? ?

Was tryna think bout what it is that I love ..

besides my kids and mokos I mean..
like what do I love to do ..

& I couldnt think of anything that I absolutely love enough to want to be doing all the time ..

& yah know what ..
That pisses me off.


yah know ..

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

to protect, build, bind & strengthen.



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.



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

is some fucked up shit.


speaking of bs ..

why cant they just say what they mean.



.. for something that aint 2020 .. ah huh.

actually thats not fair .. cant blame everything ‘bad’ entirely on 2020 ..

or can i??

edit : cos this been in the ‘drafts’ for ages .. Then we moved into the gregorian 2021 & sweet fucken geezus ..

Make It Make Sense!!!


decol & health

“don’t do self diagnosis” is the consistent hollah of mainstream ‘medical professionals’. howfuckingever,last check with that lot, & they adamant that shit isn’t connected, that in their fields, they deal only with the one thing .. & yah know what, that wreeks of colonisation BS & pretty much goes against who I am, how I live & how my tipuna lived. 
tis a violent reminder of why I don’t do westernised theory of any kind if I don’t have too. 
y’all so disconnected it makes a bitch sick.



who benefits from the concept of me being broken?


not me, that’s for sure!


kpm ©


its currently a cunt of a day.

hormonally. horizontally & intuitively.

random as fuck you might say?

not really. as i’ve come to realise about my pedantic little self.

whilst my brain is clear (ish) & i’m full of ideas & energy: my body is not so fucking willing.

vertigo is through the roof, or the floor as the case my be. my tummy is doing somersaults & i’m guessing this is PMS in all its fucking glory (after referring to my anal little calendar), or i’m hungry … again. my head is aching, but that seedy sorta ache. oh & i’m as nauseous as fuck!

i’ve done the ’emotional’ check, such as it is, & i know there’s shit going on in there, i just cant quite put my weasely little finger on it yet.

i’ve done the ‘body’ check, such as that fucking is, & am taking an educated guess @ hormone fuckery.

whatever the fucks going on it’s lending to an ever increasing anxiety that’s building to a nice little panic fuck … possibly scheduled for … soon … if i cant catch my fucking breath.

yah know, some days are just cunty-er than others.

*rolling with it*

kpm ©



The Tohunga Suppression Act of 1907:

suppression of the filthiest.

kpm ©



tohunga suppression act 1907

When the great white hope docked their vessels in Aotearoa, and proceeded to ‘discover’ the already occupied land; they brought with them alcohol, tobacco, lawlessness, drunkenness … and disease.

Our indigenous population prior to 1840 was approximately between 90,000 and 100,000, and pakeha population was approximately 2000.

Not quite 50 years later, indigenous population had declined by nearly 60%! And pakeha had the cheek to quote our ‘savage’ beliefs as the cause of our decline and suggest we embrace christianity. Our population decline however, had nothing to do our belief system, and everything to do with our immunities not being equipped to deal with the infestation of foreign diseases. Other Indigenous cultures throughout the world, experienced similar ‘die offs’, which at the time, were also attributed to their ‘pagan’ practices.

So as we died off by the thousands and christianity was implemented as the saviour, the Crown systematically set about destroying what was left of the Indigenous identity.  The Tohunga Suppression Act 1907, is but one of the Acts, the Crown has used to oppress, assimilate and dictate how Tangata Whenua should behave, act and respond. This little shit stain Act of Parliamentattempted to kill the practice of ‘healing thy self’, which I might add, we were very good at prior to colonisation.

So by the time this Act was Repealed in 1962, it had semi done what it was designed to do.

(not my info / meme)

Recently this ugly Act and it’s ‘intent’, have raised its horns again. Once again the Crown is trying to define what is ‘right’ and what is ‘safe‘ for Tangata Whenua, by their own ethnocentric understanding and standards, and to sanction and punish,  how Tangata Whenua practice their own forms of healing.

“In a written statement, the Ministry of Health told The Hui that “certain activities are restricted to particular health practitioners, because of the risk of serious or permanent harm to members of the public if those activities are carried out by other persons.”” (News Hub)

The thing with one group believing they are superior to another, is they believe they also have the right to decide how ‘the others’ should moderate, regulate and heal themselves. Need I remind the Crown that a. Tangata Whenua were healthy before they sailed in on their colonial vessels and b. the Crown has not down a great job overseeing their own peoples health let alone Indigenous health.

