hate how slow probate court is I HATE IT just let me out

someone like sky has so much to offer and i want it all-- the opportunity to be the captain of my ship while having my needs met ?? i can't imagine-- but i think we could pull it off-- and i love, god help me i love, all her boundaries that will keep her away from me so she can think clearly about her own life-- i want to be alone together

it's his last day as president. i can't shake the feeling that something will go wrong.

sometimes my depression lies to me but i know i want to live

and more clearly and cleanly and kindly and happily and sexually and successfully than i am living now-- am i living now? i am a woman standing still, waiting

 1/14

life is short. who could tell me otherwise?

i am not ready to go

not ready to give up the physical plane and also not ready to give up whatever optimism or innocence or faith i have left, i will not pack a go bag but i will buy a gun.

things attached to this earth i want more of: kissing, gay sex, long nights with friends, laughing, dancing in libby's living room, petting every cat and dog, feeding people i love, hugging my people, my dog, the wind on my face, the sounds of water on the shore, sunshine, starlight, the smells of amber and vanilla and pine and dirt and the sidewalk after it rains

i can only be glad everything has happened exactly the way that it did

i should not have had to live thru any of this-- nor most of us most of the traumas we have survived-- and turned around and tried to help others

like a bird on a wire, like a drunk in a midnight choir, i have tried in my way to be free

tick

tick

tick

tick

ding

one week anniversary

my body is a clock 

 1/8

day 2 after the coup. 

i did not expect to immediately cry as soon as kristen even mentioned it. i have been surprised about my sadness. i mostly think of myself as invested in people, invested in the new world. i did not expect to mourn artifacts of the current state. i do mourn how the police acted. would that they had ever opened gates and doors for me... like marissa said. we have chosen to use our white bodies as tools for the revolution. and yes, it's funny to see other white bodies so surprised at what street warfare can look like-- what little they tasted of it. i feel I TOLD YOU SO so keenly. i cannot imagine the depth of grief and anger and sadness and TOLD YOU that black people must have to bear.

hung art in my new office today. it feels comforting to be surrounded by it. 

i'm seeing sky in person alone for the first time ever tomorrow. i hope to god all my memories, and the rapport we have now, aren't lying to me. i want so badly to trust the enthusiasm and awakeness and freshness that i feel, and i think that means having to trust the goodness and emotional skill of someone else. 

i told hannah today that i don't miss ray any more. it came faster than expected. i know that the consequential trauma of his presence in my life in oct/nov is part of that. i am glad too to be rid of the financial burden of him. i hope it hurt tremendously when his dad died. it's hard to feel like that wasn't a karmic answer to his behavior taking an entire family from me.

i feel very: calm, capable, in motion, getting it done, established, proud

and also: burned beyond belief, exhausted, needy, lonely, touch starved, addicted

i am once again twitchy, startled, not sleeping without assistance, afraid. i wish someone else would solve all my problems for me. 

i wish i could live permanently in a cloud in a pink sunset with good smells and pretty views and a lover who is my best friend. 

 1/7

it's the day after the coup

930: ArtsNow

11: Juvenile Justice

145: staff meeting

drink water

take a shower

take your meds

feed the pets

feed yourself

go to therapy

breathe

processing???

