Memories: 19 July 2025

19 July 2025

9:32 am Awake in the dreaming seaming spendiferous morning. I had a fabulous time last night! By all the gods. Everyone was joyous and seemed happy to see me. I met three different very lovely men last night. All enchanting and clever and quite sweet. It did my heart good to see that after a long period of grief.

I had been watching podcasts about Trump and the Epstein files most of the day. I always knew he was a vile creep but only now is America waking up to their own cognitive dissonance. So I went out in full blazing Mama T glory, feeling triumphant. That evil fool of a man is reaping what he sowed…or rather the winnowing will follow shortly, I believe.

I was greatly amused that spirit spoke to me in Spanish to take extra strength for my wild Berserker Dance last night. Encourage, cheer on. Then a lovely Brazilian man approached me and befriended me. (Mind you, in his country they speak Portuguese!)

I told him he was too young for me. He replied “I am not that young! How old do you think I am?” I stared at him momentarily. “45” I replied. He leapt up like I had burnt him with a hot poker.

“Witch” he shrieked. I sat very serenely, solid in my core. “Why?…Am I wrong or right”.

“You are bang on correct! I am 45! My mind is blown!” I did not want to ruin my Bruja Powers of magnitude and manifestation by telling him I am just a very good guesser! Also the spirit messenger had wanted me to “encourage” “cheer on” or “offer extra strength”.

He mainly hung around me cos he wanted to use my fan. Hahaha. But he was really quite sweet so De Mama did not eviscerate him. Another woman who I had already marked as very aggressive decided to compete for his attention. (Yuck!) He asked me to save him. (Grown fucking men can’t handle female sexuality and domination tactics ffs!) lol.

I told him drily “Every man, woman and child for themself in the Club”. He replied semi-hysterically “and here I used to like you…” I just smiled like a disappearing Cheshire Cat. I was already in another dimension far far away from big men babies…lol

So when she moved in for the “kill” I just laughed. I yelled out “Woman, you could cut me a break for once in my goddam natural life!” But I was only half serious. I was only intrigued by his Latin antics and most unusual dedication to “woo” The Tanya. It’s been a very long time since a man even attempted to woo me. I decided that was a positive sign actually, that I have shucked off that other fake albatross.

So the night continued in good clean rollicking fun. My friend Hayley arrived and when I saw her I screamed with great delight. Brazilian gets immediately jealous and tells us to “get a room!” Ahaha. The veil of civility immediately slips away when confronted with female joy. I replied, without even looking at him “She is my FRIEND!”

At the end of the night I gave Hayley my phone number as I told her I had worried I might not see her again. She invited me to go out again tonight. So if she texts me later, I think I will push the old lady bones and vibe and go out again. Why the hell not?

I met another lovely man named Ben who had a band in Albury-Wodonga. He was a delightful affable, intelligent, witty fellow. He introduced me to his friend Glen, his bass guitarist. Also very lovely. They asked me if I am a musician? They are looking for a singer.

I told them no, I am a muse and I wish to hell I had the gift to sing as I love singing and music. Instead I mosh to hard rock songs. I told him that I have supported the bands for 14 years and that is my only claim to “fame”. (It must be almost 15 years by now…time is unravelling….down the rabbit hole!)

They were suitably impressed. Ben asked me how old I am? I told him “60”. He just stared at me with genuine shock. I must have scrubbed up okay last night with all my “Question Beauty” glittery eye shadow and wild witchy attitude. The men were courtly, sweet and endearing… why I could have gobbled them all up (not literally, you understand!)

But it was a rare night where ALL the men were so attentive and genuinely kind. By all the gods. It was a bit unusual actually. But lovely.

Ramjet played “Zombie” knowing that is my signature war cry song of deep triumph, passion and wildness. So I went OFF! I reached catharsis! Yes I did…. Then ambled home to my warm electric blanket, with my sore Hobbitses feet and enough Love to feed my soul for quite a long while.

