Memories: 15 May 2025

15 May 2025

7:24 am Good Morning! The sun is shining. It’s been raining. But the air is crisp and fresh. Life is good. Time to wake up my boys. They don’t wake up at 6 or 6:30 am like Phoebe said. I cover their cages with towels which gives them security and comfort.

I am excited that Jarrod is coming to visit at 11ish when he finishes his shift. It’s been a month since I last saw him. Having true friends and “family” is everything. :-)

15 May 2024

I have had a lovely day. Lyn visited me and brought me her birthday cake! Condensed milk pie made by her eldest daughter Melissa. Delicious.

She also gifted me a toothache plant tincture that her middle daughter, Danni made and wanted me to have. Danni also gifted me a bottle of coffee syrup and a bottle of white chocolate sauce. Very sweet and kind of Lyn and her daughters.

Then I went to my debrief. I agreed with Brian that instead of pursuing all sorts of treatment options for my bladder I would agree to attempt treatment for my sleep apnoea instead, which really is the feedback loop and the source of the bladder issues. Lack of oxygen during my sleep states.

So he gave me the name of a sleep study company that bulk bills and monitors you in the comfort of your own home.

I will make an appointment with them tomorrow.

15 May 2023

Polished to 2500 grit.

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It’s true…and those who are supposed to love you will abandon you and kick you down when you start to succeed (or dare even dream of success…even when that success is such a small thing in the larger realm of Things.)

They will call you Bougie or entitled or spoilt because really they can’t be bothered. So remember who you are…hold yourself precious…keep shining. Try not to become “The Shining”. It’s a slippery axe. Fuck them.

15 May 2021

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Still cleaning up after my dead mother’s excessive opulence! (I remembered that it was my task to polish this brass on the drinks trolley as a teenager!)

Nothing much has changed, only I am creating new versions of opulence out of the bones of the long dead past.

Absurdist!

Still in all I am conscious of not wasting the resources that was put into creating this in the first place. If someone worked hard to create it then what privilege is it of mine to toss it away?Use it or lose it. Cherish all things gifted me by the gods. Lol!

I wonder if any of my hard work or efforts will ever be cherished? Or am I always to be sidelined or tossed away by the vagaries of men?! Hmmm.

Never mind... I am rising again and solidifying my inner core with a titanium determination to THRIVE!

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My hands are very swollen and I am so exhausted that I have a high pitched tone in my ears (caused by the noise of the mini grinding drill all fricking day and yesterday with the orbital sander.)

I worked until 6:30 pm. I have had dinner and frankly with this excess energy I should go dancing but enough is enough. I have pushed my middle aged body too much in the past few days.

I missed out on dancing last night as both my favourite bands were playing at Brooklyn Standard and Susie Wongs respectively.

No idea who is playing tonight. But I am exhausted from supercharging my creativity anyway.

I do feel like a drink though, dressing up and showing up and checking out a vibe somewhere. It’s been 4 months since I went dancing.

I am glad I am channeling my energy into my Art instead of unfurling my heart/mind/body and energy meridians in disrespectful spaces which gifted me nothing but horror.

At least this time I can see and enjoy the results of my labours and have something tangible to show for it. Instead of sneering ghoulish ex lovers and ex casino/pub friends. What a fucking farce all that was!

Still in all I miss dancing wildly and honing my craft and not giving a fuck…Time to push myself out in the world again and hope I find kinder, more loyal, more decent companions on my wild witchy nights!

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Haha sometimes when I scroll through my “memories” on Facebook I come across such sublime writing that I think to myself “why have you not written your book yet, Tanya?” Then I kick myself for aspiring to success. Fear!

I had to laugh as I have re-posted today’s memories on Vocal media. I am steadily inflicting my pain and life experiences and sublime triumphs on a wider audience (if they publish it as they don’t like my spiritual or religious references.)

