Memories: 27 July 2025

27 July 2025

1:42 am home from Fitzys. Another fabulous night of moshing/dancing and whirling dervishing. The Tanya has made a feast of it this weekend. Two nights in a row is a lot! Getting from my car to the top of my steps in agony was rather hilarious. Just like the good old days when I used to wear stilettos. Omg.

I don’t know how my musician friends do three or four gigs each weekend. But they are professionals and much younger than I. They are amazing and talented and I am so proud of them!

I am happy I went out. Life is Amazingly awesome! I am grateful and satisfied with my lot.

…

I woke up at 9 am. My breathing backslided during the night (bejaysus!) but I had two nights of dancing so my body had a little protest. Choosing Life is a constant battle with my weird breathing. (Too many near drownings and three strangulations…will really mess with your lungs…)

However…I feel fantastic. I had a wonderful dance last night. (Someone even ably caught me on camera which is hilarious as I ably avoided an earlier videographer!) but I am glad they did as even I could see I was in my own power, doing my wild dance, feeling loved and joyous. Amazing!

Life is beautiful and an ever unfurling gift. It’s up to each of us to make it grand. Build it. Co-create it. Manifest it. Conspire to inspire. Encourage, gift Hope, lift the Fallen, Broken and send the reconfigured ones, back out into the world to shine their Light bright and immerse ourselves in joy and delight and to never ever everrrrrrrrrrrrr let the bastards grind us down.

The Tanya/Mama T/Psychedelic Dreamer has Spoken/written/moshed her Truth. Love is the law, Love under will. Together we Thrive while nice turkeying our hides. Mwahhhh!

Thank you Ramjet and Fitzys Waterford… you Rock!

27 July 2024

8:51 am awake after 5:30 hours sleep. Well, that’s not strictly true. I had the cpap mask on for that amount of time. I actually lay in bed in a heightened state as I danced so hard and wildly for two nights that my body went “Online” so I didn’t wind down for about an hour. So 4 hours and a half hours sleep.

Last night was wonderful too. However I had quite a few very young men approach me and try to flirt with me. A woman sitting near me said she wondered what was going on too? It was intense. I just laughed.

I said “I used to dance at the casino for 12 years and I always had a suspicion the young ones would lay bets on who was gonna crack the old lady dancing as fast as she can in her “spot”. Tonight it’s happening again!” We laughed.

But I got into my zone and poured more powerful energy into that space. Powerful for me too. Healing. Living my best life. Loving The Dance. Letting go of old paradigms that no longer serve me. Inviting more good stuff in. Transmuting the dross. Holding true like glue to my beloved ones. Being happy in my weird quirky ways.

It was a long slow walk to the Uptown car park (there was no street parking available) as my body was exhausted. But the night air was crisp and enervating to my supercharged jangling meridiens. I probably should have had my Epsom Salt bath to soothe the muscles but I was too exhausted. I just removed my makeup and threw myself into bed.

I am astonished I am awake and so crystal clear in the head. Dancing is good for me. Two nights is a lot for me though, but I loved it.

I had a few epiphanies, lying in bed, striving to succumb to sleep. I am at a crossroads, or a fork in road. I need to choose which path I wish to remain on. I will be guided and protected. All is well. I am loved.

My friend Scott suggested I may wish to take time out from dancing and concentrate on my writing. He says he knows how much energy I pour into my dancing. That it depletes me. A kindness.

But I am under doctors’ orders to keep dancing “until I die” and we all know The Tanya rarely follows direct orders lmao. I dance for me but I also dance for the spirits and gods and ancestors. Will I stop dancing? Perhaps. When I am dead….

Will I write books or continue my Facebook ramblings? Perhaps….although the books are less likely as I haven’t achieved that goal yet. But my Voice…my laughter, my dance, my Love will go on. Shifting into other expressions as my spirit sees fit.

Time is precious. Energy is precious. Precious and poignant. Slip sliding away the nearer my destination. A paradox.

The young men flocking to me last night and Thursday night shows me that my sexual energy is activated but I won’t be expending it on “sons”. But the frottering is a gift of sorts. A reminder. I am alive in these bones, and tendons and sinews. In my blood which seeps deep and languid and powerfully enlivened.

The Tanya with her incredible Spirit. Feared and scorned by many. Admired, respected and loved by a few rare and delightful souls.

I am grateful and humbled and astonished to witness the Becoming. I just need to do what most enervates me and gives me Joy. Did I not always say “spread Joy not Oy” as a battle cry of my very soul?

Joyfulness in the face of societal breakdown is a superpower. Face Everything And Rise. Allow. Not everyone will ever understand or value me. That is certain. Decades of suffering demonstrated that. But…I am okay. Alone…or in a crowd of writhing dancers. (As long as I have a little space so I don’t feel invaded lol).

