i can feel it.

today i felt the water on my back; then it running down my legs. i felt it, like i’m guessing, most people would when water touches them.

it felt weird.

not hot or cold. just drippy. moving.

as a dissociated twat, this is something i’ve never really felt before.

my pain threshold is reasonably high, so when i ‘feel’, its in terms of pain. tattoos. headaches. when i stub my toe on the corner of the table leg.

but by in large, i don’t – haven’t – felt things like, water dripping, or a light breeze across my face. i can’t feel my fingertips touch. i don’t really recognise my clothing against my skin. i know, cognitively, that its there, and therefore i ‘feel’ it. but i don’t ‘feel’ it.

today i felt the water on my back; then it running down my legs.

& while those around me might celebrate that, if i were to actually tell them; i’m not celebrating.

i know it’s coming.

change.

it’s coming.

& i’m afraid of what i will ‘feel’ next.


kpm ©


 

sym-pathetic.

apparently i’m unsympathetic.

actually, it’s not apparent, its true. i am unsympathetic. it’s not something i understand. sympathy, as an emotion or action, is not something i’ve mastered.

it’s not the first time i’ve been told this. nearly 47 years old & i’ve been told this most of my life, not realising what that even was @ first & then when i did, wondering what the fuck it even meant.

you see, i believe i am one of the most empathetic people i know.

& thats not a gift. to understand or feel someone elses pain, is a fucking curse.

however, sympathy is not empathy.

sympathy is, imo, a platitude. it’s what gets waved around to make ‘them’ feel better about someone elses display of emotion.

empathy is feeling what another feels.

when asked, i’ve described my ‘story’ or memories. what people give in return is sympathy. i can appreciate the sentiment, but i know full well there is no empathy for my memories, story, how i feel or the results of it & what i deal with daily.

fuck, even i can’t handle how i feel & what i deal with some days.

what i’ve come to realise recently is: my darkness is too dark for most. my reaction to that darkness is too uncomfortable for most, if not for all.

& that is my plight.

to handle my business, heal my body, mind & soul; listen to the pretence & platitude – the anger & bitterness. the words: “we put up with you but we can’t support you”, as more of a piecemeal truth told as a means to an ends.

that yet again, my lack of sympathy or understanding, is not measured in terms of my life understanding, but in terms of what i cannot ‘give’.

that this feels much the same as being spread out on a bed i can’t get off, having shit shoved up my little vagina like i’m some kind of dead doll. that crying brought no sympathy that day. not the pedo cunt & not from the family who cued up @ the door to rescue my little ass. yeah right. sympathy is a nice thought but serves no purpose. what saved me that particular day, was me.

again.

not tears. not sympathy. not pleading.

logic. quick talk. analytics. thats what saved me.

but for today, i won’t die. again. i’ll live through my tears & discomfort.

again.

i’ve lived the worst that humanity can serve up in one dish.

so today, i think of my nan & all the times we misunderstood her. i apologise to her, again, & hope she shines some goodness on my ice cold mother-fucken heart.


kpm ©


 

Image

un.fucking.

Karakia:

Atua

Tukua

Homai to Aroha

Ae.

shits changing … eww

the more i plod along lately, the more i am becoming convinced that we’re all just scrolling through life trying not to feel to much.

by that i mean, the real shit.

not the happy clappy bullshit. not the ‘oh, thats sooooo lovely’ bullshit.

i means the essence of who we are.

cos that shit is usually some pretty raw shit.

and strangely enough, it takes away our breath.

and because it does that, we’d prefer to numb it or placate it, rather than looking it dead in the mother fucking eye ball and making that fear (cos thats what it is) our bitch.

no mater our level of fake together-ness, we seem to all tend to pussy out when it comes to this shit.

why am i referring to this now?

cos i can feel me staring that bitch down … and i can feel my fear. a different sort of fear. the sort that makes you breathless but not panicky.

shits changing round here.

whats that got to do with the pic?

i took this last night. i went for a walk to the beach and it was on the verge of raining but was blowing like a bitch. it was cold as fuck but awesome. in amongst trying to see through the sand blowing everywhere, i found this little beauty. just sitting there looking all beautiful lol.

and in all that wind, she was just solid. not at all phased or moved. just there, looking awesome, getting herself ready for the next phase.

how fucking cool is that!


kpm © : ig @kpm-artist


 

Image

before I forget …

Which I’m doing a lot lately … not sure if that’s normal … meh … it’s now the ‘new normal’ lol.

