Memories: 5 June 2025

5 June 2025

7:17 am barely slept last night. My nervous system went Supernova from the epic creativity yesterday. Oh my Goddess! It was intense!

Awake as I need to pee but then I am gonna stay in bed until Ratih arrives just before 10 am as I need more rest.

11 months of cpap therapy and all I got out of it is hypomanic creative flow states, greater inspiration, more motivation at times, but I still drag myself through with chronic fatigue and exhaustion, and still stopping breathing in my sleep and the epic struggle with my bladder. (Although that is behaving better…only got up three times last night!)

But…I am healing, I am in love with Life and I am pushing myself hard to achieve my little projects and to fight for my beautiful life that got kyboshed/ransacked/derailed by the COVID Epoch and other systemic abuses over the decades.

Every day is a triumph whether I realise it or not! The gods have my back and my Muses are killing me but I am seeing great changes in myself and reclaiming my Value in the face of my enemies who tried to debase and humiliate me.

Like my Pegasus cuff emblem, I fly too close to the startling sun drenched burn-out of Truth and my ass gets set on fire but I fly and fly and rise above the bullshit and ignominy each day and night. I keep my contract with the gods and my own self to enjoy Life in all its miraculous and fractalised manifestations.

I hold my line. I dance, I create, I live…fully and victoriously. Alone, or in good company. The Wise Ancient Ones know best. I must trust in their guidance, with courage and with Corazon.

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I just finished working on my “Grimoire”. I decided to put a leather “binding” on the “spine” of the book. I used an old scrap of leather that originally had belonged to one of my mother’s handbags. (She had two the same so I gave one to charity and one I cut up).

The leather is very old and cracking but I gave it some polish I bought for my jewellers bench and then cut it to fit the Grimoire. It just feels like a nice finishing touch.

5 June 2024

Busy day. I got up in the morning and still only pajamas, I washed my car. It was filthy. Then I got dressed and drove to Supercheap Auto to get the new rear window wiper I had ordered, installed.

Then I went to Bunnings to buy a few things. It took forever to find the deburring tool.

Then I drove to Aldi to get groceries then home again to unpack. Then I made my daily vlog for YouTube.

Tonight I have my sleep study.

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Mama T is wired for “sleep study” sound and vision. Let the shenanigans begin..wait? What? Nevermind.

Update: 6 June 2024 6:45 am

5 June 2023

I worked hard today. Coating the sign and cuffs with Protectaclear. Then taking photos and sending them to Jarrod to upload on my Titania’s Realm website.

It was a miserable grey day but I managed to take Bobo and Charley for a walk.

I am still feeling tired and recovering with my teeth. They were quite sensitive when I are a hot pumpkin soup but other than that no pain.

Another day in Paradise.

5 June 2022

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“Are you dead yet, Mama T?”

“Not yet, Bobo, not yet!”

“Good…gimme the fucking ball!”

(It was tucked under my chin!)

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2:58 am I am starting to feel a tad psychotic! Reflux constantly since I attempted sleep from 10 pm. Not sure what aggravated that but it’s been 5 nights of that (since the skin cancer excision). My entire upper respiratory tract feels like someone punched me.

Sleeping in 30 minute to 2 hour increments. Tossing and turning with hot and cold chills and the reflux. Asthma. Slightly better but still quite bad.

Bladder:irritated. Every hour needing to void.

I am starting to realise that I must have gone through this the last time I had such severe slicing and dicing in 2015.

I am trying to remain calm. I have Valium here. Old Valium but have been trying to manage without medications.

An hour ago I frantically searched through my remaining stash for reflux medication as that is the most bothersome. None. I have not renewed scripts for that shit in years.

I guess I could drink some bicarbonate of soda in water! But it’s bitterly cold so I have gotten up for the twentieth time tonight and am now making warm hot chocolate. Anything to soothe my gut.

So no, I am not dead yet but I am Starting to think death is preferable to this constant agony and discomfort. Rinse and repeat with second cancer on Wednesday. I don’t think I can do this again.