grief

waiting on my divorce

i want sky to touch me

does therapy matter the day after a coup

why unwind coping mechanisms that have kept me together & safe

don't

yell

don't

yell

at

white

men

don't

yell

at

men

don't

yell

FUCK YOU RAY

 1/4

the way i was brought up was decentering and controlling. i always was told to put myself last-- that the most important drivers in my life should be to please my parents (my mother), attain spiritual grace, and attain the accomplishments of a husband and children and a house by ceding my will to my husband's, except this is late stage capitalism so i was also to achieve highly in education and peer-approved activities. i was raised to be most conscious of what things LOOK like-- not what they are-- but that the real shame is in not being able to project perfection 24/7/365. any part of myself that didn't meet that expectation was shameful, including any desires to be different or do something else. so i have preacher's kid syndrome, i am very good at lying and acting out invisibly and harming myself invisibly, while achieving enough of that perfect facade to be left alone. there is a deep divide between my actual self and the self i allow others to interact with, even those who are closest to me-- especially those closest to me biologically. this has made me very controlling and very type A because it takes a lot of planning and energy to make things look good while actually trying to do what i want to do in the world, or trying to be any real part of myself. i believe others will harm me, and that most harm is irreparable. i believe others love me for what i do to provide for or serve them. at best, those who are closest to me still love a projection of me. i believe others cannot see me-- that i am not worth the time and effort it takes to be really known. so i do not usually seek out genuine companionship-- i am mostly content with relationships that hold themselves at arms length, or that are explicitly about service and serving others. trust and safety are supposed to be verbs but no one is safe and no one can be trusted. family relationships are built on memory and mutual obligation. romantic relationships are built on impulse and what i can provide to someone else. intimacy always results in harm-- even if i am able to feel close to someone, all i'm really doing is giving someone the capacity to do harm to me. most types of intimacy can be imitated and no one around me has ever called me out for that or recognized it. most people seek to empower themselves to meet their needs, and that means they either don't care about my needs or are specifically disempowering me to meet their needs. 

 1/2

write down three things you love

1) i love lawny

2) i love feeling wanted & seen

3) i love having a car again

my sex drive is back

i listened to music that was happy yesterday

i like to play with my dog

my cleaning craze has passed

i have not been doing even half days at work

brushing my teeth every day

we who are still here survived the holidays 

 12/31

this is your message:

a heavily clouded sky, and the moon one day waning past full, which i should not have been able to spot but for a quickly morphing break in the clouds that let the white light, refracted, halo outwards

fireworks just over the treeline in all different colors

this was an awful year, and you are free to celebrate its close

don't forget that you may always be granted the privilege of a brief break in the clouds.

here's to 2 good years, bitch. i miss you every day. 

 january

once upon a time there was safety

and a righteous king who held a righteous sword

and her name was make believe

once upon a time there was love

and she slithered, soft and sweet, on every tree limb

in the garden he meticulously kept

once upon a time we sang with our full voices

pure and unafraid, unending lyrics

of all the ways you saved me-- i saved myself

once upon a time i was hungry and you fed me

cold, and you clothed me in the name of the

father, these are all fairy tales 

 12/30

year end 2020.

i'm not where i want to be. not with who i thought i would be with.

not with my soulmate.

did hold onto the house and what's left of my body and self respect.

did not hold onto my promise to always be safe in my own home.

had to take money from ray's parents.

and then had to take money from my parents.

didn't step foot in a church, not once all year.

didn't step foot in a bar, not once all year.

witnessed a catastrophe of mental health up close in excruciating detail.

heard my mom give a testimony about her normal-sized ears.

married and divorced. almost as fast as britney spears.

i have never been priority #1 and this year is the jewel in that crown. 

 late november

hopes for future me:

multiple reasons to smile every day

good friends i can see at least weekly

a running car forever from now on

the chance to explore a new place once in awhile

pets

all my books and a couple of plants

the ability to earn money always (financial stability maybe someday)

the ability to cook when i want to

stable mental health

silence when i want it 

 late november

dear anger,

i was so glad to find you when i needed you. for more than a decade you gave me my voice, the only instances of active self esteem or self love i have ever had, kept me safe, kept me moving forward when there was so little encouragement. i wish we had not been kept apart for so long. i wish i had let alex knapp witness you. i wish i had thrown all of sean's shit off the balcony. i wish i was half as empowered in actuality as you make me feel.

part of the harm this year was how quiet i had to keep you. (and if it's you that is causing my IBS, i forgive you.) ray should have seen more of you. the ombudsmen and orderlies and social workers and administrators and cops and sergeants and therapists should have seen more of you. i know you are as mad as i am that ray has escaped a real meeting with you. 

