war-ning ..

emotional roller coaster ahead.

.


kpm ©


 

the d.

define emotions.

why? is that gonna make them go away? or make them better?

i think the fuck Not.


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 ©


 

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un.fucking.myself.

Karakia:

Atua

Tukua

Homai to Aroha

Ae.

Strange old times … shits good … but shits strange. Good, strange lol.

My art has always been a bit of a love hate relationship … but I think thats because it’s my emotion … and it’s about the only way I know how to do emotion.

I can bullet point emotion … and possibly even explain it from a cognitive point.

But I don’t feely feelings.

And up until recently I thought that was ‘wrong’; because the ‘quo’ will tell us that we should be less compartmentalised and all balanced and whole and shit.

And … then I figured out that that is some bullshit.

Don’t know whether it’s more colonial bullshit or just bullshit made up by some wanker who thought they were right.

How do I know its bullshit?

Because none of Us is the same. Not even slightly. We all process experiences differently … even hear differently lol … thinking of the latest Yanny versus Laurel debate haha.

None of us Do the same … doesn’t it then go figure that we are going to do emotion differently?

Well it does to Me now … and I’m Ok with it.

My art is my ‘feeling’, and embracing that has made Me appreciate my process more, instead of dreading it.

:)


kpm © : ig @kpm-artist


 

emotions

Not my forte really. Emotions. They’re something I recognise when they’re being ‘expelled’ in someone else, and the ‘acting out’ of them I can see, but I’m extremely unsure of what they ‘are’.

Sheldon. Thats what my partner calls Me.

But emotions are intangible ‘things’ that seem more like an expression that can be mimicked and therefore are not reliable … to my reasoning.

So this morning, as my gutt turned … again … I thought to ask it what the fuck was going on with it … again.

Without over analysing the situation to badly, I back tracked to when it first made it’s annoying little surge.

It had happened whilst speaking to my partner on the phone. Now thats nothing new .. he annoys Me more than most, which I have heard, is fairly ‘normal’.

The partner has been away for nearly a week and I’ve been enjoying the middle of the bed, the peace and quiet, the small amounts of washing … and of course, watching all the movies I like :) So when my tummy surged this morning whilst speaking with him, I didn’t recognise it as an ’emotion’ … ewww dirty word!

I miss him.

Which means somewhere in Me, I’m ‘attached’ to him, or am ‘fond’ of him.

Yes, I know this sounds a little weird … but attachment and fondness are words I’d use to describe ‘actions’ not emotions.

To be attached to ‘someone’ is, in my ‘world’, a vulnerability.

I don’t like vulnerability.

Hence the tummy lurch and the awkward feeling.

Which, by the way, went away when I rang him back later and informed him that ‘I do believe I miss you’. Which of course he found amusing and it went straight to his head lol. But I could ‘hear’ the ’emotion’ in his voice. He was pleased.

Now this is not a dance I do very well or very often.

With my kids … Yes.

With my mokos … Yes.

Anyone else … No.

It’s also possibly why I don’t have any ‘Flossy Posse’ type girlfriends. Because as much as I would like to have friends that I believe ‘have my back’, I am incapable of letting anyone ‘have my back’, or becoming ‘fond’ of them enough to see that as important.

Friendship has always been a type of negotiation for Me.

One of my very good friends, is very similar to Me. It’s a strange thing really. We negotiate our conversations and I can understand what she’s on about and vice versa. I get her. She gets Me. Would I ‘have her back’ in any situation? Probably … but that would be a negotiable situation, depending on the variables at the time … and vice versa.

LOL.

When my partner hears Me and this friend speaking to each other he reckons its like having 2 Sheldons in the room discussing quantum physics or something … it is completely void of what we’d deem ’emotion’, but for Us, it is the closest we have of what ‘tight friendship’ is.

So is the ‘non-emotion’ thing wrong? Or just different?

Is my way of attachment and feeling a surge of ‘missing someone’ normal? Or just my normal?

Either way … I felt better when I told him … which indicates to Me it’s more about speaking my truth.

Something I had become good at, and got it slightly fucked up over the last year or so.

Maybe thats because My Truth is changing <3


kpm ©


 

and it’s all alright ay

Don’t really know where to start … so just going to start … another unedited ramble … and see what comes out …

I never wanted to be High, or on some kind of adrenaline rush. It was, and still isn’t my thing. I’m not interested in the latest buzz or glittery bullshit … which FYI is why advertisements don’t work on Me. I couldn’t give a shit about the latest style, craze or ‘stuff’ that is supposed to make my life happier and healthier. Cos ya’ll know, next week there’ll be another one to debunk the last one …

All I ever really wanted was this – – – – – – – – – –

You know what that is ay? It’s Not Up, and Not Down, its straight up the shizz.

