yah know ..

i had enough of me being shredded, stifled, torn & worn.
it’s time.

to protect, build, bind & strengthen.


kpm©

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yo ..

so, ive recently moved #mystory content to password protected content ..

explanation : ish

i been thinking for the longest time *groan* about what is ‘available’ publicly, & respecting my growth .. what i put out there .. why i put it out there .. blah de fucking blah . yah get my drift.

what it forced me to look @ is the why …

for those that have been round forever, you’d remember i started this site / blog cos i literally had no resources prior to being given a computer & a subscription for a years internet provision.

i shit you not.

& here’s the thing.

theres broke & then theres broken. & @ the time i started this blog, i was both.

i hadn’t left the house in years. i was dizzy. anxious. frightened. no money. no job. no nuddah .. but worst of all, i was running out of energy.

that was like 8 years ago.

i would love to say that help just magically appeared. that there was a long list or even short list, of agencies or people or support places, that were on to it, that i could tap into.

but there wasnt.

i finally found some resources but was pretty fucked up by then.

blogging was free.

& thats it.

thats why i started this ‘journey’. it was my way of processing & making peace-ish with the bitch ass that is pts(d).

& now im here.

ive resolved a whole heap of shit .. other shit is still in ‘process’ lol.

.

so this is where im @.

i didnt spend 40 plus years reliving fucked up shit to get here & forget that child sexual assault is still a real fucking issue.

its not gone anywhere.

it hasnt diminished any.

people like me are still crippled af by the effects of it.

& honestly, fuck that shit.

its layers of bullshit.

.

does my story inspire resistance & fortitude for others? fucked if i know. but i know i didnt come this far for nothing. i’ve shared in one way or another, what resolving, letting go, re-resolving, re-living, un-earthing, making peace, making war, fucking shit, looks like for me.

i know im more @ peace with myself than i ever used to be.

whats the moral of this long winded post lol ..

i’ve locked the grisly content so i can move on .. for this part of my journey.

however …

theres always a how-fucking-ever with me lol ..

if yah need to read my lifes story cos it may help You with something .. im gonna pin this post. you can leave your email deets in the comments section (which i won’t make public & will delete after) & ill send you the password for the #mystory content.

i only ask that you do one thing for me please ..

i’d like you to google “local agencies working with child sexual assault victims”.

that’ll take you on a wild af ride.

but when you find the one that resonates with you, please make a donation to them. anything. big or small. monetary or whatever you can.

cos honestly .. this whole sexually assaulting children is some fucked up shit, thats way past expiry date.

& it takes more than the village to dismantle that shit.

it takes more than sheer determination to heal that shit.

feel me.

.

so yeah .. thats it.


kpm©

&

trying to heal things that were never mine or never intended for me to heal.

is some fucked up shit.


kpm©

.. …

what happens when you stop punishing yourself.


kpm©


 

its aight ..

hear me :

by turning or weaponising any attempt at intimacy, as me being some dirty lil whore.

means you aint no different than everyone else. anyones whose attempted that. anyways.

although i feel strangely embarrassed and humiliated. which feels weird.

also unheard & misunderstood, again,  but then kinda meh ..

it aint nothing new.

that there has been so many who have taken the time to try and make me feel diminished, so as to make themselves feel better.

is tiring.

but to laugh, or make light of, my wound … on my trauma.

my gapping but healing wound ..

my, try every day to manage my reality, wound ..

is beyond what I imagined it would feel like.  does &  did , feel like.

youre not the first to dismiss, to try and minimise what you believe to be the issue.

youre not the first to try and validate your disdain and disapproval masked as disappointment. youre not the first with the inability to be truthful, fully.

& youre not the first to stomp your foot at my boundaries.

.

you are the last though.

.

& today im gonna rest.

.

& you can go fuck yo’self.


kpm©


 

thought-tings

if i’ve survived 32 years of trauma ..

if i’ve run more times than i’ve rested ..

if i’ve acted in response to threat ..

if i’ve resisted everything, to breathe ..

do yah think i’m entitled to have a decades rest & recuperation ..

i think so.

thankyou very muchly.


kpm©


alopecia. etc.

when i got alopecia, i didn’t just wake up one morning and all my hair had fallen out.

it happened slowly.

it started with a tiny patch on the back of my head, about the size of one of my nails.

not a lot was known about alopecia then .. and sadly to say, not a lot is known now and its over 20 years on.

