Memories: 29 October 2025

29 October 2025

29 October 2024

Jarrod visited me today. I wore him out with my choronzonic psychobabbling hypomania. He went home at 7 pm, utterly drained. Other then that we had a lovely day. He brought delicious gluten free cakes we had for morning tea at 11 am and I provided pate and Brie, olives and a lovely chutney with crackers. So we both grazed on our “Tanya Party”. It was good to see him.

I realise that I am alone too often, that I get overly excited when I have company. Next time I will try to be more silent and listen better. Less psycho babbling. lol

29 October 2023

12:27 pm Day 8 of Covid. I feel very spaced out and dizzy from lack of sleep last night. I messaged Lynne in NZ and told her I am expected to receive $4K in compensation so I will put most of that money aside for my funeral but hope to come home to Wellington for a weekend so I can see her again. (And see Island Bay).

She said I could stay with her and she will cook me yummy food. I said I will pay for our food as I know food is expensive in NZ. I will try to get a cheap flight. I will need to get a new passport as my old one will have expired by now. Also get permission from Centrelink to go home.

Lynne was excited about the prospect of seeing me. (It’s been 20 years next year since I last went back to NZ!)

I really want to do this! I hope they manifest that money early next year rather that leave it too late. Time is precious.

29 October 2022

2:36 am Home from a great night of exuberant albeit utterly exhausting dancing. I left about 2 am. I felt like I was going to pass out from exhaustion.

I was very friendly and warm to several of the men (which is highly unusual for me!) They were nice men though. Respectful. Several kept asking me to fan them with my fan. It’s been very hot the past few days. They were wearing suits. So I obliged them.

One man grabbed me as I was leaving (not cool!) begging me to fan him again. It was an excuse to try to get me to dance longer but I was done for the night.

It was also creeping up to the 3 o’clock zone I whimsically refer to as “the 3 am fuck fest” when men who haven’t hooked up for the night start to get desperate and predatory. As I was beyond tired it was time to avoid all that.

One man who was very good looking who had been watching me dance all night, came to dance with me but he reminded me of my dead psychopath ex lover, so I did not encourage him. He mainly focused on the Asian women so I figured I was safe.

On the drive home I felt a deep sadness and a longing for that other dreadlocked nitwit named David. I had to remind myself that he is long gone now and I need to heal my mind body and soul before I ever allow myself to fall in love or have sex again.

9 years have passed and I am still grieving. Those bastards really did a number on me. All of them…all of them.

But I am slowly thawing my heart out. Treating the men with a mutable kindness they probably don’t deserve. Keeping myself safe and pristine. Waiting…always waiting for the big love that should have always been mine to arrive in my spirit and psyche.

I can’t afford anymore zombie men to drag me to hell with them.

Only real men need apply for top spot on the Tanya’s life/bed/ heart. Trouble is I still don’t know how to recognise them. So many masqueraders and marauders and yes…bores too.

I can only hope that one day the gods gift me the man who is worthy of All that I am and bless me with the right amount of Trust.

Time will tell.

…

11:11 am what does it mean that I am flooded with 11ses synchronicities lately. (The past few weeks intensely…). Why, nothing of course.

Just the universe reminding me that I am here on this planet. That you are here. That reality bites in the psychedelic dreaming but we are here on purpose. For what purpose other than to observe the angels with their mystical in-gatherings and sometimes Berserker mischief.

To be reminded that love is the law and all is One and I have time to yet manifest my highest long orchestrated manifestations. (And I thought my time had come…and gone!)

Humans know nothing of the patterning and guidance of the gods. We are as dust, as meat golems but so very beautiful that even the angels were envious of us.

What is our beauty? Our souls that choose again and again to love even the most ugly aspects of our selves and each other. We choose wholeheartedly to co-create with the gods and our Earth and we keep choosing even when it seems hopeless. That is our beauty, our integrity and our high calibre of soul expression.

Blessed be, my fellow Earthlings. We are not ALONE!

…

My decorations are almost all up. I still need to put out my cauldron with its mister. That can happen on Halloween I think.

29 October 2021

I went to bed at 12:30 am last night. So exhausted I was dizzy. As soon as my body hit the mattress though, my mind decided to spark in some weird supercharged enervation. I only managed a few light dozes until finally passing out at 4:30 am. Then woke again, at 7:30 am. Gahhh.

I managed to settle myself back down so just woke up at 10:45 am. So 6 ish hours of almost sleep will have to be enough.

This is the gift of asthma. Not breathing makes my brain work overtime in some weird hypomanic state.

Also the energy was lovely last night. It felt like an intense but grounding and loving shift was happening. Things will start to move forward again. The butterfly is emergent. Life is good.

29 October 2020

29 October 2019

I am riddled with anxiety this morning but all good. I am having a coffee with my beloved Beauregard at Amanda’s coffee shop which Bobo loves to go do with his Mama.

