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not entirely sure why im here:


Says a part of Me, whilst the other part rolls its eyeballs and says … cos its your fucken blog yah dick!

Lol. Yes I even speak to myself in that tone.

I know it’s been abit of a rough week, for sure; and theres a lot going on at home (house selling), but I think after the tonsillitis and trip to the hospital I came home feeling ‘different’. Not sick different, just different.

What I didn’t get into detail about in that post (because I was trying to do the high five Me shit before I let anybody elses shit take up room in my world …), but vaguely touched on in this post:

was speaking or voicing our / my truth, and not remaining silent.

Before I took my trip to the hospital, two things happened in quick succession to each other. And I don’t believe its an accident … shit like this never is. But I’ve been having a hard time connecting the dots.

The first, was someone sent me a screen shot of a post my father had posted on his FB page, with a photo of me, my (deceased) sister and him.

Heres the statement he made:

When I read it, with the photo, I was immediately angry. Not raving angry … just wtf type angry.

Being sick, wouldn’t let Me get into the repost and reply rampage I wanted to inflict at that time.

So I put it aside.

Not more than 10 minutes later, the second incident happened. I had someone ring Me and demand (no shit!) that I do such-and-such for them, Now. And when I told them No, that I wasn’t feeling well, they went into a tirade of abuse aimed squarely at my lack of nurturing and caring abilities. Not once did they take note that I could hardly speak or was clearly sick. I was so astounded I responded with my go too, and in an extremely pained and raspy voice said ‘fuck you and go fuck yourself’.

I was pissed though.

Annoyed at not being heard, understood … but more than that … different than that. I was just pissed. How dare they!

And then I continued to choke and then we went to the hospital lol.

The following day, as shit as I felt, I knew I needed to respond to my fathers bullshit.

So I attached my comments to the screen shot I’d been sent and let rip.

Now I figured one of 2 things would happen … yes thats how I WAS analysing it before I started writing it, and then something else kicked in, which was … fuck this shit … and fuck it.

So thats how this post made its debut; with no fucks given, just a gnawing in my gutt that wouldn’t go away … which is the Need to Voice … to speak the truth.

Theres plenty of posts throughout this blog referring to the biological douche-pool that is my father so I won’t go into that here.

What surprised Me, was those who actually replied. They had seen my fathers original post and thought I was dead. Another person had messaged my daughter and thought she was dead as we look similar in the photo. And this has been going on for a couple of days.

So, I posted in my comments the following:

One of my cousins posted it on my fathers original post.

The feedback for Me was awesome. I had cousins, relieved I wasn’t dead … and an aunty sent her love. I had my niece, who i haven’t seen for years, thank me, because she was over how this dick has treated her mama (my step-sister) for years.

Now those connections were well worth the post.

But still I am perplexed. And I feel different.

I think it has something to do with how I have been treated most of my life and that somewhere in me at the moment I have an amazing almost righteous indignation to the whole fucking lot of it.

How fucking dare he? How dare he!

I have no other explanations or reasonings that I want to fill the air with.

Just … how dare he …

More specifically, how dare he do that to Me.

Me.

Him and all his kind, that have taken and shat on and not listened and bullied and beaten and raped and manipulated and Silenced for complaining about their behaviours or questioning their behaviours or wanting them to take their behaviours some other fucking place.

All of them!

Fuck them.

I think I am done.

And if I am done, then theres going to be some blood-shed. Possibly more figuratively speaking than literal, but whatever.

I think this is whats changing. This is what is different.

That I am important.

I’m important because I am alive and here and I deserve to take up space.

Now this is new for Me.

I’m still unsure of all the logistics.

But I’m cool with that for now.

Note: of great interest to Me, was I felt not one shred on anxiety as all this unfolded. Now isn’t that fucken something.


kpm ©


 

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