Memories: 6 July 2025

6 July 2025

Blah blah vocal media bot trolls won’t let me post today’s update. Parse error. What on gods’ earth do I pay for this nonsense for? (See Facebook status of even date). I will make it a public post. So annoying. I can’t preserve my own writing on my own account that I PAY FOR.

6 July 2024

I had the most fabulous time at the Brooklyn Standard last night. Everyone was joyous and full of light. Ramjet were so sweet to me (as always!)

They played Zombie for the last song of the evening and I went off, albeit straining very hard to NOT do the full 360 degree mosh with my old lady neck. I almost slipped into my former glory! But I threw myself into that dance with great power and passion and intensity and it felt….wonderful.

One younger woman approached me to tell me that I looked beautiful! Which was very kind and sweet. Another (handsome but too young) man came to stare at me in awe for a while. I studiously ignored him but he approached me and danced beside me so I danced with him. He was actually quite lovely.

However he put his arm around my waist in an affectionate half hug kinda way and the moment my friend Juddy in Ramjet noticed the guy getting too familiar, he leapt up on the staging and threw him a “don’t fuck with The Tanya” look and the young one backed off instantly. I was so happy to see how very much loved and protected I am by my friend.

I literally bloomed like a radiant queen of the night flower (that only shows off its radiance once a year!) It was gorgeous!

Thank you Brooklyn Standard and Ramjet and also Alter Egos who play alternate Friday nights, for all your indulgence of my wild passionate Dance and for loving me and keeping me safe so I can do what I do best: go a little bit mad to the music and get into my Zone and “bloom”.

Mama T loves you all! I really enjoyed creating our unique brand of magick last night. When the Vibe is right…everything just flows perfectly. In abundance, peace and great great joy! Muah!

Oh I forgot to mention: one of the other highlights of my night was at the beginning when Ramjet were setting up the stage and Juddy handed me his electric guitar to hold for him. He sorta dropped it into my arms (like a precious child). I had no idea it was so heavy and I almost fell to my knees from the unexpected weight of it!) but Mama T is powerful and held onto that guitar!

Jokingly, Juddy said “You can play it if you want!” So I fumbled with the strings and pretended to play a few chords. I was just thrilled. Then he said “Now you’re part of the band!” I nodded happily and enthusiasticly.

Watching the security guard across the room look at me in awe and amazement at our little cosplay was …gorgeous! lol. Thanks Juddy for making Mama T look Cool! :-)))

6 July 2023

I had a bad night last night. Up all night sloshing my bladder with the vigour and stamina of a race horse. Not cool. Not funny either. I found sleep a mission improbable until after 8 am when I finally succumbed. I woke up at 10 minutes to 1. Wow.

I got up, took a shower, dressed then sat outside with Charley and Beauregard, listening to Linda Moulton Howe and Russell Brand podcasts. But I soon became restless and as rain seemed to be threatening with black clouds everywhere although it was 20 •C today so it felt quite humid, I hurried to take the dog and bird for a walk.

We stopped to play with Rosie who was as usual delighted to see us. Then carried on with our walk, visiting Blueboy and also Miss Koko. Peter told me all about the Australian team winning the cricket.

I let him explain the game in minutiae as it seemed to make him happy, whilst Miss Koko looked deeply into my eyes as I held her in my arms, quietly giggling, as she knows I could not give a flying fuck about sport but I was being a good sport letting him indulge in the gameplay. Hilarious!

I got home, and was visited by a hard broiling hunger (it was not quite 5 pm!) I cooked up two chicken schnitzels and rice and devoured them Viking Berserker style.

It’s 6:07 pm right now and my spirit is still asking for more food. Argghhhh! But I am holding off as I enjoyed my meal very much but I need to save food for tomorrow, and in fact the next few days as I don’t get paid until Tuesday.

Living my psychedelic dream, while constantly praying for Truest Deepest Most loyal Faithful Love and enough prosperity so that I can feed myself properly and have security for my older age. Hmmm.

It could happen…but at this late stage of life…it would take a miracle. However I am a very good manifestor and with the grace of the gods…miracles and magic truly does happen daily! ;-)

6 July 2022

I am grateful to both Lyn Sloane and Jackie Burns for your sweetness and staunch support of me today.

I love you both xxx

…

I am being systematically culled. I just received a phone call from my doctor’s receptionist (!!!!) to inform me that I need to have a PCR before getting an appointment tomorrow morning for her to “listen to my chest”.

I said “what do I need a pcr test for? I already gave you a negative rat test the other day, so you know I don’t have Covid?”

The receptionist quavers and tells me that pcr will pick up other respiratory issues. I smell bullshit!