I even dived in to get a few groceries as I ran out of a few essentials. Bobo threw his classic tantrum when I went into Woolies but Amanda said he settled right down after that. She adores him and thinks he’s a good dog in spite of his epic separation anxiety.

Sophie was hard to catch this morning for her antibiotic which tells me she is feeling perkier too. She is even walking a bit more strongly. But I suppose she is not out of the woods yet if she really does have a bad heart and diabetes. So it’s just like any life. One day at a time. Sometimes moments of time that are just mindblowingly incredible.

I have been doing some deep thinking about my love and strong spiritual connection to a certain person. I went through all my recent posts and was both amused and a tad astounded that I had sensed their energy several times during the past month. Even without seeing them or making any sort of communication for the past few months.

I guess I don’t need to “communicate” in the physical. There is something deeper at play. I hope that it all just fades away eventually. But if not, may it be for Both our Highest Good, with love, truth, blessings from the Multiverses.

I need to be with someone who values and appreciates me and respects and adores me. I will not accept anything less.

I have lived alone for 25 years and it is not.so.bad! 😉

I will continue to enjoy my life in all its weird and varied delights and occasional circumspection and triumphs and traumas. Light and dark swirling like the cream on top of my cappuccino.

…

My wonderful friend Peter Sloane copied my writings from my last defunct laptop that I had gathered for my book (that might never happen) and saved it to a hard disk drive. I have been going through them, and found this status update and thought it was worth another share. I have not felt mentally well today. Swings and roundabouts. C'est ma vie.

July 11 2016

Trigger warning:

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You know, in some ways, it is hard to look at this childhood photo without some measure of pain. I was such a wild carefree joyous spirit. Even then, as a child. It is a beautiful photo as I remember that day, even that moment, being one of the happiest of my life.

As you can see, Rosalyn was much taller than I, even though she is 9 months younger than I. She has 4 older brothers. I had a half-sister 15 years older who married the year I was in this photo. Our only close friend, Rosalyn's and mine was Lynne Robertson. My true sister! Oh how we used to fight! Lynne was 4 years older than I.

But Rosalyn and I were like a dynamic duo. Bloody unstoppable. Plus we had the beach! We would tear at each other's hair, bite and kick, slap and scratch, scream and yell but we loved each other. We would take our scratches and bruises and be very devoted friends 5 minutes (or a day) later.

I still remember stomping up to her house one afternoon. Muriel, her Cockney Mother fended me off at the front driveway.

"‘Ere, you, you little Bastard, Look what you did to my Rosalyn!! (Get over 'ere, Rosalyn! Show Tanya your knee!)"

Rosalyn walks over, sporting a bruise the size of a side plate under her knee. I look in horror. I had done that. No denying it. It was Huge!!! But I held my little 6 year old ground. Head held high in indignance.

"Yes Mrs Hoedemaeckers, that was me. It looks nasty. Really bad but.." I bent my head forward showing her my scalp, "but this is what Rosalyn did to me so it is sorta even!" Muriel looks at my head where a bunch of my hair had been torn out of my scalp.

"Ohh shit! Well I suppose you little brats plan on making it up today then! Can you try not to kill each other today? You are giving me grey hair".

We nodded politely and silently in her direction. "Well bloody shake hands on the deal then". We shook hands. Then buggared off to the beach for our usual cavorting.

When I got home I got a stern look from my mother. "Muriel and I have agreed to not involve ourselves in your fights as neither of us know what to do with you both! One minute you are killing each other the next it is like nothing ever happened, perfect harmony".

For my part I had had hard-arse role-modelling. My fucking fucked up violent abusive parents. I had anger issues from being a victim of child sexual abuse when I was 6-8 as well (although I never spoke of that to Rosalyn I did eventually tell Lynne which was a heavy burden for an 11 year old to take on).

Together Lynne (my hero) and I opened the bonnet on Trevor Singh's car (Humber Hawk). Lynne tried to find the brake line as she (a very gifted well-read child who had already read every book in the childrens' section of the Island Bay Public Library so was now reading adult books in the adult area that were deemed appropriate by the Librarian) had read you could crash a car that way.

We looked and looked. In quiet desperation. But we did not know which line to cut so Trevor Singh lived. To continue to abuse me and very likely other children. I wish to this day we had cut (crossed?) that line. How different life could have been?

Anyway, here I am. 5 years old. Still untainted by the sexual abuse but accustomed to verbal/physical/emotional abuse and at times neglect from birth. Even Trevor was obsessed that I was properly fed and nurtured to a degree.

He took the hard gingernut biscuits (that I had hungrily smashed into my almost 3 year old freshly-stitched up mouth, fresh from oral surgery removing a tumour that had spread inside my mouth, lips and was even growing roots into my cheeks) and yelling at my parents and sister for thinking it was funny how hungry I was, how determined to eat even with a raw swollen mouth (probably still under the influence of the anesthetic too).