Handsome young men plonking themselves down almost into my lap gets a tad irritating! They are attracted to my wildness and freedom fighting, of course. Want to breathe in my energy like an elixir of faery magick that would make a True Blood type vampire go insane.

Well my babies…we won’t be going insane. I won’t be sucked, plucked and chucked. I feed only those who treat me with honour and integrity. The rest get sloughed off lmao.

The power of a shaman. Of a woman. In love with herself. Her spirits. Her friends. Her Muse.

Bemusing at times. Magickal, majestic and fierce at others.

Grateful happy woman here. :-)))

27 July 2023

Vale Sinead O’Connor. A self described “Protest Singer who had things to get off her chest”. A voice in the Wilderness. A Warrior Goddess. Who will take up her baton, I wonder?

May she find rest and peace in the ever-loving arms of the Ein Sof Aur. I see she converted to Islam in 2018 so she had already chosen a “religion of Peace”. Peace was something she craved and valued. I hear you, Sister. Salaam and Shalom.

27 July 2022

I had my debrief with my psychiatrist this afternoon. He wrote the most wonderful letter of introduction for my new gp so he will know how best to treat me, given my history of abuse.

He told me the best way forward is to find a doctor who can offer such good primary care as to ensure (as much as is humanly possible) that I no longer need access hospitals. It is too risk taking and destabilising for me. I concur.

I need to keep myself safe to navigate the ensuing years as my health has rapidly deteriorated and that is a common thing when we heal our minds…our bodies go into decline.

Well I have pulled myself out of the last epic death spiral by the skin of my teeth (and my freshly carved flesh at that timeframe which coincided with an already vicious asthma/bronchitis and some weird kind of infection.)

But here I am, fighting on in this recalcitrant stubborn ornery and outrageously defiant body.

I am grateful to my psychiatrist who has always been extremely supportive and encouraging of me and if/when necessary, protective within the confines of our therapeutic alliance!

I have had two wonderful Psychiatrists who supported me as I healed from decades of trauma and cumulative abuse. I simply would not be alive without the stoic determination of both these men to pull me through the darkness, the ghastly horror and the occasional tempestuous Tanya Tantrums that meant I was in mortal danger but fighting like a warrior goddess to the best of my abilities with my heart/mind/soul intact. With words. With energy. With spirit led guidance.

There is a saying: people glow differently when they are loved.

I often feel the most interminable grief at whom I might have been or had achieved in my life had I not been surrounded by the most demonic monstrous entities in the bodies minds and spirits of my progenitors and All their henchmen. It took decades to claw myself back from their evil influences.

In fact it was not until 2009 when some bubble broke in my psyche and I visited my former psychiatrist with the unusual Complaint that I had discovered happiness and could not stop laughing for four hours. His remedy? “This society hates happiness, tries to destroy it, numb it, oppress it: so be happy anyway, Tanya. It’s the best revenge.”

Then shortly after my first real explosion of sheer joy I was crushed again by my mother’s death and then the evil ensuing years of the will dispute.

But here I am again in 2022, almost 12 years after the will dispute ended. 6 years free of all psych meds. Fully fleshed out in my mind. Cognisant, wild, free and still defiant but…. happy.

It’s a different kind of happiness now. More grounded. Older, wiser and conscious that even happiness can only last so long. But I have tasted of trauma, depression, destruction, and witnessed firsthand the breakdown of western society so I know…more than most people…the power of No and of rebuilding from ground zero.

A delicate gossamer web that glistens in the sun but is cast in an unbreakable titanium thread of such strength that only a dumb motherfucker would dare tear it apart now.

I was loved. By truly good kind decent humans who worked on the coal face with broken people and broken lives and never betrayed us or judged us cruelly but saw our rage as the pristine enervating force of Love, Nature and of Becoming that it was.

Who taught us to navigate our world with honour and gentleness and yes… to laugh and live so boldly and brightly and ever-conscious that we do not become like our abusers. We heal and we become. And we break the chains that bound us in their ghastly evil.

L’Chaim. Thank you to the Holy One in all manifestations that brought me good kind souls to protect me.

Much love always from The Tanya!

…

Crystal has Covid and is too sick to talk but she tells me she is alive. I am sending her my preternatural extra strength that runs in our bloodlines. The Arons Women are powerful in our cores. But rest she must.

…

Crystal is quite sick. Unable to talk. So much for being vaccinated. It’s evil bullshit.

I am quite worried as she won’t let me near her as I am too “at risk” and she is fiercely independant so I have taken to calling each day to check on her. But hard to know exactly how sick she is with limited communication.

