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365 reasons to smile ~ 7.

7. When its benign!

image#throwback Jan 7, 2016

Oh, I had forgotten about this! My partners results had come back as clear. Fuck did we breath a sigh of relief xo

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#JS

Tired.

Happy,

But

Tired.

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unfucking thyself 101.35

Karakia:

Atua

Tukua

Homai to Aroha

Ae.

35.

Today was a sicky, yucky fucked day health wise. I’m not sure whats going on but may actually warrant a trip to the doctors / hospital if it doesn’t settle. I even had trouble focusing and holding my hands steady to actually take a photograph! Not cool!

Anywho … on my hundredth trip to the bathroom, I passed the fridge … again. And this little beauty grabbed my attention.

Our fridge is covered with all the Mokos (grandchildren) drawings, and this drawing was done by Moko #2 when she was about 6. All these gorgeous little stick figures are part of our ‘family’; the 3 in focus are:

Blue – Moko #2

Orange – Koro (Grandfather … my partner)

Crimson – Me :)

I love how moko #2 feels in her family … safe and loved … and she has always drawn just that. I am always drawn / placed on the outside edge of their pictures and this used to offend Me until I realised Moko #2 seems to know I’m the Watcher … the Protector.

How mindful is this scene? I’m uncertain … but it means a hell of lot too Me.

Love and extra light today.

<3

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photography ~ my backyard #112

#BeachDay in the Rain <3

#beach #beachday #rainyday #mykindofday #mokos #mokoday #arting #photoart #bymokosandme #fun #love #nopeople #lol #photograph #photoblog #photography #kpm©

e-ven …

even, though, it didn’t work out

as i expected

even, though, it didn’t work out

as i planned

even, though, it didn’t work out

anything like what it ‘should’ have

even, though, it didn’t work out

anything like the mental picture i had painted.

it’s, still, pretty fucken

gangstah.

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unfucking thyself 101.8

Karakia:

Atua

Tukua

Homai to Aroha

Ae.

8.

To peopley again … and to add to that, the suns out so every asshole with a chainsaw is out there being all productive and shit … Grr.

So in finding something to reflect on I ended up at our ‘memories wall’. Some peeps have a cabinet or shelf for nick knacks and shit … well I don’t like little ceramic ornament thingys … so we’ve ended up with a wall of shelving with all the things that have memories attached to them. There’s a few photos of our grandparents and trinkets etc, but pretty much, the wall is lined with shit like the above photo:

Bottles, bullets, stones, old stuff, feathers, ripped books, pieces of paper, cards, an old folder, record covers, glasses, shells …. you get the idea ay.

This was my partners first ‘kill shot’ whilst hunting. Big deal in our house because neither of us are very good at killing things … not for sport anyway. This kill was primarily for food, so that was alright … sort of.

The little brown bottle was found in our garden at the old house.

The bottles behind these are one of our favourite drinks :)

<3

flashback: *how exciting* :

It’s been a hard few hours, days … weeks … as I try to re-cap. I think I’m still recovering from the doctors fuckery last wednesday … I can be a bit of a slow processor when it comes to that sort of shit … Yah know, when the senses and feels and emotions have been assaulted … inadvertently; and no cunt gives a shit really.

Wah wah wah …

But since then … I had a process and an un-fold but that tight knot is still in the pitt of my gutt …

After Wednesday, besides the obvious, I still have this gnawing feeling in my gutt. Close to anxiety (which I’ve been sedating with the medication I use; not the shit the fuckwit doctor thinks ‘is the miracle cure’), but tighter … like the verge of a panic attack, but not quite.

It’s sucked.

I’m trying … good lord I’ma trying.

But you know that feeling like your missing something quite obvious?

Yeah, well thats been lingering around the fringes too.

Everything feels Unsafe. And I guess for Me thats one of the responses to being assaulted. It’s a reality. Some would say it’s not a reality anymore and is just a pts(d) glitch that needs some serious meditation to remedy. Maybe they’re right … fuck knows really.

But this Unsafe feeling has been escalating of late.

And I thought it should be getting better.

My house is ‘logically’ safe: I am ‘logically’ safe: But everything in Me is still screaming: “Run Bitch … Run”.

Of course, I don’t run, well not literally anyways.

So a couple of things enlightened my fuckery:

We watched a random movie the other night … mainly cos I couldn’t find anything else to watch … it was called “Rebel in the Rye”.

Long story short, dude was a writer; goes to War and comes back with pts(d), of course. It completely changed him, of course. But the movie goes through his writings, rejections, struggle with the ‘unknown’ sickness at that time, the attitudes of those around him, his reclusiveness, his flashbacks … his struggles to balance the entire fuckery.

I got it.

What astounded Me the most was the lack of ‘listening’ those around him did. He fought hard to remain true to himself … but they didn’t listen. I could see the damage it was having on his family and his relationships: but I could completely and utterly dig what he was trying to do: SURVIVE.

