many.many.thoughts. the good, bad & ugly.

This is a massive #throwback … I definitely had a lot to say Dec 6, 2015 @ 00:55!

And as I re-read through this, I remembered the claustrophobic, intense feelings that came with this time. Fuck that shit … I am so freaking glad shit don’t really feel like this anymore … in these areas I have slowly learnt to juggle that shit alot better!!!

Its been a hell of a long week…standard 7 days sure, but they felt like 14+! And if it wasn’t for the little date thingy on my screen, I’m not sure I’d actually, definitively know what the day and date was!

There’s been some awesome moments…and I hold onto those by my ultra long fingernails because they are what make this hellish feeling silently bearable.

So I’ll start with those moments…the good…

We looked after the mokos for the night…ahhh the other day I think. It was intense! Lovely intense; but I’m so past having a 2-year-old running around and a 6-year-old asking questions constantly lol. Don’t get me wrong, they were such a pleasure. I’m just…getting old lol. We were both absolutely wrecked by the time the next day rolled around, and when we finally got home, we hung out the washing and then collapsed in a small heap and slept for about 3 hours! OMG, I’m so soft now. I have a new-found appreciation for my daughter and her partner and their 3 beautiful children!

So, on this night, my daughter and her partner came home from their well deserved dining experience and my girl was slightly tipsy…and she started talking. We haven’t talked, talked, for along time…child restraints, time, distance etc etc. It was so nice…nice to hear her heart again. Shes my girl who has that great big heart; the deep deep soul. I heard her aches and her triumphs and the things she’s struggling with and wishes for. I heard her regrets and questions and ambitions and longings. I haven’t had the privilege of that for a long while now.

She talked about the things from her childhood that had hurt her. Things that I remembered but had a different perspective on. I got to tell her how I felt too. And she actually said, “You know; you’re a good Mum”. That was the best coming from her! I love her to bits…shes just an amazing soul…

Well we stayed up and talked like that for about 5 hours! It felt like when she was a little girl…we’d talk for hours! It’s how I got to know her :)

Her older daughter is also a deep wee soul. She has my sense, and her mamas sense, of the ‘unseen’…intuition, but with the senses. She has an intense sense of smell and can smell where you have been, what you ‘feel’ like, whats bothering you. But this little darling isn’t all hung up on what others think of her gift yet…it just is what it is, and she just rolls with it. It’s so nice to watch her, uninhibited.

Anyway, she had a game of hockey that she wanted me to go too. I said I couldn’t, and she started to cry. I felt bad but I knew I still couldn’t go. Then she stops crying and looks at me, and asks; “Why can’t you come?”…so I told her…”There’s to many people there for me darling, and I get scared. When I’m not scared, I’ll come to one of your games.”….Ohhh, she says…beautiful girl; just like she all of a sudden got it. Then she says to me, “and you can’t bring your pillow and blanky to the game ay”…no, sweetheart, I can’t…

She’s such a beautiful soul. All the mokos are. They have a deep sense, in differing ways, of understanding who and what is going on around them. And as long as you answer their questions brutally honestly, they are able to process all that is happening…the seen and the unseen. I don’t mean ‘ghostly’ unseen…but the vibes, body language, emotion; that is exuded by those around them. They are miles ahead of me, and their parents…all of humanity really. And it’s so beautiful to see.

It’s that subject that got me and my girl talking again later…about how each generation thinks they have a monopoly on ‘being right’; that they have all the answers to the previous generations mistakes and instead of learning from them, they are on a mission to rectify and rub their noses in it. We agreed that this is utter shit and there was a need to be able to transition from one ‘generation’ or era to the next, leaving behind what you need to, giving or passing on what you need to, and getting on with the present. Easier said than done…but a beautiful concept that we are all going to try.


It’s fucken intense times here.

You see…as much as shit frightens me or I panic or have a miniature nervous break down…I know that I know that I know, that there is no rolling over and dying…I can’t…it’s just not in my DNA. I may freak the fuck out etc but I will, will, will get back up and kick your ass eventually. ~ present situation has been a longer ‘pause’ or ‘eventually’ moment than most…but it is still just an interlude ~

And the partner…well he deals with things a little different from I. I find that hard to deal with. I can see that he’s scared and feeling stressed and vulnerable…but he won’t talk…in fact he’s being a bit of a cunt actually. I’m trying to be supportive and helpful and blending-ish (I know what I mean lol)…but he’s angry one minute, sore and sad the next, pissed off then quiet. He’s doing his thing, processing…I get it…It’s just really really really hard to watch!

