Memories: 7 September 2025

7 September 2025

6:29 am awake. I had very convoluted and detailed old trauma dreams about working for the Qld police service academy. I think that was what the dream was focused on. That job was from 1999-2000. It was a government traineeship intended to retrain me to get me back into the workforce. Lots of undermining, sabotage and bullying.

I was simultaneously coping with the domestic terrorism of narcissists and psychopaths. I stayed in that job for the full 12 months when the majority of other younger wiser trainees bailed. I wanted to prove I could succeed at one thing. Holding down a job. It was very fraught. But I had a lot of love and support from the Rehab officer who recognised that I was very unwell and struggling with trauma issues.

Anyway the dream was brightly coloured, almost like a pastiche or comic book idealism. I was sitting in an open plan office, feeling miserable but functioning. Next thing I was told I had to have an assessment and some older man with dark hair and a very weathered mean face, also with an astigmatism, marched into a large empty room and started interrogating me.

He asked me very odd questions. I answered, knowing that this was a stitch up trying to make me out to be crazy or non-compliant. I knew I was going to be fired. The dream shifted to me still being at “work” but somehow I was in a barn leaning over a wooden fence. There was a cow and goat on my right, standing very close to me.

I sensed something stepping up behind me and rough hairy lips nuzzling my hair. I looked around to see a very large horse was comforting me. I was still dressed in my office attire, not dressed for a farm.

Someone else walked in and told me I was fired. I just nodded. I had already realised that was their gameplay. I just felt sad but relieved. I told them,”why did you send me down here? You could have told me at the office! But at least the animals are kind and honouring”.

I wake up, thinking, typical Tanya, being shunted off by governMENTAL psychopaths but knowing that it was going to happen wayyy ahead of time so not really bothered that much. (I had had a dream during thst time period of dozens of computer monitors in a large open office that all went blank. No transmissions…nothing. It was a chilling nightmare but I knew…prescient!)

Then I remembered the terrible realisation during that year of work that our police were preparing for some draconian shift. (A year before 9/11). They had lectures that we admin staff were not privy to but police personnel came from all over the country to lecture the recruits on terrorism and population control.

I knew then from tiny snippets of gossip that leaked out as to what those classes were really about, that our world was going to change irrevocably and that it would be even more fraught and dangerous. That no citizen or non-citizen of any nation would ever truly be safe again. This was in June 2000 when I finally left that job. The next two temporary jobs were also toxic and bullying. I never worked again.

So it’s odd dreaming of that similar scenario with all the emotions. Like a decompression of old traumas.

I am being reminded of my worth. The farm animals comforting me, grounding me. Showing me to stay in nature, live with grace and simplicity. Remain hopeful and idealistic in the face of our nano-bot transhumanist hateful anti-humanistic culture.

The enemy is no longer merely other humans but a global lockstep trend to terrorise with doom and gloom scenarios of 3i-Atlas, covid, Ai singularity…loss of jobs and culture (which ironically if we return to nature might be a positive outcome!)

Well, today Jarrod is coming with me to Springbrook. I will let the forest fae commune with me as we walk around the forest. I need that re-connection. To return to nature.

I worked so hard on the beautiful spinning wheel and lazy kate yesterday (and the previous day!) that I am exhausted. My hands are very sore. So a day in the forest will be a balm to my soul.

…

Tanya visiting the Faery Tree as Purling Brook Falls, Springbrook

Jarrod took me fossicking for obsidian in a little creek. He took his socks and sneakers off and waded in the icey cold water for me.

Our harvest turned out to be hematite and basalt. I might still polish up the heart shaped hematite though. It was so much inner child fun… fossicking. I wanted to keep going!

7 September 2024

A lovely sunny day. I am not well. Some weird flu which travelled right to my chest. Keeping my lungs decongested with mullein tea. I worked hard, writing notes from my random spell crafting on my recent video. Interesting how my mind just blasted open on 5 September. I wrote out my trance drumming notes too.