So this whole thing knotted my gutt a bit more … I didn’t ponder too hard about it, figuring: I gotta be ok for Christmas day and we’ll figure this shit out later.

Entrance: A few weeks of partner silence as he does what he does. My beef being: I don’t like being touched. Don’t touch Me randomly. Ever.

I get that this hurts his feelings. I get that he is affectionate. I get all that. But I can’t do it. I can’t do random touching. It completely throws Me into a mind and body fuck that can last for days.

The Present:

Christmas morning and I’m trying to get on with it … chirpy and trying to remain positive. I’ve done my slightly sarcastic but witty posts: I’ve done our food: I’ve enjoyed those simple things:

Partner is sulking cos I’m ‘Un-affectionate”, and today, Christmas morning, seems like the appropriate time to bring it all up:

Result:

I had a big ass, slightly drawn out Flashback, that still hasn’t quite dissipated.

And all I could muster through my heaves of tears was:

“I hate fucking christmas. I’m trying: but I hate fucking

Christmas”

And heres what I had forgotten: well not entirely forgotten; but hadn’t ‘felt’ at all.

Christmas day: and the days before hand and at least a week after. But Christmas day mainly. Sitting in the same room as the pedo cunt: ‘feeling’ him making a menace of himself and physiologically torture everyone in his presence. He was usually high as a kite: erratic: abusive: explosive.

And I had to watch it unfold, every year. Never quite knowing what ‘exactly’ was going to happen … but hoping he’d eventually piss off and go fuck with someone elses feng shui.

Now this is ‘normal’ for families all over the world.

The pedo cunt was a torturous cunt. A self professed ‘bad bastard’ and I never met a person who wasn’t afraid of him. Imagine freddy kruger mixed with IT and that fear that happens when the music is getting all suspenseful … yeah well that was the tension he could produce in Everyone. I’ve seen Police look afraid; strangers, big bastards that could knock yah teeth out with one blow … they ALL looked as if they were quietly pissing their panties in the presence of said pedo cunt.

So imagine that around small children and a family that thought ‘loving’ him no matter what, would be the solution to all his ‘issues’.

But he was a pure and utter cunt. Not sure if that is biological; psychological; a random act of nature or a large helping of nurture. Who knows.

But his cunt plagued every single christmas. And every single christmas, I dreaded …un-knowingly really …

But that tight feeling in my gutt … came with the flashback.

The flashback came with a ‘feeling’ or thought:

No-one listens.

No-one was ‘un-scared’ enough … had enough fortitude … or fight … or resistance … or foresight … to realise, that this cunt was not the type of cunt that should be in the company of anyone let alone the company of a child.

The christmas morning flashback was that: split scenes of dumb founded silence as everyone ‘pretended’ that his behaviour was ‘normal’ and if we just smile and get on with it it’ll all ‘come out in the wash’.

Guess what: It may have ‘come out in the wash’ for others, but for Me, that fear of not being heard – Ever; not being considered – Ever; not being put first – Ever; not being protected – Ever … when it came to that cunt, is still prevalent in my being.

I’m not sure of how to exorcise it.

And I’m not blaming those that were around Me at that time, anymore. Been there, done that, and I get it now. They were all afraid of him, just as much as I was.

But how do I get rid of that feeling … the ‘not being heard’ feeling? The feeling ‘un-safe’ feeling – anywhere, any time, especially with fake ass bitches that are too self absorbed with themselves and pleasing everyone else … to even notice the simple things – like a frightened child.

I’m unsure.

I hope it doesn’t take to long to process this one … cos it hurts like fuck and it’s fucking with Me feng shui, Hard!

heroes?

i align Myself with certain views.

but i have No heroes.

no heroines.

none that i follow.

or have any desire to be like.

Why?

because i am.

my tipuna are.

as gangstah as it gets.

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todays conundrum …

No, nothing too intense …

Just …

Do I eat the chocolate chip cookie dough and tell the fams they didn’t work out … OR, Bake half and eat the other half of the chocolate chip cookie dough … Hmmm

#1stWorldProblems

let me explain it again … slower this time …

P, for Post.

T, for Traumatic.

S, for Stress.

D, for Disorder.

Now you can google these separately

Or all in one go.

But to re-cap;

No. It’s not ‘drama queen’ related.

No. It’s not an imaginative state.

No. It doesn’t go away.

No. It doesn’t go away by ignoring it.

Yes. There are flashbacks.

Yes. Please do google that.

No. Going to bed early doesn’t prevent these.

Yes. I can smell the pedo cunt.

No. Thats also not part of the imagination.

Yes. I would like to be better.

No. Trying harder at positivity isn’t going to fix it.

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2 litres of vanilla creamy goodness:

Done.

Vanilla Gelato <3

Now I just gotta make sure i don’t eat it all before Monday ;)

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a word on parenting by: pink

And thats how its done ;)