He soaked the remainder in milk and spoon-fed them to me. In that instance a better father/mother/sister than my own blood.

So the cognitive dissonance, the rage and the confusion, the love/the hatred for him who later became my sexual abuser (in his twisted disturbed fucked up mind I was his girlfriend/mistress/lover/companion) began.

So here I wonder why I never had a healthy normal sexual relationship with any man. The damage done to my little body and psyche had set a pattern for the rest of my life.

Love/Sex/Survival/violence all jumbled up in a soup of trauma and distrust, even loathing.

I turned out great. I was a beautiful, highly intelligent warrior-child who did not deserve her Fate. I managed (quite miraculously!) to not kill anyone, not even myself. I managed to avoid being a drug addict or a serial killer. I managed. Barely. To survive.

I married very young hoping for love and safety and got precious little of that. I did not know what safety felt like until I moved into my housing commission home 13 years ago. I was 38 years old. Even then I was not completely safe but had a place I could stay in, lay my head down and begin to heal. It took years. Still healing. But I am much older and wiser now.

Now I can laugh in the face of so much madness and collateral damage I endured in my entire life. Laughter. Banshee shrieking at doors and Lintels. Loudest and last. Is Best.

Fuck you to my family of fucks. My father used to instruct me "Vengeance is Mine Saith the Lord". He had a lot to fear from me. They all did. I knew who they really were. Monsters. Not under my bed, but in my bed. Not wispy raspy delusions inside my head but a daily and nocturnal reality. The reality that made little children want to put a permanent end to them.

Give me a child by the age of 7 and I will show you the (Wo)man." Here she is. Splendid creation of dark and light. Fear and fright. Love and hate. Amidst supernal powers of healing and compassion, even for my personal Monsters of Yore.

They took so much from me. My childhood innocence. My right to a safe happy healthy life. My mental health. My physical health. My ability to find or sustain safe loving partnerships. My ability to create wealth or even work. Finally they robbed me of my rightful inheritance.

They took and took, exploited, slandered, abused even started abusing my own children (which was why I kept moving house, kept escaping them). With no money and minimal support except for a few good kind decent close friends.

But I managed. I grew myself up, I grew my kids up. I did great. In spite of my huge limitations.

So now excuse me if I must insist on having fun before I die then spend the last part of my life (months/years?) in peaceful harmonious serenity with enough love and joy to sustain me. My star has risen but like a holographic Moon it may not shine its light of comfort and joy for very long. All things are temporary.

Rise and shine. While ye still can, my beauties. For when my light shall dim and fade to black out, I fully expect you all to continue to shine and light the way for others, seeking truth, joy and love on the journey to wholeness (Wholesomeness). I cannot do it without you.

…

The fluidity of timelines, slip sliding away, sponging in the shadowlands, the nearer to my destination, gifts of discernment, losing my mind and my religion and sexuality in the quest for true love and cognition.

It’s all fucking bollocks...innit?

….

22 June 2014

I had a spiritual mentor on Paltalk about 2 years ago, who is a Midewin, a healer a few ranks down from a traditional Ojibwa Medecine man. He was chatting to me online and all of a sudden I felt his energy as my body unexpectedly heated up (it was winter time!) I commented that I had noticed a shift in my body temperature and a lightness of being and he said he had tested me to see if I could sense energy so he could work with me. I agreed that I needed his help, as it was in the very dark days of the emotionally crushing Will Dispute and I was convinced that I was not going to survive it much longer, either physically, emotionally or spiritually. I was at my wits' end.

So he sent me healing and joked with me that I am a Mustang Kwe. I said “What's that?” and he told me that I am a Horse Woman, like a Wild Mustang and my energy is “Push, Push, Push” all the time which is why I get so worn out and exhausted from constantly running and pushing my way through life, obstacles, battles, even positive experiences I have to push my way through. I thought that was hysterically funny at the time as it appears to be so true.

My other totem is the Wolf which is why I am heavily protected, and very loyal and caring and protective of others, and my wild need to 'howl' or run amok on full moons and the onset of electrical storms. I was born to be Wild and Free, and spent my childhood by the sea, constantly fighting for my right to be safe and free, so I was down the beach or up in the hills every chance I got. I hated being home, as I was never safe at home.

Home was somewhere I went to eat and sleep and listen to my parents' constant rioting all night every night for the first 8 years of my life. Later with my stepfather, I wasn't safe either. He was quieter and calmer but a predator so I was careful to not spend time alone with him if I possibly could. This made my life very hellish. School was hell also.

There was no place that felt safe for me or was home except at Mrs Robertson's place as she was the only adult in my life as a young child who bothered to nurture me, attempt to protect me by providing a 'safe house' and there were several times she even hid me from my own mother during one of her rampages. I can laugh about it now, but it wasn't funny at the time. Everyone was terrified of her on some level.