I told her “So I am being made to jump through hoops to access basic medical care now. Frankly I would rather die…so No!”

I hung up. End of story. Decision has been made.

My doctor knows that sending her receptionist to do Her job would enrage me, so it’s tantamount to killing me.

She could not even take a proper scraping of the fucking fungus on my toe that she has refused to treat for over three years. She handed me the scissors to do it MYSELF! The medication she recommended “Gardochrom” is no longer available at any chemist.

Frankly toe fungus is the least of my problems but this is just one example of her negligence or lack of professionalism.

How dare she, and the medical establishment (and Vets) discriminate against me when I do not and have never had…Covid.

Imagine how actual covid patients have been treated?!!!!

….

THE ONLY WAY FOR EVIL TO FLOURISH IS WHEN GOOD PEOPLE DO NOTHING.

…

I am still very ill today. But I am writhing in fury!!! FB has taken down the video from June 23, that was doctors and scientists meeting in Brisbane, speaking out about how they had all lost their careers due to our draconian Covid regime.

One female anaesthetist wept bitter tears. These people have given their lives to save people’s health, not to be driven out or censored for daring to say No to what is as obvious as the nose on our faces. These were well educated Specialists!

Not your ordinary person on the street that is being jostled like a swallow murmuration, not knowing which side of history to land on.

I land on the side of TRUTH. That is the only Value in our tool boxes that will keep us alive now.

My gp has given me only one course of antibiotics. For my longstanding lung issues that are not related to Covid. I have (not as of even date) even had Covid. So I have rung for another script as I am Still coughing up yellow phlegm and still unwell.

This is what we have now. Incompetence. They have to wait until she comes to work to decide if I merit more antibiotics or not.

Never has this been managed in this way. Just saying.

My only remaining daughter is slipping away from me now. The truth is too much to carry.

Well…I am probably fucking dying anyway…so I will take my truth with me. I will write it on the skies, I will send Angels to whip the hides of every demonic infested bloodless cowardly Cur.

We have been poisoned since the 1940s. (Or even earlier my grandfather, with mustard gas in the trenches in WW1!!!!)

We were poisoned with Agent Orange in Vietnam, later “Round up” (glyphosate) and after that GMOs and now this current unleashing of an orchestrated hell on a global population for which we are unable to think clearly or fight back as it is too big and too terrifying.

Our few “partisans” (scientists and doctors) brave enough to speak out are deregistered. We are now left with the lazy, the cowardly, the complacent and complicit.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK????!!!

6 July 2021

Latest acquisition. Handmade sterling silver spoon by David Barrett. I “accidentally” bought this as I bid up by a dollar and did not expect to win it. Thank god for Afterpay. Lol.

I was really furious with myself but decided it was an important lesson on being more careful when buying on auction sites. I decided it would be okay.

Well it has arrived and I do believe I in fact, got a bit of a bargain as the blue stone looks like an opal to me. So as they say in Aussie “I am a happy little Vegemite!” You gotta take the bitter salty wariness with the sweet.

I have not decided yet what to make from it. But I think if I can manage to solder a jump ring to the 3D kangaroo it might become a pendant. Or I might just leave it as a spoon as it’s so adorable that way. Anyway…Aussie Aussie, Oy! Oy! Oy! The “Lucky” Country …ffs.

6 July 2020

Yesterday at drumming some woman asked me why I wear purple? I said I wear lots of colours. (Trying not to roll my eyes). She then told me I reminded her of Mary Poppins.

I giggled. I said “That is not such a bad thing. I almost brought lollipops for any children that might come along. But I forgot so there goes my “spoonfull of sugar”...we both laughed. Quite frankly one never knows what I might pull out of my handbag or Top hat. It’s certainly not rabbits. Hahaha.

Then she said she thinks I am a white witch. I smiled demurely. “Yes many people think that. My grandfather was actually a very powerful Witch so I guess I can be considered one too, via Ancestry. “ But I told her it is not polite to out people as Witches. A bit like it’s awkward when you out a Gay person. There is nothing wrong with being either Gay or a Witch but it is just a private thing in polite society. She understood.

Then she told me at the end of drumming that an energy had stepped out from behind me and walked in front of her and blockaded her when she started describing me as a witch. I laughed. I said “I did not do that!”

She said “No you were quite tolerant about it but something with you stopped me from Speaking further”.

I have thought about that. I was extremely angry when Tischia screamed out in a full hectic Turkish restaurant in January that I was a Witch. That cost her my friendship.