I suggest they fuck off and mind their own business, but considering they probably won’t; I suggest We re-learn, if necessary – or continue to practice, if known – the holistic techniques our ancestors used prior to the colonial invasion. We are a resourceful people; well equipped to dismantle the ideologies forced upon us, and well equipped to embrace wellness.

This is the Act of Decolonisation, which we need to do in every area of our thinking if we want to thrive, not just survive.

kpm ©








todays discovery & FYI

apparently, when one is annoyed @ moi, for not ‘being there … giving more … participating …’ etc … & when they proceed to not include moi, not invite moi, not speak too moi or not give any type of acknowledgement of moi being a. here, b. alive …

what it actually means is this:

“i don’t like it that you had the balls to follow you’re own path, because i didn’t & i’m stuck & i hate it.

i hate that you have the nerve to believe you are actually worth something & stick to your self care plans even though i believe you should be doing things My way & i don’t give a shit about your health & well being, because your health & well-being makes me fucking uncomfortable.

i also don’t know what to say to you anymore because you won’t do what i want you to do & i haven’t learned to manage myself or take responsibility for my own actions or in-actions & that also makes me incredibly uncomfortable, to the point that i’d prefer to be an asshole to you, than figure out who you are or what your health regime costs you, or how to participate in your life on your terms; because, yeah … i don’t like feeling uncomfortable; & truth be told, i actually don’t really give a shit.”

i’m pleased i’ve had this revelation on the first day of the gregorian calendar year … think it’s gonna save me a whole lot of time & angst!

kpm © : ig @kpm-artist




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.


kpm ©


peeling it back: one miserable layer at a time

This has been sitting in the ‘to post eventually’ pile and now seems gooder time as any I reckon …

Heres the conundrum …

I note:

  • the anxiety (general and specific – to certain things) has increased incredibly since just before the end of last year
  • therefore, my sedative consumption has also increased

Before 2010 I was reasonably fit, healthy-ish, could socialize and actually enjoy it, could walk for an hour or so by myself and unaided. I also note however:

  • I was always tense as fuck
  • I was always dizzy as fuck
  • Couldn’t hold much food down
  • Couldn’t hold onto any weight

So even though I ‘appeared’ healthy, there were things brewing.

Upon reflection, after being medically discharged from my job in 2010, I am almost certain that what I was having for the 4 years of working there, were increased anxiety and big ass panic attacks. The result of those going undetected and undiagnosed started a long battle with myself, the ‘specialists’ and doctors and their medications and of course an actual diagnosis.

In hindsight, all their ‘diagnoses’ were symptoms and their medications inaccurate.

From 2010 till now I have spent more time incapacitated and bed and house ridden than any other time in my life. I have watched more movies than I can remember and tried more medications than I care to remember. I’ve spent nearly half of that time trying to wean myself off’ve those medications and another space of time recovering from the after effects of those medications.

My muscles are weak. My mind feels weaker than it ever has. My nerves are rattled more times than not. My thoughts are scattered and my guts is in knots.

What has always kept Me going, is My Fight.

So what happens when the Fight feels like it’s being sucked out of Me? What happens when all the movies have been watched? All the ‘alternative treatments’ have been tried? All the reflection and mindfulness is dried up? What happens when all the plans and re plans have been done, re hashed and hashed again? What happens when theres nothing left to photograph and no more stories to tell?

Where the fuck do I pull the ‘Fight’ from when it feels like theres none left?

And then there was this:

I learnt the other day, that the pedo cunt who violated my tiny being; terrorized my tiny world; imbedded fear and mistrust into my tiny little soul; who invaded my tiny body and soul and spirit …

Yeah, well that cunt …

It turns out that he is now old. Obviously.

He doesn’t leave his room.

He stays locked away and doesn’t come out.

Do I feel sorry for him?   …. Nope.

Do I care? …. Nope.

Do I hope he rots away in his own evil for whatever is the rest of his miserable life? …. Yup.

