Memories: 23 January 2025

23 January 2025

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Rough night. I was awake until 3:30 am. I woke up at 8:12 am. So that makes only just under 5 hours! So this machine kinda lies. lol. It’s another day in Paradise with a heatwave. So I will try to take things easy.

Everyone in Brisbane will have felt the same last night. Sleepless, overheated, uncomfortable. Nervous systems in tiny firestorms, all jangled with nowhere to go but try to remain cool and sanguine.

23 January 2024

I stopped in at Amanda’s coffee kiosk for a cappuccino on my way to my hairdresser. I feel wrung out. The new medication made me pee every half hour during the night. Gahhh. It’s supposed to slow it down not speed it up ffs!

I will persevere for a few more days as hopefully my brain will start signalling differently when it adjusts. That or….well…go back to my usual abnormal existence. The itching on my arms was so bad I had to get up and lather it in isocol alcohol. Hives and itching is another side effect.

It could be worse though. So hanging in there. As per usual.

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…

I have had a lovely day. In spite of the fact I got very little sleep last night, due to my overactive bladder which is still resisting the new medication.

I met some lovely women at my hairdressers with lots of lovely excited chats. It was a bit cooler today so everyone was relaxed and garrulous!

I am so happy and grateful to look all glamorous again. To be immersed in so much love and kindness. To be Alive!

Love to you all xxx

23 January 2023

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I just spoke to Shine lawyers. Apparently it’s legal for hospitals to destroy patient records after 7 years!

But she informed me that they were able get a record of my surgery with the tvt tape in 2007. I am one of the “lucky” ones as many women had no records left with evidence of their surgery so were unable to claim compensation. What the actual fuck?

This tells me that this practise of deleting patient files is quite deliberate. It should not be legal or even ethical to dispose of medical records while a patient is still living!

The woman I spoke to, said she had three pages of evidence from my file that I had that surgery and the product number the tvt tape installed into my bladder. But she is sending me that information for my own private records so I have proof!

Meanwhile all my other QE 2 records are missing or disposed of!

She advised me to speak to the medical records staff at the hospital as potentially it’s just been archived “somewhere”!

Hmmm. Interesting.

I feel very angry and upset for all the other women who could not fight against the machine of malfeasance that is Queensland Health bureaucracy because their files were destroyed yet they are sitting with a ticking time bomb in their bodies and are not taken seriously enough or respected enough as patients or as human beings to have their records preserved, so there is no way of gaining proper urology treatment.

There is a word for this: genocide. We are being culled systematically via medical malfeasance.

I mean for fucks sake even the Nazis in WW2 kept proper records. I still have the lists where Cees Van Der Greft contributed names of fallen compatriots in that hellish concentration camp. (Only a few names were missing as the Nazis kept such excellent records!)

Our government(s) can’t even preserve medical records for living patients in peacetime. It’s horrific and astonishing.

23 January 2021

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I keep smelling musk lollies. The strong sweet smell. Last night one of the women dancing near me smelt of it, which was unusual as I have been smelling it for the past few days.

I met her in the ladies toilets later and observed that she did not reek of sweet musk anymore. Perhaps her fragrance had dissipated as frankly, they don’t make long lasting perfumes anymore.

I have a rather wistful memory from childhood, after school, walking along Newtown no doubt on my way to my mother’s secondhand shop there. On the way there was a factory that made musk lollies and the pungent smell would fill the air and somehow it always made me feel incredibly lonely and sad, sauntering slowly, feeling exhausted and drained by Wellington Girls College and all the epic evil bullying that occurred there. Fuck I hated school, and my home life too . I must have been 13 years old.

So walking past this factory, with its sweet smell was both a comfort and a warning to me. I could not see inside it as they boarded all the front windows which was kinda weird and there was always this frisson of fear that went through me. I “knew” not to try to go near that factory. Which was also weird as I adore lollies (candy) of all kinds.

So I am trying to figure out why musk is being alerted to my senses? Hmmm.

The truth, as always, will be revealed. I need only wait for true hearts and minds to reveal themselves. They always do...in the right time and space..and I always get the end of the story...often in miraculous or even supernatural ways, as my angels operate that way.

But musk? Oh well it could be a worse smell!

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3:22 am. Home from a great night of dancing at Livewire bar, Treasury Casino. I went off. Which is surprising as the dj played techno/house shit early in the night which I find so boring and irritating that I almost went home early.