I do not keep people in my life who act uncouth and lack decency or dignity. I was sooo very very angry about it. My former friend Karen aligned with Tischia so that was the end of that friendship too. I don’t miss them. They were toxic.

So this lady yesterday was unaware of all that or that it might be a trigger. So I smiled sweetly and let it go. But I am well aware of the pernicious bigotry I lived through for the past 55 years.

If I do have an ancestor or “higher power” protecting me like yesterday then I am grateful. Never Fuck with The Tanya.

They can put that on my epitaph one fine day.

…

One diary left (320 pages) and 28 pages of the second last one. It’s killing me. So many reminders of the evil filthy traitors in my life back then. I am glad most of them have either died or fucked off to be “awesome” somewhere else. They don’t have the power to hurt me any more.

Some of the women in my community were treacherous borderline backstabbing harlots without integrity or decency. They wreaked havoc and tried to enable the complete destruction of myself and my kids. One lives overseas now. The rest. Better never ever come near me or mine again.

Still they played their role so magnificently out of envy and spite, squabbling over that psychopathic cock supreme like he was some prize. I was the only one who had the guts to stand up to him (which like all Abusers he seemed to greatly admire!). But he is dead and I am free of him at least. His squalling corpse brides can rot in hell with him. I’ll wait....!

Meanwhile I have been struggling lately to come out of the depths of putrid ugliness that showered upon me since last year’s surgery. I held on to hopes of love but again realised it is only another sick game. The only way to win a game is Not to play!

This cyclic repeat of sick perverted karma is getting rather old. I would like to break that broken record and find a partner that just once is not out to annihilate me.

Little girls’ dreams are free but Warrior Goddess psychedelic swirling dreams are costly. So I know how that goes.

I have been happier though. Burning Teddy and cutting out the residual blocks from my tormented tortured childhood was the absolutely right thing.

It allows the spheres of my existence to rotate and bounce off each other like cogs in a mechanical watch to lock into place the right kind of love and life for me. You see ...giggles... the Dreamer still believes in her own faery tale magical existence...which is adorable - but without that fetid Hag they call Hope I would not still be alive and dreaming my present future past self into some kind of purified, rectified glorified existence.

Breathe...now. A sunset ... right now. Everything is safe and perfect in my life right now. But I must not forget the illusory mercurial sidewinding mirage that sneaks up on me in any moment. After decades of it it’s hard to trust in other humans, or even life. So I must trust in my own Self and my Gods.

…

Jack Daniels ...actually. I must buy another bottle. I finished the last one last week. It lasted a fairly long time too. Sigh

….

I wrote this on 17 th April 2020. I find it rather interesting. So re:sharing!:

Life is a Dance. We are forever spiralling up and down, through mood states and in some rare cases Mood Disorders. Dancing with the duality. Life and death, Rich and Poor, Giving and Receiving. Healing and Disease or Dis-ease and disarray. Light and Dark, each containing the remedy of the opposing Forces.

Without our stolid grip on the earth with Gravity we would not ever have studied the skies (the Supernal heavens!) and watched the birds and longed to fly. In flying too long at sea even the wisest oldest Albatross longs to place his feet on solid ground in a safe harbour somewhere. To be nurtured and cherished.

As we age (speaking for myself here), we are forever meeting the same challenges in ever-concentric circles in the cycles of our life. The bottlenecked squeeze at the point of emergence where we again fly out into the opposing spiral of the symbol of infinity. (My dead biological grandfather’s favourite symbol) the upside down 8 (not actually upside down but lying down at 180 degrees).

Not actually an equally-sized eight as I learned on a show on Gaia but a fat bottomed 8 on the edges. This made me smile...but only because it perfectly demonstrates the asymmetry of the universe and I am a big-bottomed buxom Jewish Viking Warrior Goddess... so somehow that suits me well.

Dancing was extremely valued by my mystical Witch Grandfather Antoni Patula. Also by my equally mystical great grandfather Thomas Phillips who was famous for dancing the Irish jig and who actually performed in pantomimes.

He had flaming red hair and sang beautifully. I am a bit confused about him speaking in an Irish brogue though, as he was born in NZ. I assume he had learnt his accent from his parents.

I myself took to dancing wildly and “ecstatically” only in the past 8 years.

I had finally lost the fear of other people’s cruel judgement and gave myself to the Dance in a way that many found confronting.

One woman was so spiteful and envious of my newfound hardwon Freedom that she harassed and bullied me to the point of suicide (although 2015 was my most horribilus of all my annuses - so she was only one disgustingly cruel pernicious seeping wound!)

