these eyes

these eyes have seen


there and here.

crimson fog

orange hue.

glazed, yet glassy. moving

through the halls

down the stairs.

noting the darkness surrounds


the smoke in the air

the spoons on the stove

the oil dripping

from the caps.

no food in the darkness,

but bottles and bottles.

of tears

of piss

of losses

of pills

the haze it follows

her. me.

through the dark.

fuck 1

fuck 2

fuck 3

it makes no difference.

a woman once was.

her womb a sacred store house.


slaughtered and wretched.

and she passes dem pipes


watching them inhale


their lives.

but no high

no low.

just sweet balance.

tranquil balance.

tomorrow, she will shit not.

too constipated to care.

to heavy.

eventually wiping her ass

hole on yesterdays news.

and no food.

just drink.

no touch

just invasion.


sweet balance.

have these eyes

seen to many.


to readjust

in the light.

to remember.

is to smell.

to feel.

to weep.


are held in

these eyes



First Published on: Jun 20, 2016 @ 00:07 ❤

touchy subject

I don’t think I’ve written about this before … but feel the slight-ish need to now, due to recent events in my most fabulous life lol.

It’s the subject of intimacy.

I write and talk quite freely about all things awkward, painful and controversial – with the ease of a dissociative twat. But that s how I do’s it; it works for me. And instead of fighting that now, I roll with it.

But the intimacy thing … well that’s all 3 – all kinds of awkward, painful and controversial.

When I say ‘intimacy’ I don’t just mean sex.

I think the cruel ‘irony’ of PTSD by sexual assault as an infant, is that unless you are going to become a hermit, or hermit-tess, you have to be intimate in one way or another, sometime throughout your life.

PTSD comes with flashbacks … sight, smell … intrusive reminders of something you’d rather forget. Sexual assault, at its core, permeates through every little part of you, that is you … that is yours.

Your physical being, that should only be yours … to share when you want … to offer when you want … is invaded long before it should be … in a way that should never be experienced.

And if you believe that your physical being is connected to your spiritual being, as I do, then sexual assault permeates that as well.

And then when someone touches you; stands in your space; comes in for a cuddle; shakes your hand … what do you imagine happens in those few moments?

Thats right, you re-live everything.


You see, I don’t have to be asleep to have nightmares. It happens all the time.

And in those moments, I have to assess what the danger ratio is, before I involuntarily dissociate or have a huge ass panic attack. Fight – Freeze – Flight.

“All she wants is a cuddle” “All they want is to say hello” “All they want is to be close to me”

That is my living nightmare.

And a nightmare I can see the results of everyday, on the faces of the people I care about … and who care about me.

Thats enough now.

I don’t like talking about this.


First Published on: May 26, 2016 @ 12:14 … and is still a subject I don’t do well.


sideways motion ,
a drop and a descent
a scream,
and a movement
as I waited

to seek assist
you would think
is not to much
but as you
like a retarded
it would seem
you are more
than, I.

I does not care
of your busy
of your thursday
of your transport mode
I does not care
of your feline
your fellow ship
your a point
your busy
I, cares about I
not lame
ass wiping
cunty excuse s

day job
or night job
your job
is to provide
assist – ance


First Published on: Apr 29, 2016 @ 00:50 #medical&mentalhealth


i’m beginning

to see

to understand

as i shed

the layers

that i once


that you still



as i was

and cannot


anything else.

which means

you are looking


what makes



not at what




First Published on: Apr 9, 2016 @ 14:20 ❤

that said

all I ever




was the same


as you


the freedom


to choose


make a choice


like you do



First Published on: Mar 2, 2016 @ 00:09 ❤


behind my door, the sunshine shines

its gleamy and bright

and looks like blankys and pillows

beyond my door, the darkness darks

its gloomy and grey

and looks like thunder and earthquakes


through my door you can see

and touch my world

through my door you can hear

and smell my world


a closed door

only opens

to a

certain knock


while you wait, you’ll hear

elevator music

screechy and annoying

but if you wait, you’ll hear


you’ll hear me


First Published on: Dec 10, 2015 @ 18:26 ❤

one of those (good) days and lots of random thoughts

i’m feeling the right side of the page today.

