Memories: 13 February 2025

13 February 2025

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Update: the full moon was last night…but I only saw tonight’s waning gibbous but still very full, moon.

13 February 2023

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https://youtu.be/-6vP33qkXhg

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It’s been another scathing hot day. I sat under the trees most of the day then drove to Coco’s at Annerley around 2:30pm to buy fruit and vegetables and some chicken schnitzels and chicken wings.

People in the store were super friendly and kind. It was lovely. I drove back home and unpacked my groceries. I bought a big bag of bread flour to make home made bread or pizza with.

I threw some in my bread maker to make a nice corn and red capsicum bread. I hope it turns out delicious! I also made a crème brûlée from a packet mix.

Then I sat on the aircon in the lounge and relaxed and watched tv.

I have a sense of anticipation (now 6:26 pm) like some unexpected but pleasant surprise is coming my way. Be’ezrat Hashem it’s a good surprise! :-)

13 February 2022

13 February 2021

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11:11 am hallelujah... babies!

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13 February 2020

3:38 pm wow. I slept all day. All my activated trauma triggers must have worn me out. Here I am. Back in the “room”. Ms Arons regrets she was unable to lunch today (or function!)

I notice I am much more fragile with my cptsd after my last long bout of illness. But I am fighting on for no good reason other than I can.

I must have looked brittle last night. Like a crackling glazed pot. I thought I spoke well and with compassion, even for Cees with his complete evil towards me as a child and a young woman.

Where does it end? No doubt with my own death. The ghosts of 13 million that died in those camps haunt me but demanded I speak for their continued memory. Good people, innocent people who were slaughtered for no reason.

But they know the danger is imminent again and we must survive...again.

Time seeps like sand between my toes. Becomes ever more precious and valuable. My lungs daily remind me that I am running low on it. My nervous system frequently overly-activated as I fight to stay alive to bear witness to a better future for all. Animals, human, earth. Interconnected. Interdependent. Hopefully, Joyous.

It helps to be a little bit insane and a little bit too idealistic. Life goes on, with or without me.

My mother used to ask me “Why does your head always have to be on the chopping block?!” In reference to my eternal victimhood. Because my head and heart is full. Of dreams, of Love, of painful ridiculous Hope.

Of laughter both joyously natural and at times cynical and sardonic. Of courage. Of vulnerability. Of great power bestowed by the gods in their little trickster (almost Heyoka!) way as I am always clumsily klutzy but gutsy and stoic.

Fuck it all. In 5 years or 50 years or a thousand years only the internet will remember my name, my struggles, my thoughts recorded for eternity in the ether. I don’t matter but I am matter. We all matter. To the Holy One and to our own hearts and minds.

Our souls soar untainted by the filth of physicality and our clay feet that drag us to the ground. Hair flying in the wind. Mouths sighing or singing or variously screaming. Feet holding up our stoic frames that stumble in the mud.

I had a weird realisation about the rock I brought from Mittelbau-Dora and described how the prisoners threw one down into the mud each morning and night, in and out of the tunnels so less men were shot for slipping and falling into the mud and a path was formed over several weeks or months... well, when I stepped outside the home of the hosts, their front path was made of concrete squares each one surrounded by beautiful white large gravel which gleamed in the night’s rain.

I struggled in my high heels to step carefully on each square until I made the front gate but in the dark and rain I could not find the latch to open it. I was standing there a minute or two feeling utterly foolish and broken (I abhor helplessness, find it embarrassing, rarely accommodate it - I am no victim!!!) until one of the men came and I had to ask him to open the gate. He too, struggled to find it in the rain so I felt less crazy and helpless - wanting only a dignified peaceful exit.

Life is weird. How it throws me into scenarios of absolute horror and how I must navigate it like a sailor on stormtossed seas. White gravel. White stone from Dora. Searing white electric eclectic heart.

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She is right that war is hell. All wars. Even the war on child sexual abuse survivors. Under attack by other survivors (the children of Holocaust survivors) myself included amongst them, but Othered due to my blunt shameless raw honesty about my poverty, my abusive violent childhood and my inability to succeed in real world applications. I felt scorned and derided.