So today I declare to the multiverses and my Self. No more running around bleeding on unstaunched unresolved stigmata from the past. I acknowledge the love I poured into cold reptilian evil schmucks. The love that I felt had been desecrated and wasted and debased.

My love was/is/real but I am not responsible for the treacherous people who lacked enough cognition and grace to receive it. They have their Walk, and I have mine. So I send them the power of their own unique spirit to remember who they truly are and to let them go with a smile and a curtsey and perhaps in my own time and space...a courtesy.

…

Reposted from 19 September 2019:

He studies me like a lab rat. Tweaks at my soul. A pinch and a punch for the first of the month. He watches my emotions seethe beneath my skin. Learns the ones I bury deep to sink like cankers in my watery depths. A cancer waiting to bloom until I scream my streaming into the nightmarish dream.

He watches from the shadows or the edge of the abyss. Sees me falling into the rabbit hole but waits for me on the other side. (He won’t enact his own Fall). I write him lovesick sick sick poetry and beg for his love. I curse and proclaim my accursed farcical fate.

But still he watches. Afraid of a love so immense that it even terrifies and stultifies my own Self.

I let him go in an agony of eons but still he comes. My friends scream “he’s here!” Thinking they are being protective. But I need no protection from him. For I have called his spirit and he and I are bound by something dark but also light and lovely. Golden lights never lie even if they threw us both into sabotage and distrust and chaos. Hell even I know that!

I never had a man love me before. Not like that. Body Mind and Soul. Bound by heart and some ancient ancestral kinship. “It’s spiritual!” But evil would not let me have him.

It is probably for the best. Envy and spite tore us apart and kept us apart but ultimately, the heart knows it’s Beloved.

In every world and paradigm. From the oceans’ depths to the galactic summer sky. The tsimtsum of Creation. Pushing and pulling. Breaking down and rebuilding. Desecration and slaughtering of my kinstugied heart. But look how it shines! A jewel in the firmament. A crown created for a broken little girl who made her love Sublime.

Utterly ridiculous. What kind of Fool, am I? Well...Darlings...the very best manufactured by trauma..fool.

I will kiss you in four places and call your name to the blue summer sky.

Hmmmm. Spirit with her cryptic sardonic playful messages again.

Psy Sighs. Psychedelic Dreamer is grateful for the beautiful weekend I just had, for the Love and Acceptance, for the Dance amongst the Sephirot. For the tender approach of friends:old and new. For the laughter. For my indomitable spirit. For the passion.

Time to get on with my day. Shalom y’all x

…

Reposted from 2 October 2019:

Today I declare to the multiverses that I cut/destroy/revoke/withdraw any contracts with any beings whether human or non-human that hold me back from thriving as a woman/spirit/person in this planet. I want what I want and have for a very very long time.

To be in a loving partnership with an authentic partner. To be surrounded with my loyal loving friends and family. To be part of a tribe/community that values/respects/cherishes and if necessary protects me.

To be financially abundant and free of all governmental controls so I can afford to travel the world and live comfortably in the place I always dreamed to be. To be healthy, whole and wise. To Become more joyous, loving and safe than ever before.

Of course our planet requires healing as much as I do. I pray to be a part of that paradigm shift and enhance the already rising Divine Feminine in my tiny Warrior Goddess ways. I want to Blossom and continuously grow in a beautiful positive life-enhancing way. I want to witness everyone wake up and witness the Earth in all her fullness become redolent with life-force and spirit again.

I want what I want and I want it Now!! With harm to none! Thank you Multiverses. Xxx

Reposted from 29 October 2019:

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: intrafamilial incest.

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 anaesthetic 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.

…

Totally agree… I have lived with Death since infancy. Choosing life every day has sometimes been the most difficult thing. But I am a Warrior Goddess. I have survived and fought Narcopaths, Paedophiles, psychopathic raping strangling soul destroying partners, poverty, trauma, divorce, disease, and systemic abuses that piled up on top of all that for 55 years.

Some days I can’t comprehend how I did it. I had help from my Earthangels and no doubt the Holy One as well!!!

My psychiatrist says it was my innate Defiance and high intelligence that kept me alive. I dunno. Maybe I was just lucky a few times too.

But life is worth every scrap of morsel of every degrading experience that ever came my way. To see laughter in a child’s eyes, absolute admiration and awe, to see a sunset or last nights moon with the planets in alignment. To see my own growth and strengthening into the Woman I am right now in this moment. Miraculous!

I am both astounded and grateful.

6 July 2019

I woke up after intense dreams about moving into a haunted house that was haunted by at least 3 spirits who thought they lived on a ship. They were quite malevolent and could fully manifest. They wore turn of the century dresses. One even baked me an offering of little pies. I took them outside and placed them next to a fountain for birds to take. But people came by and took them instead.