And the conversations we have include blame laying in my direction…I get this defence mechanism too…but really? Gonna shit on the only person that genuinely gives a shit?? Hmmm. Not cool.

And I wonder how long I’ll put up with being the brunt of the frustration and anxiety? Not too much longer…

I wish I could wave a magic wand and make every bad thing go away…

AND then I went to see the shrink – (who by the way, I called ‘the shrink’ in her office, and she was slightly offended lol…she said she isn’t a psychiatrist…to which I said, ‘so what? Shrink is easier to say than ‘the psychologist’…she got it. BTW, she is a forensic psychologist which I think is rather cool lol)….so back to the shrink…It was really hard to get in to her this time. I had about 3 size 5 panic attacks on the way there and so by the time I hit her office I was a bit of a quivering mess. But I did it! There’s that! We did the breather thingy…and talked a bit. Turns out all the things that are happening with the partner are weighing heavier on the mind and body than I thought. I’m not sleeping very well…6 hours has dropped back to 2…and I can feel my heart beating most of the time and it takes all my energy and concentration to try to relax my shoulders. So I breathed and breathed and rebooked my next appointment.

The next appointment is EMDR, – first and worst memory. Apparently they’re usually separate…but mine are one in the same. I have no recollection of some things, I only know they happen because of what has been pieced together from other people’s versions of events. I only remember one incident…I’m not sure of my age, and I’m not sure whether I’ve actually meshed about 3 incidences together as one. Either way, I have no interest anymore, in trying to ‘remember’ more. I figure if my ‘being’ could deal with it then it would remember…what I do remember is way more than enough.

Needless to say I’m not really looking forward to the next session. I said to the shrink…that I don’t mind talking about this sort of shit, I know its necessary and I’m willing…very willing…however, it’s easier to talk about what causes panic or nightmares etc and how to deal with those…that feels like I’m talking about the 2nd cousin of it, twice removed…she got it. But when we start talking or referring to the actual event…my insides start to shake and then they go numb. It frightens me.

But, I’ll do it…I have too. When my girl and me were talking, she asked me something interesting. Both girls know what happened to me; I’ve always been pretty open and up front with them. But my girl, she asks…”who helped you to understand what happened to you when you were a kid Mum?”. Sweet girl…I told her that there wasn’t anyone and that’s what I’m trying to do now. She cried for me.

Hey, to add a little bit more shit icing to the rather intense cake…on the way to the shrinks office…the partner got a phone call to say that his surgery had been booked in for the 14th…of this month. O M fucken G. It’s a good thing I think…but, but…but…



expectations are a bitch.

As much as I hate to admit it, I had a moment today, just a slight glimpse…into the unrealisticness of my expectations. And it grieves me to know that as realistic as I thought I was…I am not.

I think somewhere in my little world, I’ve had this view…hope…expectation…that someday, somewhere…when I had done enough…was good enough…had got better enough…had succeeded enough…when everything was calm enough…

That I’d be alright. That I’d be content and happy…when everything else is settled and in order.

And I’ve spent a long time trying to order my life…get all my fluffy ducks in a little ultra organised row.

Well…I think I have been mistaken. And I really really don’t like to admit it…because its a cold day in hell when I am wrong ;)

I think I’m beginning to understand what those tree huggers are getting at when they talk about ‘grounding’. It all sounded to airy fairy for me…and it still is…I think their language choice bites. But I think their version of ‘grounding’, reinterpreted, is about being OK with yourself…right now. Not waiting for the story to get better…not waiting till the stars and universes align…but right now.

That I am, OK right now. Shitty and angry…is OK. Its real and its me…at the moment. Sad and stressed…is OK…its real and its me…sometimes. Nervous and anxious…well that’s real and slightly imagined (blame ptsd for that atm)…but its real, and its me…right now and sometimes.

All of it…is all right.

It’s when I start trying to fuck with it and make it all clean and tidy and prettied up; or make excuses or give reasons for it, that I get into strife.

There is no happy ever after…theres just the here and now…and I’m OK here and now…as I have always been whenever and wherever I am.

I am who I am.

#throwback Aug 26, 2015 @ 18:25





Starting to get a grip on ‘being me’. Turns out, being me is slightly complex.

Go figure.

But the person that seems to make it more complex than need be…is ME.

Go figure again.

So I breath … and I don’t punch the wall (It hurts).

And I refocus the lens a little and go back to what is important. What the point is.

And like the photographs I like – I take – its all in the minute detail. The teensy weensy macroscopic zoomed in, thing. And when I can see that, I can zoom back.

I’m part of the larger picture.