But feelings pass, the horror passes and what is left? The transparency and fluidity like water. The courage under Fire. The desire to be seen. Valued. The cognitively dissonant awareness that not all things are the same or created equal.

That trauma is not always a shared experience. That some succeed against all odds under extreme circumstances while others...like myself stand as a glaring example of how much hate there is in the world, even amongst Survivors.

Be authentic and watch bits of yourself be deconstructed and held up to deep unabated bloodletting criticism.

I walked to my car in the pissing rain. Dry like a husk inside. The rain soaked my desiccated brittle heart. I had contained my innate rage. Held myself in crystalline prowess.

Some people will never forget me...but they will not always comprehend what created me. The God and the goddess. The whimsy and the treachery. The I and Thou and ...the we.

Antisemitism on the rise. Jews hating themselves and often each other. In an apocalyptic world where genocide is still prevalent and modern viruses are claiming us and the social construct disintegrates in fear of death which sooner or later finds us all anyway: regardless of race, creed or social status.

Fuck.

Sometimes I wonder what I am fighting for... even a failure at suicide. It’s utterly ridiculous. All of it a dystopian myopic microcosmic shit show. But I showed up. Represented the men who lost their lives in Dora. Was doubted. The disdain…a seepage of pustulant horror. Because of my $4 shoes? Or my life?

There’s not enough drugs in this world can cleanse that. Not enough psychiatrists in one room can analyse That. One man held my gaze. Watched me like a bacterium in a Petri dish. At times he seemed paternalistically encouraging. Was he an ally or an enemy? One never can tell when one brings her significant truth into the glaring light.

I was laughed at when I stated that I was not there for therapy but would indeed be in therapy for the rest of my life, courtesy of the Australian government. A son of a survivor of Auschwitz who hates me because of my decency and my freedom. My defiance. My raw honesty. When I was scorned for being a victim.

I laughed too. I laughed because I was pilloried by monstrous idiots. Again and again. But I am older now. I survived.

I was not cared for or respected. A rape “victim”. My only success? Shoes…Scratches my head. My real success. Standing up and being counted. Alone.

The irony that I was disliked for my shoes. Things that represent standing up on my own two feet (even my stilettoed inappropriate fetish for teetering on the brink). Falling into and out of the abyss.

Abysmal but fearless. Faithful to my jewish god I am not sure I believe in anymore. (It really was Aliens...giggles). But HaShem has me shine the light from Within, like an excoriated victim for the capricious entertainment of Men.

The facilitator who had the arrant chutzpah to disparage another woman for being a “rich Jew”. I actually uttered out loud “Pshhh” as it was so vile. Attack me for my sexuality and shoes is one thing. But attack another woman for her wealth? In a room full of extremely wealthy successful people??? What kind of surrealist psychodrama was that?

But I hope they got something out of it. I certainly did. Schlocky shock treatment. Cheaper than ect.

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13 February 2019

Today was a scorcher. But I kept busy. I went to Reverse Garbage to buy a few bits and pieces. Then to Stones Corner to get cat litter at Aldi which was incredibly heavy on my aching joints.

Then home to sort some beads into storage containers, then I went to see my psychiatrist for my fortnightly debrief. Then back home to hose and shovel all the dirt from under the house. That took a long time!

I watered the front garden after that, then took a shower to wash all the dirt and sweat off. I feel utterly exhausted. Time to watch some tv and relax a bit before going to bed.

13 February 2018

I had a beautiful day yesterday at Coochiemudlo Island. Jarrod and I and our dogs swam and lay in the millpond turquoise sea for hours.

Now I have insomnia and a very sore leg but it was all worth it.

So happy and grateful for my beautiful friends and my blossoming life. I am looking forward to being pain-free again. That will be amazing!

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Here comes the storm again. (No rain yet, just lots of rumbling of Thor’s Tum). Release the soothing sky liquid, Ye gods!