Then they had two djs who were actually quite good and the bass was thrumming so hard I felt it right in the middle of my chest like a fucking heart attack. But I went with it and had a great time. Then the earlier dj came back on and this time he played better tunes. (So I hated him less then I did early on lol!)

My Korean friend Joe came to dance with me. He bought me a drink and just revelled in my company and was quite affectionate in his platonic way, which is refreshing after the epically fucking awful ways I have been treated by men at the casino and “that” pub for 9 years.

Another guy, Karl who I know from Irish Murphies, came up to dance with me and another woman briefly. I carried on dancing with the woman until the dj finished at 2.

Then I went to the 7-11 to buy a ginger beer and sang with the busker briefly “Hotel California”. I threw him a few coins then headed home.

I realised just as I got near home that I was ravenous so I drove down to Maccas for some hot cakes and hash browns. I shared the hot cakes with Socks, who was beside himself with joy.

Now ready for a quick shower and to bed. I love my Wild carefree nights. Happy Mama T now. Happy but utterly exhausted.

Oh, and some good looking nowt of a young man tried to get me to go home with him. Ahhh no. Could have been my son and he pissed me off during the evening by trying to wear my top hat.

Also I have lost any urge to sleep with any man. Which is a good thing I think. Not wasting my heart and punani on useless, using dickheads is very empowering.

Although my libido did have a slight little sing so it’s still alive way down in my soul somewhere. My mind just can’t calibrate any further abuses. So there is that.

Still in all, I had a happy time and at one point even made the security guards laugh, as I was hamming up so much. It was a tad hilarious.

comments:

23 Jan 2021:

The famous djs were called “Bombed out” or “Bombs away” or something. They were the bomb lol.

….

I just woke up at 11 am. Wow! Re-enervated. It takes a lot of guts to go out by myself every week for 9 years and hold my ground and my sacred space and stay sane in the membrane while surrounded by at times, drunk and dangerous men.

But I walk and dance with my Angels and when necessary, I call upon them and they truly do help me “fly”.

Grateful and happy for that!

I had lots of intense dreams about welding of all things. Also about going to a second hand or charity processing store. Seeking furniture items which they happily gifted me as they said in the dream that I had contributed so much of myself and am so deserving.

I started to cry as the elderly woman in the dream (who owned the store) was a survivor of Auschwitz and she too had been outcast from the community for her innate goodness but quirky eccentric nature.

The group of women, mostly non-Jewish volunteers told me she was a very lonely and isolated but a saintly woman. I nodded. I looked up and saw a blue decanter and matching blue crystal glasses with Kiddush written on them in Hebrew. I was overcome with nostalgia and said I wanted to buy them. They were marked 3-5. $3.50

Extremely cheap. The elderly woman smiled and said “Vy vould you vant them Tanya ven you told me yourself you are no longer observant!”

I smiled very sadly back and said “For the sake of heaven, I want them. I know it makes no sense but yet it still matters to me!”She rushed off immediately to wrap them up in paper.

There were many more stories in the dream. It was quite a complicated one!

They were residing near a beach. They said Victoria point and I vowed to myself that I must visit there more often. Although I did not recognise the terrain. Like a tiny beach tucked away. Hmmm.

My mind was expansive and travelling in all Dimensions last night. Probably from the epic dancing, the three drinks of Jack Daniels and the exhaustion lol.

There is a band on again tonight but not sure if I could do that a second night. Magic happens babies but my body which is massively resilient has its limits.

Welding seems to make me think that I am being formed and re-formed and locked into place. More like really...melding! I could feel the heat from the furnace and it was quite unsettling. Like a Phoenix rising...hmmm.

I recognised the elderly woman. She was tiny like my mother in law. 4 ,10. I think I met her in Shule in NZ many many years ago. Decades ago when I converted. She was indeed eccentric but very bright and we spent an evening as a Seder chatting about the sea of Reeds being the more likely place where Moses parted the sea.

I never forgot her as she was bright and bubbly and welcomed me so warmly. The Wellington Reform Jewish community were like that. So fully embracing and accepting of me, even with my German background which here in Brisbane was used to discriminate against me and falsely accuse me of being a Nazi.

A stigma and a shanda I have never quite gotten over. Nor the false Jewish women friends who sought to destroy me during the 1990s when I was already living in real and present danger. Faking friendship while they slavishly betrayed me. Such is life.