you deserved to show up, full force, about so many things. and for the full duration of the year, not just this fall. 

i think you are my only true partner. 

 early november

i will probably forget-- but do not ever want to forgive-- ray for:

leaving my mom a hysterical 4am voicemail & demanding she pass it on to me

telling me that i just didn't understand his trauma & how he was processing it

leaving B Riley

calling me incessantly from the hospital to make sure i was getting him out

making everything so awful for so long that i had no choice but to tell my bosses

screaming at me, being aggressive & violent, scaring me even after i told him he was

then being angry with me for keeping my back to the wall for a few days after

making me not tell my parents then making me have any kind of emotional discussion with them in any capacity

fucking up my house and deck and basement and garage and car

making me dependent on other people-- especially my parents-- and especially for money

making me divorce him

taking himself away from me & ruining all our dreams and plans and history 

early november

dear ray,

i tried to explain the hurt you have caused but i know that you can't hear me over the sound of your mental illness and addiction. without your understanding and acknowledgement i feel like i can't move on. i can't get out of this space in my life that is entirely dedicated to you, your trauma, your chaos. i see you joking on facebook about drinking a fifth of vodka or smoking pot and getting high and it makes me feel so hurt i wish i was dead. it's like you're spitting on all the weeks of sweat and stress and labor that i gave to you, to get you into the next program, out of the next hospital, the next referral, the next med change. i called in favor after favor for you, networked you through to the best doctors, fought for your visibility and for every provider to respect your identity and your history. and you paid me back by putting me in danger repeatedly, forcing me to end our marriage, buying coke, getting in bar fights. for you i emptied my entire savings account, money that was earmarked for our wedding. it is the most deeply unloving and betraying thing you could have ever done to me. and to hear you say that you think this is my fault-- any of it-- that this is my illness or my responsibility-- shows me just how far from reality you have allowed yourself to go. you took my future from me, my marriage, my best friend, and the only chance i ever had at experiencing family. and i know you have taken so much away from yourself too-- you have lost me, our relationship, our home, our dog, the support i would have given you when your dad dies. everything good, trampled on the ground by your selfish and stubborn inability to shine a light on the dark parts of yourself that hold you back and make you hurt everyone who loves you.

i see you spiraling, wrapping yourself up in lies and self justification, and i feel jealous. i feel jealous that you can fall so far and still have anyone come get you, feed you, house you. i feel jealous that anyone tells you they love you when i am alone in this house without my soulmate, the only person i trusted. i have had to learn over and over again that family is a lie, that love is pain, that no one will come for me except me. you have proven me right, again, when all our relationship you tried to show me i was wrong. 

 laughing about how much bad sex i have had in my life but isn't that just laughing at how many times i've been raped

how many times have i actually said yes said yes like molly said yes like oprah why are those the two polestars of my brain

fucking a man has always been a pleasuring of the part of my brain that desperately wants to secure conventional approval from those around me

i can't even remember ray

i don't remember what it's like to be in love

i don't remember being scared of losing ray

i don't remember 

so many things i don't remember: how many others' sins are fortunate for that? how many people i should have written up or strung up.

"i don't think i can pursue this any further" i said of my health insurance and mental health care

i meant it much more broadly 

 today i watched AOC's video about what happened to her the day of the coup in the capitol building. she was describing being aggressed by a cop, thinking her life was ending, and how slow time went, and how her feeling toward her community was that if this was how her life was written, then that was okay and she had fulfilled her purpose and others could walk that path forward. 

it's disheartening to hear my own heart coming out of a stranger. that women like us become wired this way, become programmed by repeated exposure to behave like fierce strategists and abuse survivors-- this is after all the same behavior set. 

rereading my book and some of it sure looks like ptsd, looking at it now.