Please Mesdames and Messieurs…May I have some more?…..Aliente Por Favor!!! (Insert Mama T mischievous shriek of delight here!)

Oh, and the sun has come back out to play. Today is gonna be another delightful magical day! I will manifest it. Love you all…Bye!

19 July 2024

After spending two hours at Carindale shopping centre, searching everywhere for Distilled water for my cpap machine and for my tumbler for silversmithing, to no avail. I gave up and bought a distilled water maker on Amazon. Enough wasting of my precious time and energy. Hopefully it arrives fairly soon!

19 July 2023

I woke up at 7 am after a very bad night with my bladder. Peeing copiously. It’s just awful. I made a drink of boiled water with lemon and honey. I will try to cut out tea today. I simply can’t endure this much longer. Something has to give. I am still in bed. It’s now 8:42 am.

Yesterday I felt strangely stoic, mentally clear and powerful in my core. Like I can take on the world and still come out triumphant. But my bladder speaks to a different reality. It truly feels like dying.

I have had reports from several other women of my age group (one who lives in America) that they are experiencing the same symptoms. So this is our new “normal”?

19 July 2022

My grandmother’s birthday.

19 July 2021

Hit the ground running this morning. Socks’s ashes arrived just after I had gotten up (10 ish) so I had to race back inside to quickly dress. Then accepted the ashes. Then went to undress to have a shower. Then went for a Covid test as I have my colonoscopy on 26th July and they will want proof that I don’t have Covid even though I have symptoms. Fml!

So I have just gotten home from the drive-through one at Eight Mile Plains. Easy enough.

Now I am awaiting the lawnmower man at 1 pm. Then hopefully I can breathe again.

It’s a gorgeous day outside although coolish. I might take Charley outside to play and have a nice relaxing cup of tea :-)

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Today was Eva Meyer’s birthday on 19 July 1894. She suicided on 8 March 1949. Her maiden name was Eva Auguste Kissau. My mother’s mother.

19 July 2019

19 July 2018

Last night my body felt chilled to the bone, even though I was sitting close to my small oil heater. I was literally shaking. So I took a hot epsom salt bath and soaked for a while then got out and felt much better and went straight to bed, all warm and snuggly with Beauregard and Miss Penny beside me.

Now I have had a shower to cleanse my hair and the air is nipping at my warm wet flesh like tiny vicious bite marks but I must dress and get ready for my visit with my beloved Lyn. This year we celebrate 30 years of friendship.

I arrived in Brisbane on 1 August 1988. Wow! How time has flown. My friends, Lyn and Jarrod whom I met 26 years ago have been my only real family here (apart from my daughter(s) of course).

Staunch and ever-loving, they brought me through many trials and tribulations and never stopped loving me no matter what shit I was going through or how bad it got (and it got very very bad!)

At times we had breaks with each other when life got in the way; or I floundered and it was too painful; but we always picked each other back up. We gathered together our epic tapestry of a life to continue to stitch a masterpiece that only the gods can see and appreciate from a great distance, as we are lost in the minutiae whilst labouring vaingloriously in the grandeur of existence.

Whoops I did it again, came in like a wrecking ball and deep sounded my dream into the stream of consciousness.

Silly me...

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I had a lovely afternoon with Lyn and Danni and got to see Tracey and her 6 month old baby, Cadence briefly as well.

Our beautiful girls are all grown and I am so proud of them.

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Happy Birthday to my grandmother Eva Auguste Meyer née Kissau.

A violent abusive mother to Gisela during her childhood, but a brave resistance fighter in her own right. (She threw bread and wurst over the barbed wire of a holding camp in Hamburg. Kept a wireless radio tuned to the BBC). Both capital offenses in Nazi Germany. Street Angel/ Home Devil.

She suicided at 54. PTSD from the war, having been bombed out 3 times, lost all her possessions, homes, money, her husband dying of TB only 4 years prior to her suicide. My mother's marriage leaving her with fear of isolation and even further poverty, terminally ill with TB herself.