27 July 2020

Cold blustery day. Brrrrr. I tried to take Charlie outside but it was too bitter. So I brought him back inside. He is singing merrily in his cage.

…

So yesterday I talked with my friend Lyn. We mused over the fact that for decades I spent my life sleeping away my traumas, heavily medicated on psychiatric medication in a permanently Zombie state.

I was numbed down and dumbed down by both my psychiatrists because this government systemically betrayed me and my children when I was barely surviving the kind of domestic terrorism you see in movies in foreign countries and think, shit this can’t be real! But it was real.

When I tried to get justice through the courts I was invalidated and demonised and slapped with utterly bogus DVO’s based on the Salacious perverted lies of a conman who ultimately ensured his evil spawn gained my rightful inheritance.

In true classic gaslighting and narcopathy he lied to the courts, the Adult Guardian and even three Rabbis here in Brisbane. But he did not stop at destroying me in the physical and legal worlds, no...when we went through my mother’s house there were 4 spells in glass jars with photocopied photos of me trapped in the jars.

So he even utilised black magic against me, that was how much he feared my reclaiming my power and my inheritance.

Upon his death in 2008 the spells were shattered metaphysically and a random stranger phoned me and told me to look after my mother as he had died three weeks prior and his spawn, his filthy lying conartist daughters had dumped Gisela (Mitzi - the entity that had been my biological mother) but in real terms had been nothing but the most capricious evil negligent vicious paedophile-enabling and conartist fucking TRAITOR ....breathe Tanya... that she almost killed me ...not once...but many times... throughout my life.

But I had kept my faith in my Self and my higher power: God or Goddess.. All That is/was/ever shall be and suddenly like a landslide Buck Scherer and Gisela Scherer and David Davidson, and Gila Rosily and Terry Rosilio’s filthy evil house of cards: of evil perverted carrion feeding began to collapse.

Buck died and Gila exposed her genitals and her true nature on national tv. The public trustee gave me my mother’s chattels no doubt with full knowledge that I would be financially raped in the Will dispute and I spent years fighting total strangers that had only wanted my mother’s houses, money etc and wreaked hell on me and my daughters.

But slowly, inexorably, excruciatingly, I rose up and Shone. I had the help from Sylvia Shine who loved me and insisted I write about my experiences on Facebook. My Facebook fuckfaced journaling that keeps me alive and gives me insight and meaning.

But I have digressed: The constant battering on my body and psyche took its toll and verily, verily I should have suicided when my children were small but I wanted my children, more than my own life so I hung on in my Zombie state.

So drugged out on cogentin which sent me blind for four days, Zyprexa and an assortment of other antidepressants - none of which healed my concurrent ground zero trauma issues because the viciousness was fresh and raw and there was no protection for me, no justice, no real support except for Lyn and Jarrod who could not always be there but whom did what they could to comfort me or lift me up when I dived deep into my deathlike repose.

But Lyn reminded me: I pulled myself through and out of it. Over 10 years since Gisela’s death, I no longer want to die or wallow in depression, trauma and despair. I no longer accept humiliation or false atrophied perverted people as friends.

When someone reminds me that I am of no real intrinsic value to them as happened on Saturday night. That my person or my home (which is an extension) of my personhood is not Worthy in their eyes... I walk away, head held high.

I don’t allow people, no matter how fond I am/was of them, no matter how BLIND I was to their false friendship/love/ acceptance to rape my Soul/Body/Mind then be expected to grovel for mere scraps of human kindness.

I have Chosen Life before. In a Life that never truly Chose me. A life of the most intense cumulative ABUSE.

Even on Cogentin I knew I did not deserve this parody of psychotropic paraphernalia of the most intense systemic abuse piled on top of all the other gross negligences and deliberate dehumanisations I had encountered.

So Lyn reminded me: now while many of my friends are sleeping the long hours of a Covid Despair and epic Depression (And no judgement... I get it...it was how I survived so many attacks on so many fronts in the 1990s, 2000s. And even the early 2010s).

I slept through it, shuffled through it and miraculously survived two suicide attempts because my only goal was to see my kids grown into adulthood then grow my own broken, beaten, mortified Self.

So I woke up. I took what was left of my shattered life and I went Dancing. I filled my life with joy and awareness and twirled and whirled and even fucking Moshed my Self back to Life.

So while everyone around me is currently plagued by the Death Culture that I know and understand so well...I am joyously bemusedly scratching my head saying “Come on People...Let’s Dance, let’s be in Love with Life, let’s Party!” (I don’t mean fuck everyone with your filthy COVID sneezes and your rancid stds..)