But now I express my love for HaShem, for Gaia, for Life (L’Chaim), for my own strange intrepid “walk” and my even stranger Survival by dancing.

I think some man called me a whore last night. I was walking past going to the loo. I just ignored him, kept walking, head tall, back straight. Queen of the Livewire bar after 9 years of wild freedom. It’s understandable that newbies who hate women would make such an assumption.

Little does he know I dance for my own joy and amazement and bliss at still being alive. That I am not bought or paid for, except by my ennobling charitable friends who value me and that no man but One captured my heart but I am mostly unwanted and devalued so what else can The Tanya do but make peace with that and fly in the face of men’s scorn and shitfuckery and rape culture derision.

A whore?! Lol. At least I have style, class, Hope and humour. Not bad for a “whore” when others sold themselves to the Devil for cheaper morals and cheaper ideals.

Funny!

Another aspect of the dream…we walked into a room full to the brim with vintage 1940s evening dresses. I marvelled at the sparkling lurex ones. (My MIL had gifted me one of her own when I got engaged to her son but the dress was so old it fell apart rapidly, which was a shame as I loved it!)

I used to love to wear double velvet dresses and my mother had a suit made for me in royal blue double velvet. I have a hankering to get that made again but it’s too hot in Queensland to get much wear out of a double velvet skirt and jacket! Except in our brief winter.

I am trying to figure out why I am craving that beautiful suit so much. It must be symbolic of something. I did look very beautiful and elegant and powerful in it. That must be what I am craving my former glory and my power. Gods only know I can’t get my youth back or the eons I lost...wasted on Monsters.

Perhaps I will replace all that was stolen from me by my abusers one day. Then I will buy myself a beautiful suit and sit chuckling in the corner at my own version of success, wryly reminiscing about my Glory Days.

Haha just walked to the kitchen. The soles of my feet are completely numb and feel like walking on flaccid sponges with pins and needles. I should have had a hot Epsom salt bath last night. It was quite a workout. Lots of dancing. I was sweated right through to my outside-worn underbust.

All good.

It was like a maenad flesh pot last night. One young woman wore a white mini dress with no panties and kept “twerking” or squatting and it really grossed me out to keep seeing her bare bottom. Ew.

Another young woman told me in the toilets that she was almost kicked out as her boobs fell out of her dress and they found that offensive. (I had seen her nipples as she danced and jived.

But I told her I am not bothered by a woman’s Breast that simply falls out of its restraints ffs but having to witness some female’s bare arse was one thing too much lmao

The men were loving it...naturally. I just turned away in disgust. We are all adults but the fleshpots of Brisbane get a little too much.

I find it weird that I am not allowed to wear my hat inside the casino but women are allowed to literally hang their naked arses out.

23 January 2020

I woke up with a bad back and a stiff neck to...rain. So good. In spite of the heat. I woke up. Alive and aware and grateful and happy.

It’s another beautiful day!

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Quite unwell today. Asthma. Blech! I felt good around 1 pm so used that burst of serenity to cook a chicken tagine. I ate “dinner” early, at 3 pm. The garlic and ginger drove icky phlegm out of my chest. No wonder I have been feeling weak the past few days. Brewing a chest infection. Yuck.

I may have to go get some antibiotics if I get worse. That will involve having to see my gp. Grrr. Hopefully it was just a mild inflammation and the chest settles back down. It often does if I rest, drink enough fluids and pay no attention to it.

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Thor and Odin are playing lawn bowls again. It’s damp and humid but a storm is coming. Phew!

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Yesterday, while walking around my garden I ‘heard’ the words quite distinctly inside my mind “the Whore of Babylon”. So I was a tad disturbed but half-jokingly said “You mean the Whore of Brisbane? Which one? She who stinks up the cbd in the summer heat with her unclean oestrus? She is no whore...she gives it away for free!” Then I started laughing.

Me, the old Crone Celibate roiling in my own Judgement as after all, I used to be out in the night with that filthy stinking treacherous one. I put up even with her stinking loins. Thought she was a true friend.

I was silly as a wheel. Rolling to my own suicide which only the gods put the brakes on at the usual 11th hour. I know...they like to toy with me.

Then send me out into the fray, the disarray, the decay, the nightlife of Brisbane where even the rats are bigger than fox terriers (mind you, I haven’t seen them in recent years. Looks like the health department took action on that Bubonic Plague waiting to fester!)