7 September 2023

I set the prongs (arggghh. One I had to reset). I made the split ring. Now I am gonna attempt to set the two rough sapphire stones and the rough tanzanite stone. #titaniasrealm #prong setting #sterlingsilver #lifeIsAnAdventureBeInIt

Also …sigh…my attempt at filling the drill holes for the prongs with sterling silver dust. Close but no chocolate fish. But I will wear this in good health and my characteristic defiance. It’s rustic, rudimentary but it’s mine.

Also no one will ever give me a mature age apprenticeship because of my online activism. So I am self teaching and wearing my mistakes with great pride. Self love, self protection is of prime importance in these crazy debauched times.

Instead, if I survive long enough, I will strive to set up a little shop of my own. Even then it will be a great risk as it would need to be supported.

7 September 2022

So it turns out that the gods ”gifted” Crystal with a nasty cyst in her back and as it was on the spine needed surgery. But the wound did not heal even after the stitches were removed (she was moving house omggg!) so the wound split open again. It turned out, after two weeks, they realised she is allergic to the waterproof dressings they were plastering on the wound.

She went back to the hospital and they said it would need to heal from the inside up. So now they are packing the wound every three days. It’s a mess. She can’t even wash her hair as she can’t reach upwards and it hurts too much.

Now my skin doctor was quite sadistic and I felt like meat on a production line and he even admitted that my cyst should have been removed in hospital as it was bigger then he expected. But he did such a good job of suturing that, although it took a long time to heal and I looked like a patchwork quilt, I had no problems like my daughter has just endured.

The woman that my daughter is boarding with now, just had a cancer removed from her arm and they took so much flesh it filled up the specimen jar and she also sustained a terrible infection and is now quite ill but on antibiotics.

So I must ask myself: what is going on with our medical professions that we are all suffering like this? Lack of empathy, lack of training, skills shortage? Why are we all developing cysts and serious melanomas? What has changed in the past 2 to 3 years that we are en masse being stricken with these things.

Anyway I just woke up. It’s a beautiful day. Still a bit of chill in the air. I have put Charley outside in the garden. My nose has stopped running (9th day since I got sick again). My chest is wheezing but I am not coughing as frequently. The mullein tea should arrive soon so that will hopefully drive any gunk out of me.

Life is well….Life!

I love you all. My daughter got to experience my similar dis-ease which is astonishing but I guess she will slowly gain wisdom when I spiral under with my health as she now has had a very scary taste of what I just went through in June.

I don’t wish that on her, not at all. She was saying things like she felt tortured and can’t go on much more so I know she now fully comprehends why I talk like that when smashed by long periods of cumulative pain and medical interferences.

How a hospital could not pack a wound properly and expected her to run around with an open bleeding wound while moving fucking house just blows my mind. The absolute negligence and cruelty is astonishing!

But my daughter will heal because we Arons Women are Strong and she will finally comprehend why I have developed such a mistrust of our hospital system.

It didn’t happen overnight. There were a series of serious fuck ups and sadistic cruelties before I formed this opinion. As far back as my hysterectomy in 2007 that was so abusive and inept that I considered jumping off the roof.

But curiousity kept me alive. Even until this current paradigm. So there is that. And far out!!!

…

7 September 2021

…

…

I had a realisation about an hour ago about the escalation of evil I have experienced personally in recent weeks. I was trying to figure out the catalyst or trigger, (apart from our Covid paradigm!) I know I was very very ill after the colonoscopy on 26 July and even at the hospital, I got into a fight with that rude pig ignorant disrespectful male admin creature. But it wasn’t that. This has begun to intensify since the lions gate portal on 8 August.

I did not even mark it much this year but boy that Portal has unleashed something very dark and very sinister.

Last week I observed a (former) friend or neighbour literally glitching in and out of our 3D matrix with an almost evil sociopathic expression on his face then revert to perfect amiability and civility the next minute. It was truly alarming and to my mind…unnatural.

I witnessed it again last night. Then another attack this afternoon from some creepy vicious man, harassing my dog with his dog.

So The Tanya dealt with him. But by the gods…this is getting really really fucking WEIRD! It’s like living inside a horror movie except this is really happening.

…

So after our beautiful day in the forests of Springbrook, something profoundly evil and ugly happened when we returned home.

I have processed some of it by writing it out but it is too ugly to share with my fb friends. Or anyone really.

I had an instinctual inclination to either suicide or run away. But I know better. There is no escape from this high level abuse.