My grandparents had been millionaires before the Reichs Bank collapse in 1929. Then another war. Then struggling with her own mental health issues (aggravated depression? Schizoaffective disorder? Bipolar?) I will never know what drove her to abuse her own child so much and so often.

Poverty and privation during the war (lack of food, including butter and her beloved coffee, yet she always found money for cigarettes! Something my asthmatic mother really hated her for. Cigarettes over food. Disgusting!)

Suffering terribly with tuberculosis which would have ultimately killed her, had she not chosen her own death. So weak she could barely walk around the city on shopping sprees with my adolescent mother (who with the blissfull ignorance of youth did not comprehend how terribly sick and weak her mother was).

My mother loved her mother for these fond memories/qualities: sewing her own corsets and later brassières and knickers (Gisela had an early childhood memory of rocking herself inside the up-ended cover from the Singer sewing machine aged about 2 years old.)

Going fruit-gleaning from the edges of the farms outside of Hamburg for much needed and appreciated preserves that Eva made in summer to feed them in winter.

Mushrooming (Mum's favourite past-time), picking wild strawberries (Erdbeeren) which Mum said tasted nothing like the strawberries grown in NZ and Australia. They were like heaven. Berry picking (blackberries, boysenberries, raspberries).

An unpleasant memory was having to clean the cages of Eva's canaries. Mum had a morbid terror of holding the tiny birds in her hands and feeling their tiny beating hearts.

Unlike Gisela, I adore birds and all animals, so I found this phobia rather strange. Especially as we had a canary when I was quite small but our cat Pussy climbed up on top of the kitchen cabinets, knocked down the birdcage and ate our canary.

Mum loved German Rollers, for their singing but only the males sing. Perhaps she kept that one canary but made my father clean the cage? One of her cognitive dissonances, claiming to hate birds but kept them anyway.

She had another canary named Hansie when she descended into advanced Alzheimers. Obviously an homage to her childhood. I have no idea what became of that bird when she was granny-dumped by the Scherer Sluts into the Home.

Also my mother loved how Eva read playing cards and was a very good reader/psychic. She taught Gisela to read them also. Mum taught me a bit. But Mum became enamoured of the Tarot even more.

My grandparents (not Erich but Eva and my mother's biological father Antoni Patula ) were occultists. Witches, if you will. Antoni had mind-blowing abilities.

So powerful that Eva actually was afraid of him to a large degree. She warned my mother to never get on his bad side. He was quite capable of Hexing people to death. She had witnessed this first-hand.

(Ironic that my other paternal grandfather Alfred Abraham Phillips also cursed the boss of my intellectually-impaired uncle to death after the man bullied Thomas for months about being “retarded”. I come from a long line of powerful but dangerous Minds. The Irish/English/Scottish line and my German/Polish one.)

Eva was vain, (kept her figure trim at any cost) elegant, intellectual with a hatre of Hitler for invading Poland). She had several jewish friends, some of whom were famous opera singers.

She was born in the Charité Hospital in Berlin to her Polish mother. Illegitimate. I suspect but can never prove that her father might have been Jewish and a landlord and that is how her mother ended up unmarried with a baby. But the father was never named.

Being illegitimate was a huge stigma. My mother was so horrified to be told by Antoni when she was 16 that he was her real biological father that she threw him out of the house and never spoke to him again.

I believe her parents had had an agreement about the affair as Erich had been gassed in the trenches in WW1 (ergo he wore huge bottleneck glasses as he could barely see and perhaps the mustard gas also rendered him Infertile?) I know Eva had had a dead baby boy shortly before Gisela as there used to be a family photo of him in his crib. So I can only surmise that Antoni fathered that child too.

Gisela was born premature, so tiny she was left on the side to die overnight. The doctor gave her no hope of survival. When she was still alive next day, crying for sustenance and comfort, her mother fed her, made a bed from a cigar box for her and also Singlets and clothes from handkerchiefs.

Years later my mother (who always suffered bad asthma) was diagnosed with a TB scar on her lungs which she must have contracted in infancy but somehow built up her own immunity to it. She was a strong vital woman, in spite of her lung problems and trauma issues.