But alas, the humanoids are worse. Some of them come dancing without washing their pits or loins then want to cosy up to me. Putrid.

So I am on hiatus from the heinous. Taking a break. Re-thinking my future- if there is one, as the Apocalypse is in full Swing. Bushfires, floods, a new SARS incoming, drought and people who don’t wash. Lmao!

So I pushed the thought of the Whore of Babylon aside but not long after got embroiled in a fight with a Polish Nazi Holocaust revisionist so had my usual ten cents worth but it is such a waste of time, energy and words fighting on FB with online Nazis.

They are like giant whores of Babylon. You really need to just cut off their heads. Whoops...been watching too much Van Helsing. But vampires are real. I was raised by them.

They sucked me of my life’s blood and left me to die. But I grew back again. Arose and Shone. Perhaps I always will be Shining. It used to be Silk but now it’s fucking polyester but we make do and I am rewarded with the things I most desperately need, and loved accordingly.

So anyway, Lyn rings me later in the evening. Tells me to google Revelations 17. The prophecy which she believes relates to the downfall of the Roman Catholic Church. I read it aloud. I tell her, I am a Jew and I don’t believe in the New Testament or any other doom and gloom apocalyptic prophecies but Nostradamus also wrote about the end of the Church and a new world.

Well, with all the filthy child-sacrificing, child-raping debauchery that even Prince Andrew is associated with, that time is upon us. For the Divine Feminine to rise up and recreate a safe planet for her Children. To purge and cleanse the filth that violates the laws of Nature.

But I know, if/when She does...humanity will perish along with everything else. The bushfires killed a billion innocent life forms. A few humans with it. We are like ants, swarming all over the earth and our Mother wants to delouse herself.

So I tell Lyn that I must have picked up on her vibes or thought forms as I had heard the words “Whore of Babylon” at the same time she was reading Revelations. So we are very much connected telepathically and I am relieved it was not a message that I would have another encounter with the actual Whores of Brisbane. We both had to laugh.

There are so many of them and they pop up like Shadow puppets in a macabre play with monotonous regularity. Find me anywhere. Smirk smugly with their henchwomen. I just roll my eyes and shake them off and keep walking/dancing free.

For I grew up with the most debased and depraved of humanity and I recognise that Stink anywhere.

I carry a little bell with me now. I often have to resist the urge to ring it in their faces and scream “Unclean, unclean, bring out your dead”. But those Zombies don’t comprehend my tumescent humour or my reborn Angel’s feathery Flighty Fight.

How can they, when even I don’t quite know whom I am Becoming?! But the angels know. My true friends know and love me bravely and fiercely for they have seen me heal in microcosmic ways.

This earth is beautiful. I am beautiful. We are going to heal and become: beautiful, safe and free.

I pray to the gods to be merciful on us. We, the humans that showed little or no mercy to each other or to our own home, Gaia.

I know there is zero point energy out there. A life of absolute abundance. A life of Peace. I can see it. Taste it. The ambrosia of the gods. When will they gift it to us? When we show ourselves worthy, responsible, caring for all of life, honourable.

It is coming... life! Be in it. Flow with it. Love!

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Finding our voice as women, as survivors, and speaking out against injustice, hate and the erosion of our rights is the single most empowering step into our own lives we can take. Silence is golden but deadly, eviscerating and is the space where all rebellion foments.

We who had to be quietly Invisible break out in a torrent of songs from all corners of the known universe. Our screams of joy, triumph, along with those of torpid torment build an energy of change for the betterment of all womanhood and even more importantly manhood too.

When the divine feminine is honoured and loved then there will be harmony, respect and healing for all our progeny. That is what Inspires me. Freedom: from rape, incest, molestation, domestic violence, poverty, drug abuse, fear and systemic governmental abuse that drives women and their children to the brink of death then mocks them further.

Put the brakes on. Turn your lights on, speed upon that highway to hell, and just keep cruising, forward motion, into the future, leave the shitty awful misogynistic past behind, leave the shitty awful cruel sadistic people behind. Find your own light and bring home the lost, broken, stolen ones.

Feed them with love and strength and the sublime bliss of discovering their own Power. Support! Raise up the fallen. Sing! Dance! Then rest. The work is endless but noble. Each generation to come must learn the dance of justice, of peace and of genuine unconditional love.

23 January 2019

Shvitsing in the heat! I need to get some cooler summer dresses. Or stand under a cold shower. Or whatever...

