unfortunate chain of events , nei …


they aren’t talking,

cos it’s an unwelcome

uncomfortable truth.

& for some,

it’s just way more profitable that we stay killing ourselves & our own.

[ surely not you say ..]

[but .. yes ..]

it’s about more than talking.

it’s about patriarchy,




intergenerational trauma ..

mash all that up with a tonne of booze & a pandemic

and tadah.

if we can completely change a societies structure in just over a year,

to include tracing people,


and households,

for the betterment of ‘communities’,

then we should have sorted the Domestic Violence shit storm years ago.



But we haven’t.

why not?

go back to the top.



I don’t have to do anything.

not anything I don’t want to.

not anymore.
I don’t have to resign myself .
I don’t have to force myself.

I don’t have to be afraid for the fuck of it or for the greater proverbial good.

The only thing that matters is taking care of me and my safety.


spiritual .. me, my whole self.

Most importantly, my body.

She tired.
Tired of being afraid.


quickie update-ish …

all sorts of fuckery and non-fuckery going on atm .. honestly looking forward to the ass end of the gregorian 2020, but am guessing the lessons learned-ded throughout, aren’t a one time event.

as much as i’d like to blame 2020 for all my ills & for the ills of the world, i cant.

like my stuff, the shit in the world has always been there, its just made its way to the surface. real fast!! & real hard!!

& that sums it all up really.

it feels like, well for me anyways, i was treading water & slowly finding my feet .. in a weird ass kinda way .. & then some cunt drained the water, replaced it with salt water & a quickly rising & dipping tide. & then … had some little cunt start throwing rocks from the embankment LOL.

funny, but not.

& thats been the groove all year.

pandemics & outright racism aside .. theres been some gobsmacking shit happening all around. i think my hardest reality though, has been realising that some of the those that i thought i knew quite well, have turned out to have less moral substance than they had portrayed. & as gut wrenching as that has been, its also been a huge fucken eye opener.

anyways ..

as im tapping this out, i’m aware i probably won’t get all the updates i want to get done, done .. cos yeah, im still abit limp in the brain area atm lol. but ..

i need to note .. that the shift i felt months ago .. the feeling like shit was changing .. that was unrecognisable & slightly uncomfortable but also felt like it was gonna be a good thing ..

yeah .. well its shifted.

& its good.

it is exactly more difficult than i had realised it would be but its good. a NEW good .. shit im completely not use too.

i feel like a have a different wave of confidence.

in myself .. & more importantly, in what ive come to learn about myself & the shit i’ve been through.

im still weighing it all up. slowly. cos slow is what i do now lol.

until i’m kinda more clear, i’ll keep posting my intermittent updates & a few random pieces that i need to relieve myself of lol.

& finish with ..

we only got one life.

there are no do-overs.

dont waste time with meaningless worthless BS.


& on the 3rd day .. they sat the fuck down

they actually were more concerned with not upsetting him rather than not upsetting me.


& now, it’s amusing that I’m anxious & afraid . 

still more interested in getting their own gratification in whatever form than listening to what I have I survived, become, endured, .. you just want the comfortable parts.


well i’m all out of that shit sir.



6th thought for the day.

10 years of alone in my misery & learning.

what the fuck you think I been doing mate.

yep, figuring out my own shit & how to live with it.

to live.

& now you wanna have prayer circles & speak to the dead.

now you want to decolonise and admit how terrified you are.


after all the bs.

hey .. it’s emotionally fucking draining.

& is this what they call “emotional labour” ??

for me,

it’s a new phase of radical self care as I watch those who gonna implode, implode.

cos, like i says :




the stuff ..

all the little pieces i dropped along the way.

in order to survive.

to lean in.

& lean out.

i gotta find.

slowly find.

pick up.

turn over.

welcoming back to my repertoire.

only what i want.




the ol TW ..

& here’s why.
there are no prior warnings to being sexually assaulted as a child.
so it is with the same grace that is shown them, that I afford a nil TW with regards to CSA.
we’ve become another gen & legacy that closes our eyes & ears to anything that makes us uncomfortable. & when we tooooo uncomfortable, we blame the info or the messenger of said info, for that discomfort, instead of examining the reasons of & for the info.
them days are tired.
for a fuller extensive version of the one & only TW I’ve ever given, go to the link in the bio.




criticise all you like ..

i know what my demons look like.

do you?