ok i changed my mind, left it is.

oh, and bullet points I reckon

  • the house is quiet; the partner had a night out.
  • nice and quiet 🙂
  • its cold as fuck.
  • i like cold as fuck.
  • unless i don’t have the fire going, then not so much.
  • it’s just started pissing down.
  • ahhhh my kind of day.
  • i might even go for a walk.
  • without my umbrella 🙂
  • did i tell you i was knitting?
  • well yeah, i’m knitting.
  • a jersey, i think.
  • i call it ‘free-style knitting’ lol.
  • i can hear my Nan while I knit, saying … “good Lord” … lol again.
  • i’m on my second large cup of coffee … with cream.
  • (maybe thats why i’m having so many random thoughts hmmmm)
  • thinking about getting the washing off the line.
  • Meh.
  • think i’ll have pork for dinner … thanks to Jim and his pork recipe 🙂
  • oh
  • did i say my assessment is this month?
  • like in a couple weeks?
  • makes Me nervous.
  • bastards.
  • my Mamas cat died.
  • that was sad.
  • we planted catnip on his grave.
  • our cat loves it.
  • so, i’m not voting this year.
  • i feel like i’ve let the feminists of old down.
  • but somehow i think they’d understand.
  • our country is fucked.
  • i had coffee with my Mama yesterday.
  • that was cool.
  • the twat at the coffee shop wasn’t so cool though.
  • feeling more sensitive to ‘awkwardness’ at the moment.
  • makes Me want to stay at home.
  • forever.
  • my lawns need mowing.
  • but its raining now.
  • Sorted!
  • we’ve got this one Calendula plant / flower, that refuses to wilt and die.
  • i admire it 🙂
  • she’s in the flower bed and all the other calendulas have shut up shop for the winter.
  • she just sits there looking all shiny and happy.
  • she’s gangstah.
  • i had some limoncello last night.
  • think I’ll be making some more of that stuff … yum.
  • i rearranged the house again.
  • i needed – S P A C E
  • my antihistamine use is still at a 1/4 of a tab
  • effectively 2.5 mgs of citerizine
  • but i get itchy.
  • bloody annoying.
  • it’ll pass though …
  • i wonder
  • if there was nothing ‘wrong’ with anything, then effectively nothing would need fixing.
  • right?
  • and who gets to decide what is ‘wrong’ and what is right?
  • the outside of the house needs cleaning; it’s got ‘salt’ residue all over it.
  • ‘Beach living’ problems lol
  • oh, but its raining.
  • Sorted.
  • i noticed a lot more grey hairs on my head.
  • oh well.
  • i’ve got a onesie with frogs all over it.
  • it’s bright pink.
  • I Love It 🙂
  • i haven’t figured out how to grow vegetables during winter.
  • What Would Grandad Do?
  • wish I had actually paid attention when he was alive.
  • oh well.
  • theres an odd feeling in our little town at the moment.
  • theres been lots of burglaries etc.
  • and lots of complaining.
  • it feels like the community are banding together with pitchforks; ready to find ‘the scummy culprits’.
  • think it makes Me slightly nervous.
  • cos we’re Brown.
  • the partner was accosted by the ‘community patrol’;
  • yes they’ve started one of those –
  • and a big light shone on him.
  • he was asked what he was doing out at night.
  • the partner didn’t take that very well and responded rather assertively – but in a humorous tone –
  • he said they looked like they were trying to impersonate the police, and that, in this country, is a crime.
  • they switched their spot light off;
  • and lowered their tone.
  • they seem to have forgotten though, that there was a child murdered here less than 2 years ago.
  • but people are still not as important as property round here.
  • i don’t like that.
  • i might go finish my coffee now.
  • and light the fire.
  • whew.
  • big brain alright 🙂

I went out…

Now, as a woman, I believe it is a god given right to go clothes shopping at least once or twice a month. And online shopping doesn’t count.