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I was struggling with the heat and having anxiety attacks after debriefing a friend with similar struggles as myself. I did not sleep much last night.

So I did what I always do when life circumstances get overwhelming. I went back to bed and breathed calmly until I fell asleep for a few hours.

Now I feel much better although still very hot. Time to have a shower, wash off the sweat and embrace the afternoon.

23 January 2017

I can't shake my headache. Day 3. But ear has quit hurting and teeth are much better.

Just keep fighting on...

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Speaking of Witch which: I was just out in the garden, watering. I have just washed my hair and, as it is deadly fine and prone to breakage I was, as is my usual custom, air drying it. It was wild and woolly. I don't fucking care.

I also had a dress my daughter made which pattern is covered in very large eyes. I am still unwell so had an expression of dull homicide on my visage (been dealing with Trolls which can be deleterious to the expression).

So some guy walks up the street with headphones in his ears, being led by a stocky moribund Staffy dog. Beauregard did not even notice the dog.

So the guy (who I swear to the gods and the Most High looks like a young Art Garfunkel, with thick tight curly hair) looks at me with this smirk on his face. I stare blankly back (resting Bitch face is a gift, people) and continue watering.

I think to myself, he is probably smiling at the music or whatever he is listening to, but he keeps staring and smiling. I keep ignoring.

Neighbourhood boys go by with a stack of soccer balls in a large netting bag. They too, give me rather perturbed glance. I don't care. I keep doing my thing.

Inside I go, after laboriously putting the hose away. My hair is dry now. So I reach for the brush in the bathroom and glance at the mirror.

Holy Hell Woman. I look like a blonde version of Witchypoo. I shrug. It's only hair and appearances can be deceiving. "Art" might have better hair but I have a better 'tude.

The season of the Witch = the Art of not giving a Fuck.

Yesterday Jenny and Brendan came to visit. It was lovely to spend time with them.

I had dressed and scrubbed my still-painful teeth. I had not checked my mirror after. So finally Jenny says "Tanya, you have a long white streak down your tshirt".

OMG. I look down. Nod sagely. "Yeah true. Oh well, at least you both know I cared enough to clean my teeth before you arrived. Lol". God. How do I do it??

23 January 2016

I have had to unfriend people. Some I like very much. But they don't interact or rather haven't in over 12 months.

Others have allegiances to forces that are destructive to my emotional well-being. I am Done. Over-done. Done over. Sick and tired of bullshit.

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Unfuckwithable! Yah right! I missed my medications and I was very sensitive tonight. I let fucktards upset me.

I think I will just have a hot bath and wash away the roiling emotions. Men who ask me for sex but can't treat me like a human. Trolls on the Internet, also misogynistic arseholes that are cow-towed to, because well, the Cock is supreme and people are genuinely afraid to stand up in the face of Tradition while Fiddlers fiddle on roofs and the cow jumps over the moon but women are still being raped and strangled and their kids are still being raped and interfered with, but no one does or says a thing as the elite are men in black.

Fuck this bullshit. It just makes me sorry I survived. For what end??? Nothing changes and excuse me but the next almighty Cunt who says I play the victim, I will find him and smash in his face. There. Feel better now?

No. Cos psychopaths never change. They keep finding new victims and if you call them out, you, the woman, are demonised. So everyone look busy. Hide!

But Look me in the eye and tell me they are not abusers. Really front me. Yeah right. Bullshit. All of it.

Anyway, glad I went dancing and glad to spend time with my beautiful Women friends and glad I didn't let the horror lay me out cold like it usually does.

I still have fire in my belly and a pure soul and maybe the Jewish G-d hates my guts but Odin, Thor and Freya love me. Maybe there is no God at all, but I am God and insanity is a blessing (in-joke for my friend Jarrod) who shares enough of my history to know why that is funny.

23 January 2015

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3.44 pm Home from a lovely lunch at Alexandra Hills Hotel with the beautiful Lyn and Annette. Afterwards we went to Capalaba Produce so I could pick up Laying Mash and Diatomaceous Earth. (I don't think it is the same type I wanted to use for home made natural makeup but it will keep the flies from breeding in the chook coops).

It had a lovely soft texture when I emptied the sack into my storage buckets. Softer than velvet. I could have smooshed it through my hands for hours.