So my mustang and my wolf totems work together to give me the best that life has left to offer me. Freedom, wildness, creating my own safety, love, passion, loyalty, companionship, respect for myself and my boundaries and the boundaries of others and a mischievous sense of humour. (My horse Asfaloth had a very wicked sense of humour so trust me, horses can teach us a lot!)

Anyway one night he sent me his energy signature, which was a wolf, and I saw its face and head very clearly and kind of freaked out, so next night I informed him that I had seen his wolf and he was impressed with me as I had no idea I was that psychic. I joked with him that if he violated my spiritual space with his wolf that my wolf would show her teeth and rip him apart. He laughed but agreed he would not send his wolf again unless I specifically asked him to do so.

During the few weeks, he worked with me, he sought advice from his medicine man, and the next time we chatted, he informed me he had spoken to his Medicine man about me. I was very humbled and impressed as a bona fide medicine man is a huge honour to be dealing with.

I thanked him and asked what his Medicine Man advised him to do with me. He laughed and said that he had told him about my life history of having difficulties in love relationships, that I am the Queen of the Unrequited, that I have had very soul destroying dangerous relationships with 4 psychopaths, and that I was determined to find love again but very afraid of making more poor choices. He told him I had been in therapy for years and knew what my main problems were but no matter how much I tried to change the patterns I still had difficulties. He told him that I was in a furiously embattled state for the Will Dispute and that he had offered his protection if I called upon it.

The medicine man had laughed and said to him, “I advise you to Tame Her”. I almost fell off my chair. I said “What??? Like the Taming of the Shrew?” and burst out laughing. My Midewin had never read Shakespeare so had no idea what I meant by the Taming of the Shrew. I had to explain what a shrew is.

Then I informed him that I refuse to be Tamed, as I like my energy the way it is. This is how I have survived monsters in my childhood of my own blood, monsters who were pedophiles, monsters who were husband and subsequent lovers, this is who the Fuck I am. To tame me is to take away my fight and my flight, and my will to live. To break me in, like a Wild Mustang would make me want to die.

As I did in my marriage, when I was constantly emotionally and mentally abused by my husband and mother. For the crime of being a wife and mother from the age of 19, who never partied or had much of an adolescence, who was faithful and loyal and did what I was told...nothing was ever good enough. I was always stupid or insane, or fat or ugly or wrong. Well they were the WRONG ones.

I spent 30 years of my life or even more, wishing I was dead, living a zombie-like existence. Going through the motions. Doing what I could to keep my kids and myself safe. I failed.

They grew up in trauma just like me but I managed to keep them safe from the worst. I never let them be alone with Cees, or Buck Scherer. I outed Trevor Singh when I was 6 months pregnant with Crystal as I did not want him in our lives. I did not want him anywhere near me or my baby.

It caused cataclysmic rifts in my family. My sister told me she would never have revealed our 'dirty secret' and I had damaged her reputation as a lawyer. I told her I was protecting my baby and I had protected her daughter when I was still only a child too, so she should be on my side. Alas, she never truly was. I found that out only 2 years ago when she declared me dead and let me down with the will dispute.

At any rate, I had done what I could to protect my daughters from the trauma of child sexual abuse and I failed as they grew up with my fear, and my worries and my suffering at the psychopaths I loved with all my heart, my family - people undeserving of a crumb of my love. I loved them like a beaten cowed dog does, and constantly went to them seeking validation and comfort and familial love and received nothing but more abuse.

So eventually my mustang kwe energy pushed and pushed until I could push no more. I got away from those people, I got myself and my kids away, and I started a new life. I was stymied again, by the new stepfather, the conman and my mother's descent into Alzheimers. She was put in a High Care Facility by his two daughters only 2 days after his death, as they had no intention of looking after her, and only wanted her house and money. I was not even informed but found out 3 weeks later by an anonymous caller who instructed me to go visit my mother as she needed me.

So the stupid dumb cowed wolf woman, went to her mother and licked the hand that had abused her for 47 years, the hand of a woman barely recognisable whose brain had turned to mush, but who upon recognising her briefly during that first visit to the home, said “Na ja, There is a lot of water under the bridge”.

This was as close to an apology I ever received from that monster and I cried bitter tears for days after but like a woman obsessed, to prove I was not like her or them, to prove I was a good daughter (as if I ever had to prove that to her....) I visited her regularly for the next 18 months and was totally there for her when she was dying and gave her the loveliest funeral I could manage. All gifts from an emotionally-starving hurt woman-child for a cruel, hateful, lying traitor of a mother.

For that I have no regrets. I got Me back. I found out who the hell I am, and what kind of woman I am and I got to be proud of myself. I got to stand up and fight during the Will Dispute, for myself, for my dignity amidst the heinous lies they had written into the will about me. A woman the Scherer women had never even met until the Guardianship Tribunal where I was once again, sold down the river.