5 June 2020

11:11 am. Good morning. Awake in the psychedelic dream. Truth, beauty and a picture of you (and me ...and all humanity).

5 June 2019

8:03 am. I have been awake on and off since 6 am because of the cats and poor Bobo who keeps vomiting after I gave him his heart worm prevention chew on Monday.

I feel upset as I don’t want him to die of heartworm but Bravecto made him sick (I no longer give it to him and now the heartworm treatment makes him vomit too.)

So I am lying in bed with both Bobo and Penny. Exhausted. Nurturing us by keeping warm and cosseted.

I actually saw the sunrise briefly when I let the Beau outside to pee and spew. Then I went through my memories on fb (as I do every morning). Interesting to see the metamorphosis of The Tanya lmao!

Oh well, one day my life will make sense. In the meantime: rinse and repeat, prune and grow, breathe. I got this.

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FACING THE HAG while sipping tea in my Sacred Space garden! Priceless, prince-less but sublime.

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Trigger warning::: Child sexual abuse and trauma processing

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The past few days I have been processing old traumas. Many relating to when I was 6 years old. I am writing stories from my life in my head, then screwing them up and casting them to the wind. I have written them a thousand times before but not in so much intricate detail. (It scares people). It makes them look at me as a freak of nature. Unclean. Unloveable. Untouchable, Unwanted, Unworthy.

My adult self has learned from decades of experience that only some of that is true. But then when I look at all my love affairs and casual encounters, how all those men reinforced my pre-programmed emotions and traumas and how each time I had to grow back, reclaim my womanhood.

Gain mastery over each and every abuser. Climbed cragged unyielding mountains in my quest for freedom and flight. Only to end up endlessly alone. But never fearless. I have lived in fear for so long that even death has no grip on me.

So I am asking Miss 5 (6...7..and 8, and 9). What does she want me to speak of? Nothing new under this son of a bitch. No. Just intricate detailed memories that demand to surface.

Mama T pushes them down. She is good at that. Protects her precious infant child that no one loved enough back then to protect or fight for or defend. Mama T has been at war all her life. With men, with the State, with the gods and with the foulest handmaidens of abusive men, their enablers.

This war is never over. Always more attackers on the horizon. But I kill them with a look now. Sometimes with a Mona Lisa smile that wisely hides my Banshee shriek of death. Dickheads.

They know not whom they toy with. I have back up. My own back is up. Hackles of a cat that fell from a rooftop on a house by the sea, screeching and hissing and pissing blood and the spiritual dreaming as she fell. My little vixen. Alive and well. Fattening herself to self modulate and prepare for the next battle. Why? Things are settling down. Why this preparation? Why won’t my body and mind rest easy?

Hmmm. Trust I must in my own inner knowing. Let shit go. Climb higher. Look down and truly see.

Little girl. Alone. In a sea of enmity. Pristine naked body. Scrawny legs and knobbly knees kept tightly together. The axminster woollen carpet scratching into my back and buttocks and backs of my legs. Eyes focused on the gold curtains. Ignore the panting stench of lust and garlic breath and the smooth hardness thrusting on her belly and the sticky white ooze he spews onto his big man’s handkerchief.

Ignore the fact that no one will save me. The gold curtains have patterns which become mocking faces and merge with my consciousness. Little girl. We see you. We hear you. We will keep you alive.

He tells me if I tell anyone he will kill them and then me. I already know my mother does not care. I begged her not to leave me alone with him. I wanted to run to my friend’s house where I know I am Safe and there are warm hugs and meringues.

But instead my mother, enraged at my rebellion, throws me into the patterned glass door that separates the living room from the kitchen. I hit the glass with the back of my 6 year old head, bouncing off it. For a moment I feel my tiny body spread-eagled against the glass. In a very slow motion I slide down the door.

I feel myself merge with the glass. Please don’t kill me, I think. I cover my head with my arms (my usual default state when dealing with my mother) and slide. An eternity and a second later I hit the floor and wait...for the shattering shards to smother me with a love that cuts deep and true.