It surrounds me with the Covid paradigm and has infested my own family. But I will strive to survive it as I have barely survived everything else in my life.

I am beset by the dark demonic energy of my dead mother who leaps into my daughter with too-often monotonous regularity and that other demon that was one of her willing henchmen.

I am saying this openly as I am putting them on notice. I am fully aware of their evil that has persisted even beyond the grave and I will not allow it to continue. It stops here and now.

My house was “active” last night, flexing its pathetic telekinesis powers with both Jarrod and Crystal while I had stepped outside to take Bobo for a crap!

I find that interesting that the spook did that while I was outside of the house. Attention seeking…much?!

I told them that my house is becoming toxic as I have lost too many pets and suffered too much grief and trauma for too long and it’s actually ironic that I had considered buying it yesterday (after I found out it is vaguely possible) as I love this home but it is fast becoming a trap and a grave for even me.

But where can I go to be truly free of the demonic influences that have infested and infiltrated my home, my remnant family and indeed the entire globe.

Nowhere safe but to hold my ground and draw a line in the sand. Literally and figuratively.

“”YE SHALL NOT PASS…even though I walk in the Valley of the Shadow of Death”. I shall fear no one! I have chosen to cleave to this life even in this Hell.

I shall cleave to the tiny fragments of love I still harbour in my soul and I shall blow life back into them until I Super-Fucking-Nova.

It’s a new jewish year, one of the holiest of our cycle and I will be standing in Awe of my own life, my own survival with full knowledge that there is still Light in the world and I shall delight in the authentic loyal precious and rare love that flows to me freely from benevolently kind Sources and I shall trust in my Soul and my heart and expect the best that life can manifest.

7 September 2020

7 September 2019 (2 months 12 days post surgery)

I was quite unwell yesterday with issues relating to my fatty liver. Upset tummy. Bad skin. Today my skin is a mess. But at least my gut has settled down.

I went dancing last night in spite of my fatigue and breaking out in pimples which I deftly covered in make up. I almost had to laugh at myself : the re-animated corpse dancing to her own obliteration.

But I had a good time regardless. I dressed in my black tutu, underbust and black top with my new studded ankle boots and beaded my hair and felt beautiful and powerful in spite of my fatigue/madness/Berserker loneliness.

I am a beautiful Zombie Warrior Goddess Queen of the night. It felt good to dance. To regain some of my cosmic power and vitality. But it took a long time to get into my zone or flow state where the magic happens, where I leave my body in all its fabulous extraneous extruding delight (including sebum outbreaks, fuck it!!!) and become one with the Divine.

I was more guarded with my gentleman friend who noticed and asked if he had done something wrong. I told him he had not. But I am consciously reserving my psychic energy for my own wellbeing as I am skating the edge of the precipice and it will only take a little push to send me back to the abyss.

I have languished in the Abysmal Dismal and Desolate for decades. So yes...that darkness that foments my new evolution on this planet had its time and place but I am actively choosing life in all its fractal exponential paradigmical delights now.

I reached out to my daughter this morning. No reply. I have also been missing my former Beloved (triggered by his weird fucked up friend staring from across the Livewire Bar most of the night). I will never comprehend what he and his mate hope to achieve by their constant monitoring/spying and malicious gossiping.

But they have not won control over me in the way they hoped. They sought to utterly break me. The Tanya. The Indomitable unbreakable (for I am kinstugied with cosmic gold and stardust) spiritual daughter of Boudiccea and child of the Divine Feminine.

Dickheadsssss!

But my liver aches as my heart is no longer capable of aching anymore. My heart is comfortably numb. Too many pieces cast to the winds of tyranny and eaten by knaves.

I have been sliced and diced by sex addicts and surgeons, by demonic former lovers and callow hateful men. By their sycophantic fellating henchwomen. Forced into poverty and dependence on the State by their perverse cruelties.

Which means no man will ever love me or claim me as his partner. Or if he does I will fight it. I will never permit myself to be a victim or vulnerable to a man’s false and empty heart again.

My bride price? Far above Rubies and my personal rubenesque grotesque greasy squalid middle-aged Atrophy.