So yes...Tame me when I am dead. Flog the dead Mustang. (I will still kick back even from beyond the grave, trust me on that one :)).

So I am writing about this because I had a funny thought last night. Crystal offered me to take in a friend's little Shetland Pony, to house and feed it at my house. I was really excited and immediately started making plans of how I was going to exercise it and feed it and buy it a winter blanket etc. (forgetting I have no money of course, but the universe always provides lol).

So a few days later she says to me, “oh by the way Mum, it's a Stallion!” My friend Jarrod got rather perturbed. He said “Oh great, a Stallion that will try to hump everything in the house (Unlikely!) and will jump the fences (Likely!) and will constantly bite you”. I momentarily freak out, as I am wont to do. I say, “Omg, Oh no, we can't have that! I can't have a Stallion at my house!” Crystal says, very dryly, quick as a wit, “Don't worry, Mum, All Wild Things find their way to your house eventually”.

There it is again. I laughed so much I almost fainted. The Wild things find their way to me. For love and light and healing but never taming. They have to live in my house and garden in perfect harmony or I discipline them, but I never Tame anything. Not really. I don't want anything or anyone Broken around me.

Even my pony Asfaloth, had never been officially broken, so I could only ride her on the homestretch back to her paddock. If her nose was pointed away from her home, I had to lead her on a leash like a dog.

So if that little stallion ever makes it to my house....guess what?....I'll be leading him like a dog through Whites Hill Reserve as he's too small and probably too cantankerous to even let a child ride on him. He'll be one more wild thing living free with me and I know, he will adore me for it. So here is my little energetic signature, my little stallion.

All my animals are eccentric and wild and highly unusual in their own way, and I am very unusual and we all get along fine. I love my wild things! All my friends are highly unusual, wild, free, and amazingly wonderful. Men I fall in love with are often very very unusual (in fact have been often psychopathic which is why I have been single for so long!)

The wild things will find their way to me eventually, so I am kind of learning to roll with that and being the wild thing that I am myself, to push push push my way through all those little niggling annoying obstacles and barriers to my sanity and stability, my peace and my joy.

Even my married friends who are respectable, and 'domesticated' and think they are quite ordinary and would hate to think that they are in any way wild, find that by hanging around me, I start to bring out their own little smidgen of wild in them that just makes them fire up a little bit and at least, if nothing else makes them shake their heads and have a good laugh and possibly when I leave have a good cry too, but tears of joy, because it's amazing how just being that little wild thing inside of us all, sets us free. Freedom and Love are the most beautiful things in the world, to me anyway.

So if I should give up my freedom to be with someone I love, they would have to be just as freedom loving and wild as me, but without diminishing each other's energy, without taking away from each other, without controlling each other.

Like as Khalil Gibran says in The Prophet, “Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. And stand together yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow”.

I would love that, to have an equal relationship based on mutual adoration and regard, to know that I am safe with him and know that I can trust him to love me enough to be loyal and faithful, and for him to know the same, that he is safe with me. That is very important, but Time Will Tell.

So my midewin friend sent me calming healing energy instead. That was 2 years ago. I have finally found a point in my life where I am truly happy, and in love (this time with a man as wild and free as I am and impossible to pin down, so I won't 🙂, as I would hate that being done to me!)

I am enjoying a euphoric state and my energy is like a cascading water fall, bubbling and frothing in a constant flow of delight. I have never felt this amazingly good or this beautiful, or this wild and free without anyone in my life to destroy me or break me down or crush me.

This is the first time in my life, I have felt carte-blanche approval to be me, without any taming or watering down or eviscerating. I am loving this point in my life. I pray I continue to feel this way for many years to come. It's been a state of grace hard-won but the rewards are so worth it!

Update 29 October 2019: just over a year later I tried to kill myself, due to defamation threats, and heartache over a man who betrayed me (rolls eyes), a female bully at the casino who tried to set me up as an aggressor when she had fucking harassed me for years (classic narcopath playbook manoeuvre) and my own poor health and vulnerability. Mustang kwe could push no longer.

Then again on 25 June 2019 that epic surgery... and the cascade of abuse and pet deaths that followed that when I have barely healed. hmmm but I am strong. Free. Determined. Better not bitter.

I have high hopes for my future. I dream of a safe loving happy life. I can see a possibility. if only the gods will smile upon me and align me with the right person who shall treat me decently, honourably, lovingly. It could still happen. 🥰

Heather Skene: 😊 sounds like you are in control Tanya. Did you get the stallion?

Me: No hon, the little fella never arrived. Probably a good thing as a few years later my mad elderly Romanian wannabe-rapist neighbour got two sheep and they were brutally mauled by stray dogs. It was devastating.

I was in love with the idea of having a little horse in my backyard though. I guess, technically I could still have one but it would need a lockable little stable or it would be in danger.