Gisela also contracted Diptheria in her infancy. A Jewish doctor came to her crib all hours of the night and day. Somehow he saved her life. My grandmother (after the regime began in 1933) constantly told my mother "Remember!! A Jewish doctor saved your life! Never forget! Without him you would not be here!"

When my mother was in the Baedesmaedchen (female arm of the Hitler Youth) she asked to be posted to the South of Germany to be kept safe from her violent mother (Eva used to hit her with a cast-iron belt buckle).

When she came home with the news that she would be billeted in Bavaria and put in charge of civilian orphans who had been bombed out and were homeless so were sent to the south, Eva threw a glass at my mother which sliced open her hand. She still bore the scar.

Another less traumatic memory of Eva from Gisela: cooking a huge pot of Carp with floating carp heads with teeth! My mother took one look at that pot of carp soup and started vomiting. She never ate fish because of it. I inherited the abhorrence for fish also. I only eat fish from fish and chip shops. I hate the stink of home cooked/prepared fish and seafood.

My half-sister Angela used to try to coerce me to eat shrimp or prawns or scallops. I would start retching. I cannot bear the stink of them. She used to hit me saying I was silly and spoilt. She herself adored shellfish. Not. my. Problem. Eat shit and die Trash. I will stick to eating things I like.

In that regard Gisela and I were simpatico and Eva and her granddaughter Angela were also.

Angela also inherited Eva's extreme narcissism, love of expensive elegant designer clothes (Jasmine too!) and jewellery, China and crystal. Her superficial body consciousness - constantly starving themselves while constantly obsessing over good rich food. (borderline anorexia or bulimia). Love of culture (music, art, literature, acting/dancing) - we all share that passion.

I inherited Eva's courage, outspokenness, anarchy, bad lungs, major depression and CPTSD. Also her Femme Fatale nature. (That came much later in life, as I stifled my sexuality/individuality for decades).

My mother told me that men used to follow my elegant green-eyed, black haired, slim, beautifully dressed grandmother down the street. Her looks were an anomaly in North Germany where most people were fair. Her green eyes, even more unusual against her Raven black hair which she never dyed. It remained black until her death.

Like Eva, my mother Gisela had what I termed "The IT Factor". I could literally not leave her standing on a street corner outside James Smiths or Kirkcaldie and Stains (huge elegant shops like Myer in Wellington, NZ) without her being surrounded by a bevy of boys and men within minutes.

They were like bees to honey. It is how I learned from an early age how to tell men to fuck off. Only at that age it was more polite. "Get away from my Mummy!" Delivered with a sneer of outrage and contempt.

I still do it. For myself or my shy too-polite friends on the dance floor. Only this time I give them 3 strikes before I tell them bluntly to fuck off. Lmao!

So there we have it. 5 generations of an only female line. My mother/ my grandmother I never met who died 16 years before my birth/ very likely my great grandmother (Eva cut ties to her in adulthood as she went on to marry and have other children but I can't trace them).

My mother(s), My monsters! Violent crazy traumatised but fearless strong advocates for human rights/women's rights/workers rights. Not safe for little children though.

In the case of my mother and half-sister: selfish greedy paedophile enablers. Money and status was their only God. And men. Men my mother professed to despise so very much but could not live without.

They came with social acceptance, and brought in money. She was terrified of poverty. So much so that she neglected her own daughters 15 years apart to work at men's jobs and to succeed. Only to be stripped bare at the end of her life by a slimy Dutch-Indonesian conman.

Well I actively chose poverty over vile abusers and the oppression of sociopaths and perverts. To keep my children safe. I too failed to get their love. Money/Power poisons the wells of the hearts and minds of our children.

At least I was home to feed, comfort and provide some stability for my girls whilst surrounded by pure evil madmen/women. I did what 5 adults would not/could not do for myself during my entire childhood. I parented.