The glass does not break. I feel nothing. Not even relief. Saved again by a fortitude not of my own design. I look up and see her face. A mixture of dumb fury and a shade of shock. No real remorse. Just surprise. I look into her eyes and I realise that this woman is not safe to be my mother. That there is no escape. She is Mine. Suck it up Buttercup.

I don’t remember what happens next. Maybe she made herself a cup of tea and took a Valium. I don’t even cry. Too world weary. Too tired. But the spirits in the curtains and in the glass remind me. I can survive them. Uncle Trevor and my mother. Later Uncle Cees. My father and my half sister. Survival. Is it worth it? How long is a piece of string?

By the time I met my husband I was 17. He sets me up to be seduced (to be complicit in my own rape). He wheedles and nags me to get into bed with him. It’s almost dawn and the rest of the party guests have left.

I tell him I will sleep beside him but keep all my clothes on. I put my shoes beside his bed. I tell him if he touches me I will scream and fight and walk home, which will take me several hours but I will Do it. I will get there. Home. Huh...I never had a real home in those days.

He lets me rest and miraculously does not attempt to rape me. I mistake this for actual love and respect. A folly. I am merely being lulled into a false sense of security that I later mistake for actual caring.

I am complicit in my own entrapment into adult sexuality. Two children later I am still naïve and think that by marrying so young I have saved myself from attacks by men. Utterly brainwashed by my abusers.

My nephew has told me that his mother told him that I was a cheap little slut. It is not I, that was ever cheap. I married my first boyfriend. Desperate for love and safety I actually asked him to marry me twice. That is how much I feared dishonour and being labelled a Slut.

But little girls with no protection from the Patriarchy and the filthy henchwomen fellating and betraying other women...we are sluts anyway. Just for existing. Being alive. With warm crotches to be plumbed by debauchery.

So in later life...I became the Slut I was so falsely accused of being in my youth. Sluts rise and shine. Own their own bodies and fragmented reconfigured minds. Our souls fly to G-d and back again. Never divorced from our unique Oneness.

The ones despoiled and broken: we grew back. Kinstugi-ed and powerful. We loved our inner children and we loved our own mastery (mistressy? Mystery?). Hahaha. Insane. All of it. But sublimely beautiful.

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Trigger warning: betrayal

I am also trying to work out why I was gifted with so many Protectors in high places. Like the Three Rabbis who were put in the uncomfortable position of defending my honour, not once but several times. Or the spirits that decided to save me back in 2015.

I am grateful. Don’t get me wrong. But don’t underestimate me either. Why have I been kept alive through so much horror when so many, so many other children and young women were murdered?

I survived three strangulations. By going within and calling upon my own higher Self. But this was just luck or fate which is always precarious, precocious and fucking ridiculously Fickle. And my attackers and assorted enemies got away with it. Soothed and smoothed by that other giant penis - the State government. Fuck you!

Thank you to Rabbi Uri Themal OBM who fought valiantly for me and with me in 1990 against the Nazi libel. It is a source of great pain, like being sliced by a razor blade in my guts that he was “turned” by my mother’s vicious lies and those of her con artist husband back in 2002.

That he shifted his loyalty to my German mother as after all he was German too, and oh how German parents believe or buy into the narcopathic Kultur that our children deserve to be victimised and that our cutting contact to save our own hearts and minds and even Souls is seen as the worst betrayal.

When the real betrayal was allowing men to rape/molest us as children and then letting us defend their honour when they had no fucking honour or respect for us, their now adult children.

I cut ties to keep myself and my kids safe and like a fool I let Gail manipulate me into going back to “look after” my mother only to receive further abuse: both interpersonal and Systemic.

Thank you to Rabbi Jaffe for having the wisdom to see through all the evil bullshit. For standing with me and letting me purify my body and soul in the Mikveh after the filthy dirty abusive stain that was David Davidson. (Something my much respected progressive rabbi fought him about!). Ridiculous.