So all I can do...is Dance. And wait for Death. A dancing Queen no longer satiating Satyrs, as they have paid their price into eternity also. Scratches head.

Karma. Thank you God and Goddess. For my last few years of joy even in dark places. For my Sacred Space garden that is now under threat and for my Wild Spirit that is ferociously guarding the last epoch of my life.

Hello darkness my old friend...I love you. I hate you. I miss you. I want you. But you keep sending me empty headed vile lovers and I keep rising and Shining.

How much longer must this continue? What gods or demons must I appease so I can have the love I always hoped for? In which dimension?

It’s getting ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. But I can pop a pimple and squeeze out more toxins and dream. A perfect bliss.

I got this. (I think....therefore I am!)

…

I am not this body. I am not this complex ptsd end state. I am not depression. I am not the epic abandonment/neglect/betrayal/abuse of former family and lovers. I am not a woman pinned to the ground by deception and destroyed by the State.

I am not poverty. I am not Lost. I am never forgotten even in this misbegotten puerile timeline. I am a conscious breathing package of delight. With occasional lashings of smite. I am the Desired One. I am the Chosen one: Chosen by my dog and cats and birds.

I am whom I am Becoming. Granddaughter of Eva. The suicide. Daughter of Gisela. The traitor.

I have some weird tricks up my sleeve but I am too busy wearing my ragged jagged heart on it.

I am kept alive for no good reason. But I take my body and push it around and see what it can do with its broken heart, cracked mind and hacked apart body.

I love myself enough to stomp through each day and night and strive to find joy in it. For which I am Misused and abused. Still. After everything I have endured. Interesting...

The goddess rises. Another night ahead of me. What magic and healing can I manifest in my Berserker Manifesto? Festy men need not apply. I am Not compliant to your baldfaced fake troths.

Hmmm weird guy at the drumming circle last time might have been onto something. Perhaps I need to Primal scream right now. Right in his face.

Funny!

…

…

7 September 2018

…

Haha my “poltergeist” is back. Two spice jars just fell out of my spice rack. No vibration. Only kettle boiling. Weird!

This occurred just as one of the healers from a Shaman group where I put in a request for healing, contacted me.

So I am not sure if it’s an evil spirit blocking my healing journey or a warning.

At any rate, my body/my house/my rules. No malevolent spirit shall interfere in my healing and positive upsurge, and joy, love and harmony.

…

I can thank my gallstones for a rather strange phenomenon. I go to bed exhausted around 9 pm. Wake up several times a night as is my usual pattern, then incredibly am wide awake by 6 am. (This has never happened before! I have never ever been a morning person!).

So here I am 2 hours later, still tired but alert and up for the day. I had trouble sleeping last night so although I was in bed by 8.30 pm (another ridiculous scenario!) I was still dozing and mostly awake until midnight, struggling to fall into a deep sleep.

So I guess I have another episode of hypomania as that causes euphoria and insomnia.

I don’t mind. I slept 12-20 hours a day for a decade or two. I used to joke I was the Dormouse in the Mad Hatters Tea Party. Now I may have morphed into the Mad Hatter. All wide-eyed like a possum caught in a spotlight, blearily fumbling blithely through my day.

I will need an afternoon nap later if I am going to be energised enough to dance tonight. But that is future thinking. For the present: What shall I have for breakfast? Hmmm ate all the Tim Tams last night so my usual Chocolate fare will have to be put on hold.

Eggs! I have plenty of fresh eggs at the moment, thanks to Betty and Becky (who squeezed out one with a very deformed-looking shell this morning). Made me feel rather sorry for her cloaca! I mean, ridges...what can I say but she is an old lady!

…

Lying in bed, trying to rest before I go dancing later tonight. Crystal rings me. “Mum…you need a Shaman, a good one who can get rid of the spirit that has caused all the concurrent health issues the last few years. Those Shamans telling you you need acupuncture or homeopaths are not good Shamans. It’s spiritual!” So I feel disheartened.

She does not understand the compounding effects of end-state complex ptsd from being abused in early childhood. Nor the effects of not being financially viable or successful. Nor the effects of not being loved by good, kind partners and thereafter not ever being able to find a safe mutual permanent trustworthy love relationship/partnership. Nor the effects of barely surviving so many attacks on my body in adulthood either.

