Memories: 19 February 2025
From my mother’s impending death to my personal reclamations after a humiliating meeting. In between…dusting. Oh my.

19 February 2025
5:17 am. I just woke up to a rather murky looking dawn. I feel mentally clear and resolute. My wound on my arm feels better too. Still sore but the bruising has settled.
Thank you to my shaman friends for your powerful healing energy. For gifting me extra strength during this dark time. I needed every scrap of courage to fight this “thing” off.
I am loved. I am protected. I am cared for. I am more powerful than any or all of my enemies. I have the gods, the angels and some very determined earthangels who wish me to have the greatest love and the most beautiful destiny at long last.
Shalom!
Have a beautiful day, my true heartfelt sincere friends and remnant family. The Tanya is fighting forwards. I love you!

…
Much better. I mean…it still hurts but the bruising is settling down and it’s kinda stinging where the cut is. Trying to knit together. I don’t think I need antibiotics though.
I injured myself on the last day of the heavy ones I was taking for the cyst removal so decided not to go get more as there was no sign of infection. Take my advise…try not to fall on your vise! Lol.
Thank you to Michel Citrin for your powerful healing energy sent all the way from America. I can see a great improvement already. Muah!



19 February 2023
Today I sold my mother’s brass standard lamp with the crystals and brass cherubim. It was a beautiful lamp but it needed re-plating and I decided it was time to move the ancient stale energy (and constant bad memories of my mother!) on.
The people that bought it also wanted the lampshade that I had made from old corsets I used to wear. I told them I was keeping the brooches I had also decorated it with.
I will use the money to buy gas for my silversmithing. Then I can start casting and making (hopefully!) lovely jewellery. (Or strive to!) so that old lamp that was rarely used will be transmuted into something I will be using all the time. It feels good. To let it go. They actually got a bargain too.
Anyway I pulled off the old brooches and polished up the sterling silver ones. I was surprised by the pewter (I think it’s pewter) one with the cat looking into the mirror. The mirror came unglued and inside was the fully decorated cat that is never seen behind the mirror. It’s a pity the cat is invisible when worn.


19 February 2020
1:11 pm. Make a wish. I wish for a world where babies are not murdered or left to die in vehicles. Where women are not dehumanised for being brave enough to tell their truth.
Where people have decency and honour to each other regardless of bank balances and postcodes.
Where I personally am safe, loved and respected.
The healing continues...
I have been out to clean Charlie’s cage which was overdue. I waterproofed my new suede high heels I bought. I am looking forward to wearing them! They are sexy! (Even though I get judged as a whore, by creepy misogynistic men, I still like to look glamorous or a bit sexy. Never let the bastards grind me down!!)
I was going to go have coffee at Amanda’s but the watery blisters (where the skin cancers were frozen off) are really gross and I worry they might pop while I am out!
Hopefully they don’t burst when I am getting my eyesight reviewed tomorrow. That would be embarrassing.
19 February 2019
Another extremely hot but busy day. I have been washing down the dust and polishing the bookshelves in the back bedroom. It really is quite a task as I have not dusted in there in months. I had to wash every ornament.
It all started as I put some more oil into the new bookshelf Jarrod found as it was so dry and thirsty. Then I looked around and realised the whole room is dry, thirsty and dusty. Oh my.
Anyway, just a couple more hutches to do. Kitchen will be next. I hate dusting. It’s an endless task. Always needs repeating. Arrrgghhhh!
But my home is cleaner and it feels great letting go of excess stuff!
…
Jarrod found a really good timber bookcase on Sapphire Street so he helped me carry it back to my house. It is similar to the bookcases I already have. It just needed a good clean and polish. We struggled but got it inside (Rob from across the road offered to help carry it to the rear of my house which was kind as I was really struggling).
So more decluttering and moving stuff around happened. We moved the old timber tv unit out of the back bedroom, and brought the bookcase in its place.
Jarrod gave it a good polish. Then we loaded it back up with beads etc. We decided to keep the tv unit out the back of my house as a potting/garden tool storage unit. So we threw out the old desk that was falling apart that I had used for that purpose for the past few years.
So I have been sorting and decluttering and moving furniture around for a week now.
Tomorrow I think I will take it easy and have a rest. Everything is done! Woohoo! My house is clear!
19 February 2020