. .

hold onto everything loosely.




quote & conversations

the conversations, or lack thereof really, has been completely fucking interesting.

to those that fucked with this on a deep ass level .. who felt it completely .. i hear you!!

dont ever shut your mouth!!

as an addendum, on the original post, i added  .. just so we know <3



.. .. qt .15

just, stop.

completely, stop.

entirely, stop.

now, breathe.



my uterus.

upon further pontification .. im thinking with this whole menopausal thing, that with the ending of my cycles, comes the ending of my uterus being weaponised against me.  .. further pontification needed.




yesterday i had a conversation. 


that conversation confirmed what i knew to be true.



there aren’t too many people that i either love or trust. & am im fine with that now. i no longer buy into the theory that i need to love & light on everybody & that im somehow missing out because i dont trust.

trust is earned. its not a right. its also not a commodity. it also means that if i dont ‘trust’ you per se, that i won’t not fuck with you. we can have an exchange for whatever purposes, that dont require me to completely trust, or love you, for that matter.


so, this conversation centred around someone i love, some i trust. 


it turns out their narrative for me is a lot different when they talk to someone else.

i had suspected as much but like i said, i can still fuck with someone and not trust them completely.


turns out their narrative however, pretty much discounted my experience of child sexual assault by …

  1. amplifying those involved on the peripherals
  2. stating that they weren’t there so they dont know
  3. that because they are male they also dont know because that sort of thing cant happen to them
  4. disregarding / discounting the source of the information – me
  5. quoting the adage of leaving the past in the past.

im still processing.

i think im hurt.

maybe more disappointed.

but not unrealistically so, i think i was just hopeful.

deep realisation that they probably will never get it and dont want to.

that ‘the feeling’ of not being welcome or accepted or believed, is alive and fucken well.

today it hurts.

over the last week ive known there was something coming .. a change, a shift. that the narrative of the family of origin had written for me, actually benefited them, not me. for them to hear me would require they do some work on themselves. deep work.

instead they are rolling with the playwright that says our family were hard working good folks who paid their dues and thats it.

nowhere in there is there accountability mentioned for the pedo fuck or the myriad of twisted ways he fucked me up. neither is there any mention of the myriad of ingenious ways i survived & spent countless years undoing his fuckery so my kids would never have to experience that kind of indignity.

with the voiceover of a few empty words, they discounted the trauma & violation, the survival & management, the growth & enlightenment. 


i’ll sit with it.

but it won’t consume me.

its done that for too many years.



qik update :

its been nearly a week and a half of not being at home!!

i’m currently elsewhere doing shit i need to do.

here’s what i am concurring :

  • i need the ocean, sound and smell, like a fat kid needs cake.
  • i am able to more than i originally thought
  • i am able to be away from home when the need is relevant
  • i can enjoy my life anywhere
  • i am completely able to find the joy in the small things no matter where im at, sometimes its a little harder
  • i am waaaaayyyyy more heartier than originally thought ;)

i go back home in just over another week & i will breathe in the air like i never left. but in the meantime i am practising being absolutely present where im at.

its harder than it seems.

but i can do it.

i can actually even enjoy it <3




i think i was about 8 or 9 when i knew who eva braun was.

i also thought everyone else knew that too. that this was a semi normal conversation piece for the meal table.


it wasnt.





im not sure when agrophobia started .. when i became terrified of leaving the house and being out in the open like a sitting duck.

i know it was a long time before covid .. along time before i got older .. a long long long ass time.

guess what.

i’m over it.



the past

i met my big girls father when i was about 12. he was 13. he was my first ‘boyfriend’, such as ‘it’ was. the ‘relationship’ involved long silent phone calls, an ‘eye’ acknowledgement occasionally, a possible wave & more than anything, the title of being someones girlfriend & vice versa.

that ‘relationship’ didn’t last long of course. 

we ‘met’ again when i was about 14 or 15. the relationship i entered into with him wasnt with deep reflection or thought on my part, it was a knee jerk reaction to all that i was, all i wanted to get away from, all that i thought would ‘fix’ & remedy what i needed, which was, in a nutshell, protection.

what i actually entered into was a childish relationship, a violent relationship & a series of events that would add to and change the course of who i was, forever.

our time together was violent. drunken. full of angst & unknowns. poverty. disempowerment. dishonouring. anguish.

out of all of that came our beautiful little baby girl.

i had just turned 16 when she was born. still a baby myself, upon reflection.


today her fathers mother, her grandmother, died.


when she rang to let me know, i felt nothing. no sympathy. no angst. no sorrow. no nothing.


as we talked more there was a stirring in my gut that has only just started to dissipate. sort of.


it was a time in my life that i walked away from. i chose to leave the relationship as it became more violent. but leaving, as such, was harder than i had anticipated.


all that memory came galloping to the from of my brain & my feels today. & i wasnt prepared for it.

seems to be the way shits working out with me at the moment.


i’ve spent a few hours wading through things i had purposefully forgotten. partially because at the time, there was no other way to deal with it. my safety, my girls safety, were more paramount than  any other ‘feeling’ i may have had.


remembering that i was 16 at the time.


how does a 16 year old, in all reality, deal with this in a manner that is ‘appropriate’?


well i did.

even with everything else (sexual assault aftermath & continued hostilities) going on, i knew i had to keep my girl safe.


i realised today, that at the time of beatings, bottles flying, walls and windows being broken, car crashes, no food, no means of escape .. i was beyond petrified. 




but being petrified propelled me to change shit. to get away by any means necessary.


and i did.


today i felt all that again. and im still reeling but am finding a different kind of ground or firm footing for myself. 


i’m not that scared child. that scared young mother. that person. that person who experienced all that physical violence. 

i’m grown.

i more than survived it.

i had one beautiful friend who would check on me & i am eternally grateful for him.


i’m all grown up even though i thought i was grown then, that was a forced grown. a child that was sexually assaulted & tortured, who grew up trying to escape. & that continued throughout my life and relationships. whether i chose willingly or unconsciously, ive been trying to escape all my life.


im tired.