But if you are healthy: make love to your lover/your spouse, your Life, your world. Co- create. Not decimate in squalor and torment and filth.

So once again The Tanya finds herself climbing up and out of the morass of declension and dissension, despair and disease. Incongruently clutching to her pearls of wisdom and her own pearl that she once cast before swine: the kinds of men who dishonoured her Light, Love and Body.

Who rejected and abandoned her because they knew whom she truly was: Deserving, Desirable, Delightful, and Free and let’s face it: Indomitable.

They refused to love me or honour me or even treat me with the merest scrap of kindness, but still they come to stare or leer or taunt me. Empty men with no decency or honour. Sad...but true.

So what can I, the wonderful-beautiful-Waiting-for-Godot-in-a-time-of-Covid Tanya dooooo?

Put one foot in front of the other. Psychedelic dream my life into a fully fleshed out fresco of some beautiful paradise somewhere somehow with someone who truly loves me, vibes with me, gets me, cares for me and is capable and willing to share his life with me.

And if that human does not exist for me...and he never comes and plights his troth and plies his truth and treats me with tenderness and couth:

Then... forsooth.... fuck it, I have lived through far worse epochs, survived far worse monstrous men and their enabling poor excuses of Women (especially my own Mother).

When I go down to Valhalla it will be clothed in a raiment of such exquisite Honour and Beauty: bathed in my own Light even in my own raw nakedness, for I shall have the grand and sublime satisfaction knowing that I lived as best as I could in all my life circumstances and I simply Became.... The Tanya.

From the comment section:

Me: “Clean up on aisle 7: The Tanya is extruding like a colander full of pasta, leaking all over the place”.

“It’s okay, we’ve got this, we’ll scoop her up and staunch the flow and feast on her until we are well-satiated and there is nary a scrap or morsel left. That crazy delightful Bitch will flesh herself out again. It’s what she does.”

“Wait...what? What happens when she cannot rebuild herself again....?”

“Then we will feast on her Light in the next Dimension... love is Eternal! There is no escape. The only way out is Through.”

The Tanya: Nom nom nom, Motherfuckeresss.

(Falls over in her own slick Void and giggles).

Hello...hello....darkness? My old friend?....hold my beer, we got this!

Yeah I know, Baby, I knowwww!

…

To Lyn: my truest dearest Sister:

Thank you for saying you are proud of me. You are the only one who is.

There is/was so little of me to be proud of. But I hope in my small Hobbit defragmented, butchered but reconfigured way... I continue to make you proud. x

…

To summarise (for the people up the back):

Me, me, me, you treated me worse than a dirty whore, but I have survived, I have even thrived, I jive turkeyed my hide, so FUCK OFF/Fuck you/Fuck me...my own Defiance has been my greatest Virtue.

It will probably also be the Death of me some day, but it will be Worth it!

…

Timely Reminder: I don’t know who the author is but they speak to Truth ♥️

“Me: Hello Creator.

Creator: Hello...

Me: I’m falling apart. Can you put me back together?

Creator: I'd rather not.

Me: Why?

Creator: Because you're not a puzzle.

Me: What about all the pieces of my life that fall to the ground?

Creator: Leave them there for a while. They fell for a reason. Let them be there for a while and then decide if you need to take any of those pieces back.

Me: You don't understand! I'm breaking!

Creator: No, you don't understand. You're transcending, evolving.

What you feel are growing pains. You're getting rid of the things and people in your life that are holding you back. The pieces are not falling down. The pieces are being put in place. Relax. Take a deep breath and let those things you no longer need fall down. Stop clinging to pieces that are no longer for you. Let them fall. Let them go.

Me: Once I start doing that, what will I have left?

Creator: Only the best pieces of yourself.

Me: I'm afraid to change.

Creator: I keep telling you: YOU'RE NOT CHANGING! YOU'RE BECOMING!

Me: Becoming, Who?

Creator: Becoming who I created you to be! A person of light, love, charity, hope, courage, joy, mercy, grace and compassion. I made you for so much more than those shallow pieces you decided to adorn yourself with and that you cling to with so much greed and fear. Let those things fall off you. I love you! Don't change! Become! Don't change! Become! Become who I want you to be, who I created. I'm gonna keep telling you this until you remember.

Me: There goes another piece.

Creator: Yes. Let it be like this.

Me: So... I'm not broken?

Creator: No, but you're breaking the darkness, like dawn. It's a new day. Become!! Become who you really are!!"

*Copied *❤️🦅🙏🏼🌈”

…

snippets of writings from my diaries and other unfinished prose:

June 2012

There I was passed out, my face on Jarrod's chest- actually drooling on his T shirt, soaking in the comforting musky scent mixed with his aftershave or deodorant. I'd slept like that for an hour - the intimacy such as I hadn't experienced since early childhood with my own father.