19 February 2017
I am bemusedly pondering my connections to Puck/Pan/Hei Tiki. The trickster gods of ancient lore.
My life on an upside down hamster wheel running backwards to get forwards as fast as I can, going nowhere but experiencing the eternal Now while tricksters (passive aggressive liars and jokers) play me for a fool. I leap and dance and shy and cry and throw a hefty-dwarf -over-the-shoulder-type tantrum then carry on doing what I do best: laughing through my tears, my fears, my tribulations, my tribal betrayals and my cosmic consciousness because at the end of the day (night) Nothing really matters.
The sea monkeys have my money, Cupid has my true love albeit kept away from me because I must remain free, my Precious but he knows that and I know it and well...love is eternal/infernal and better luck next time.
Puck (the schmuck) brought Buck into my mother's life because of a nasty horrible sexual disease I encountered named Terry and all hell broke loose and those evil bastards almost killed me but I am here to tell you, I was never going to let them win completely.
So Buck Scherer is dead and his other henchman David Davidson. So in the end, they broke me down but I got up again...and again. Michelle, the cold hearted traitor is still friends with David the Devo's wife. So I am now well aware of their group collusion. I was so psychotic with trauma back in the day that I begged her to help me. All that time she was feeding information and my distress back to Kylie and David. Perverts! All of them!
Karma is a bitch though. Both now widows and one still with young children which will be bashed with the same sociopathology they inherited from their mother and Narcopath father so (I fall off my perch laughing). As they sowed, so shall they reap.
They damaged me and my children to the degree that we are all in varying degrees of estrangement and complex post traumatic stress disorder but I am healing aspects of myself that were dragged through muck and mire by lustful,vengeful, envious, greedy whoremongers and their wenches.
They derived profit and pleasure from vilifying me. Hell, Davidson was even courted by Buck to be a "business partner". He was paid handsomely indeed, for fucking me (literally and figuratively). Paid henchman. Dead henchman. I wonder if his conscience finally turned to rot and hastened his death. He loved me. Haha. Tanya can do anything, quoth he! But he followed the money.
Now the Dead are Dancing. They traumatised me into a zombie state for over 20 years but the Tanya (that marvellous illustrious wonderful Bitch) is Back!!
To the lost pernicious weak spirit that haunted my door last June: David Davidson. I released you. Long ago. But you never truly released me, even though I begged you. Love and Light.
In another paradigm, you await me. I had your back even as you stabbed me in my front. You did not know the calibre of woman you tried to annihilate. But now you do!
Hashem counts the tears of every woman. Binds her wounds and raises her up high. Takes her grief and her fury ("you are not crazy but hopping mad", my wonderful doctor who truly comprehends me) and rebuilds newer, finer and more determined, versions of herself.
True Love. Transmuted. Transmigrated. Transmogrified. My enemies taught me one thing. I am worth so much more than them, or the abuses I suffered or the horror or the failure to thrive.
One by one (thank you G-d for showing me their karma in my own lifetime) they leave this mortal coil and will face the consequences of their actions (or deliberate inaction) in the next world to come.
As for me. Still denied so many basic requirements of what I came to achieve on this planet. So G-d in Her infinite Wisdom and the tricksters are not done with me yet. My greatest gifts are my worst nightmares for they taught me whom I do not want to be.
I will not forfeit my freedom, my faith in myself and G-d, my integrity as a human, as a woman, subject to this earthly vessel that is ageing and rotting as we speak, or my superpower (to love the loveless, lost, broken, even the unloveable until I get sick of butting my Aries head against brick walls that are cold, dank, empty and unresponsive).
Life has no meaning without Love. Real love. It is Fire. Celestial fire that cannot ever completely die. For if one tiny spark of redemption remains, it is fueled into an inferno of passion and resolution that makes mere mortals fall to their knees in humbling, stumbling awe.
The tyranny of hatred that beset me since my tiny birth into this reality is falling away and a new star is rising, a new dawn. Liars, cheats, fakes, conmen and their spawn are cold in the ground or losing their stability.
I will not save them. They have their own life lessons to learn. I am tired but I am strong. I am Beloved. I am my own Blessing in a world gone mad.
I sit and ponder. Pontificate. Gesticulate. Congratulate myself on coming so far in a life that was blunted and stunted and well, fucking munted.
I love it.
…
Last night was absolutely fabulous, Darlings, in spite of my pain. I rose and shone from the gravel of my own physical exhaustion.
Defiance. Splendour. Razzle dazzled myself into even further exhaustion. I came home a bit earlier than usual because 2 nights of performance art archetypical travesty and working through my emotions in song and dance in front of a live band and a huge crowd is very draining. My lovely group of women friends were very supportive. Showered me with affection and revelled in our mutual wildness.
Then home alone I retired to park the car and have Socks amble up my driveway from his perch across the road to greet me. He was happy to see De Mama T and of course, demanded tribute (more food). Bobo was thrilled to see me too.
My humans love me. My animals love me. The universe loves me. Life is beautiful.
So now I rise from my boudoir to face the Sun's day. Argggh. Another hot one. Blessed Be.
…
So I am lying in my hammock and enjoying being outside and it starts raining. Hmmm. Beauregard is gnawing a bone he buried in the dirt yesterday. It is the first time he has ever buried a bone and dug it up. Must be a developmental stage he has reached in his dogged consciousness.
So it is raining on my head and the dog is chewing and the birds are singing and people are bogan christmassing from the kerbside collection and cars stopping and slowing and I don't care one bit as the air is cool and wet and sweet and I am my Beloved and He is Mine and it is all happening in a far out way, by the gods.