All good in da ‘hood. I am opening up more and more like an unfurling lotus trapped in mud but the fecundity and beauty is amazing!

I am inspired and riding some new spiritual gilded vein and it’s rewarding if only in my newfound motivations to create and build and succour a new life!

I had some healings from several shamans back in 2019. I did not think they had worked but oh boy, whatever was tweaked and poked and pulled up from the depths of my soul is definitely spreading like honey on toast now.

Yummy!

Trust in the gods...trust in your own Higher Self. Love, Light and Truth. Integrity and stoicism and humour that is not a tumour and a whimsy in my flimsy but Berserker outlook. Look out! Here I come!

15 May 2020

15 May 2018

I want to live in Byron Bay in a house overlooking the sea and live happily (peacefully) ever after in my faery Tale existence.

But hohum tiddly tum, The Tanya is a Bum with no mon!

But magic happens, babies so I enjoy my daytrips which bring healing and happiness.

Yesterday we were studying a house on Belongil Beach with big picture windows which looked a lot like the Hoedemaeckers house with its raw weathered timbers but the big picture windows reminded me of my childhood home so it was a composite conglomerate memory and I realised what I want is to go Home but home to a place that is mine, without the turgid filthy horror of my childhood.

I want to recreate that time of bliss and ease on the beach, without the abusers, and what holds me back in life is fear of it all turning to shit again like every home I ever had until this last one, that we had escaped from and rebuilt my life, scrap by scrappy scrap.

There is nothing to fear but Fear itself quoth my occultist father, the infernal optimist. Himself died a veritable homeless man, the itinerant Lust of Wandering swishing through his thrombotic veins.

Warfarin and Wanderlust...in the gods we trust, in poverty and trauma we throw ourselves on the keenly wrought blades of fickle Fate, and what shall be borne but guts and glory (or masticated chicken nuggets) as we can never be certain of our ends in our burnt out oblivious daze.

Well my Beloved my Daughter, with inherently genetic woes and climate changeling engineering reminded me that a house on the beach -even if I could afford it - would kill me as you know, tsunamis are coming and I replied so is Winter and tsunamis remain a relatively rare occurrence but yes, a grave concern.

But I have dwelt on the edge of society, reason and poverty for so many many years that what is one tsunami when I have lived through tempests and destructions both real eg the Wahine Disaster when I was 3 and the mini-tornado at Hervey Bay in 1992 and mental eg complex ptsd from a prejudicial childhood, abuse, bullying, divorce, more toxic dangerous love affairs, hell even an entire pub (and now the casino!) had a ride on the cascading Tanya trainwreck of disaster and trauma.

When All I wanted was a safe place and loving home and my tiny nuclear family and Love. All along it was staring me in the face. Here I am. I am That. All That I am. The breath, the Spell, the Gift.

So here it is: the blazing naked awareness. I am that I am and always shall be in this existence. Free! Fuck the rest. Nothing else matters but this moment in time and space.

This finite filial finial on the crown of the god and the goddess. True Love. Eternity and Makom. I-Thou was in this place and I did not Know it. What delicious capricious folly, by golly.

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Sitting outside in my garden which is bathed in radiant light. Like angels have danced in my circle and are still smiling but exhausted, glowing light beams of bliss.

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I realised yesterday that on 5 May I have lived in my housing commission for 15 years. Wow. Time flew! Still alone and in poverty but I have begun to heal my life in profound ways. It has taken 5 and a half years since the will dispute ended to start to breathe and gather my energy again.

Some days I feel like I can still turn my life around and be a successful functioning member of society again. Others like yesterday, I just barely dragged my meat carcass of a body through the day but was fortunate to be in Byron Bay which always rejuvenates my spirit so, even as I felt like I was moving through mud and my brain felt like it was gurgling down a drain somewhere in a cosmic toilet cistern, in fact there was a moment on the glorious beach when I turned to my daughter and said “I need grounding as I am not “here” anymore” so she nodded back “you are ok Mum, you are in Byron on the beach!”