It was a gift that Jarrod gave me, patiently allowing me to snuggle like that, his sister watching on, concerned and perplexed. In that moment I awoke to see her watching me and to become aware of my drool on Jarrod's chest.

We'd been watching movies on the VCR. I can't remember the movie or what led me to pass out to sleep like that, only the comforting babbling sound you hear in the background in half-consciousness, the smell of maleness, the comfort, the sheer peace of being coddled like that.

Jarrod in that time, had been father, brother, friend, comforter, (never lover) but way, way better-unconditionally loving and accepting. Something I craved then, something I crave now. I have always craved- unconditional acceptance.

My olfactory sense gave me other gifts of comfort and ease: I remember my best friend’s mother June Robertson. A nurturing, sweet, caring but emotionally fragile woman, my mother of the heart who lived 3 doors from me.

I still cherish her strong embrace and her teal blue chenille robe, the sensation of the material against my child's face, her cuddly warmth as I wrapped my arms around her full waist.

The sweet smell of womanhood and Lux soap or sometimes Pears soap. Her love which enveloped me like a cloud- she encouraged, nurtured, upheld me. She validated me, gave me a sense of worth and meaning.

She fed me with meringues she baked herself, lovely puddings, roast dinners, fish fingers, ice cream, custard with the most extraordinarily nourishing of all, her acceptance, her great love and her positivity, teaching me to Hope when all was hopeless, to strive, to keep going, to keep living. Even when she herself would struggle to keep hoping, keep living June understood my pain as it was a reflection of her own.

She would take to her bed for days at a time, mired in depression and Lynne and I would struggle to bring her mother out of the malaise, the grief, the slow mind-numbing despair which she suffered from.

June and I would embrace. I would inhale her scent, her soul. I would just love her, and often would be the one to make her laugh! She would delight in my impish antics and my childish giggling.

She would shyly raise her fingers to her lips in a gentle hesitant gesture, in a quivering grace, as though to cover her mouth, as though free frolicking laughter was somehow unseemly, forbidden but her eyes would light up and she would almost guiltily, join in laughter with me.

It was moments like these when I saw the girl inside the Woman, beaten down by disappointment, poverty, an alcoholic often brutal husband and the sanguine lack of compassion from her own child who was mired in her own pain and inculcated resentments.

I loved to see that inner passion, that sweet spirit, the ghost of the past, the potential for her future – her Light, her strength, her all-consuming abiding Love that would not lay down and die. That endured and held on long enough for her to finally get her freedom in her later years, after 26 years of marriage.

…

27 July 2019

27 July 2018

TRIGGER WARNING Child abuse, drugs, domestic violence and a little Unraveling. (And before you ask..I am ok. Muah!)

I just had a strange epiphany about my childhood. My mother lived on barbiturates and benzos during her marriage to my father. They both abhorred marijuana and nicotine and were anti-drug yet Gisela hoovered the slimming pills and sleeping pills and Valium with careless aplomb. She even had a thalidomide during her pregnancy with me. (Thankfully only one for nausea but miraculously she didn’t like it much).

Anyway by the early 70s, she was grinding her teeth and tearing at her hair and looked at me and declared “I sink zese slimming tablets are making me aggressive. I might just stick to being fat!” Tanya, aged about 10, nodded sagely with the patience of an already long-term trauma patient. “Good idea, Mum!”

Well anyway...I just realised that my father (a wild, verbally aggressive, occasionally violent man) never hit us but I was once thrown across the room by Angela in an effort to protect me from being bashed (my 3 year old personage was blocking the tv)

Well, I never saw any Valium prescribed for him. No Valium, nothing to quell his frayed temper and jangled nerves coming home from work (which was always precarious -he once held 3 different jobs in one day, sacked from all of them).

He drank often but I would not consider him an alcoholic. He would blow his fuse then grab his wetsuit and go scuba diving. Or there was the awkward and embarrassing time he rowed his dinghy far out into the Cook Strait and mysteriously lost his oars (or his Awe?). He was eventually rescued and brought back to our house in Island Bay.

The wooden dinghy eventually blew ashore in a storm (one of our characteristically howling tempests that were the frequent backdrop to my tumultuous childhood). Fierce, bitingly cold winds and driving rain, fog (I slept many a night with the sounds of foghorns and my parents’ screaming).

Was that watery sojourn on his dinghy an attempt at suicide? He never mentioned it. His Spiritualism kept him grounded, I suppose. Grounded yet ungrounded in reality.