I get now that there are ups and downs in everything … that just cos its a shit day doesn’t mean that it’ll last forever. That being in a shit ass mood doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing … blah blah blah …

But I still don’t like what I call ‘Big’ emotions. Laughter or happiness that feels like hysterics. Sadness or a little down that feels like the whole world is caving in the side of your head. In those emotions I feel lost. Not because they’re mine, but because I can feel them on someone else and I feel like I’m drowning or flying right along with them.

That – – – – – – feeling, means I am Me and am not moved by what they are going through.

But apparently that makes Me an un-empathetic bitch face mole lol.

– – –

slight digression :

had one of those heart to heart convos with my mama awhile ago … she ‘admitted’ quite tearfully, that she felt like she hadn’t really connected with Me as a child; that I was left to do Me pretty much from the get-go.

Maybe thats why I feel quite safe in that place.

Ditched and completely unloved … but safe and comfortable.

I know what to do here.

– – –

end of digression lol.

I know i’ve written about these ebbs and flows of mine, before. But today they feel glaringly fucken painful. I want so much to just feel even … actually to just feel numb. It’s days like this I wish I could drink like I used to. While other people were so stoked that I gave up drinking (years ago now) and ‘forged a new more positive life for myself’ … how little did they know what that actually meant … or was going to mean! And how little They were going to be around for the aftermath!

You know, you can take away someones means of existence because You think it’d be better for Them and just quietly, for You. But really … all you’re doing is taking away their means for coping. I mean, who really gives a shit if they’re hurting no-one but themselves, in your opinion. Does their drunkeness make them smile … sing … sleep?

Then leave them the fuck alone.

Reality bites. We all fucken know that. Why would you want them to suffer that ay?

I aint talking about peeps with kids or peeps that spend all the dollars on drunken antics instead of food etc. But the homeless dude down the road wants to drink his liver into a state of shock … why shouldn’t he? But No, we want him to sober up, get a job, a house aka stress and bills … and be Just Like Us Productive Peeps.

Fuck that.

Again … leave them alone if they’re happily drunk.

Anywho ….

Back to Me … days like today, I’d drink myself into happy oblivion if I could. But I can’t cos that shit don’t agree with Me anymore.

Fuck it all.

Instead, I’ll sit here and type this shit.

Looking for this – – – – – through my words, my writing, my guessing, my unfolding.

Sometimes, just sometimes, shit absolutely fucken sucks ass; and it’s all alright ay.


kpm ©


 

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the day that was, is, and thank fuck is nearly over.

A cunt of a day is nearly done and dusted … thank fuck for that!

After my discussion with the shrink last week, this was my first appointment back. And it was productive :) We went over our ‘misunderstanding’ in more depth and I got to hear a bit about her line of work ~ with the kiddy fuckers. She didn’t go into details ~ but explained that her talk of cynicism, that I had taken on board, was actually a reference to her and her line of work. Somewhere between her accent and ‘cultural’ difference, and my heightened anxiety, I had taken on board something that she was referring to, in the first person. She explained it today.

That because of the ‘type’ of person she works with; there is a line where your ‘distaste’ for them, can move into cynicism that means you can’t be effective in the work you do with them. That while a sense of humour between her and her colleagues was necessary, it was a thin line between moving from humour to distaste to cynicism.

I got that; From working in Youth Justice. There was an extremely thin line between ‘helping’ them and disliking them ~ especially when some of their crimes were heinous and they were so young. Sometimes compassion wasn’t enough and humour was necessary – but sometimes, that wasn’t appropriate.

Anyway ~ I got what she was saying. And appreciated her apology. Which was more based on, that she shouldn’t have said anything … I didn’t need anything else to fuel my fire or to process.

So we will be doing more EMDR next session; around the waiting thing … the anticipation of things … that shit does me in!

We finish in July now, and that makes me nervous … so I’m going to have to work on that too.

The ‘cunty’ part of the day was prior to the shrink though. And it did me in for the remainder of the day.