Anyway, I gave that idea up. Lol.

But yes, Wild Things make my heart sing, and they do eventually find their way back to me. 🙂

Heather Skene: I’m amazed that folk are actually allowed to have horses in their gardens. Difficult in your climate. Expensive for you too I imagine.🤔

Me: Weellll I am not sure it would be allowed. Housing commission threatened me to get rid of my fishponds. (Which I had here from the moment I moved into this house 16 and a half years ago!).

So I think they would have made me get rid of a midget pony too.

Anyway I no longer take my daughter’s offerings too seriously.

She once (as a teenager) told me she was inviting a bunch of her lesbian friends to stay over in our backyard in tents (as we did not have enough beds in the house). I got excited about all my visitors “my lesbian tent city!”

Turns out she made the whole thing up and I was so gullible I fell for it. Lucky I did not start cooking masses of food (this was when we were so poor we could barely feed ourselves, yet in that house my kids regularly brought friends home and their wealthy parents expected me to feed them when I was subsisting in $200 per fortnight on a Newstart payment. (Much less than the Disability pension that I had to fight for, for 2 years!)

It was disgraceful. My friend Gail regularly cast open my pantry and asked for tins of food to feed her equally destitute sister and partner, which I got pissed off about as the sister worked as a nurse so had a decent income but I was expected to provide for everyone.

CRAZY!!!!! But I survived. Somehow.

So no wild horses, and no wild women (apart from My own asexual Self!) chez moi!

…

Watching “The Patsy”. Art imitating my life...again lmao

….

What would it feel Like to be in a loving relationship with a man? Safe? Exciting? Nurturing? Desirable? Honoured? Sexually satiating? Trusting?

What if Dave is coming back? How can I transmute this roiling anxiety? Feel trust that he loves me?

He is with someone else. It will never happen. Yet my spirit, even more than my heart refuses to accept that! Why? He looked at me before he left, standing next to the 4 wheel drive. Was it relief he was leaving, or regret or a heartfelt longing? I may never know.

I must trust in the magic and fabric of the multiverses. I love him. Why? He has only ever been distant and at times cruel. But why then does he Look at me? Is it really a game or is he as lost and confused as I am?

Well maybe I am projecting. Wanting love from a narcopath. But what if he isn’t one. What if he was just afraid of my wild passion, my strength and my never-giving-up-on-him heart?

What is wrong with me? What is right with me? When will I get over this big love which goes nowhere?

Dear God and the archangels and all the spirits and ancestor that Love me. Help me! Whatever is for my highest good. Bring me the One whose love is true and respectful and authentic and who will choose me and delight in me for the rest of our lives together!

Bring me the One I love with all my heart, body and mind. Let him feel the same way about me. Help us both find our way to each other. To be together as a happy loving honourable couple.

In love with each other and our world. Surrounded by our loving supportive pets, friends, family, community/tribe. With harm to None. A loyal faithful devoted partnership that is mutually exclusive and overflowing with a deep love. Amen v’Selah.

But if it is Dave Charles...let him make contact otherwise I will feel like I am being played for a fool. (Why do I even think he wishes this when I clearly saw him with that other woman again???). What is going on that I am so determined to have him? It seems illogical, insane and impossible.

But that look that passed between us?.... Probably means nothing. So help me, all the beings that love me and wish the best outcome for me. Please! Thank you.

29 October 2018

1:57 am. Not sleeping tonight. Annoying! Probably excited about my nephew Mark Cohen’s arrival this evening at 6 pm.

I am so tired too. Been laying here since 11 pm. Psy sighs. Rest is for the wicked!

…

My nephew arrived and we all had a wonderful time together with Jarrod, and Crystal.

29 October 2017

Thanks Nigel for the lovely long chat and awesome readings.

I had another good night out tonight. No weirdness or fucked up crazy stalkers. “Alter egos” played hard rock which was much better than the cruise ship entertainment I have to endure at the casino.

“Moving On is not the same thing as giving up”. The Valley was packed. I didn’t check out any other venues.

Now home safe in a hot hot bath. My dog is delighted to have me back safe.

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Trigger warning: family dysfunction and heat exhaustive brain fry

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My half-sister Angela loved to self-soothe by singing to me while I was a young child. Her voice was lovely and I loved to hear her sing.

It has just hit me like a hammer smashing glass (or my teeth!) that her messages were often subliminal as she failed (or refused) to protect me from our sexual abuser.

One of the songs she sang to me was “Hush Little Baby” It goes like this:

“Hush little baby, don’t say a word”.

Shhh Be silent, be complicit, shut down, don’t speak, don’t use your voice for justice, for fighting off the oppressors, for decency, courage, for protection of the innocent. “Here’s five dollars, shut up and put up little girl, go buy some lollies”. “Here’s a few thousand dollars, shhh shhh. Don’t sue us, Jews don’t fight each other, shhh.