But HaShem cleansed me and gave me enough strength to carry on with my brittle fractured life. Over and again. Reconfiguring, purifying,healing.

Even with major gynaecological surgery in 2007. The angel Gabriel came to me in a dream and told me “We can rebuild you!” I was horrified, freshly divested of a diseased womb and newly repaired vaginal cavity.

But my spiritual womb is rebuilt. Out there in the ether. Gifting me insights and birthing new paradigms. One spiritually orgasmic convulsion at a time. Not bad for a woman who gave up on sex years ago.

So here I am...going nowhere. Loved by no lover man. Scorned and spurned and hated. But alive and unfurling my coat of despotic despair.

Shuck it off. Naked in the winter’s tale. Fearlessly flawlessly free. To. be or.not.to.be....Me!

5 June 2018

3:17 am. Utterly exhausted as is my wont but have woken up grateful and happy and feeling much loved yesterday.

My dentist, a beautiful sensitive loving caring gracious and supportive Indian woman treated my tooth then advocated for me to have the final stage root canal completed by herself, rather than have me outsourced to a specialist at Beenleigh. She had to negotiate with the Rottweiler admin personnel which was insane and a tad comical.

While I was still in her chair, my eyes closed tightly as even though she is gentle and kind, I find dentistry increasingly traumatic and vulnerable she calmly and patiently said to me “stay with me” which I was grateful for, as she had correctly observed or intuited my soul leaving my body as She does so easily and quickly during stressful situations.

I found myself drift back casually and naturally. This old fractious broken wounded body/mind/spirit of mine.

Then waiting for her to advocate for another appointment for me with admin. A look passed between us of solace and humour and resignation. She is a sweetheart, my dentist. She gets me.

In all my rage and frustration with my disintegrating teeth and chronic nerve pain and my weird gallows’ humour (I quipped I would be a toothless Crone with a very big stick in the not-so-distant future). Both she and her Russian or Serb female assistant laughed in bathos and camaraderie. Sweet!

Then I came home to meet up with Jarrod and Crystal and Crystal drove us to Mt Tambourine and Jarrod bought us lunch and we frolicked on a famous hill. I had to call Crystal on her mobile as she locked me in the car like a bratty child, and one simply does not lock The Tanya inside her own vehicle, so I joked it reminded me of my childhood and I did not particularly enjoy that loss of freedom and control the first time around. So she let me out to frolic gaily like the errant inner child I barely contain within.

Both Jarrod and Crystal were convinced I would fall to my death at the bottom of the hill leaving only my clogs behind. So I stomped around barefooted and carefree and a tad rebellious to mark out the terrain with my stolid Hobbit feet.

When we got home I purged more stuff (my extensive library of old books, some I have hoarded for over 40 years) and Crystal and I drove to Vinnies to deliver them. Half a car load.

We also raced to Woolies arriving just before closing time to shop for our dinner and instead of our $5 challenge we used to have to do when she was a teenager we did the 5 minute shop for dinner challenge.

Then we came back home to cook and prepare dinner. Crystal and I had bought hot chickens for $2.50 each as they were selling them cheap (a metziah -bargain-from HaShem to thank me for donating so much stuff to charity - One is never diminished by giving away).

Crystal bought Jarrod rump steak and cooked it for him as he can’t eat cooked chickens with stuffing and had already felt unwell with a gluten-spike. So we had a lovely meal then watched tv for a while.

Jarrod also fixed my steam mop which was great as I was reluctant to throw it out just yet.

A happy productive day!

It is now 3:51 am. I might attempt sleep again. It could happen! :-)

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This morning I have my mother’s and mine) friend Sylvia Shine with me. She died several years ago and she was one of my “mothers” who mentored me or meant well for me and loved me even from a great distance.

She was a Cockney Orthodox Jew who was a sheer delight. Swore like wharfie, was a bit of a scheister (made money from hawking) but was wild and authentic! I loved her.