I am a fucking Champion. Legend, walking Miracle to be Whom I am today. Even Alive.

But my gut divested itself of my dinner and I am going dancing because I have nothing else in life but a few good friends and my churning life force. Might as well be ecstatic, ebullient, enervated, and resilient until the day I finally die!

Maybe the last time I tried to die in 2015 I did pick up an evil life-sucking spiritual parasite? Whilst in my fugue state? Or maybe my body just has a build up of marble-esque shit because it knows it deserved better but I gave it barely enough. We got used to living on less, this entity called The Tanya and after that, there are always bouts of excess. But I do not submit.

Not yet! Chronic debilitating asthma did not kill me, nor whooping cough and measles when I was 4, nor the sexual abuse in childhood nor the sexual betrayals and devastations in adulthood, not the strangulations in my 30s or the dead end love-rats of my 40s.

Not the ‘flu. Not obstructive sleep apnoea. Not the end state complex ptsd +++ which should have killed me but has not. Not the enlarged liver and not my fucking Gall.

The homeopath failed to choke me to death as did the misbegotten Moroccan and that young guy that my ex husband probably paid to strangle me too.

So I courted Lady Death like a pop star craving a fan club and She sashayed away too. But like all flirtatious teasing taunting Mistresses of the Night, She will be back one day.

But because I nearly died so many times in my early childhood, She likes me. We have tangoed and tiptoed and heckled a dozen or more times. She Loves me. Not today... my Love, not today.

I wave at her with my white hanky of surrender and she blows me blood-stained kisses from behind the curtain. I tiptoe to chase the hag but she is quicker than me. Funny!

Life laughs in my face and stifles a yawn. Tanya... you can do this, you know it. You have walked this circle a million times before. Ok ok, I say, and square my gouged out (skin cancer excised) shoulders and modulate my rage and turn another page.

The dance goes on... my gut, my glory. My epic Homeric story. The epitome of pathos and pangs of dark humour.

Last year I feared skin cancer, this time it’s a greasy gall bladder. A trivia.

I got this. Love my life. Love my many and varied deaths. Love my eternal blossoming on the Tree of Life.

It’s all coming back to me now.

L’Chaim.

L’ Shanah Tovah (on Sunday!)

Shabbat Shalom!

…

My new mantra: I am healed. I am worthy of a true and great love. I am loveable. I am prosperous. I am healed!

7 September 2017

Just been to skin dr. Apparently my skin cancers need monitoring as they are severe. He says I have to come back in 3 months. Blames it on my Scottish skin (great grandparents on Huxford line). Hmm. He cauterised the haematomas on my forehead and back. Ouch. Well, glad that unsightly thing on my forehead will be gone.

Anyhow I have to use sunscreen and go home to put Vaseline on the wounds.

He recommended a cream called Effudex but only in winter. It gets too hot. Whatever that means.

So here goes The Tanya with her journey into the Light. Long slow haulage! Hahaha!

From the comment section:

Me: Yeah, we come from a very white skinned red headed family.

I don't think my father had skin cancers although he was fair too. Must have had stronger genes (or admittedly ate healthier than I do!)

I came straight home and sat on the couch and devoured an entire block of Lindt chocolate Creme brûlée . Put Vaseline on the wounds as per drs orders. Now feeling a bit exhausted and shattered.

My uncle in Germany Hans Patula died of advanced skin cancer but he was in his 80s. So maybe I have his shitty genes as well.

Megan: Just our luck, I didn't know Connie had scottish blood...I thought she were pure pom, lol....take care cuzn, do you for once 😊

Me: Anderson and Short were Scots.

Anyway we have Irish blood too. Then factor in my Polish and German gene pool. Also my mother never protected me from anything or anyone including leaving me to get severe sunburn on St Kilda beach one year.

Then hitting me for being stupid enough to get so badly burned (cos she was caught out Full on neglecting me). I was doomed to get sun cancers. The amount of time I spent burning and peeling every NZ summer! At least in Brisbane my skin was able to tan to try to protect itself.