19 July 2017

I was feeling a little "off my head" yesterday. Stressed, locked myself out of the house, racing thoughts, unable to focus, mood swings. I just went with the flow as that is not unusual in The Tanya's World.

I went to bed around 11 pm, utterly exhausted. 2 days ago, while looking up at the bright blue and very clear skies, I had told myself that a storm was coming. I even questioned myself. What? The weather is perfect for winter. Stop this weird weather gazing and just be happy. So I did. But I was right.

It blew in during the night, heavy rain and driving winds and donner und blitzen. I was grateful to the gods for a roof over my head and a warm feather doona on a comfortable bed. They have blessed me graciously and abundantly.

This morning I got up at 11. Beautiful crisp clear sunny day. Even the washing was dry, blown about by the blustery wild winds. Thank you! I thought, as I hurriedly pulled it from the line. Phew!

I am very attuned to the universe right now which messes with my physical and mental state and makes me a bit dizzy and woozy and forgetful. But by the gods and The Holy One Blessed be His (Her!) Name I feel so blessed and so connected and so loved.

A cosmic delight and a miracle!

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The workers are chopping down the dead tree. Phew! Now at my psych waiting for my debrief.

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Interesting breakthrough in my psychotherapy. We are now having to find out why so many former friends become so controlling, manipulative, obsessive even “single white female" and how I can maintain my freedom and equilibrium with these kinds of relationships.

He pointed out that I am very attractive as a person ie intelligent, funny, articulate and this causes certain types of "Dickheads" to want to possess and own me. It all reminds me of my own mother treating me like a dress up doll and an extension of her narcissism.

He said we have been working hard at getting me to identify "Dickheads" early in the piece and literally telling them to "fuck off" but yet to ascertain why I allow them to insinuate themselves into my life to the point that, months later it blows up in my face.

He suggested that I take a break from the casino for a while and try to get myself to Byron or to other places where I can be amongst like-minded people who do not drain me, threaten suicide the moment I pull back or otherwise create nasty toxic drama.

He noted that he often wonders how I literally survive these people. (I wonder myself!)

Onwards and upwards to the next adventure, I guess. I am getting better at realising others' borderline traits and desire to subsume/consume me. I just need to cut them loose much earlier in the relationship.

They mistake my kindness for weakness or my willingness to encourage/mentor/or befriend as an excuse to damage me in the most destructive ways. This I cannot allow any longer.

…

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19 July 2016

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When I received my grandmother's birth certificate from Germany, and showed it to my mother, she burst into tears when she discovered my grandmother Eva was born illegitimately in the Charité Hospital which meant Auguste Kissau would have worked off her confinement at the hospital.

My mother cried bitterly. "So I really am a Bastard after all!" Well, born in wedlock but to another man, and the granddaughter of a single unmarried mother.

I stared at her calmly. This was in the heyday of my mother's slander and emotional/mental abuse fuelled by Buck Scherer's machinations to discredit me and isolate me.

"Yes. Mum! Yes You are a BASTARD after all! But you are MY Bastard!" She had the good grace to say "Och Doch Mensch!" And sigh.

Some truths are incontrovertible. Some truths are painful but better out than in. The stigma of Bastardry barely exists these days. Who bothers to get married or care about social morés anymore. But it was a thorn in my mother's side. A shameful scab.

So she had to rethink her paradigm. Who cares who your father/mother are/were? As long as you are loved/nurtured/protected/provided for? There is more to parenting than having a marriage certificate with 2 names on it. So much more.

My mother had the equivalent of 2 fathers and a mother. They did not provide a safe environment for her (except to send her for several months to her real father Antoni Patula for refuge when Eva's violence against her escalated).

I had the equivalent of 3 fathers, one mother and a much older sister forced into the mother role.

They all proved inadequate to the task of parenting me safely, peacefully and happily also. 5 inadequate care-givers. Psy sighs!

…

Well, phew. Pension day today. Bulk of my money gone on paying electricity/gas/Optus. AGL been hounding the fuck out of me while I tried to destress in my garden.