My doctor is hell’a slow. He’s efficient-ish, but slow. And I think I’ve talked about this shit before … but … there is a serious lack of available doctors here, and I’ve tried changing my doctor. But the waiting lists are long (like years long) and the emergency ones are fresh out of doctor college (so I’m not keen!)… and a couple of years ago, all I wanted was my meds, so I have put up with my current doctor…for far too long!

Alongside that, ACC, who assist with my ‘accident’ rehabilitation ~ yes that’s right, Sexual Assault of a Minor, according to them, is an ‘accident’ (but that’s another story!) ~ are also SLOWER THAN A SLOTH when it comes to helpful rehabilitation (of sorts)!

Add these things to a PTSD mix and it’s not a cocktail for holistic health.

And I’ve put up with it for so long, because I didn’t have the stamina to deal with either of these assholes.

But today, I got into the doctors…which is always hard; PTSD hard (travel, smells, lights, people blah blah), and while I have progressed and can handle my shit abit better … it’s still hard. So I get in there, to get my ACC papers that I have been waiting for nearly a month for, and he tells me he can’t do them in that short space of time.

Well, I lost my shit.

‘Why haven’t you done them’ ‘I pay for my appointments, I want my shit done’ ‘If you couldn’t do them, why bring me in?’ ‘You understand how fucking hard it is to get in here ay?’ ‘And how long am I supposed to wait for them now??? Fucks sake’

In amongst all that, the tears and snot started flowing and he was trying to tell me how busy he had been and I’m saying I couldn’t give two fucks … the panic attack set in and i started hyperventilating and he ushers me out of the room into another …

My fuck I was angry!!

I sobbed and snotted and breathed and did that so loudly the nurse next door came in to see if I was alright to which I abruptly said HELL NO.

The partner arrived and the doctor tried to explain to the partner what had happened and he took one look at me and clenched his fists … to his credit, he didn’t deck the doctor; he just got me out. The lady at the front desk apologised profusely as she had been reprimanded … and all the while I’m still sobbing and snotting everywhere.

L M F A O

I was angry at me for not being as capable as I ‘used’ to be … for being a PTSD fuckwit … for feeling weak … I was angry at the doctor for being a slow fucker … an incompetent fucktard who was laying the blame on his slow ass on everyone but himself … I was angry at ACC for requiring so many pieces of paper to be ticked and flicked and signed that a small forest was probably harmed during the making of said paper … and that is just to get a process started! … I was just filthy angry!

And still am.

But what was good, was because I had snotted and sobbed and hyperventilated a shitload before I got back into the car … the panic attack lasted about 10 minutes as opposed to a half hour or so … it reminded me of when I went to the dentist.

Because I had ‘vented’ what was actually going on in me, instead of holding onto it … no matter ‘how’ it came out … I felt a shitload better. Exhausted, but relieved.

What I do about the rest of this is to be decided when I’ve rested and gathered my thoughts properly.

In the meantime … all I know is …

PTSD sucks ass.

Our medical system sucks ass.

Our ACC system sucks ass.

On a way lighter and more pleasant note … we picked up our oldest Moko for a couple of days … and he is just delightful :)

I Love Him.

xoxo


kpm ©


 

SaveSave

SaveSave

wail.

wail.  like you feel it.

like you want them to feel it too.


kpm ©


 

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conversation to self

Its been a couple of brilliant days, full on days. Trying to keep to my therapeutic (Blah blah) schedule ;)

I managed a slow walk to the beach, beepers and stick in hand, music for my ears. I got there, enjoyed the sand and sun, even a couple of strangers strolling by didn’t seem to bother me too much. Nice I thought :)

Heading off home…the heart started to speed up and the vision started going abit blurry – tried really hard to notice what was changing in my thoughts…head. Noticed I had sped up…I obviously wanted to get home and was finished with all the wonderful sightseeing, therapeutic bullshit…I was over it…really. So instead of speeding up more…which is what I usually do…freaking myself out in the process…I slowed down, breathed slower. Then stopped. Had a little chat to myself..which went abit like…

“righteo dick…if you speed up your gonna set yourself into a panic…you cant make this walk any shorter unless you’ve turned into a super fit athlete overnight and didn’t fill me in on it? No…so you are gonna have to slow down…if you happen to pass out I’m pretty sure someone will pick you up…you won’t be out here too long…but if you slow down, breath….you might just actually enjoy what’s around you…stop squinting at everything, your making it worse…focus on one thing…breath then move on to the next…we’ll do that the whole way home…right…lets go”

LOL

I got home, in one piece, took a nice little triumphant selfie and posted it on my fb page ;)


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 ©