….. Then I Pause …..

….. And it occurs to Me ….

That that cunt … and I … are living pretty much the same existence. And I feel repulsed.


Now try swallowing that one whole.


Thats some serious fuckery that needs to be addressed.


kpm ©


pretty fucken sure i’m pre menopausal

So what does a well scholared individual do?

That’s right,

she consults with Aunty Google

who turns up 34 pre menopausal symptoms

so I can identify


Turns out,

I’ve had all, bar 2, of these ‘symptoms’

all of my fucken life.

So just got 27 & 34

to look forward too.


Fuck you Aunty Google.

kpm ©


thats awesome ACC, insert *sarcastic eye roll*

The assessment is back. Noted. Added to the pts(d) is mdd. Awesome.

So todays conversation with the almighty ACC, went a little something like this … hit it:

  • so, you (meaning ACC – thats, Accident Compensation Corporation) will assist with counselling, right?


  • and?

You are covered for mental injury, as noted on your new assessment.

  • which means?

We will assist with your recovery from your mental injury.

  • which means?


  • does that include practical help … like, transport to and from appointments?

We can assist with more than 80ks worth of travel in a month.

  • defined as, what?

Your own transport, and we can reimburse a percentage.

  • and if I don’t have my own transport?

We can look at paying for a bus, possibly.

  • pardon?

Where preferable, you should make your own way to and from appointments and we can reimburse a percentage.

  • what about something else, like self defence for instance?

No. We won’t help with physical activity.

  • what about, art therapy, or something along those lines?

We can assist with the recovery of your mental injury.

  • what about helping with future career or job prospects? getting back to work scenarios?

We will assist with the recovery of your mental injury. So, No, not work prospects. We can pay for a Social Worker to assist you with a CV and possibilities for further assistance.

  • Oh, Wow. Now that’s helpful.

kpm ©


the season for it …

Man issues, that is.

Don’t get me wrong; I understand all men aren’t ignorami, but appears to me at the moment, there are no holds barred on the amount of ignorance I am experiencing by said Men.

Yesterday was the partner … and that continues, unspoken about, today. As usual. And I know it’ll pass eventually, when he gets his fix of ‘man-dom’.

And then there is the Father … again.

He has recently returned to the country he’s been residing in for the past 30 odd years. No, I didn’t see him. He left in a tizzy, and thats too bad really.

Well, we spoke the other day.

Another long convoluted ‘discussion’ about ‘the land’.

After reflection re not saying what I actually wanted too … I decided to ‘gently’ (well, as gently as I am capable of) let him know where I stood … again.

He wants to set up a Land Trust, with all owners of the land he intends to build on. Why? Because a. He needs permission to do so. b. The Maori Land Court has ‘advised’ this is what is needed.

Now my Father and I have walked two very different paths in life.

His, in a nutshell, has been to run away from all things Indigenous (Maori); deny all things Indigenous; belittle all things Indigenous. He still believes the Crown (government) has his (and our) best interests at heart and we should believe everything they espouse. There’s reasons for this obviously, but again, thats another post.

My path: As a part Indigenous brown girl; and a non-looking white girl – I’ve had to make peace (still making peace actually) with both sides of my heritage. I have a unique way of doing that, and at the moment, it works for Me. In making peace though, I did a lot of study on Indigenous history and the colonisation of our land, people and culture … What that has meant for Us and where and how we deal with that … ‘moving forward’ (another post for another day).

So, in a nutshell … I don’t do Crown initiatives, or Crown ‘suggestions’ … I definitely don’t follow any format they suggest without researching the living shit out of it first. Because it has always, and I mean always, been to Indigenous detriment, to adhere to their recommendations.

I’ve tried to tell my Father this, on a number of occasions. I’ve also said that if he doesn’t share my beliefs, thats fine … but under no circumstances will I be joining any kind of Trust, Family or Land, and I won’t be a trustee. Why? Because why do We, the Indigenous; the owners of our own land, need to form some type of structure to govern or manoeuvre what we do with that land? Why are only the Indigenous, Us, advised to form a Land Trust to deal with our land?

The short answer, is apparently: Because We can’t get along and can’t organise ourselves.