& as i was looking for solutions, more hair started falling out. i’d wake up in the morning to handfuls of hair on my pillow and when i showered, handfuls of hair would fall away.

my visits to the doctors where tiresome and fruitless.

when i finally got to see a specialist most of the hair on my head had fallen away and i was wearing a hat. and still they couldn’t tell me why it was happening or how to fix it.

it was a long, slow and emotionally painful process. i was worried that something more devious was wrong with me. i was worried that i wouldn’t be able to find a solution especially if all these know it all fucking doctors and specialists didn’t know much. and i was worried it would never grow back.

as a grappled with all of that i was faced with a choice of stressing out as it fell out or shave it off.  i chose to have what was left of it, shaved off & it made me feel quite helpless.

in hindsight i coulda rocked a baldy & been fine lol but i think the stress of the why’s and how comes over took any kind of self esteem and common sensical solutions.

it took nearly 6-8 months to get to that stage & about 2 months after id shaved it off, the original patch started to sprout white hair that felt like baby hair.

why re-tell this drull story?

cos this arvo i was thinking about where im at in my ‘healing journey’ .. i still fucking despise that phrase, but havent found a suitable alternative yet lol .. & realised that where i am is like the bit just before i decided to shave my hair off.

my life has been a painful fucking process.

from about 2007 onwards, ive had some tragic shit happen, but a deep healing started. that coincided with not having to see fuck face pedo anymore. it also came with the grief of losing my grandfather & the end of an era.

& now i feel as if im at a crossroad.

sort of.

its a time to choose.

not everything has finished healing or even finished being cleaned out .. but i feel like i have a choice to make re facing certain things head on, in a different way & fuck the consequences.

& like my hair, it may or may not grow back. but am i going to keep stressing about it falling out or just face the inevitable, that it is nearly all gone, shave the bastard off and rock the rest.

cos like my hair falling out, i didn’t get to be a ptsd fucktard over night .. hell no .. its been a steady progression. & to say im well over it would be a fucking understatement .. i’ve tried all the well meaning remedies & then some.

this part feels different.

this part feels almost like a letting go but not in the ‘normal’ sense of the phrase.

maybe more like taking the wheel? instead of bracing for shit to happen .. maybe its time i fucked that thing over & fuck all bitch ass consequences!

.. watch this space .. again .. lol ..


kpm©


 

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the perks of ..

think i’ve said it before, but this whole covid lockdown business, has given me opportunities to do / be at certain things that i didn’t think were ever going to be possible.

concerts.

its a no go for me atm .. kinda above my pay grade for now.

but during this whole pandemic i’ve managed to make 3 seperate ‘concerts’ that i otherwise wouldn’t have been able to attend.

the first was an erykah badu concert .. fuck me, what a kick that was!!!

the second was an erykah vs jill scott ‘concert’ type thing on IG. it was like 3 hours of all their music and singing and reminicing & it was fucken cool!!!

thats me in the middle .. just hanging out and shit LOL.

the 3rd attendance, was a Smart Funny & Black comedy show thing. if you follow amanda seales on IG at all, then you’ll know about this beautiful creation.

its something i’d absolutely love to go to but knew i wouldn’t be able to .. & then …

thats right, they did one online!

yes i bought a ticket and yes i ‘went’ and yes i laughed my ass off for hours!!!!!!!!

& its not just the attendance thing really .. for me, all these things were so fucking healing & liberating & normalising & empowering .. they’ve completely changed the game for me .. its part of whats flipping the shit atm.

its a beautiful beautiful thing.


kpm©


 

guru shit?

ever heard / seen a kid when they learn something new? how in awe they are?

this year isn’t what i had planned at.all.

actually moving out to live at the beach is turning out to not be what i expected at all.

reason: i’ve only ever used logic.

my logic.

analysis and logic have been my saviours & i am forever grateful for them.

guess what i don’t do well?

relaxing and going with the flow ffs.

so, it turns out that logically moving here was therapeutic. but not as i had expected or even planned for.

today i learned something new and was in awe, just like a kid.

short backstory:

i’ve been waiting / looking for a house for nearly a year. i’ve been packed up and ready to go for over 8 months. the stress its caused has been palpable.

about 9 months ago i kinda gave up. my interim plan was to ‘get well’ , or weller than i have been. or better to say, manage my shit better than i had been.

so clever i am.

and then life took an unexpected turn and this house sold. again. turns out, beach location is pick number one for rich people wanting to build oversized houses that no-one actually lives in except for holidays 2 or 3 times a year. in the last market turn , this house was sold and we were left, again, officially houseless. the new landlords turned out to racist cunts but decided they wouldn’t knock down the house and build just yet, so we could stay a little longer.

upon giving up on looking for houses, other shit happened: aka the learning curves of doom lol.

then out of blue, i was offered a house. not just any house, but one hell of a beautiful house, warm … long term.

what i would have logically turned down or not looked for, pretty much set itself into my lap.

now how the hell does that happen ay? is that one of those things that those know-it-all-guru-cunts are always going on about .. where, in a nutshell, if you chill the fuck out, good shit happens?

to my logic, none of it makes sense. at.all.

but i am desperately trying to go with it: cos it fucken worked!