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13 February 2017

13 February 2016

I slept until 4 pm. Then this afternoon, very late, almost evening I took Beauregard to the dog park. There were several other small dogs there so he had fun playing.

On the way back, I saw James sitting with his two rescue cats in the forest he has cleared. He is so thrilled that people walk through it now and are enjoying his hard labour. He mentioned he wished the council would put in more lighting.

I mentioned on pension weeks we could buy a few cheap solar lights and make our own circle with lighting. If we buy 2 or 3 each week it won't take long until we have 20 lights.

I am going to transfer my Avocado sapling to the forest so it will have room to grow to be a large tree. It will be too crowded where I have planted it in my garden.

James (who has his own mental health issues) told me how the trees talk to each other. I told him that has just been documented scientifically that all of nature communicates.

I told him how it is healing to hug a tree and give it our worries or ask for answers to our questions and let the tree take our energy ( or stress) and take it down to the earth's core for healing and transmutation. I said it will inspire him.

He then told me his idea for a sci-fi trilogy. I really liked it. He said he was waiting to do a computer course so he could type it and print it. I said. Why wait? Hand-write it for now and when you have the ability, type it and print it from your hand-written book.

I said to him authors like the guy who wrote stories like Peter Pan (and he interjected with "like Dark Crystal") wrote their inspiration by hand then later got it typed and printed. So don't wait. Make that book and make those movies.

I like his mind. Very creative, genuine, sincere and community-minded.

This is why people deemed crazy by mainstream society should never be written-off. You never know what magic or power or generosity, what great works of literature, art or cinema lurk behind a damaged heart and soul. Love love love that I can be a motivator for kindred spirits who have been tossed aside like garbage.

I love watching beautiful minds and spirits evolve and grow into their own authentic integrity. It is humbling and heartening.

His work in the forest has brought him great peace and healing. Just as my work in my own garden brought me in my own turbulent grief-struck years.

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5.45 am. Another awesome night, dancing. Sally and Gina gave me so many drinks. We all danced wildly. I had a fantastic time. I was given some lovely compliments on my outfit by several women.

Unfortunately I sat down on someone's chewing gum so that ruined my wiggle skirt. I will have to find a way to get it out later today.

I have just had an Epsom salt bath but my feet are still cramping and spasming. Time to sleep if Beauregard will let me.

13 February 2015

6:11 pm. Up and at 'em. Chest very tight, sore throat. Blech! Should have gone to my doctor.

Slept all day which means I am well rested. But the sleep apnoea plays havoc when I have a sickness on board so feel a bit woozy.

Lovely evening outside. I let the chooks out. Little Frieda is foraging, all alone now. I will have to buy another silky for a companion for her and another larger laying hen. More eggssss!!!

I miss our Mischief boy. The garden is so quiet without his muffled crowing (which was not muffled quite enough!). I miss seeing him doing his rooster strut around the garden. I am positive that Frieda misses her son too, more so at night as he kept guard over her.

13 February 2014

13 February 2012

13 February 2011

Happy Valentine's Day (the only Catholic holiday I subscribe to, but only cos I'm lacking romance in real life!) for tomorrow. I hope you girls get wooed, and that the fellas get with the programme LOL. (As for me, I will be resorting to my usual comfort food, chocolate!)

Highlight of my valentines day....being told that I am infinitely less attractive than my lovely young neighbour. Quite miffed at that. I am just as attractive as her, only older. Sheesh...Men! Lucky he wasn't a lover or I think I'd knock his block off!

It's indicative of society's view though, that the older woman is no longer a contender for attraction to the male. Now I may have to prove this theory wrong! If I can be bothered...lol

13 February 2009

Sylvia Shine: HI SWEETIE,sorry about your broken romance,oh well [next]hope the play goes well and you enjoy yourself.How is Bella?How is your mum?You look after yourself,life ys short.wE ARE 6 WEEKS OFF OUR CRUISE,looking forward so much.Keep well,write soon all my love SYLVIA x x x x x x x

Copyright Tanya Désirée Arons