I just see it differently than some.

And getting a grip on Me means, that this is perfectly and peculiarly, just fine.

#throwback Oct 30, 2015 @ 16:55



“Pakeha Anger: Why Do They get Mad at Maori?”

Cognitive Dissonance succinctly explained.

For More Please Visit:

Exploring the Depths of the Maori Experience

So on one beautiful Sunday arvo in downtown Auckland, I was out having a couple of catch-up beers with the cuz, when we unexpectedly got talking to a Pakeha, let’s call him Joe. In his late thirties, living in a predominantly Pakeha populated, small town in Southland, Joe has worked hard his whole life, made a decent way for himself and his family, which forms his philosophy and worldview towards living – work hard and reap the rewards. And so, according to Joe and his life philosophy, anybody that can’t make a life for themselves should suffer the consequences for being lazy and useless, which led him to offer opinions on Maori issues such as;

“Maori come from an aggressive culture and so Maori need to whiten up”
“The land is not Maori’s, as the Maori sold it and so Maori need to get over it”
“Maori/Pakeha conflict is a North Island thing…

View original post 657 more words


so, I did it.

from #bnw series – Jun 3, 2017 @ 15:08

Another re-read and the #throwback of doom from Nov 28, 2015 @ 20:33. Yah know, it doesn’t seem that long ago but its been nearly 3 years. Although I feel slightly deflated cos its nearly 3 years, I also know thats it’s ALL progress … slow and steady.

When this bullshit first started, full-on, way back in 2010 or something like that … I thought it was gonna be a quick pill fix or a change of routine and regime fix. But No. It aint like that at all. Maybe if pts(d) had’ve been diagnosed way back when I was little … or even a teenager … or even in my twenties – oh wait, it was in my twenties … but not fucken treated … so yeah, if it had’ve been, maybe, just maybe, things would be different now. But I cant go down that rabbit hole … thats just depression-inducing.

So here I am, re-reading and noting all the things I did then and all the things I do now. Some of it’s easier, most of its the same. Which leads Me to the following conclusions.

  1. I’m not a people person.
  2. I’m not a social person if that socialising requires Me to ‘fake it’.

Things have changed slightly … I just hope that in the next couplely years they become even better ;)

I’m not sure that I did it well, but I did it…the birthday thing that is. And now I’m back at home in my safe little environment, hooked up to the breather thingy, trying to get my heart rate back down. Holy fuck.

I took my standard equipment…music, earphones, breather, stick, emergency meds, water and a piece of fruit. Next time I’ll take a bigger bag though lol. Yes, I looked like a complete freak and I could see it on the faces of peeps as I walked in. But not to be fazed…as I had a timeframe I wanted to achieve…I headed straight for the sanctity of the ‘nibbles’ table and waited for the paua fritters to arrive lol.

There were shitloads of people…way more than I expected. But I managed most of that pretty well. Even a couple of polite conversations. I struck 2 very lovely peeps…they had a nice aura about them…and I’m not really into the aura thing…but you get my drift. They ‘felt’ nice…and in my little world…that counts for everything. It was also these 2 that I felt most comfortable with. I could see they could see my slightly freaky awkwardness…but they weren’t focused on that…they weren’t overly nice or overly compensating or condescending…they were themselves. I liked that.

But all in all…I did it! Yah me. I’m fucking exhausted now but my heart rates going down slowly…at 78 now. And I was pleased with the partner…he was actually patient with me and didn’t try to talk me out of leaving and congratulated me for doing what I had…that’s progress for us :)

So i’m gonna go and find a nice movie now and make a cup of nanny tea and roll a ciggy and…


Congratulations ME…you achieved what you set out to do…and next time won’t be so hard…yes that’s right, there will be a next time :)

Love and light and lots of fluffy stuff to ME xxoo


i faced my nemesis’.

these cunts …

And when I say ‘faced’, I mean that literally.

Yesterday had its cunty moments, the least of all being a 7.5 panic attack. Brought on by the impending arrival of roadworks on our doorstep.

In hindsight, I lost my shit cos the buildup to the ‘event’ was rapid and the circumstances that changed as all this impend-a-ment was happening, was also rapid … and was what I imagine a swift kick in the nuts would feel like.

By 1030-11 I was hyperventilating and crying and then sobbing (yah know that ugly fucken sobbing … with snot and incoherence …), walking round in circles trying to find my drugs that I had put away cos I had thought  … “I got this … don’t need those”.

I found the drugs. Continued to hyperventilate and snot everywhere … all the while, literally saying to myself … ‘it’s just a digger … it’s just road works …’.