So I rang them to tell them I am now paying regularly by Centrepay out of my pension so back off, Biatches. But I still owe $70 after paying out another $200. Grrrrrrr!

Adulting is hard. Even harder when electricity and gas is so expensive for one person and her cats and dog! Insanity.

So I have $90 to live on for the next 2 weeks as I paid out so I can be left in peace. Also next quarter the bills will be mostly paid for as the bill-smoothing I am attempting by regular payments (might?) lessen the electric shock maltreatment I receive each quarter.

Fuck this cuntry. People who are poor and marginalised and live in government housing should have solar power. So this shit would not tip us over the edge! But instead they gave it to homeowners and the rich who really (ffs!) don't need to worry about paying their bills as they have diverse incomes, and negative-geared houses which lie empty so the homeless are ravaged on the streets.

I guess I am lucky I have a place to live. Trying to be grateful here.

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Phew! Now I got that off my chest I am sitting outside in the sunshine on the grass with my Beauregard and a nice cup of tea. Just being The Tanya. Intermittently breathing. Loving my life. The good, the bad, the ugly, the indifferent but also the beautiful, the magical and the wise.

19 July 2014

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Utterly exhausted! Happy :-). I had a woman friend crash here. I only got a few hours sleep as we had a lovely chat. Just dropped her off to busway lol. She looked at me, said "You look very tired, go back to bed!" lol.

Another woman friend who can drink and dance all night and function well on only 2 or 3 hours sleep. These women blow my mind. Tiny little powerhouses of energy. Makes me wonder what I could have achieved if I had their levels of personal energy stores???

Oh well, aching feet and a mysteriously sore elbow. Aching legs. I think I will kip and consider going out tonight later. It was very cold last night but it was busy out. Wildness!

19 July 2011

My badly scarred Grandmother, Eva Meyer who was injured during a bombing raid because my vain 15 year old mother, Gisela refused to go down to the shelter without removing her rollers, so Eva kicked her down the stairs, then ran back to get a blanket and just as she got upstairs, the glass conservatory exploded from a nearby hit, so the glass lacerated Eva's face.

Gisela always felt guilty about this, but it was lucky her mother had not been killed. This occurred in 1943. Eva suicided 8 March 1949, after having suffered late stage Tuberculosis, widowhood, since April 1945 and a lifetime of mental/emotional problems.

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I met Wayne my former mechanic's beautiful brown curly furred Retriever today. It was love at first sight! I walked up to her after saying Hello, from the moment I stepped out of the cab and extended my hand so she could smell me and see I'm non-threatening, and she licked my hand. Then she continuously nudged me and snuggled while Gail and Wayne talked business about the car. LOL What a lovely girl!

I had an opportunity to buy her or one of her siblings when she was a puppy, but I was wary of getting a large dog as I am not a very good trainer, so I'm really happy to see she has grown to be quite a lady and Wayne is very happy with her! Now I regret my missed opportunity, but as gorgeous and loving as Holly is, I still think Miss Bella Rosa is Pomeranian Perfection......lol.

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Gail visited me this morning and we went to Garbo while we waited for her car to be serviced, by taxi. She bought me an awesome top which was hugely reduced and lunch, then we went back to pick up the car. Another lovely day!

19 July 2010

1.14am...might do some schluffing before I end up finding out all about Monday the hard way, with sleep disturbance and insomnia. Call me if anything important happens before lunchtime.

On the other hand, don't call me, if the world ends I'd rather sleep through it LOL. (Avoidance tactics have helped me survive to be the wonderful person I am now). zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

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The Tanya would like to announce that she had a lovely weekend. I wonder what Monday will bring?

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Monday slid by me easily...slept through most of it. Jarrod and I spent the afternoon at Bunnings. I love it in there. I can spend hours just looking around. I bought some orchid mix so I repotted the lovely new orchid. Can't wait for it to flower so I know what colour it will be.

19 July 2009

I had a lovely weekend. Spent it with my favourite people.

Copyright Tanya Désirée Arons