I went to the real estate office to tell them my new home was seriously haunted. They admitted they knew. I was slightly annoyed about that. There were other aspects to the Dream but I can’t remember them all now. The interior of the house was painted white. Everything seemed white. Hmmm.

I did make a small offering to the Fae and tree spirits at my former dead wannabe-rapist neighbour’s house on Thursday afternoon.

I had been under full blown spiritual and emotional and physical Attack with my surgery on Tuesday 25th June and notably the demolition of his house and the uprooting of all the trees on that land began at that time.

I have not had any contact with my daughter since the awful fight on Wednesday 26th June. Not surprisingly I am not even bothered by it. Only so much one woman can take.

I am Very conscious of the fact that whenever my body is seriously sick/had surgery that I seem to suffer some kind of hellish spiritual attack as well. Some of these have been constant in my life which lead to my suicide attempt in August 2015 and continued long after with constant teeth and nerve pain. Now the gall bladder removal. Bits of my anatomy extracted since 2007 has become rather a theme.

I read this morning about Michael Hutchence having a head injury after being punched out in Copenhagen. It caused him a sudden personality change that culminated in his suicide.

I have had a few bad falls in my bath where I smacked the back of my head. I have to keep a rubber mat on the bottom of my bath or I fall. I was also punched at the pub. (But not in the head!). Concurrent head traumas though (my mother constantly hit me in the face to the point, my paedophile godfather Trevor begged her not to, as he worried it would damage my teeth. It did. By 13 I had my first abscess.

Then she abused me for years for having a blackened tooth. Then “lent” me $2000 when I was 20 to get my first crown as the black tooth made me look ugly and like a “hobo”.

As soon as I came out of that dental surgery, still bleeding and swollen she demanded the money back. My then husband had to borrow money to pay the evil sadistic bitch back.

I really really should have completely cut ties to her back then. But I was so accustomed to her abuse that I just shrugged it off. The grief however has never fully left me.

So after the will dispute ended in September 2012, I have a dental implant and new crown but after 2015 I had several teeth pulled with agonising dry sockets. That evil spirit wanted me toothless and soulless like her.

One of her chairs is still mouldering away on Cavendish road. I wonder how long before that horcrux is completely gone. If my life will finally heal when it’s gone?

In the meantime...I endure. 🙂

Update: I walked Bobo along Cav Rd on Sun 21 July and was relieved to see that Mum’s remaining piece of that modular couch had finally been disposed of. Except for a few remaining pieces of foam.

I had experienced a few happy days so thought, ahh maybe that is why. The horcrux is finally gone.

(Although much of her China is still here)

…

What a glorious morning! Something truly beautiful is manifesting in my spirit today. I have been lying in my warm bed, ably protected on each side by Beauregard and Penny. Feeling greatly loved by their animal spirits and yes by the unseen ones.

Thank you for your loving message this morning Louise Winton my Irish Jewish angel who loves me so fiercely all the way from Manchester. Thank you to Laura Martin in Ontario Canada who constantly keeps me precious. Thank you to Megan who constantly reminds me of our warrior goddess Rising and Shining. Thank you to Catherine also.

Thank you to those who say nothing as they know not what to say or do, but send me their loving energy.

Thank you to the gods, the angels, the elementals and most of all to Gaia who nurtures me daily and gently lulls me through dark times and the brightest most glorious momentous bliss blitzes. Who holds my energy deep in the bowels of molten lava and takes it and seethes it and transmutes it and sends it back to me so I can once again, know Happiness.

The war is a righteous one. A worthy one. I am so honoured to have stood up, even in my most weakest and vulnerable, and fought against abuse and injustice yet again.

Maybe my efforts are ineffectual. I shall probably die alone, unloved and untouched by human men but that will be my greatest glory. For I stood beside the Divine Feminine and I shook the temples of the patriarchy down to the ground, screaming and trembling in awe before gods of my own innate understanding and like Shimshon the only way they could negate me was to “cut my hair”... or silence me, rape or marginalise me. But I grew back. Time and again. Across all paradigms and vortices.

In the face of all deception/betrayal/slander and my own perpispacity. In the face of my own poverty and doubts and fears and rivers of tears and agonies imposed by an unworthy society and a body reaching its final declension but yet still healing itself and raising its standard on the fields of carnage that steal our honour and our womanly pride. I yielded to no abuser nor their handmaiden.