Sooo …

Just had a definite panic attack.

Yes … pause to breathe in that beauty *sarcasm intended* …

Explanation:

I’ve been rambling on for like, nearly 3 years, about being a dissociated fuckwitt and that becoming one with oneself is actually more fucked up than I realised at the get go … and that being a dissociated retard is actually quite pleasant.

But also … because I chose to ‘move on’ arrghhh … and ‘let go’ double arggghhhh …. I have been confronted with all sorts of fuckery from feelings to flashbacks to an assault on my senses to memories, to memories of feelings and so it goes on.

Within this conundrum, there is another special kind of fuckery … not sure what the technical term for that is … and I realise I’m rambling … again … and finding it a little hard to get to the point … arrghhh …

I haven’t been able to tell what the difference is between :

  • being hungry
  • being nervous
  • hormones ‘shifting’
  • hot flushes
  • anger
  • excitement
  • happiness
  • anxiety
  • sinus issues
  • panic attack
  • hyperventilation
  • You get my fucking drift ay …

Physically they feel the same to someone like Me … and having been so devoid of feeling and emotion for so long, I have not been able to recognise the difference in each of these. So when I get that ‘feeling’ … I prepare for the whole lot … panic, anxiety, head rush, hunger etc etc .

Fucking exhausting … but I been doing my do …

Any Way …

Half an hour ago the builders rang to say they were coming. I was fine.

I rang my partner to tell him the builders were coming. I was fine with a twinge of ‘something’, enough for me to head to the anti-anxiety meds.

I got up, went to go get a water and I could feel my chest tightening, my breathing speeding up and my extremities going numb.

I made toast. Lol. Cos that’s what you do … geez

And started to breath deeply-er.

I did a mental check of the ‘possibilities’ of the uncomfortable feelings in my body and started trying to eliminate those … When I realised — tadah! You’re having panic attack fool LOL.

So … Got my earplugs, checked exists, kept breathing … builders showed up … I answered the door, visibly shaking and breathing like a traumatized animal lol.

And then the dude opened his mouth and started talking and I remembered he was an idiot. He was the dude that I had pointed my golf club at. Once I realised who he was … and that I was safe and OK … the shaking stopped, and the breathing eased …

And I am now on the come down.

And

Feeling pretty stoked with myself …

Not cos I had a panic attack but because I recognised it – both physically and emotionally.

High – fucking – five Me <3



kpm ©


 

reconciling the hormones.

So I’m sort of back to the beginning, or there abouts, with these dam things. It’s an angst-tation cross between being a dissociative retard and actually having something physical going on.

What the fuck does that mean?

Well I’ve griped about this before, but as time ticks on, I can see a pattern emerging …

I’ve spent a life time NOT feeling shit. Not just emotion, but the physical feeling that goes with emotion. Yes, it seems as if theres a physical feeling associated with emotion. Just as there is a physical ‘feeling’ associated with being hungry, tired or in pain.

But did you know, that all the aforementioned ‘issues’ ‘feel’ very very similar and to fuck it up even more, they also ‘feel’ like hormonal fuckery and anxiety / panic fucks.

Yes, thats right, for Me, they all feel extremely similar.

So … what does one do when one feels one or all of these things happening or coming on?

  1. Hit the ground and breath deep
  2. Take a small amount of sedative
  3. Drink water
  4. Consult with stomach
  5. Try and eat something
  6. Take a pain killer
  7. Ice pack
  8. Peppermint essential oil
  9. Breath deeper
  10. Calming music
  11. Re check that I have eaten enough, drank enough.
  12. Re check and start at the beginning again until it (the panic fuck feeling and dizziness) subsides.

This has been Me on and off for the past couple days and feeling pretty over it. It’s kinda scary, so much so I may even go to the doctors arrghh.

Staying positive, whatever the fuck that means though.