For Me, this screams all kinds of fuckery. You see, We, the Indigenous, managed to organise ourselves well enough to defeat every colonial onslaught that invaded this country for land and lives. Every single time we defeated them. The colonial assholes ‘won’ in the end by sheer numbers which they’d borrowed from their home country and the other countries they had colonised. As our number depleted, they replenished theirs. Oh, and not to mention, our numbers had depleted horrendously from the diseases they brought with them that we were not immune too. Again, another post, another day.

Anywho … These are reasons I won’t partake in Crown initiatives, and I am also not interested in their money. When the family form this Trust, they will be entitled to rather hefty government ‘grants’. What they haven’t taken into consideration, is that those hefty grants come with hefty ‘fine print’. Usually, again, to the detriment of Us. So while the short term gain of the almighty dollar seems Ok, the long term loss, is not worth it, in my opinion. Also … my question is always: Why do we need their money? Apparently I am being naive. I believe they are being stupid.

My Father doesn’t get any of this. And at this stage of the game, I’m not asking him too. Just to respect that thats how I see it. I’ve also told him that I’ll support him as best I can … but it won’t be how he imagines it.

So, after dropping this little slash large morsel on him – he gets off the phone … And collapses, hits his head and is unconscious.

His wife rang yesterday and says that his blood pressure is low and his heart is playing up again and is back in hospital.


Do I feel sympathy? No.

Do I feel guilt? No.

Am I an awful bitch? Probs.

And this is the result of ‘saying what I mean’. Hmmm.

kpm ©


health and shit

Oh how I forget so quickly.

I was feeling tip top the other day … full of energy (for me anyways) and ‘shiny’ and bright ;) So I decided to reduce my meds again.

It’s a long slow process, but I want off’ve the antihistamines; which I’ve been taking now for nearly 7 years. Apparently they’re not designed for everyday use. And that would’ve been great to know back then … along with all the other drugs they tried pumping into my system … but lets not go there!

So, back to the awesome day … I reduced the antihistamine; now I’m at a 1/3 a day, and have been for the last week.

Enter the shits, itchy skin, swollen eyes, sneezing, headache, muscle ache and increased heart rate and anxiety.

Yes thats right, I forgot that last time I reduced those bastards the same things happened.

So no time is a good time to feel like shit and at least I know how to deal with this now, and how to ride it out. It takes about 2 weeks for shit to balance out; quite literally.

Next round, I think I may wait at lest a few months before reducing.

Anywho … yah Me ;)

kpm ©


mow lawns – tick!

I mowed the lawns today! Yah Me!

Now while that sounds like a pretty bland event and one that doesn’t deserve a high five…here’s why, for me, it does…

I haven’t touched the lawn mower in ages…years actually. As the old PTSD crept in, and I became more and more sensitive to noise and smell…and couldn’t get past the letterbox…lawn mowing was not something that was on top of the priority list! A lot of noise and then ear muffs and the constant vibration of the motor, didn’t make for a ‘safe’ environment for little old me.

I’ve been trying to work up the courage to mow the dam lawns for ages…it’s on my list of things to achieve.

And today I achieved it :)

I had to stop about 5 times, to re focus and breath…ground thyself lol. And every time I stopped shaking, I went back out and kept on going.

And that for me, is an achievement worth a high five :)

kpm ©


its been;

Christmas was one of the best I think I’ve had in a very very long time! Possibly ever. It was simple…real. We did family…we ate, laughed, ate some more, hung out with the babies, caught up, reminised, loved, took the piss out of one another…relaxed…did genuineness…it was good! I think all of us have gotten to that place where we can appreciate each others differences and embrace each others ‘flaws’, such as they are.
For me personally, I was able to pace myself, but enjoy, really enjoy all that I was involved in. And for me, that is huge progress…to be present and to enjoy, or embrace, everything that was happening around me and not freak out!

New Years was similar, but the fams had all headed home by then and we got to chill. We did the beach at midnight and even dropped into a mates place for a drink! The old PTSD kicked in along with heightened senses, at about 230am…but for me, that’s huge progress!

I now look forward to a New Year and shitloads of new experiences…which I am going to enjoy :)

kpm ©