I sipped from the golden chalice of the gods. I was well cared for and satiated. Just when I thought Love would enfold me, he slipped away again. But I have watched him peeking and seeking behind the crowds. Silently yearning to gain control over my heart and mind. Afraid of a warrior goddess and her limitless love and her still-blossoming Potential.

I wish some day he can come back to me and know my heart was only meant to nourish and nurture and to be cherished in return. True love is a gift that is given both ways. An energy that builds and climaxes and cascades, Again and again.

With or without you. I love you as soon as I open my eyes each day and I love you as I close my eyes each night. A love that emboldens and unfolds even though we are apart as you never chose me. Haha. What fucking epic knavery!

I lay here thinking of all the men who stole or purchased or claimed a piece of my heart. The same whimsical games played over and over again. Even amidst platonic male friends.

I remembered sweet young Efrain who after a boxing match, full of Mexican pride and fire, yelling at me to get away from him. I had started to look at him with love which was confusing as at that time in my life I was in love with that devil Davidson and I was truly disturbed and broken and shattered so I was cleaving to anyone who treated me with any sort of kindness and I am grateful to Efrain who saw my suffering and did not take advantage of it.

A kind decent loyal friend. I remember running...up an embankment and far away. I was upset, of course. Rejection hurts. But we remained friends over the years and that is a far greater privilege than any roll in the hay.

I also remember the early years with my beloved friend Jarrod who verily saved my life in those most hellish sadistic days when my marriage crumbled and my mother stepped up her campaign of terror. Without his and Lyn Sloane’s staunch determined love I would not be alive today and my children would have been raised by bloodcurdling practising paedophiles and their henchmen.

So I never regret wanting a different life for my daughters but the abuse was so entrenched that they too, became abusers and that, my friends is how my story begins and ends. A useless unmothered woman who like a Fool dreamed of better or safer or kinder or different but yes, accursed I was, with the inability to break my chains.

So in the sunshine of my middle age I can only rattle them and staunch the bleeding and take my courage and my occasional absurdist euphoria and kiss the face of G-d, my jealous God who refuses to allow me a life partner that is authentic and mine. He refuses me the comfort and ease and love with my children and any potential grandchildren.

But He gifts me a functioning mind, and no more Silence and the heart of Warrior Goddess, bloodletting her spiritual courage and a broken battered Heart that is Eternal.

Some of my former lovers have no idea what hit them. They thought they could strangle me, rape me and I would lick their feet with eminent gratitude for such betrayal.

Well.... one could not cross the threshold between this world and the next as I told him for his disgusting ignominy he would one day crawl at my feet and I would step over him. He bashed my door but could not cross my own threshold.

My angels showed me I was loved and protected. But who are they? These angels that send me into mortal danger and gift me men with golden auras who can only fake love to slake their lust (Dave!!!) Yet still they peek and cast aspersions from behind other men’s shoulders as deep down...way deep down inside, that quivering in their glans, and wrinkled twisted hearts they knowwww... my love was true and strong and enduring while they played me for a fool and even my capricious trickster gods had to shield their eyes and shake their heads because The Tanya never ever fucking quit.

So when my time comes... Psy Sighs...I will be met by dozens of cats and birds and a few dogs and a horse named Asfaloth, by former comrades of Heart, by ancestors who truly loved me and had my back (I rebuke those evil ones from now to the rest of eternity!) and by beloved friends who stood by me through thick and thin and my spirit shall rejoice into the next horizon beyond all worlds.

Dancing through the Sephirot. Gladness in all the universes. A Love denied me in this incarnation that will be all I ever dreamed of in the next Blossoming.

Thank you. Eternal One. All that is/was/ever shall be. And a tiny little spirit named Tanya. Welcome home. (Wherever that is!)

Oh and MAINTAIN THE RAGE.

…

12:56 pm. Feeling lightheaded/woozy. Weak. I have a sense that someone is actively betraying me right now. Nothing new there. It will be revealed whom has their knife in my back. I rebuke their negativity and return it to them to the power of ten.

Walking between worlds, between life and death has its little superpowers. Even as my body declines.

…

…

I chatted this evening for a long time with my soul sister Lyn. She reminded me that my life has never been normal and that in all the ways that truly counted I was guided by Angels, spirits (some epic shitty little Tricksters but you get that!) and that even in the worst periods of my life (and there were far too many!) Something or Someone intervened to bring me back to this life.

I can stomp and shout or primal Scream (as one man cunningly suggested this arvo!) but all that psychic energy changes nothing. It only calls down the One Who is Beyond Mortal Ken to activate the chain of events and place me in situations or with people who may not have been safe or kind but brought me (through sheer survivalism!) to the embodiment of All That Is, to gift me the Love and Power long denied me by lacklustre curs. In profoundly enriching ways that have nothing to do with money/luck or casual fucks.