Ahh you walk on Tanya, while we destroy your reputation and your children and you will forever walk with a knife in your back and we will reduce you/seduce you and you, a true daughter of Israel will like it!

Victim blame and victim shame and we will treat you and your daughters with dishonour but you will accept it as your Din until one day you will shed the coat of many putrid colours of stained deception of rabbis who betrayed you with your own mother and of lovers who fucked and tried to kill you and still falsely stalk you. Dead and alive. Wow. Just wow!

But the Lord moves in mysterious ways and most of my enemies are smited or blighted and that temple that sullied me got embezzled by a gambling conman and raped by a gay misogynist who sold it out to another jewish cult.

I could die laughing. In fact I shall! Not a bad way to go!

“Papa’s gonna buy you a Mocking bird”

Corporate greed, globalisation, money will cure your dis-ease, you will be bought and paid for by the family or by the State, you will never be an independent entity, you will be laughed at/shunned/scorned/ Mocked.

“And if that Mocking Bird don’t sing, Papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring...”

The mockery is not enough, you must be raised to expect a bride price, diamonds are forever but they don’t keep you warm and safe at night, they lose value, are temporary symbols of a promise of a love to endure, a symbol of acquiescence to be a slave or a soulmate depending on your luck in choice of partner).

Who’s your Daddy? Do you sell your soul/your life/your body to a masculine power? Is it toxic masculinity or nurturing, protecting, edifying?

“And if that Diamond ring turns brass...”

If it is a worthless metallic tarnished shitfest, involving lawyers and their enablers to tarnish your reputation, break your spirit and destroy your financial status and divest you of home and business and future success? Then...)

“Papa’s gonna buy you a Looking glass”

Look deep within your very soul in the mirror image of all that is reflected at you. Scratch beyond the superficial artifices of masks and makeup, accessories and frippery. The mirror reflects but it also subverts. It is trick of light and refraction also reflection. A trap.

You will have to rebuild yourself from that broken brass ring that once was a treasured diamond (I sold mine in May after 35 years. That lie, that symbol of a long dead and treacherous love).

I looked long and hard at that mirror (psychotherapy for 20 years). It was cracked but light streamed through the darkest, most shattered pieces and the truth of who I am and of my life came slowly to my consciousness.

“And if that looking glass gets broke

Papa’s gonna buy you a Billy goat”

Hmmm a billy goat. Ok I lost the plot now. Symbolism of the goat has interesting overtones. Satanism, or freemasonry. Why not a nanny goat that brings at least milk into the house? Ahh yes, Papa is buying.

Goats are nice pets though. Always look on the bright side of Life.

The song continues with promises of a cart and bull (ability to ply a trade, make a living, manifest success) that might turn over, then a dog named Rover who may not bark (Loyalty, friendship, comfort also silenced or stymied out of its true nature).

Then a horse and cart (leisure, or trade, freedom of movement, domestication) that may fall down. Eventually comes the final promise:

“You’ll still be the prettiest baby in town”.

Grandiose grotesque narcissism. Only loved for appearances. False love. False promises. Dangerous.

But babies grow up. Leave the nest. Create their own adult lives and families and if you are lucky your efforts to purchase their love and loyalty delivers dividends of sweet love and connection unto the next generation.

But not in my case. My mirror got cracked, my life forces sapped, my dog is an arsehole (according to my envious daughter) and no sexual partner ever truly wanted me for a longterm relationship, except to abuse me.

Fuck that shit!

This pretty sweet little baby that did not die will NEVER EVER HUSH.

I will not be silenced. My oppressors will never Completely destroy me and G-d Knows they kept trying long after they needed to, to achieve their aims.

The moral of my story, my epic heat-soaked rant, my long awaited dogged pant, my slant of the meaning of my life as I know it?

Don’t give up. Stand up, sit up. Look up! Speak/write/sing/dance/Muse/Amuse. Express yourself.

Not everyone will like you or what you have to say but they don’t matter. You matter. Until, Nothing Else Matters (a fierce and wonderful song). No thing. Oblivion. But that is the rest of my story and that has not arrived yet.

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Last night while driving through the Valley to The Elephant hotel, I was stuck at roadworks, behind a large van (Uber driver) full of young women leaping about in their seats like primary school brats.

I am pretty certain the blonde in the back seat with the other two women was my daughter Jasmine. She did not look back over her shoulder but I caught her profile briefly as she lurched across to the other two “Mexican jumping beans” or her Chilean friend Tabitha. I just laughed to myself. I thought about winding my window down and yelling out “Behave Biatches” but what is the point?

I felt sorry for the driver. They really were annoying. Psy sighs! I made that! Lmao!

29 October 2016

29 October 2014

This morning at 6 am my little Rooster discovered his Voice. He crowed 6 times while I held my breath praying he wouldn't make a racket all morning. It was a lovely sweet melodic sound. Not like much larger roosters. But all the same...the neighbours will complain.