So I walked out into the sea which was crystal clear and so sanctifying and hitched my skirts and let the water rush around me, cooling and soothing the heady gritty spiritual/mental mush that was inside me and around my auric field. My inner child wanted to throw herself into the sea and keep swimming to oblivion but it was too frightening (and cold) so I let the waters reclaim some of the pain and rejoiced.

Then we continued walking along the beach and I delighted in watching my little Beauregard scamper along the sand. He would run ahead then circle back to me as he too has anxiety and never likes to be too far from his Mama T.

We walked to a park off Belongil beach and found some swings hung from a tree so I sat on one and sang merrily “I want to swing from the chandeliers....” as frankly I have swung from them all my life and that’s how I roll, babies. (I also swung on a swing on a verandah at Newrybar outside a shop so Jarrod teased me about my inner child Miss Five, who never ceases playing with the cosmos, the earth and sometimes my mind).

I have always been a swinger from the eternal branches of the Tree of Life, leaping and landing on all the sephirot, watching my love life seep from the broken klippot and the fucked up crackpots leaching and pissing into my existence but wash away, wish away, sashay away and I am cleaned and cleared and beautiful and hopeful again.

All along I have been loved unconditionally by my precious gifted friends who sometimes have had to despair with me and other times have graced and ennobled me and held me dear so I can live another day... another decade...an eternity in the Mind of G-d but a bountiful blessed micro-second also. Blip, zip. All gone.

The dreams we created and the pain we percolated and the joys we immolated and the realities we thought we manifested which were recreated so we could feel safe and warm and comforted which we tore down and prefabricated again and again until we felt a little too insane in the very membrane of our body mind and soul but we slipped through that cosmic egg and Pop! Went the weasel and here we go again. Another day in Paradise.

But...breathe, Tanya! There is Love. So much Love still waiting to be found and witnessed and created and blessed and blossomed out in fractal enlightenment every day and every way in a kaleidoscope of colours, shapes and sounds which your mind refuses to see as it so expansive you will go a little mad and no one will ken you and that too shall be a gift.

Psy Sighs. Psychedelic dreamer is back in the room from a dream she has had recurring for days. 4000. That was the number shown her. Also a stressful message from her mother trying to tell her about an old friend that got lost along the way and became an alcoholic and somehow my mother’s hag spirit was trying to blame the Dreamer but fuck that shit, it was a dream and I, Psychedelic Dreamer am not responsible for the choices made by other former friends or lovers. I am not G-d, in fact I am barely even human anymore, barely alive anymore.

So the Hellian spirits of ancient tormentors (dementors!) can fuck off! Happy days are here again, you took what you could from me but I am growing out again. In love. In Truth and in Joy!

I am grateful with the love I have been gifted with from my beautiful Crystal and my gorgeous Jarrod and all of you here on Facebook and in real life.

I am grateful to G-d and Byron Bay and my own Sacred Space here in Holland Park. Time to get up and kiss the day (and Charlie Bird!)

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15 May 2017

I was watching an episode of Wisdom Teachings by David Wilcock the other night. He stated something very interesting. He said the more free you become the more people (society) will view you as Evil. I have suffered that.

I actually had a wealthy man in my Jewish community tell me 15 years ago that people in the community were envious of my Freedom. I scoffed at the time. What freedom? Poverty/trauma/isolated/abandoned and unable to find genuinely loving sexual partnerships for long term? Crazy, No?!

But now I realise he meant that I am perceived as Evil. Evil for continuing to survive in an derelict society that thrives on abusing others. Evil for saying No. Evil for staying single and evil for staying relatively Sane. Evil for staying alive when so many tried to kill me (physically/financially/socially).