Do you know how incredibly amazing it feels to be accepted and respected and loved from a place of genuine care, honour and safety?

I can name two Souls who have shared my life with me as longtime “family” - my platonic brave and beautiful ones!

31 years and 27 years respectively.

In a few days it is the fourth anniversary of my suicide attempt which kickstarted another kind of timeline.

I have grown, and blossomed exponentially even as I have made a huge Fool of myself. For is not The Fool the harbinger of all new beginnings??? I tried to leap into the Void but She spat me back. Again recently during that monstrous surgery when I was on my last exhalation.

I was smiling into the red world and felt Loved. So loved. Loved like no mortal has ever been willing or able to love me. I cast my arms wide and submitted. (Me! Whom rarely ever Submits. For that is my trigger word from that Lecher of two names and two faces and his self proclaimed Magnificent Penis. (....sings.. those Magnificent Men and their flying machines...they go uppitty up, they go downtitty down). Get off my tits, Boys!

But alas (or fucking Hallelujah) I was brought back by a screaming thumb monitor and went back 12 days later to the casino (still in a lot of pain!) to tell Richie to hold off the Wild Turkey (I drink JD FFS) libations as this little Jewish Berserker Viking Warrior Goddess Hobbit Witchy Bitch with sore feet is Back!!!!)

I had a choice albeit briefly, of slipping the monitor off my thumb and just leaving this mortal coil but instead I chose Life yet again.

Practising my shamanic breathing I learned at Ecstatic Dance to try to quell the machine’s screaming whining treachery.

Only to live long enough to be stalked by my ex lover and his gf (WTAF?!!! Is wrong with these incredibly shallow people???) who chose, in an entire drumming circle to sit beside me. Even Beauregard stared at them. He recognised his scent. It was very confusing to an animal.

Hahaha. Love is Eternal. Even that dead homeopath psychopath that screwed me over in 2000 and married and had three more children, proved me that, when he actually haunted my home by banging on my front door in June 2016….Even the ghost of a former lover could not leave me without his long annoying (4 consecutive nights). Goodbye. Running up my front steps and banging on my door. Hell the ignoble Spook even scared my dog. But he didn’t scare me.

Why???? I had loved and loved and loved...and received nothing but abuse and he could not transition easily because of it. Never Fuck with a Real Woman with Authentic Love.

So this last former lover is still Alive but remains a ghost in my machine who can only shove women in my face because he lacks dignity and substance. He thinks he can continuously humiliate me.

I am blessed. I am beautiful - not in the way of societal mores but my spirit Shines and it recognises its own and it enfolds and holds precious those who come to her with only pure intent and love. Anyone else that wants to debase me or destabilise me better get the fuck away from me. I wasted eons on idiots.

I grew in Love and grew out of Love but what is truly Mine. My own Beloved??! Would never play such cruel and mindless games.

I may be childlike at times and love my freedom But my heart? Is not a trivial tryst or a trifle.

I am happy I hold such awe and fascination for him though. This is the first time he came out to play in the sunshine and saw an aspect of me that he has never witnessed before. Grace. Happiness. And a loving dog named Beauregard whose kisses are a bit well, wet but are meant for me.

Well that sounds kinky. But some of you will get my vibe....giggles!

My dog showed that man how to love without regrets or bullshit drama or school boyish games.

Psy sighs.

…

6 July 2018

Gahhh. Run completely out of groceries. I have not wanted to go to the supermarkets all week.

Now as fate would have it, I have run out of tea and milk.

So fuck it. Off I go to the shops. (Would rather extract a tooth right now). Oh wait that is probably happening on Monday. I pray to all the gods I don’t get yet another dry socket. The last 2 took 4 months to heal and lots and lots of heavy pain killers and frankly I am still not over it. Not by a long shot.

So here we go. Maybe they can “save” the molar or maybe it will be beneficial to remove the systemic rotting thing so I can heal.

Three teeth pulled in last 3 years. The Tanya will not have much left to chew on, if this keeps going on.

Update: Found earl grey tea in my pantry. Gonna drink that and use up lactose free milk Shops can wait until tomorrow.

I need to build energy for Ecstatic dance tonight. Cacao ceremony. Just gonna keep myself quiet until then.

6 July 2017

6 July 2016

Awake. Still very ill. Last night I cleaned my lounge Windows and they were covered in black mould. I will have to clean all the windows now. UGH! No wonder I am so sick.

…

I have been out in the garden planting out flat leaf parsley I bought yesterday for .50 cents, some pansies I got for $3 and a lovely lavender that was a bit crook for $4.