Anyway I was thinking as I climbed out of my car, I never expected to live this long (with my asthma, OSA and serious trauma issues) so I have had a better life in the last 5 years. At least I got my car and was able to go dancing and enjoy life.

My skin will need looking after but I will heal and if it does get worse, well, sayonara sweeties. I have been Endstage for a while so really just marking the inevitable time now.

Miss my daughter. She promised to Skype me 2 days ago. Everything I lived for is gone.

Just me and the dog and the cats now.

…

No wonder I have been feeling regressed and discombobulated. Just had a shower and discovered my skin biopsies are infected. Blech! It took exactly a week. So spritzed them with Rose water (I need to make up a saline solution). I am so highly sensitive. It's annoying. I suppose it's part of being born a redhead with white freckled skin.

7 September 2016

I just cooked and ate a lovely dinner. Chicken breast cut into strips and stir fried with home grown broccolini, some raspberry jam, lemon slices and coriander seeds, mushrooms, an onion and some dried cranberries. First nice meal I have cooked since last Monday week. Proud of myself!

….

…

I am still extremely fatigued but I woke up relatively early. I went out in the garden and put sulphate of potash around all my flowering/fruiting plants. (I need it to boost all the organic matter I use for fertiliser- worm wee and chook poo). Then watered it in. Not all, as rain is coming. I still need to paint my table. Maybe later. Did some washing.

Mood has been a bit unstable but I have kept myself occupied and trying not to get anxious about stupid stuff.

After 6 months suffering with a bad chest and over 12 months after my suicide attempt I still don't feel physically all that well.

But I have had some lovely happy hours or a few days here and there and those moments of sublime bliss are the stuff that makes me hang on in the vainglorious Hope (that hag) that more good times, love, happiness, better health are possible and in my life NOW. (Impatient little squirrel, me! Also Nuts!)

I also planted a dwarf lemon tree in one of the big pots Annette gave me. 2 lavenders. 2 Dahlia bulbs. Fertilised all the freshly re-potted waterlilies and cleaned the filters out in the ponds. Phew. Busy 3 days.

7 September 2014

Home from Crystal's. I had epic cuddles with the rabbitses and a visit with the Hobbit woman lol. Dinner was delicious and we went through some art books and children's books for cool pics for my decoupage projects. I lost my glass lens so we spent an hour searching for the blasted thing only to locate it inside a magazine.

So tomorrow I will be off to the optometrist for a spectacle screw. Not impressed how quickly they break. Really pissed off actually. Such is mature age.

Slowly going blind, losing your mind, not being loveable enough for a love relationship and not really caring, mz gravity not being kind, bones aching, farting. It's such a wonderful time of life!

…

Fairly new glasses. Lens just fell out! Fuck Dat Shit... Thanks for nothing MASS scheme. Grrrr!!!!!

…

5pm. Off to have roast dinner cooked by my beautiful talented daughter, Crystal. She is taking my car for the week for her work but helping me with rego.

If you want me this week you will have to come get me lol!

…

Happy Fathers Day to those lucky people who had Fathers who were real, supportive, loving and kind. Commiserations to the rest of us!

I had one biological father, whom I worshipped as a child, 2 stepfathers, one godfather. They were all monstrous betrayers and marred my life irrevocably. I had a lot of men come into my life but none that I could truly say were worthy of the title Father.

The men who were decent and kind to me were men like my teacher Mr Lisis from Mauritius who constantly inspired me to write when I was 10 years old. Mr Robertson, who was my best friend's dad. He was of scottish descent and an alcoholic but had a bucolic wit and dry sense of humour and I was always safe in his home. Mr Hoedemaeckers's home was also safe.

To me Real men weren't always heroes but they kept their kids safe and comfortable no matter what their social standing or affluence was. Theirs were homes you wanted to be in and you were proud to call them friends or family.

Fuck the rest!

7 September 2011

7 September 2010

I had a lovely day, spending my pension money like a mad woman, but enjoyed every minute of it. I'm still quite crook with asthma but getting better. I've had a happy two days. Looking forward to many many more!

7 September 2008

is relieved and exhausted after helping Courtenay mow all the lawns...now all I need is the carburettor cleaned and I'll be back on the road again....yayyyyyyyy.

Copyright Tanya Désirée Arons