It has poured with rain all day so as soon as I got inside, off came the Glad Rags and into my nightie, went I! :-)

I am going to rest and snooze and read until I figure out if this middle-aged old Duck wants to jump puddles, and dance the mad dance of the newly emancipated. Or just lie down for the night!

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3.30 am. time to schluff. Been watching the Israeli Tv show "Prisoners of War". SBS played 3 episodes in a row.

23 January 2014

I finally posted the application for a Death Certificate for my father. So I will find out if he is dead in Perth and perhaps where and when? It will be good to get closure.

I guess I will feel sad, not that he died and noone notified me, but that my progenitor and that whole chapter of my life has fallen away. I was told that he was very good to me as a baby and I loved to snuggle in the small of his back as he radiated so much heat, this was how they got me to sleep.

I loved his smell too. Old Spice and his own distinctive man-smell. He was incapable of being there for me. Too violent, too angry. In the end he betrayed me with Gisela and Buck. I wonder how much they paid him to lie about me? Or was he just feeble-minded?

It cost him the last shreds of love and respect from his only daughter and a long estrangement. I could make myself feel better by putting all the blame and shame on Buck Scherer but my father rallied to his cause quite willingly.

Their blind envy and hatred of me still has had repercussions (poverty, trauma, inability to find or form a secure love relationship) even now, almost 4 years after my mother's death.

I would like to win out against those evil bastards one day but I am still stuck in barely Surviving mode. I guess, given more time, more healing, good fortune, better health, I might Thrive one day. For truly that would be the best Post-Humous Revenge on those who spent decades trying to destroy me.

People tell me that I am a Man-Hater. This is simply not true. I loved my father very much as a child. I hated his Fury, his weakness, his inability to withstand my mother, their constant screaming, his failure to truly protect me, but he was the first love of my life.

When he left my life, at almost 8, I was bereft but I had witnessed first-hand him smashing the window in temper on the day we were about to board ship, heading for Germany.

A tantrum of all tantrums. I was tempted to slap him myself! My mother told me they were getting a divorce and I was relieved. Fucking relieved. I understood the rightness of that.

Then again, when Dad left me at the airport when I was 13 after visiting me in NZ and taking me on holiday to Bay of Island and Auckland. I had an odd sort of breakdown - the grief was palpable. I cried inconsolably, people stared.

Dad was helpless, told me to stop it, get over it...words to that effect. He got on the plane back to Australia. Then I had a holiday with him when I was 16.

I had my university entrance so they sent me to Dad so I could have some sort of a relationship with him before I entered University. My mother this time, created an ugly screaming scene at the airport. I vowed never to speak to her again. (The first time of many 'estrangements' I was compelled to have with my mother).

I made no contact with her for the entire month with Dad. For the first time in my life I felt free of her.

I stayed with Dad at a caravan park in Ipswich. It was hot as Hades so I wore t-shirts and shorts or skirts that summer.

Dad took me to the pub and a much older aboriginal man offered to fuck me. I was horrified, as yet unaware of my nascent sexuality and beauty, still barely a woman, who feared sex and life.

I told my father. He said "what do you expect, dressed like that? What can I do?" A cold river of ice chilled my spine on that hot 40 degree day. I never forgot it.

He wasn't man enough to tell a much younger man that he was inappropriate and to piss off. More proof I had no value. That I had to look after myself in a man's world. That I was not ever safe with either of my parents, the paedophile godfather Trevor Singh or my sister Angela. Or with Cees, my de facto stepfather.

They rejoiced in my victimhood, they orchestrated it and still to this day, my sister is not sorry for refusing to protect me as a small child.

She saved me once at age 3, from one of Dad's rages and threw me headlong into my bedroom and locked the door. I thought I was flying and landed very hardly on my bum.

I remember trying to understand how I got there? Magic! I had learned to tune out the screaming and still a baby had been blissfully unaware of the danger.

That was the last time my sister ever attempted to save me and there were worse experiences to come. She knew and did nothing, wrapped up in her narcissism, husband, new baby, Stewart World where she was safe and to hell with her little sister.

So excuse me, if I seem to hate Men. Men have injured me beyond belief so yeah, I don't hate all men, I hate Abusers. All abusers. Male or Female. I have a good radar for arseholes based on a lifetime, almost 49 years of bitter, sickening, abhorrent experiences. I have witnessed all my close friends try to recover from similar.

If I have to stand up and fight an injustice against an abuser I will. If I have to be a stronger man inside of my own self than any I have been bred by, married to, or fucked by, then I will.