If I am truly as Evil as this place wants me to be, then I must be doing something Right.

https://youtu.be/SS02GeKuWQ4 Eartha Kitt “I want to be evil”

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Trigger warning: CSA, neglect

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The Infant Tanya

The baby came into the world, shaken up, disturbed, torn from her mother's womb, premature, lost, confused, dazed. Bright lights, voices, noises, people preparing to bring her into the new world.

A world she had only heard from the inside out, echoing through the birth chamber, through the walls of her mother's belly. Through the screaming and shouting, externalised outside of her. Stress, unkindness, regret.

She lay there, swaddled, waiting...waiting for a mother's love. A father came and gathered her into his arms and made sweet promises of devotion, of love, of acceptance.

His body was warm and his scent was pungent and masculine and somehow comforting. He marvelled at her tiny feet and tiny legs and told her how like her mother's they were. But she was only a baby and she didn't even know she had feet or arms. She was only Consciousness.

Consciousness, and hunger and yearning and thirst and a funny rumbling in her tummy that she couldn't quite understand but knew had to be purged. That funny rumbling in the tummy that stayed with her for months. Purged it was, upways and downways. Acid reflux. The gift that keeps giving.

Why was such a young baby born with acid reflux? Because it was already born with the ignominy and the betrayals and the lack of love. She didn't see her mother for 24 hours (or was it 48 hours?) She doesn't remember. She was only a baby.

When she did, she felt the sense of detachment. The baby had been torn from her mother's womb and her mother was released of the burden she had borne for 8 months and she was joyous and she was free and she focussed on going to work.

Making money. Money, money, money was her baby. Her creation. Her focus. Her locus. Her social justice.

So the baby came home already feeling quite sick and was cared for by her father, her mother, her 15 years older sister, a godfather. Four caregivers on rotation. So mother could work, and father could work and sister could go to school and the baby, egocentric and narcissistic as all babies are, cried and screamed and belched forth her food. She belched forth so much food that she actually began to starve, and was ultimately hospitalised.

And where does rage come from and pain come from in one so young? From neglect, from emotional abandonment, from fear and she dreads to think of, from abuse.

The baby grew up and grew older. The vomiting eventually ceased and the food eventually sustained. She was kept alive and cossetted up to a point.

If you take into account the bacterial meningitis from a hot pool in Rotorua, or the measles and whooping cough she got when she was 4 and from which she nearly died of.

If you take into account the head injuries from concussion, slamming into the dashboard of a car at great speed on the way to hospital to fix a wound that had gashed her almost to the bone in her knee when she was 7. Or the other concussion sustained at Sunday School, caused by a small boy and a heavy wooden gate smashed into her face, aged 6.

Being thrown into a glass door, sliding down it in slow motion, watching the face of her mother, her monster in mock shame, while waiting to be stabbed by a thousand shards. Or if you take into account the busted wrist that she achieved when she was 7 (at a Health Camp!)

If you take into account the sexual abuse she endured from 6 to almost 8 from her ever-loving godfather. Or yet, if you take into account a young toddler, covered in her own shit which she had discovered in her crib and out of curiousity or boredom had explored with her tiny hands, her sister screaming into her face and hitting her because she was a dirty dirty pig but she did not know what the shit was, or where it came from and this was how she first learned Shame and that bottoms were dirty disgusting things and that shit...happens.

If you take into account surviving her first 7 years. Her first, most precious formative years, being laughed at and mocked. The baby that crawled on the floor and ate cat food out of the cat bowl. Tuna it was. She never could stomach tuna to this day now.

If you take into account, surviving into adulthood and her own nascent motherhood. Surviving childbirth which tore at her insides and eventually caused a prolapse. If you take into account her own determination to live, in spite of it all, then this wasn't any kind of Baby.

This was Some Baby! A tiny baby, still covered in down that survived. A tiny perfect, pure and innocent baby. Beautiful and precious, and born to be free.

copyright Tanya Arons 15 May 2017

15 May 2016

2.53 pm. Just woke up! Wow. I was utterly exhausted all day yesterday and obviously today. I even went to bed early last night, at 11.30 pm.