Singing me Tiny Tim and plucking that ukulele with maniacal glee. Belly laughing as he sent subliminal messages to my mother by singing “They’re going to take me away! Haha hohum”. They never did.

God I am lying here with these sweet childhood memories of his masculinity and I can almost smell him. Old Spice mixed with ferocity and pheromones, washing powder and sea salt spray.

Why am I even remembering him? My progenitor that failed to protect and defend me even until I was 35, aligning himself with my mother and Buck the Schmuck.

What hold did my mother still have over him that he chose her and other husbands/lovers/male friends over the safety and sanity of his daughter?!

Well...no point thinking about it now. I am free. And happy to be without all of them.

Thank you for the Remedy. Cannabis and psychotherapy. Dancing and a few good friends. Love and Light amidst the supernal smiting from the Sefirot.

Thank you Cannabis, thank you Australia, Thank you disillusionment! Thank you dissolution. Thank you Re-integration. Thank you flawless imperfection. Thank you Beauty. Thank you Life. Thank you, all of it.

Fucking Fantastic!

…

Charlie just bit down on my top lip so hard that he drew blood and now I have a very swollen lip. So he is on time out in his cage and I am shoving an ice brick in my face. Psychedelic dreamer’s World. Never a dull moment.

…

…

Something magical is evolving in my tiny fragmented world. Fragmented as I have been cut off from so many aspects of my Self as a fully fleshed out thriving Woman on this planet in the Southern Hemisphere of the Western world on a marvellous marbled blue planet inhabited by myriads of lifeforms but ruled by often vicious Homo Sapiens, who are also ruled by capricious gods and societal mores and barely coherent social constructs.

I have failed at finding and keeping a loving nurturing supportive sexual relationship ie a life partner, a mate, a member of the opposite sex who I can trust with my heart, body and soul.

It would have been more fun trying to find a perfect fit (or even a good enough fit) if my early childhood programming (nah fuck it let’s be real here ...my early gestational wiring had not been so influenced by the hormones of aggression, attempted abortions yada Yada yada then compounded by childhood sexual abuse, verbal violence in the home, much instability and fear, physical attacks, constant soul-destroying invalidation of my humanity and femaleness, all of which I barely survived.

Then in adulthood I put myself in a long holding pattern by marrying very young, in a naïve but confident attempt (youth is wasted on the youth) to grab at life and create my own family but landed squarely in a long paradigm in a firing line as all I attained was more abusers cheerfully enabling my mother’s narcopathic and never-relenting invasion of my mind-space, family, hopes and dreams.

It took me until 2 years after her death (I was 47 and free at last), to even realise that now I could no longer measure my self worth or “success” in mere survival but in somehow attempting to Thrive.

It took until so many abuses compounded all at once on 22 August 2015, (a few months after turning 50) in a vortex of hell that had been bubbling and seething all my life - defamation threats, stalking and harassment by a pernicious vicious little woman at the casino, another false twin flame exposing me to even more deep shadow work (my constant refrain of unrequited love)

My nascent “work” supporting other survivors on csa forums during the Royal commission and discovering that my voice was valued and appreciated, if only by the very few, but then I was shunned and shunted, as my contribution on this planet was considered so minimal (from an academic and acquisitive standpoint) for me to finally attempt to end my life.

Well, not intelligent, not successful but emotionally the only sensible reaction to decades of bullshit I could come up with at that time.

It was/is the most profound gift also. I discovered something very beautiful had been born in that fugue-state window period when life/ Spirit recalibrated me.

I began to move forward, knowing that for me there is no get out of life card. No easy out.

I always joked I have a PHD in Life when in actuality I dropped out of university at 18 due to the culture of abuse I encountered while in student politics and decided I was depressed and could not survive in that environment.

Years later I dropped off my perch again (business owner with my abusive husband, high status as a wife and mother), and fell into the abyss of poverty and yes, more inherently violent abusive relationships that came along after that.

I floundered again and again and lost 30 years as a zombie. A shuffling drooling barely-functioning automaton. The only reason I stayed alive (and it was hard) was for my children. I was not going to let any of my abusive family members get their claws into them. As it was we were constantly threatened.

So Mama T/ The Tanya/Me has not made it in this life. I probably never will. My psychiatrist (who is a tad in awe of my convoluted mind) wanted me to go back to university to get a degree last year.

I immediately went into breakdown mode. I was furious for months. I don’t function in institutions. I have issues with authority figures (males who attempt to dominate me, lawyers, police, judges who don’t respect women or even do their job properly and decently, teachers). I arrogantly deny or subvert attempts to mould or mollify me into some sort of successful model of existence.