By the gods it is freshhhh out there. I have washed my hair but the wind whipped it into a fuzz ball of crazy witchy Cronedom. I don't care!

The sunshine is lovely but the icy cold blustery wind ruined that mojo. So no lying on the grass today (it is still drying out from 2 days of rain). One thing though, my washing that was stuck out for 3 days has been whipped into a frenzy of dryness. Good! I was worried it might get that mouldy manky smell!

Beauregard is bored stir-crazy. Even tried digging up all the parsley seedlings as I was planting them. I have an appointment with my psychiatrist this arvo so will have to make time to take whiny howley demanding brat-dog to the dog park. He only missed 2 days. You would think it was the end of his entire world.

…

Home again. Knackered. Beauregard threw up in the car. He had swallowed a lead weight I use for my organza curtains. Lucky he threw it back up or he'd have lead poisoning.

I had stopped outside Red Rock Noodles as I was starving so spent the last of my cash on dinner (very early dinner!) It is lucky I bought a waterproof pet cover for the back seat although he still managed to get some on the seat. Poor wee lad. So I cleaned up the mess. Ordered dinner and we sat in the warm car while I ate it.

My doctor says no wonder I am exhausted after recent weeks, being so unwell with asthma and that I am a warrior (he read my emails about dealing with Davidson's spirit visits).

He said it is amazing how you just fought him off and sent him off. I said "Yeah, I don't forgive malevolent arseholes, alive or dead. He can deal with his karma in the other side, like we all have to some day."

…

Well I am also a failure at Modern English literature that I studied at VUW when I was 17. Lmao.

I thought the poem Not Waving but drowning was ascribed to Sylvia Plath but alas no, it was penned by another of my favourite depressive poets, Stevie Smith.

Anyway, getting ready to find some decent font or calligraphy as I will be painting my 'arm' up for the pond.

Thinking about using glow in the dark resin so the words will 'pop' at night.

…

Shared from my cousin Robert Phillips:

"Pakeha" translation depends on how you feel

"Pakeha actually means something like 'White Pig', not non-Maori. It is highly offensive to many of us who know the actual meaning," says Nigel Blackler of Timaru. This is a myth that needs busting. It's just not true, yet it keeps on being trotted out.

The best explanation I could find was on SayIt.co.nz where Gavin White explains that the "white pig" meaning seems unlikely as there were no pigs in New Zealand before Europeans arrived.

Associate Professor Rawinia Higgins, from Victoria University's School of Maori Studies, says "The word originates from Pakehakeha, which means 'Imaginary beings resembling men, with fair skins' ... what people take issue with is that there are multiple meanings of the base words of Pakeha and of course it is easier to sensationalise the more derogatory meanings rather than the original intention."

According to the Maoridictionary.co.nz the word "pa" can mean to touch or hit, to obstruct, a village and a group, and "keha" can mean "flea", "turnip" and "ulcer". So Pakeha either means "fair skinned beings resembling men" or "a group of turnips". You decide.

6 July 2015

Socks just did a horrible squidgy wet Dine Fart right in my face. He is smiling and purring. Typical man. Sharing is caring!

6 July 2014

Awesome night with Berst! fuck Yeah!

I lost 2 pairs of cheap reading glasses. So can’t see to type lol.

…

Euphoria! in bed with Harvey and Penny. Harvey is snoring. I can't sleep and I don’t even care. I could die right now and take this emotion to eternity.

6 July 2013

Tv crap, Paltalk crap this evening. So I had a nice Epsom salts bath to detox my skin and chillax. (Wanted to run wild but making myself stay home and keep healing).

Tomorrow I am driving Crystal to a gig in Myer Centre. 2 hours to kill in city. Hmmm! Might check out the art gallery in the Town Hall if it's still there. Or have a long languorous coffee?

If I feel ok on Saturday night I might go out. I've been bingeing chocolate all week so need to boogie it all off again. If my lungs let me :-).

…

Crystal had her gig. I had brunch in the city. Read a book in the sun in the Queen St Mall. Still feel weak and weary. My chest is tight. Now having lunch with Crystal. Chicken sandwiches. yum! She looked so cute in her clown costume!

6 July 2011

I had a lovely day with my darling Lyn who came to visit me and brought me the potting mix I so desired, then shouted me out for a lovely lunch at Sizzlers! I am so spoilt.

Last night Crystal texted me and invited me out for surprise evening on Thursday night and I guessed right, she's taking me to see Dr Zhivago which is one of my favourite movies. Awesome!

Copyright Tanya Désirée Arons