& rightly so.

i survived.

& rightly so.

im good like that.


this part of my life needs a proper burial i decided.

i need to face it dead in its eye. deal & let it go.


thing is, this letting go thing, is a new layer. its different. deeper.

i know its good, it just doesnt feel good. 


it hurts i think.


it hurts that my girl has to deal with the new layers what i wanted to protect her from. as an adult she has chosen to relate to this family. and i admire the fuck out of her for it.

it just hurts to watch it all unfold.


sucks ass actually.



(this is from a couple weeks ago .. bit delayed .. & still lots going on with this shizz .. im here .. im doing it ;) )



a narrative ..

they said i wanted to grow up too fast.

but that was the wrong narrative.

i was forced to be grown. & at the time y’all did nothing to stop that from happening or to ensure my childhood was preserved.

now i am grown completely, raging even, & the accurate is being told & still y’all dont like it.

but thats too fucking bad.




a quick peri menopausal moan ..


yup shes still rolling.

& yah know, just when i think i got it sussed .. like, ah yes, thats a hot flush .. it will pass   ..   or, ah yes, that is the walls of my uterus flexing causing pain right down through my asshole, it will pass … or, my personal favourite .. ah yes, its a constipated bowel routine even though you had the shits a couple days ago .. it will pass .. LOL.

my fuck .. its never fucking ending .. & im trying to remember that all this biology helped birth beautiful babies etc etc .. *eye ball roll*

but some days i get the curve ball & today is one of them.

hot cheeks.

thats it. flushed as fuck hot ass cheeks.

nothing else.

& it feels like those bitches are on fire. so much so i thought i had a fever.

yup i checked all that & nope i dont.

finally googled & guess what comes up. thats right, peri fucking menopause.

i dont know how to settle uncomfortable hot ass cheeks down cos i aint ever had them. fuck.

lol, i mean in the big scheme of things, annoying hot cheeks isn’t really huge, other than the fact that they’re annoying.

so today im doing ice packs on the cheeks with a jersey on so the rest of me doesnt freeze ffs. & ima taking it easy.

*insert the usual*



its progress.

i threw my broken finger nail onto the grass ..


i know, it sounds weird af. but there is an explanation & a shift.

i want to remember this.


when i was little, & in the throws of being sexually assaulted *insert eye ball roll*, there was a story i was told, quite a few times, if i remember rightly.

fuck face would talk about satanism & nazism A Lot. in amongst all his trash talk (which i didn’t know was trash talk then), he talked about how satanists would gather up the hair or fingernails of people they wanted to curse. they’d use those items to do a bit of a funky blood soaked ritual & tadah, curse laid.

now i didn’t know that this wasnt satanism. i also believed his bullshit because everything he said & did was to my detriment so it was kinda better to be on the safe side & roll with the BS he spouted. & obviously, there was no google then. & the climate of my ‘christian’ upbringing supported his line of twoodle.

anyways .. enter adulthood & i started to learn better.

i figured out, fuck face had borrowed from his limited understanding of voodoo *insert another big ass eye ball roll*, & laced it with his satanist slash nazi BS ..

why? cos it sounded good & it terrified everyone, especially me.

guess what .. a terrified person / child is a lot more pliable than an assertive confident one.

anyways .. even though i understood all this as an adult, i ‘d still burn my fingernails and toenails, & hair for that matter, after they’d been cut. i’ve been doing it for years without giving it much thought. culturally, we use to bury them ; as in, so they are returned to the earth. not many peeps do that anymore .. but yeah.

but as this grown ass adult, here i was, still, all these years later, just doing the cautious thing, even though my ‘better judgement’ knew it to be BS.

so the other day, after i’d broken a nail,  i tracked it down & proceeded to throw it into the fire .. & then i stopped, & waited.

standing there like a dufus, i recounted the countless freakish moments of fear that led me to this pointless fingernail burning ritual.

& realised that every time i do it, i give it life.

its BS, & i give it life because it had become a cautious & necessary part of my young existence .. but i realised, i wasnt little anymore, i had a choice based on fact, not horrific fantasy.

i ended up crying.

holding on to that bloody fingernail & crying my eyeballs out.

then i stopped.

then i got overwhelmed with anger.

then ..

i threw that bitch out on to our lawn.

funny thing .. i felt like my whole internal being, literally shifted.

it took a couple hours to process .. & then i went & looked for the fingernail lol ffs.

& when i couldn’t find it, then i let it go.


i think theres gonna be quite a few moments like this .. coming and going .. as i figure out the ‘new me’ that wants to live without all that fuckery attached to my throat.

fuck him.

fuck his fucked up voodoo satanist BS stories.

fuck his nazi BS.

completely & utterly, fuck that cunt!

this is #mystory now!