Why? So much was torn from me both literally and figuratively. I am underdeveloped and poorly whelped. Still so many parts of me are unintegrated and disintegrated.

I have the chutzpah to proffer my “expert” opinions on the pages of friends and on forums but really, I know I am a Schmuck. I say this with some hubris and some humour. For only a Fool and a schmuck can climb the mountain to observe the view knowing fully that She is, rather inevitably about to Fall again.

(As an aside I think that is why I loved it so much when on rare occasions in pubs I have been thrown up in the air and captured again by wild exuberant men. There is great ecstasy in The Fall! Or as my father used to quip “It’s not the fall that hurts it’s the sudden stop at the bottom!” Only the truly Fallen can celebrate the magic and wonder of being Caught in a millisecond of Time, protected, adored and placed back on our feet.)

The hero’s journey or the victim/survivors quest for integration in a disentangled world is ...humorous. Yet Sublime.

53 years in the making. 20 years of therapy. Still alive (but only because of my Beloveds - spirits and human friends- who were more stubborn than I). I am stilll holding on for a big big Love. (Maybe next life?!) 😉

Here I am - psychedelic dreamer, The Tanya, naked and sacred. Allowing possibilities and potentialities. Beginning the Beguine. With a whole lot of Nothing and empty pockets, a churning hunger, a slick soliloquay and Love in my chest, thrumming wholeheartedly and stoutly like a boiler room in the Titanic, supercharged by gruelling grinding men to feed that furnace as my personal ship surges forward to that inevitable iceberg (ahh but Dreamer you live in the sub-tropics..the ice will melt and your soul will Meld) “Fuck off Higher mind, you are Messing with my metaphors!”

Laughter in the Spheres.

————-

So here it is...again. I am taking up space and finding my place and loving my existence in a mindnumbing fast-paced sidewinding slippery sucker of a life. Is it good or is it bad? It just Is.

…

…

27 July 2017

Another spectacularly beautiful morning. So blessed and weirded out to be awake in the mornings these past few months. Psychedelic Dreamer no longer sleeps her days and is up all night. Big paradigm shift.

I must admit I loved having the entire night to myself with all the neighbourhood snoring and the quiet all around me. It felt safe. Sacred. The night was exclusively mine.

This winter (eerily warm weather) has been delightful. It almost makes up for me missing out on enjoying last summer due to all that tooth agony. I can only hope my teeth are pain free by this coming summer. I could not bear to suffer like that again. Also Byron is calling me!

Crystal will be back in December and I want to be well enough to cope with the hurdy-gurdy general meshugass of having a daughter moving stuff in and out of my house, plus the excitement of it all. I want to have a daytrip to Byron with my adult daughter and celebrate her home-coming.

Time is precious as she wants to move to Melbourne and I will "lose" her again, interstate. The Tanya, always Losing something or someone precious.

So these winter days, smiling down upon me (even giving me mild sunburn!) are my gift from Hashem to remind me "Don't worry! Be happy". Everything that is lost or stolen from me returns to me on the Gilgulim (the wheels of destiny), the karmic wheel and if necessary, in the next incarnation. I need only Believe..and wait.

I tell you this, after 52 years I am tired, so tired of waiting. But shhh...the gods have my back and are busy knitting while the reality show of my life unravels, drops too many stitches and dammit..they have to pick it up again.

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…

I was back in bed, feeling weak and dizzy as I had been grounding outside (sitting in the sunshine on the earth and it made me feel overwhelmed and dizzy - meant to be good for you!)

So anyway I lay here, dozing then heard Charlie shrieking in a strange distressed voice. (I had left him outside on his cage). So I leapt out of bed and ran outside to discover him sitting on top of his cage with a crow sitting on top also, facing him off.

Below him, on the table, another crow and a third above him on a low hanging branch. They had him surrounded! So I waved my arms and the crows (who know and trust me) flew off.

I grabbed Charlie. Gave him a quick kiss and put him inside his cage and closed the door this time. Phew. He is safe but that was a bit of a scare.

Now back in bed to soothe my shattered nerves.

27 July 2016

Omg! I love my friend Jarrod who missed out on 3 hours of his work to listen to me babble frothily and endlessly about nothing much. Complete with mad intermittent giggling. Love you, Man! (You put up with so much of my quirkiness!)

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27 July 2015

5.45 pm. I slept all day. Wow! I stayed up until 6.30 am re-stringing some of my beaded curtains, my bracelets and sorting out beads.

I watched Orange is the New Black as I pottered. Hours flew by. I was utterly exhausted when I finally went to bed.

My asthma and anxiety has been very bad yesterday. So it was good to just sit and relax and keep my hands busy.