I haven’t been clothes shopping for nearly 3 years. Until today!

Now I’m definitely not saying the ‘shop’ itself was successful…but the attempt at…the browsing…the experience…well that was!

I did the car ride…tentatively. And I stayed in the back seat this time too. The traffic was horrid, but I managed…I breathed. And I think I closed my eyes maybe, three times. I did it without my headphones too!

The shop itself was huge with those horrible fluorescent light things. But I took my time and made sure I breathed…and stopped when I needed too. There were foreign smells and noises that usually cause me to run a mile…but I stayed with it and breathed.

I think we were in that place for about an hour!

I felt pretty depleted after we came out…but not completely overwhelmed! And I managed to purchase 2 items!

I miss doing that! And I’m going to do it again…not sure when…but I will.

To top off my outing…I went to the vege shop. Now I haven’t done that for about 4 years. My daughter or my partner have done all the shopping for all this time. Some of me sees it as natural paybacks for having done that shit for god knows how many years. But going back into the ‘war zone’ was intriguing, triumphant and unpleasant.

I’d forgotten how fast our society is. How unnecessarily busy and rude it is. And I can’t say I’ve missed that.

I was ‘tsked’ and ‘humffed’ a couple of times. Once, for the tattoos…yes, I saw you, you crinkled up old bastard. The second, was for not moving along fast enough.

But you know what…I breathed! I didn’t speed up…I didn’t run away…and I didn’t knock that old bastard out!

That was a successful outing I think!! 🙂

First Published on: Sep 11, 2015 @ 00:05 ❤

medication irony

There’s been

Fluoxetine and Paroxetine

Citalopram and Clonazepam.

The Tricyclic, Notriptyline

And the Noradrenaline


Then Naproxen and Nurofen

and Ibuprofen and Promethazine.

Don’t forget the Metoclopramide

and the Metamide.

The Diazepam and the Alprazolam,

the Lorazepam and the Oxazepam.

Then there’s the Dexamethasone and the Valdecoxib,

Meclofenamate and Metoclopramide Hydrochloride.

The Sertraline and the Parozetine,

The Benzodiazepine, Aprazolam

and Zopiclone.

Meclizine Hydrochloride, Antivert and Diphenhydramine,

not to mention Dopress too.

Then there’s Omeprazole and Paracetamol,

Varenicline and Allersooth.

Not forgetting the

Surmontil and Aropax.

And where I wonder are the things

I ‘self medicated’ with?

Well there’s abit of coke, and weed

Plenty of Tobacco and bourbon.

Beer, a few uppers and downers.

A couple of trips

And some red wine.


I thought so.

First Published on: Aug 27, 2015 @ 11:24 😉

emdr take 2

“Note: I’ve been going through all my old posts – re-labelling, re-categorising etc. I came across this beauty. While the post itself is relevant to what was happening then; and I have come a ways since then: What made Me re-post this, was the comment from a Friend. I miss her and her advice dearly. But she was right 🙂 And what she suggests I tweaked and implemented – hence My 366 days posts – my photographic posts – my reflections, dissections and re-hashes. Heres what she had to say:

I can see how reliving a past tragedy in an attempt to change your perception of it might help re-direct the negative into the positive. Even if it is a false positive. Picturing yourself as a mythical hero at three years old would be hard, but with enough imagination, it could be done. These kinds of visualization exercises would create new memories in your brain, even if they’re just memories of your thoughts. I would think adding art therapy and external visuals would help with the mental visuals.

Logically, you were powerless, but visually and artistically, you can be powerful. And if you can’t picture yourself being powerful, even in your imagination, then you can picture some other child who was lucky enough to escape.

