Swallowed.

Today is eating me.

The Recipe

I appreciate all the Mother’s Day love today but I collected all my mothering “ingredients” from different sources..

Here’s the recipe:

Robot

I’m such a robot/alien.

So I’m really sad today about my ex-husband not calling our daughter on her birthday and it hurts in my chest. My chest is tight.

And I’m so compartmentalized and emotionally static, generally, that actual feelings always feel new.

There is a scene in Cloud Atlas where Sonmi-451 finds out the man who freed her is dead and she sheds a tear and rubs her chest, right where her heart is, with her fist as if to massage out the emotional pain’s physical manifestation from her body.
It makes sense b/c Sonmi is a clone and has never experienced emotional pain. It’s a subtle but brilliant move on the part of the actress…

Anyway, I feel like her today.
Tight chest, hard to breathe, general bad feeling all over body.
Can’t identify.

No vocabulary…

Emotional pain always takes me by surprise like it’s my first time in this body or it’s my first time on Earth or something…

which is fitting because when I was 23 months old I asked my mom if she was supposed to help me get back to my own planet…

Maybe baby Jessica knows something I don’t…

Today it hurts.

I can’t remember the last time I cried…

…but I cried today…

Because my youngest child turned 7 yesterday and her father didn’t call.

Male Stripper Syndrome NSFW

The common theme of the last week or so among my single mama friends and lady colleagues has been sexual liberation.

But who is really coming out on top?

Me, Myself and I

 

Y’all know I’m always a-frettin’ over how I spend my “Me Time.”

Well, I finally cracked the case….

The only person who knows how I should spend my free time is….

ME!!!!!!!

Number Twenty Five.

I may be shooting myself in the foot here and settling in to a life of crafting and collecting cats but…

The List

I feel like I have trudged through the septic sludge of my issues with men.
I can safely say I am no longer in that weird, terrified, I-am-too-damaged-I-will-mess-it-up phase.

I feel healed, rational, sensible – no longer like the addict in recovery cautiously avoiding temptation at any cost for fear of relapse.

I’m ok now.

But being ok is not enough. I like growth. I like to push.

I’m addicted to the emotional violence of metamorphosis.
It’s kinda my “thing.”

So I said to myself:

Ok, Jess. You are comfortable being alone, no longer lonely and pitiful.
You dated a little and you learned what you don’t want.

So what the hell do you want?

“I like my women like I like my shakes: thick and chocolaty”

THIS email is why I had to take all my dating profiles down. I think I’ll start sharing more of them:

Women’s History Month, something a little different

Women’s History Month almost blew right past me this year.

In previous years I paid homage to my personal lady heroes and fictional ladies who inspire me but today I want to pay tribute to the ladies currently holding my heart.