I will never stand by while another woman or child is in front of me, struggling with a creep and say nothing, do nothing. I am a Woman who Knows and who Sees.

I love Men in spite of the fact that Men represent the most destructive creatures on Earth and I am seeking a truly Good One to be my partner in Life. I just hope like Hell he will love me, with all my damage and that I will know he is safe and decent and kind too.

I cannot sell myself out, or settle for anything less than real enduring secure Love.

Or is my life just a huge Delusion? An illusion of real love that perniciously evades me? I guess It will all make sense in the end.

Update 23 Jan 2019:

My father turned up dead on 3rd March 2017, kidney sepsis at the homeless hostel. They failed to take him to hospital in a timely manner. He was in effect, murdered by the State of Victoria. So much for his longheld desire to be a “rolling stone that gathered no moss”. Fucking mossy kidney stones got him instead.

I don’t miss him. Maybe sometimes I have fond memories of his wry sense of humour and his smell and occasional Kindness. Too occasional. But that is all.

Update 23 Jan 2020:

The bad penny turned up Dead on 3 March 2017, from kidney sepsis in Shepparton, Victoria. Actually murdered by negligence in the Home he was residing in for the last 3 years of his life after being placed there as a homeless man. They had not even known some kind soul had taken him to hospital where he died. Shitful.

I did not go down for his funeral (I had no money and no real love for that man) but got manipulated by his female lawyer who contacted me, into accepting his ashes as I was his only living relative in Australia.

So like a “good girl” I did my duty by him. The man that never protected me and was outright creepy and malevolent the last time I saw him in 2000.

He had a habit of making loud sexual grunting noises when I bent down to pick up washing out of the basket to hang on the line. Vile. My own father.

No wonder he thought it totally acceptable to do nothing while I was being molested by Trevor and later Cees, as a child. Dirty filthy enabling coward.

Anyway...none of those filthy bastards can hurt me anymore. They are all just scraps of bone and ash floating on King Island at Wellington Point.

I went there recently with Lyn and for the first time felt nothing but peace. A sign that their ghosts have finally lost their grip on me.

Perhaps now, after decades of grief and horror I will begin to blossom and bloom, thrive and flourish and create a beautiful life after all that destruction and trauma.

They call it post traumatic growth. I have witnessed myself beginning to heal in recent weeks. My health always precarious and unpredictable is fragile but my will to live, to Become, to Love and engage with life fully...is as strong as ever. Perhaps even stronger.

I have been given a great gift. I might as well enjoy it. Spread joy not oy!

Thank you to the beautiful one who blessed me with a marvellous intervention this week. It will make a huge difference to my life. The heat has been intolerable!

I have truly loving earthangels in my life who uphold me and protect me and fight for me. In big and small ways. I am blessed by the gods and a few remarkable humans. ♥️

…

Scary epic drive with Sarah to royal childrens' hospital to get her eyes checked. Flash flooding, road redirections, most of the journey at a crawl. I feel quite anxious. Almost to the point of being sick. I might take a Valium when we get to Crystal's after the appointment.

I have Tabitha in the back seat still struggling to live. Lots of stressors. It's rained incessantly too. Such peculiar weather after that nasty ravaging heat wave. It's not surprising the roads are flooding.

I hope the farmers are getting at least some of this good wet stuff!

…

Just woke up at 10.38 am. Exhausted. Tabitha still alive but very weak. I gave her another drink. I hate seeing her like this. She is a fighter though.

Day seems a bit cooler and overcast so perhaps we will get more rain?

23 January 2013

Yesterday I came down off my emotional high from the awesome weekend, and was exhausted from schlepping the heavy furniture and old mattresses to the verge for the annual council pick up. I really must have overdone it.

Today I feel tired and still have weakness so will rest more I guess. I installed a new fish pond (a bath I schnorrered from the roadside and schlepped home). It looks lovely. The waterlillies will do much better, at least until I can find or buy a larger spa bath.

…

Went to Carindale shops with Jarrod. He joked I was still tired when I felt intimidated by some brat behind me on the travelator. So when I got home, I read a book in the hammock and sure as eggs are eggs...I passed out. Woke up feasted on by mozzies which really annoys me as I put Aerogard on. :-(

Looking forward to dancing this weekend. Need to summon up more energy but woohoo!

23 January 2011

Copyright Tanya Désirée Arons