Maybe you could train your brain to flip a switch, like a conductor switching train tracks, from the positive to the negative. Then you could use this exercise to treat your panic attacks and phobias.

Why don’t you practice visualizing the times in your life when you’ve been successful? Triumphed over all odds, like Rocky (the movie)? Strengthen those memories and use them to combat anxiety and fear.

Important Notice: I am not a doctor. Read and believe at your own risk. 🙂

Now back to the post at hand :).”


Second session of emdr was just as mind fucking as the first.

Some of it is my own battle with what is logical and what is just freakishly not logical!

I like logic. It has helped me survive. I don’t like fairy land.

We started with the first memory that we had discussed in the first session. I found my ‘happy place’…hmmm and then we took off into the memory. ‘How does the recalling of this memory make you feel on the scale of 1 to 7, 1 being shit (my words), 7 being awesome (my words again).

We had a little discussion here…about disassociation…and I think this needs to be repeated next session…and reality. Because when I answered the previous question re rating…I stated that if I think about it hard enough the distress-o-meter drops out at a 1…if I don’t focus to hard…its a 7, happy happy joy joy.

Apparently the point is to recall the memory in all of its distressing glory…as a picture.

Here’s where I have the issue (one of many I know 🙂 ).

I can picture all sorts of shit and have no emotional reaction at all. Not in my body, not in my mind. The DSM’s have hypotheses to diagnose the type of dissociative disorder a peep has…and I probably fit into a couple of them. But they’re also having a raging debate about whether dissociation relating to childhood abuse, is a defensive or a pathological dissociation.


I wonder if they have ever really studied those that have been ‘abused’…actually ever listened.

Anyway…back onto my beef with it. My dissociative state is my norm. I’ve functioned that way…most of my life. I started having issues…anxiety manifesting as panic attacks and related phobias…when I was required to be PRESENT. Or not in a dissociative state. Yes I want to be reasonably present for the enjoyment factor…if there is one…but if this has helped me survive…is it not a defence mechanism that most likely shouldn’t be tampered with??

So the shrink, after my distress-o-meter analysis, decides that this is not a satisfactory ‘reading’ and starts questioning my recollection of said memory. She says, what would I like to believe instead of the belief I currently hold about this memory. I look at her like…what?? She re words things a bit, but the general gist is…if I could change how I view this event, how would I view it so I end up believing something different than…’I am powerless’.

Touchy thing right there…she’s talking about gaining control of the situation, back then, so I can believe something different. I’m saying, how does a 3-year-old do that?? Reality. She ends up back peddling a bit and says ‘its not the reality of the situation…or logic…its what you ended up believing about yourself’. Ok.

So if I believed I was powerless to change the situation then, then I’m powerless to change a certain situation, like that one, is the present time. I get it…but not. The reality, or my reality, is I could not have changed that situation at all…those around me, as adults had the power to do that. I came out with the belief that in a situation like that, where those around me are fucked, I have no power. Result – stay away from those that are fucked…and don’t put myself in situations I don’t have any control over.

Whew…fucked up shit.

I didn’t like not thinking logically though…well my logic. It is what it is. I couldn’t have changed that situation if I tried…which I did…I reacted as a normal 3-year-old would have…I screamed and cried and yelled and struggled. This was not the violation event btw. So my reaction was pretty well suited to the event and my age.

But she still wants me to find something to change my perception or belief too. We finally come up with…instead of thinking or believing that I am not in control (which clearly I wasn’t), then I could be in control of myself. A bit fucking tree huggy I think…its like a pristine line out of a fucking story book.

But I rolled with it…or I’d be still there right now, with her waving her fingers in front of my face.

I’m not convinced about this shit at all.

But I had lots of dreams…not to disturbing ones.

And I’m more fucked off than I was last week.

Is that progress? I hope so.

Next session in a couple of weeks.

First Published on: Aug 12, 2015 @ 14:01 ❤ Thankyou Johanna 🙂