…

…
Mushu AWOL again. 2 nights. I need to accept he is a free spirit with more humans feeding and loving him up. He comes home occasionally. Love my boy! The Brat!
…
When all the world turns to shit or spiritual gold, at least my Beauregard loves me :-))))



19 February 2016
11.04 pm. Home safe after another beautiful rejuvenating day at Belongil beach, Byron Bay. The dogs had a wonderful time meeting lots of other dogs. We relaxed and enjoyed the sea. Both Jarrod and I feel so much better down there. I wish I could afford to live there. I must buy lotto tickets more often to follow my illusory hope.
Everyone you meet there, smiles and is chilled. Such a wonderful healing place.
I am so happy and grateful for today.
19 February 2015

19 February 2014
The Wind is Up, a lovely sultry Mistral Witchy wind...my hand still hurts, and I am lonely. Awwww! Think I will watch Lost Girl.
…
Following up on my earlier status update. I remembered I had this intense dream about Exorcising a lost spirit from a house inhabited by a Pacific Island family. It was very odd as I seemed close friends with the family (which made me think of Uncle Mia and Aunty Velma, the biological sister to my paedophile Godfather, Uncle Trevor).
I felt very exhausted when I woke up. My 'exorcism' dreams really drain me. I must do a lot of threshing about when 'casting out demons' in my sleep.
Trevor (who I hope is dead by now!) would be in his 90's. He was of Maori and Sikh descent (his grandfather was a Sikh from India). Velma was his full sister, and they both had many half-siblings and step siblings.
Velma was married to the Chief (by rights of Birth) of Rarotonga but he gave up his right to the throne to his younger brother. Uncle Mia was not a very ambitious man, but I loved him for his sweet, easy soul and kind manner.
…
The Hand of God is upon me! I just had a debrief with my psych discussing how the Shades of my Past have resurfaced, and my need to keep firm boundaries in my life.
Then I went to Garden City for a meal and a browse. I passed a stall staffed by Israelis and as I hate being hassled to buy stuff I don't want or need and can't afford anyway, I shrugged the young man off politely but he walked towards me and asked about my tattoo. Then followed a lengthy chat about my family history, my jewishness, my spiritual journey.
Harrowing for him but lots for him to think about. We finished by him, asking for a photo of my tattoo to show his father in Israel when he goes there next week. I told him our meeting was another reminder (the other from my favourite Orthodox Rabbi, asking to get in touch with me).
I am being noodged by the Great Spirit to never forget I am a Jew, no matter where I go or whom I am with. To remember my spirit knows it belongs to God and that God belongs to me. To remember our Contract of Love and to always Choose Life.
To stay in the Light and to shine my Light in Dark Places. To not be diminished by Haters, The Ignorant, the Unloveable. To Rise above my painful Life and to Shine in Triumph of Survival and Bliss.
…my father's favourite words to me when I was very small, 2, 3 and 4, each morning were "Rise and Shine" and I remember reading a Torah Portion in shul one Shabbat morning that began with the words "Arise and Shine..." and I was overcome with emotion as this has been my life quest, to Arise and Shine after a life of pain and suffering, imposed upon me by my enemies and by the negligent and by the cruel. I am Whom I am Becoming...a wonderful test of Time.
19 February 2010
G-d procrastinates, literally. Spent 2 days at Redlands hospital after being informed Mum will die in 48 hours. Now they have beaten the E-Coli infection they are dead keen on giving her a Hip Replacement which is fine and dandy but since she can't eat or drink as she is aspirating I wonder how she is going to survive all that!
...
From the comment section:
I just got home from over 24 hours at hospital waiting for Mum to die...she had a really bad day yesterday and last night. Now they have promised to give her morphine every 4 hours to keep her comfortable.
I didn't want to leave her but I was so tired I was getting hysterical. Also I needed to take my own meds which I'd left at home. About to sleep now. So upset as I'm afraid she might die without me being there and I tried so hard to be there for her.
…
Meanwhile Mum is in good spirits, very alert, actually vocalising appropriately for the first time in months, which I blame on the lovely fresh oxygen mix they are giving her, while Crystal and I, Jasmine and my sister in NZ are freaking out with stress thinking it's her last few days on Earth. How Ironic is that!
Copyright Tanya Désirée Arons
About the Creator
Tanya Arons
I write about my life experiences. I write about complex ptsd, the agonies, the angst and my post traumatic growth. About Beauty, Truth and Honour and little vignettes of comfort from the spirits that love me: living and dead. I also Dance!




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