Time to get out and observe the afternoon.

15 May 2015

Shabbat Shalom Kulam! Oneg Shabbat for this little Jewish Witch. There will be music, dancing, a bissell Sweet Lovin' Southern Man called Mr Jack Daniels.

The night will end with exhaustion, dragging my weak left leg behind me like a lame Duck and perhaps a nice chat to my street friend Katrina, if she is out. You know, my usual Shabbes!

It is cold tonight. Pity I don't have a live warm-blooded man to keep me warm hahaha!

Road trip to Grafton on Monday. We have to relinquish Ramon and Sookie because of Biosecurity intransigence. I couldn't afford to take over Crystal's Clownplay business. Tragic.

So 8 hours of driving but Mona, Lua, Jarrod and I are coming along to support my best girl. We will share the driving. I decided we will take my car as it was just serviced and it is roomier for the 5 of us.

There will be many tears over the bunnies but so much love. Crystal says someone in Iluka has already offered to take them into their home. They will all be very lucky! Ramon is one special rabbit and Sookie is adorable too!

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If I could bottle this euphoria right now, and store it in a treasure chest for later, I would!

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3 pm. Not long awake. Feeling such happiness! My prayers are answered. I had a really traumatic dream but it resolved all my current fears and reminded me that I am safe, comfortable, greatly loved, (if only by my cats) and I have every right to be happy!

This awesome life has been what I have worked towards all my life! True freedom is knowing what to settle for and knowing what is right for a person.

I fell in love and it has been beautiful, euphoric, then painful, then disappointing, then now back to euphoric. I had to remember to fall in love with me, as much as loving another person. Love is never wasted. Like a Boomerang, sooner or later it curls back to you.

I am grateful to Ramon the Rare Rabbit, who comforted me in my sorrow on Tuesday. My cats who also comforted me last night (it was cold and they wanted Mama's body heat, albeit Socks gave me a Hug!)

I am grateful to my beautiful Human friends who care for me also. My daughter, Crystal my shining jewel in my Firmament. I can't wait to watch her star rise in Europe. I am sure they will love her as much as I do!

15 May 2014

Opening night of The Bald Prima Donna. Proud mother Here, supping on white wine and cheese :-). Life is never dull for The Tanya. (Checks Hair...pat,pat! All good. For now!)

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The play was superb and I am not surprised Omi dropped in. Crystal was wearing her fox stole and her hat and looked so much like both her Polish Jewish Oma and her German Omi that I almost cried. How funny genetics is? One never really dies while we have progeny. Little mannerisms and looks keep being recycled.

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Omg. The moment I took this pic, the song "lili marlene" played. Omi approves after all! Thanks Mum! Nice to know you are here. You left me broke, Homeless and fucked up but your spirit is slowly evolving I guess. Mazel Tov on that one!

15 May 2011

For some inexplicable reason I am currently craving Mango Chicken, Rice and a Naan from Miss India which is totally weird as I had a delicious Morroccan chicken salad at Toscanis for lunch with my beautiful friends, old and new. But I guess, lunch was several hours ago. I hate food cravings in Winter. Drives me crazy. lol

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I had a lovely lunch and meeting of The Mad Hatters' Ladies Society at Toscanis at Victoria Point with my darling Lyn, her amazingly beautiful daughter Danni, and their gorgeous friends. A thoroughly enjoyable afternoon was had by all and it was lovely to go out and meet gorgeous women of all ages on such a gloriously sunny Autumn Day!

15 May 2010

The Possums are coming......I now have Tinker Tink and I think her mother, vying for the single possum box. I saw them both taking much interest in the box this evening. I wonder who will claim the box and my territory as their own, Tinks or her mother? I bought the box with Tinks in mind but hey whoever wants it the most gets it i guess. The universe is in perfect balance.

Copyright Tanya Désirée Arons.