*watch this space lol*


kpm©


 

healing theory:

like religion: its based in the theory that you believe you need saving.

fuck that.

& fuck it.


kpm ©


 

tipuna talk

my body takes me to where i can hear my tipuna wailing.

a stifled hell that comes pouring out.

waiting, waiting, waiting to be heard.

to be healed.


kpm©


 

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un.fucking.myself.

Karakia:

Atua

Tukua

Homai to Aroha

Ae.

I had the absolute pleasure of walking my beach the other night … of listening to the ocean waves crash … and of watching the sunset :)

I love this place … the ocean, the skies, the nature sounds … it’s brought so much healing I can’t even round it off into a manageable sentence.

There is something quite spectacular about nature and the way it works … its ebbs and flows … its in perfect rhythm with itself and everything round it. And I believe, it holds everything we possibly need to heal Us. If we stop and listen that is.

Today I am grateful for where I am; even where I’ve come from. Without the rear view, I wouldn’t be able to appreciate this view.

xo


kpm © : ig @kpm-artist


 

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te.unfucking.thyself.

Karakia:

Atua

Tukua

Homai to Aroha

Ae.

Cos I haven’t been taking pics like I was … I’m nearly all tapped out on the fresh photograph front … so heres a re-use, and btw it’s my little icon thingy … and for those that thought it was a big white dot … it is: It’s called the Moon ;)

So this mindfulness thing hasn’t really got anything to do with the moon … but if you can find a deep spiritual connection between the 2, go for it ;)

Now, this is going to sound critical and judgey but oh well … it is whats on my mind at the moment …

Today … I’ve had a guts full of those well meaning self-help – advice bullshit bastards that are dishing out the navel gazing, westernised deep meditation advice and ‘how toos’ … like its a new thing! Like its their invention and that they came up with the shit in the first place.

Usually I can sift through and take what I need from all of this stuff, but I fell upon an article about chakras and realignment etc and part the way through reading it, I was thinking, this sounds familiar … aside from the eastern arts that ‘it’ came from …

I had a look through one of my old note books from a lady that teaches our RomiRomi …

And yes, lo and behold what do I find in there … the breathing, the balancing, the realigning of our ‘waters’ / or our energies.

It’s all ancient. It’s all what we were prior to being colonised and consumerised … and I aint just talking about the brown peeps … I’m talking all Indigenous. Because we all were once.

It annoys Me. Well today it annoys Me. Tomorrow I’ll hopefully be able to roll with it again. And my point:

Acknowledge those that have gone before you …  the ancients and their wisdom … whether it be from your culture or someone elses. Acknowledge that … acknowledge them. Your fat head didn’t come up with that shit on your own. JS.

xo


kpm © : ig @kpm-artist


 

to be, to do

I Resist.
I don’t conform.
Even when I do.
My heart with Never conform.
Not to the quo.
Not to the ‘musts’.
Its part of my nature.
Part of the non-conformist dialogue.
And when I snap my pics
it’s also to explain.
To explain my view,
Share my perspective …
the intricate. the narrative. the story within the story.
I was a child.
I still am a child.
I was a frightened child.
Who survived an extraordinary experience.
Who choked on a dick too large for her
tiny throat.
And she’s been choking ever since.
They named it pts(d) and said I was super sad.
So sad that I may harm myself.
But I didn’t.
Not on purpose anyway.
Instead I died, just a little, as the shit got kicked
The head got beat
The heart got broke
The bottle got empty.
And all she could do was cower.
So cowering became the sport.
The sport for healing.
The transport for unfolding.
To build a bubble that could expel the fear
and protect the good.
the good being, Me,
So, so serious has been my pain.
So so serious has been my tone
that even the lights are angry
the brightness is broken.
So she went and flipped the switch off.
Off. Till another could be found.
Not a replacement.
An entirely new form of light and dark.
Where the script is written in the dark
And the sleep takes place under the sun.
A place where an opposite is another.
Another option.
Another alternative.

kpm ©


 

weeding

embracing the weeds.

turns out,

they’re healing.

and edible.


kpm©


 

Image

ouch


healing;

it’s a

messy

fucking

process.


kpm ©


 

Image

for her, them, me. [2016]

All my life, well 41 years of it anyway, I’ve had to defend myself. Unfortunately, the form of defense that I have employed has usually, also been to my detriment. In that, I have hidden, run, anesthetized, gone silent…held my breath…to maintain my survival.