Anyway she was the one who told me about the horrific endemic child sexual abuse in London during even her childhood. (Which broke my heart as back then in 2000 I was still idealising jews and Judaism and thought we all had family purity and decent wholesome families.

It was not until 2015 that I found out via the Royal Commission how horrific and widespread CSA was/is even in Jewish communities. A horror so profound that I almost suicided that year.

Anyway, moving on: my English Rose tempestuous “Aunty” Sylvia is why you are all prisoners of my poison pen on Facebook as she insisted it would be healing and give me back my voice/my muse and let me express some deep truths about myself and my life experiences.

She and her husband would often look into each other’s eyes and yell

“Fuck Maisie!” who was their matchmaker, with both humour and a touch of cynicism. They had a long and uproarious marriage until Joe died!) (I can hear her yell “that bastard, I did adore him!”

Anyway now you can all sit back and yell “Fuck Facebook” as my muse was an 85 year old woman who like me, was extremely fond of the truth and being heard!

Anyway I raise a glass to you Aunty Sylvia! You wonderful woman. I hope you are proud of me and we meet again some day. You are one of the very few adults from my soul group (the other is June Robertson) that I ever want to meet again in my next incarnation. Both survivors and both very kind Souls.

If there is a G-d and I get a say in it, I pray all my filthy enemies are not foisted upon me ever again in any future gilgulim, but that my saintly mothers and protectors and guides meet up with me again.

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Bit chilly tonight. Might be time to bring out the heater.

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5 June 2017

The neighbour's 2 sheep are bleating. My own little rooster crowed (but only after I opened the coop so they could go out to play. He hasn't realised he is supposed to crow at dawn yet. Hopefully he won't. His voice is not too loud so I will try to keep him unless some arsehole complains. He is a beautiful Silkie rooster. Very sweet and loving.

Those sheep make more noise than he does. But it does not bother me. I rather like the sound of the country in the 'burbs.

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5 June 2016

I woke up after only 6 hours sleep. I have Emailed the Israeli Ambassador re: Malka Leifer. I have signed and shared 2 petitions. I am never going to give up on her victims until Australia has her extradited and brought to justice.

Our governments have blood on their hands. Enough! No more silence!

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I went dancing this weekend. Both nights. Today I woke up with a super-charged energy roiling inside my body. Adrenalin? Euphoria?

My body is primed and ready for anything. Even with only 6 hours sleep.

I have had a wonderful happy and peaceful few weeks. The happiest in decades. But the past few days have resurged my inner warrior again.

The Israeli Courts setting free Malka Leifer is an astonishment, a horror and a grave injustice to her rape victims.

So I am up out of bed, churning the organ grinder's monkey, striving for justice for her victims and those of us whom will never see it in our own lives. Be brave! We have a responsibility to ensure that the scourge and government-sponsored genocide of our most vulnerable is finally stopped.

There is no excuse. No religious/cultural/sociological/philosophical/political excuse for allowing and standing by or actively enabling (in this case by flying the criminal and her family to a safe haven in Israel, knowing the courts would protect her there!) child sexual abuse.

It will not go away. If you don't see it…The suffering, the addictions, the mental health deficiencies, the suicides, the broken hearts, homes and relationships, the zombie-ism that comes from barely existing in a world that doesn't see you, validate you or care about you simply because you were a wounded child and of no value… then you are an abuser too.

Wake up! Stand up! Be counted. Even if only amongst a few rare birds who care enough to try to do something.

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Just had a call from Lyn (the woman who has loved me and supported me for 28 years: sister/mother figure/mentor)

She said Mohammed Ali's mother told him to leave the world a better place than when you came into it.

Words to live by!! Lyn and Cassius Clay's mother are right.

There are things in the past we can't fix or change but there are things we can do in our own lifetimes that will change the course of justice, sanity, well-being for those that follow us.

Every little thing, no matter how seemingly insignificant will create an ocean of positive Love and Change. Be the Change we want to see in this world. Our world! Today!

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Bowel issues. Most likely from 2 nights of epic dancing. Grrrr!