Tomorrow I have a skin cancer check up. I have to keep an eye on my skin after years of sunburns.

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10.37 pm. Stayed in bed. Best place for me.

I checked my bank account and was surprised to discover that the missing $150 has finally been returned to me. After 3 weeks of struggle and stress.

Last night I even wrote to Coles Express Head Office. So perhaps that helped? I have no idea. At least the matter is finally settled. I can move forward again.

Time to get up and have something to eat and drink. I literally have been in suspended animation today. Too exhausted and sick to function.

Sometimes I just have to pull the plug and rest. I have been so strong even through 6 weeks of ill health but I used up the last of my reserves.

Hopefully tomorrow, I will feel much better. :-). Wednesday I have my debrief. Always much needed and appreciated.

27 July 2014

I slept all day. Losing another friend has really knocked me around. I am glad though. Don't need to be forced into caretaker role by someone who damages me.

I don't need more grief in my life. I have worked hard to pull myself out of a cesspit of Hell and can't believe I was willing to dive into another one to try to help avoid a friend from hitting the skids. In the end, it is their choice and life won't get better for her until she hits rock bottom. It makes me very sad.

I pray she is able to find happiness and peace again. As for me, Lone Wolf! Lone Wolf! My heart is wary of being used again.

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27 July 2013

At Crystal's place. No elvis tonight. Gail was tired also. I have a sore mouth, toothache in back molar. Suspect I will be banging down QE2 murder house doors at 6 am on Monday.

I dread letting those amateurs loose on my jaw, but alas poverty means government dentists get to botch up my face. I wish I had money to pay for the lovely albeit expensive Dr Speed. Meh!

I guess more root canal work is impending so they will send me to Kingston again. Grrrr!

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7.33 am. just woke up in incredible pain. It was not a good idea to dance all night on my high-heeled Docs when my feet were still painful from last week. Hmmm. I haven't taken any pain killers yet.

Tonight Gail wants me to go to Elvis Tribute night at Greenbank arseholes. I won't be dancing much and flatter shoes will be in order.

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4:33 am. On bus home at last. Phew! Had a guy hang with me after I sang and danced with George the Busker. I told him several times I was going home alone. I got a little worried he would get on my bus but he didn't. Nice Maori guy but too young, too drunk and too needy.

I recognised him from my nights dancing at the casino when they had the Livewire bar. He says he misses the bands they had there and now he gambles more. (Bloody casino killed the awesome nightlife there so people would gamble more. So that sucks!)

I missed the 3.31 am bus so hung out with George a bit longer. He was singing Pink Floyd and Hotel California so I joined in. Someone thought we were a couple which was amusing. He's a nice guy, a lot older than me but I enjoy his singing and guitar playing.

I danced at Elephant and Barrow tonight in Fortitude Valley. I met sarah x2 there. I had a great time dancing all night til I headed back to city. Boy do my feet hurt!

I saw a guy I liked but Sarah no 2 hooked him so I was happy for her. Later she ditched him again so I had a brief chat then went back to dancing. Some other woman grabbed him. I wasn't fussed. He seemed nice but I could tell he found me flamboyant. Lol.

At least I had fun dancing and drinking.

(Update: George is only four years older than I!)

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Home again to a warm affectionate cuddle from my boy, Zulu, and my girl, Penny. Bella was chuffed I came home too. Lovely night with a lovely moon but still pretty cold. I was thinking this has been the mildest winter on recent memory. Loving not having to run the oil heater full bore but still can't live without my electric blanket!

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Sylvia Shine: You should be here in Melbourne, you wouldn't say mild winter, it's bloody freezing, just like the cold and damp, i ran away from England, all those years ago. Yae god bless the electric blanket, couldn't live without it.Love.Sylvia. x x x

it's 4-17 am can't sleep, computer is a god send.

27 July 2011

I woke up about 1pm, showered, bathed Miss Bella (which for once she did not fight me on or run away and hide and actually seemed to tolerate her bathies) then dried her, brushed her lightly, and kept my promise to take her walkies as a treat for being bathed.

Result: one happy Perfect Pomeranian, one cold Mama with a slightly sore back because it was a long walk.

….

On Tuesday I was dubious about my Love card showing up on Tarot (after all this thing is computer-generated lol) but Love has been making cameo appearances in my energy for a while and each time I've said, Nah, not interested.

Now I'm officially interested. A friend is trying to set me up (I have way too many Mummys lol) but we'll see if I get a phonecall. Scary stuff! There Be Dragons There!

27 July 2010

Today I had a really long sleep in...feel a tad better today. Hoping I'm not going to get really sick in the next few days, so taking things easy.

Copyright Tanya Désirée Arons