Ok … trying to stay gangstah ;)

Love and light xo


kpm ©


 

for me

for me,

pts fucking d is a nice way of

abbreviating trauma.

kind of tidies it up.

makes it a bit more …

‘digestable’. For the on looker anyway.

i can be

short and sharp

straight to the point … to the point of being ‘rude’ (so they say).

or silent.

those two ends of the pendulum

are my essence;

trying to find ‘balance’

has been the ultimate bitch.

and the ultimate bullshit.

that thurr pendulum

has been a-swinging

since I was a-little-biddy-person.

it aint changing.

it is my balance.

it’s the different spectrums,

specifics

that I can hear and smell and feel;

that in the end

make my mind race,

and then go numb;

if I’m motherfucking lucky enough.

all i can do,

is learn to juggle.


kpm ©


 

so, that sucked ..

The morning started with a slight tummy ache but nothing to warrant any medication … hmmm … now I’m at 11.40am having just spent the last hour on the floor, with 2 ice packs on my feet, in the lotus position trying to breath deeply and meditative-ly … and nearly a whole sedative coursing through my veins now … and I’m just beginning to feel ok.

So was that a hot flush? Didn’t entirely feel like one …

So a small to medium panic attack? At what FFS?

I’m still unsure but I aint dwelling on the whys … or so I thought …

As my legs started to feel ok to walk on I head off to the kitchen to get an orange juice … thats what my body feels like right now. And I remember this:

When I was about 14, and I’d been period-ing for a few years by this stage … I woke up one morning with absolutely heinous cramps in my gutt. In hindsight, the pain was centred in my uterus and tubes … at the time, it just felt like my entire tummy area was trying to rip itself out of my body. It hurt like fuckery. I couldn’t walk or sit and lay there doubled over. I was crying and asking my Mama to fix Me … cos I didn’t know what was wrong.

We headed off to the doctors almost immediately and I sat doubled up in the waiting room for about half and hour. The cramps were getting worse and I felt like throwing up and passing out .. the latter I did once I’d got into the doctors room.

Upon ‘waking’ I went off to the toilet to throw up and it felt like my insides were exiting … and hello … there was my period. Arrghhh.

The doctor of course rolled him male eye balls, didn’t say much and prescribed me some kick ass pain killers to take every month.

“It’s just a woman thing”, was the diagnosis.

No explanation as to the hows and the whys … especially since I had been menstruating for a few years and hadn’t experienced anything like this.

But this sums up my entire ‘biological woman’ experience. I’ve gotten more than my fair share of eye balls rolls and been prescribed way more than my fair share of ‘woman’ medication.

As I was remembering this, I thought about the pills I take now. The sedatives. They’re not pain meds as such … they’re sleeping pills … that I use in small doses to bring down my heart rate, numb my body and take away pain … so I feel semi-functional.

I haven’t found anything else that works as quick and as effectively. Sure the deep breathing helps … sure the ice packs help … sure a big ass fan helps … sure positive fucking affirmation helps …

But sleeping pills help Me feel normal. They don’t make Me sleep. They just calm my senses.

Now thats some fucked up shit.

But this is also the story of Me and Biological Womanhood.

I’m pretty sure it hates Me.

Or do I hate it?

Hate it like panic attacks? Hate it like emotion?

I’m not really sure. But it fucking sucks. It sucks just as much as the hippies that think being ‘in touch with oneself’ is the cure all.  Ps: Not offence intended to actual hippies … love y’all ;)

It’s fucking hard … near impossible to ‘feel’ and be ok. And I’m pretty sure my uterus feels the same way … like its saying … ‘dam bitch … what are we doing?’

I think she’s been intruded upon so many times that she freaks the fuck out at every little twitch. It’s the same with sex. I know she feels the anxiety and is pretty keen to shut up shop before anything comes near lol.

Wow … now that was one hell of a diversion for someone who ‘wasn’t going to dwell on that shit’ … I think the point I was trying to make to myself …

Is … my body is used to feeling numb … numb is my normal … its quiet and its peaceful. The bits that like the numbness to the extreme, are my biological woman bits and emotions.

Ahhhh. Fuck it.

There it is, the very long #thoughtforthefuckingday.


kpm ©


 

 

Image

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.

Every-thing.

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.


kpm ©


 

emotion?

Why do emotion? What purpose does it even serve? Numb is nothing. Its calm, its complete. Its functional and makes sense. Emotion…I don’t get it.


kpm ©