I have stopped the antidepressants entirely as of today. So the flu symptoms are gone but the tummy is still churning. This too shall pass like a shit in a cesspool.

But I am feeling stronger, happier and more determined to live my life by my own integrity.

Trauma means that one minute I am teetering off the top of a 100ft diving plank, bracing myself for the triple curl into the deep oblivion of the watery abyss. Next I am free-falling, flying, twirling, whirling dervishing, streaming with life's blessings and life's peace, the next: a vacuum of grief sucks out all the vitality and joy and serenity leaving a void so intense that you are less afraid of pain or death than that dull emptiness.

Then in another few minutes a glimmer of light seeps under the crack of that dark dull soundless, emptiness. The place where your heart feels dead but the beat remains. The sonorous thudding monotone of life's promise. The body has its own rhythm and its own stubborn cleaving. Breathe in breathe out. Soul, mind. Brain, heart, gut. Synchopated sympathetic response.

Eat, shit, Sleep, Dream. Awaken, Think, love. Do it all again. Fall. Fail. Flail. Rest. Get up. Lie down. Get up. Jump, dance. Drive, Fly, Sail, Skate, Ride, Slide. Grow. Flow. Become. Be. Respire, inspire and require!

Be alive Long enough to Thrive. Believe! Concieve. A life that was stolen can be rebuilt. We have the technology. We have the blood the sweat the tears. We face our fears. We shed the ghosts of others' traumas. We are 6 million dollar men women and children. We are gods. We are the stuff of stars. Even in our scars and imperfections and false perceptions. We. You. Me. Us. One!

Blessed be the Holy One who creates the World anew for us each and every day, moment. Heals. Revives. Loves.

Makes us wiser. Stronger. Better than ever before. Leaves none behind. Carries us. Holds us. Protects. Defends. Nurtures.

The earth our mother, and the universes our "father". The circle of completion. Tikkun Olam! Heal the broken and lift up the fallen and Bring peace : justice, unconditional love, righteousness to all the worlds. As above so below! Now. Forever! For Real.

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You can't tell from this angle but he is smiling!

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Loving the sourdough bread Sally bought me. Every mouthful is heaven.

5 June 2014

I have been fighting a hater on a friend's page, who was attacked for fighting for justice in the jewish community, and is a decent person who I support completely.

I have also been horrified by the level of Atrocity brought by Nuns in the Bon Recours sect against innocent babies and children born to poor and disenfranchised irish women. Most of whom had been raped.

800 babies thrown into a septic tank. G-d only knows how many more!

I feel very traumatised, given my own attack on Friday night where I was punched and spat on for the crime of being a woman and saying No to a Thug. His friends thought that my saying No meant I could be brutalised and had it not been for Security I am sure they would have severely beaten and/or raped me.

All I can say is: Haters Gonna Hate and I have suffered so much in my life from my own biological family, from paedophiles, from bullying throughout my entire school life.

From my marriage and subsequent divorce, from former lovers (who tried to strangle me!) but

From so-called friends who savagely attacked me. Even from a shul I was a member of for 15 years.

It's almost unbelievable and so incredibly painful to this day, how much Hate I have survived and fought back. Just getting up each day and continuing to put my faith in humanity, G-d, Nature and allowing myself to live and Love in spite of my life experiences.

So Haters Gonna Hate but You Will never destroy what is pure and beautiful in this world. You will never kill Love in my heart and soul and I would rather die than let you kill others' right to a happy free life.

I am more Powerful than any of my oppressors even imagined in their wildest dreams. I have blossomed again, and my roots are strong and the air around me is fragrant and life-affirming. You can send your stink my way, but I will only return it into the world as Light Love and Bliss.

I have many jewels in my spiritual crown. People who genuinely love me and have demonstrated this love over decades. Without your steadfast love, caring and loyalty, I would not be here.

I honour you and love you and bless you. You show me every day that my oppressors were evil, lesser mortals who count for nothing except to highlight the real beauty, love and goodness I have found in so few but so rare friendships in my life.