And this is the aftermath and ongoing cruelty of infant or child sexual assault, for its victim. It’s no longer some pervert cunt whose trying to get into your tiny panties…its the continuous hiding from the possibility of impending assault. It’s Us; still trying to defend ourselves from those prying fingers.

But those fingers don’t exist in the here and now anymore. Just in the senses…in the dreams…in the reminders…in the head…in the heart…and they are more than enough to terrify an avid horror film buff.

And as I wake this morning, to the realization that I have been my own worst number 2 enemy…as number 1 is lost somewhere in the open world…I wonder; am I going to defend myself differently? What does that differently look like?

I think it would look like what I do for; have done for my kids. It would look scary and fierce. It would be quiet, but firm…unyielding. It would defend and die for the life of…the growth of…the success of. It wouldn’t take any shit and wouldn’t take No for an excuse or an answer.

So if that is my new truth…that I; the person who hid, survived but died inside every day…if I; am truly worth fighting for…then today must be the day that happens.

I have listened and remained silent to the uneducated and unlearned and uncompassionate taunts of “get over it all ready … stop using it as an excuse … that was years ago … you’re so unaffectionate … you’re not better, your worse … you need to forgive … you need to move on”. And my defense, or best defense, has been an argument. Has been a plea, really.

To listen, to understand…let me educate you so that you will understand. Let me beg, plead and cry so that you will understand. Let me share my horrors with you so that you will understand.

Not realizing, they don’t want to understand…they just want me to be different. Not such an unwelcome truth.

So, for her, and me…I’ll keep talking the unwelcome truth…the mundane horrors…not just to educate; but to defend my position; my truth; my battle; my scars; my reality; my healing; my moving on and growing up.

I’ll also speak for all of those that didn’t make it out of that little dark room with prying fingers and filthy deeds. ALL those little people who never got the chance to get out, grow up, get a job and a family. For all those little people, just like me…who grew into big people, and have rocked in the corner, for far to fucking long.


kpm ©


 

SaveSave

emdr eureka

Well, I’ve been a bit sceptical of the whole EMDR thing, but I’m pretty much down for giving anything a try…which I’ve been doing.

The shrink reckons that the ‘changes’ will be subtle and barely noticed at first…’Oh okay’…is what I’m thinking…

But I roll with it….because…well because what other fucking options do I have?

Now I’m usually pretty aware of the cognitive changes that I have…and aware when my physical being is slightly ‘tweaked out’…and I know when there’s been a ‘shift’ in my spirit or soul…we say ‘wairua’.

I have always had difficulty ‘feeling’ any of these states of changes…but I’ve always been mentally aware of them. Disassociation I guess, is what has inhibited those ‘awareness-es’ in their entirety. However, a wise lady once told me that ‘we’…our holistic beings…deal with certain things, as they should be dealt with…in their own time. That there is no right or wrong as such…there is no stuck or stopped unless we chose that.

So any and all progress that my being has made…is all in its good time I spose.

Anyway…after that long thought…

I woke up this morning thinking I was tired…because I’m always tired; well to varying degrees anyway. I stumbled off to make coffee and do the usual blah de blah routine.

A couple hours later…eureka!

I realised with a quick finger count/calculation…that I had slept 6 hours! Yes that’s right – 6 god dam hours!

I haven’t really been paying attention…I was trying trying trying to cut down on the Zopiclone…as I have been doing for aaagggeees…and high fived myself at making it to 1/4 zoppy. But then kinda funked out when I couldn’t get below that.

Then somewhere in the last few weeks I decided to ‘give up’ and just roll with it, and I haven’t been to bed before 2am most nights.

BUT…I hadn’t been counting the hours that I actually slept. SO…for the last week or two, while I’ve been going to bed at 2 am ish…I’ve also been sleeping 6 solid hours before waking up!!! I don’t think I’ve ever consistently slept that long before, ever…and on only 1/4 zoppy.

So…I think it’s slowly working. I still don’t think its all on the EMDR, but I do think it’s collaboratively working.

I think I can live with 6 hours sleep a night!

Now to eliminate the zoppy altogether!! Ahhhh…now that makes me nervous…but pretty sure this last bit is just mind over matter…

Rock on with my bad self ;)


kpm ©