So I will put black cloth over the coop window and shut the nesting area so that he and his Mother are in the dark. Hopefully that will quell the cacophany. Awww! I loved it!

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I think I may have Septic Arthritis in my left foot again. I stepped on another old bone in the lawn. The scrub turkey cleared it out with all the mulch.

My foot is aching but that is not so unusual as both feet ache a lot after dancing on the weekend. I immediately washed my foot when it happened but with my low immunity I am not liking the outcome.

I have to take bus to Garden City then walk to my shrink so if there is a problem with my foot I will find out for sure :-). I hope like hell it is ok as those few days in hospital in March 2012 were harrowing. IV antibiotics are scary. I was seeing spirits at the hospital too. Which freaked out the male Catholic Nurse who was an Unbeliever!

The family of aboriginal people saw in my vision told me I was gonna be ok. I will never forget that vision. When it ended I told the nurse who freaked out and said I should not be hallucinating and muttered something about the psych ward. So I kept quiet after that.

He insisted that the PA hospital had never been built on Aboriginal campsites but Jarrod later told me that there is a small house-museum dedicated to the original inhabitants on site.

Anyway, up and at 'em. I have to get dressed and get the bus. Bloody windy outside today too.

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Now lying in my hammock with a mozzie coil, loving the breeze, with a good Book.

I was tired today, Dr Ross noticed it. Crystal was anxious and edgy driving us to her class in Paddington.

It is good to be home, chilling! I might light the lanterns and stay out here after dark and drink some more cheap wine.

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When my baby arrived to visit me, she said "Mum, it was creepy walking to your house. There were strange stars glowing red, blue, white and orange. I was really scared as I thought they were UFOs". We both looked up at the night sky and there were two planets, shining a blue light.

I said to her, "I see two large planets, but they are not flashing colours but they look very blue. Probably atmospheric."

I said "Don't worry, if the aliens pick you up first, just insist they fly over to 44 Diamond St cos you are not going anywhere off this planet without your mother. If they pick me up first, I will be yelling at them, ‘Not without my daughter!’”

She laughed and seemed comforted. Then drove home in my red machine! Aww!

I love her so much I would fight an alien visitor/invader to keep her with me. Don't ever fuck with a Jewish Mother and her progeny!

Meanwhile Scrub Turkey has worked industriously all day, scraping mulch from the side of my house. His mound is bigger and wider and he is serious about sharing Sacred Space with the rest of us.

So along with Mr Crow my other Wild "Pet" and the possums, my menagerie is expanding! Turkey buzzard beat up the Silkies this arvo, so I locked them in the coop so they could feed but they were so afraid of Scrubber they went upstairs and sat on the perch. Poor little buggars!

So I took them out again, kissed them and let them roam free while Scrubber scratched and kicked the whole afternoon all the mulch in the right side of the house!

29 October 2013

No power here but got a lot done this evening before I lost power. Planted the Anthuriums Lyn gave me, lit the lanterns, cleaned the filter in back pond (by torchlight lol), filled the pond, now making tea on gas stove by torchlight. Almost like camping except I will have a comfy bed to sleep in tonight.

I had a lovely dinner with Lyn and Peter and we watched the storm passing through. It was a lovely night! Lyn gave me some of her first crop of Tropical Peaches and Jaboticabas and Tomatoes. So I said a Shehecheyanu and am delighted.

29 October 2011

I've come home from a very bland Band night at the Kedron-Wavell RSL with Gail (we had to laugh at Cocoon up on the dance floor...the whole lot of them looked old, tired and like it was Saturday night pick-up night there...scarrrrryyyy).

To my delight, for the second night in a row, I have two loving owls huddling together in connubial bliss in the very same spot on my powerline outside my house. I pointed the owl lovers out to Gail as it is kind of unusual that they should have come back a second night to perch in the very same spot.

Now I have to google Owl Magic to find out if it is a good omen! I'm guessing a happy smooching couple of birds outside my bedroom window could mean luck in love...but then again the dears are birds of prey!

More likely they are snoozing and schmoozing and smooching while they patiently wait for meeces to come out to play!

29 October 2010

Another beastly Paralysis Tick bit me today. This time on my left earlobe. Now my earlobe is swollen and burning. I'm going to have to Nuke my landscape as this is the third attack in as many weeks. Bloody bloodsucking Vampiric Bugs. I should call them BUCK and SONJA and JENNIFER SCHERER.

29 October 2009

I am off to cleanse my body, mind and spirit with H20 and some chemical composite of soap, to beautify my exterior visage with Make UP (what a waste of time!) and to don something tantalising for my daughter's debut to the Agents of Brisbane in her Showcase tonight. I am so excited and I so hope she impresses them with her fabulous talent and magnificent personality. Lay them in their seats, Crystal!

Copyright Tanya Désirée Arons