I pray that every wounded man/woman/child/creature stumbles across angels like you. You are what make life so beautiful and worthwhile.

I prayed constantly as a child to be surrounded by love and to be safe. It took decades to find you and to get to a safe home.

In many ways I am still not safe, nor financially secure, lack a partner to share my heart and soul with but I have so much more to be grateful for.

My journey continues and I know who will hold my hand, even into the Light. :-)

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I am feeling a little fragile. Jo is taking me out to meet a friend of hers today. So that will be something nice to look forward to.

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5 June 2012

I had a remarkably good day today. I visited a psychic to receive some interesting insights. Then later visited my wonderful Psychiatrist who is also amazingly insightful and 'connected' to my personality and humanity!

I feel so Blessed to be Seen and Heard and Understood by such wonderful empowering people.

5 June 2011

I've had a great night. I went out alone for the first time in years to the Casino and danced all night. I had lots of fun on only 2 drinks all night. I met some lovely women but didn't 'connect' with any males but just chilled all night. I usedthe Nightlink bus which was ok too. I might have do this more often.

I am so glad a man from my past made an inappropriate proposition to me. It's been a watershed of healing. It gave me the fury and courage to go out alone last night and led me to realise that my last bf letting me go was a huge blessing and I was able to tell him so. Finally free for new experiences, possible connections and being empowered to be myself: empowered and loving it.

Now I've discovered how much fun I can have going out by myself, dancing all night and free to talk to who I want with no time limits or control from others, I will be able to go out more often and gain more confidence!

At 46 it seems rather embarrassing to have only just had this epiphany and journey of discovery but Wow! Better late than never!

5 June 2010

A good day. I went to shul for the first time in months, but really did not enjoy the cheesy false grins from some of the people who let me down very badly recently. Especially since I told them to stay away from me in future.

Oh the irony. Makes me ponder the point of organised religion when some people are such hypocrites. Oh well live and learn and notch it up for future reference LOL

From the Comment section:

Lol I agree with you Rebecka, G-d Sees All, including my blasphemy and grudging religiousity spent with much dodgier people than I. The sad thing is I am scapegoated as mad for living on a Disability Pension but some folks out there are crazier than I. Hohum. One of the funny things about my life is I just realised I'm not so bad or mad after all. LOL.

I am deeply hurt that people who fought for and with me in the past have conveniently turned a blind eye and let me down now when all I asked for was validation about the facts of my past. Gees. It's not like they don't know what I went through and to fob me off now, just bloody insulting and disgraceful...I guess their perfect worlds and perfect reputations must be protected from the diabolically poor and disenfranchised.

I am so glad that I am dirty poor, disabled and untouchable. I am also glad the G-d knows what I have been through and I'm sure loves me anyway, in spite of my aggrieved Human Condition. LOL

There is a certain power in knowing who you are, and before Whom you Stand and not giving a buggar what anyone else thinks of you. Which is why I, as the Token Mad person, get to say what I think and feel and carry on regardless.

I sleep very well at night also, cos I always maintain my personal integrity. I never let anyone down when they need me...or not unless I am totally unable to assist and then I give a good explanation why not.

I don't believe in kicking people when they are down or ignoring a genuine plea for support. So shame on those who have done that to me. They can smile their ghoulish smiles but I know who they truly are and I know how badly and how churlishly they have failed me.

A valuable Life Lesson I believe.

Karen Reviews: Hey there! Wish I'd known you were going ... I would have gone too, it's been 8 months for me now! I totally get where you're coming from with 'organised religion' and 'hypocrites'. But I think at the end of the day God knows that too. And at the end of the day God loves you and it really doesn't matter what anyone else does or doesn't do. It hurts to be let down. And hypocricy drives you INSANE. But God will never ever let you down! Sorry if I sound preachy, but when I have my own struggles with that sort of thing I always remind myself of that :) It makes it better. I hope you had a wonderful Shabbat! Let me know next time you're going!

Copyright Tanya Désirée Arons