But I’d lost it lol.


I rang my Mama <3

It occurred to Me a little while back that while my resources are limited – ok, fucken limited – I do have some. My Mama is one who is on my side.

I rang in tears lol and told her what was happening and asked if I could just talk for abit … she was willing to pick Me up if I needed it … but I wanted to Be Brave. Lol. As fucken ridiculous as it sounds; and if you’ve never experienced anxiety on any level let alone pts(d) on a cunty level … Being Brave means a little something different than those who idiots who chose to jump outta plans with parachutes on lol.

This is a different kind of Brave.

So I snotted some more and cried down the phone at my Mama and when I hung up I decided to go check the status of the digger cunt.

They were one house away.

I was feeling braver than I had prior to my convo with Mama, so struck upon a new strategy.

I parked myself on my bed, which faces squarely out the front window onto the road. I opened up my computer and my blog and started finding the posts that made Me feel good … the encouraging ones … the ones where I had tried, failed, succeeded, and tried it all over again. And they all made Me smile.

And as the diggers rolled to our house, the house started shaking abit, but not too badly. The roadworks crew piss assed around and peered through the window at Me staring at them.

They looked awkward as fuck! LOL. And the whole scene made Me laugh out loud.

I felt like some kind of stalker watching them doing their thing … but I also could See the progress, or lack, and could figure out how long they were going to take.

The unknown is the bitch that gets Me and the thing that heightens the anxiety and panic. The noise and shaking sets off the pts(d). Watching them and their work unfold, surprisingly made it bearable. And it was funny as fuck watching them be all awkward and shit!

Soooo … I faced My Fears.

I felt scared but Brave. Not enough for a medal yet, but pretty close ;)

Love and light and fluffy bunnies too Me!




survival hints. your welcome.

from #bnw series – Jun 27, 2017 @ 14:39

  1. Charge your cell phone before night-time and before you go out.

2.   Have a ‘get away’ pack with you all the time.

Pack should include:





Car keys

Cell phone, charger



Bottle of water

(all in a plastic bag)

3.  Know all exists in every room.

4.  Have a weapon within arms reach.

5.  Your best defence is your voice; use it.

[While PTSD is a bitch, its taught me things that your average peep doesn’t take into consideration – how to survive in the meanest of circumstances with minimal resources at hand.]

#throwback  May 4, 2016

photography & art @kpm-artist 



fatherless~ness ownership?

taken August 2015

‘they’ say, we have a fatherless generation.

or two.

that the fatherlessness is why

we’re mongrels.

[but the polite way of putting it]

they say, that this fatherlessness.

has produced angry, disillusioned, unproductive, undirected peeps.

they say, they are right.

we discuss it like they are right.

but I wonder.


are ‘they’ diverting conversation away.

from what really is?

that this and that generations.

are predominantly ‘colored’, indigenous.

that they in actual fact.

stem from generations and generations

of colonized, terrorized, stolen and raped

generations of peeps.

fatherless, motherless.





less, and less.

and as we look at one thing.


we are focused on one portion of

the result of cultural genocide.

do you think that

if you annihilate a people.

their roots.

that this is in fact

the issue…

we blame fathers.

last decade we blamed mothers.

decade before we blamed laziness.

decade before, the war.

but we were A O K before you fuckers arrived.

You were guests…

You were the ‘conquerors’.

the terrorists.

take ownership

for the mess you made.

and fix it for fucks sake.

#throwback Feb 17, 2016 @ 12:40

photography & art @kpm-artist 


is it just perception?

I think this dude has possibly got what I’m trying to get. Well he explains it a whole lot better…him and Helen ;)

I particularly like these bits…

Security is mostly a superstition.  It does not exist in nature nor do children as a whole experience it.  Avoiding danger is not safer in the long run than outright exposure.  Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.”

– Helen Keller

“One day Ajahn Chah held up a beautiful Chinese tea-cup, “To me this cup is already broken. Because I know its fate, I can enjoy it fully here and now. And when it’s gone, it’s gone.”    When we understand the truth of uncertainty and relax, we become free.”

It all feels a little bit new age, tree hug-ish…but I think the essence of it, is what I’m trying to…be…or embrace…or just get a handle on.

Life isn’t fair…for plenty of us. But I think its ultra traumatised…certain events anyway…because of how they are framed up in a ‘world view’ perspective. As in…certain things are right…wrong…indifferent…successful…retarded…lost…found. We label the shit out of stuff to supposedly help with the perception of it. But I think if it’s viewed in another light, then it doesn’t become ‘right…wrong…successful etc’. It just is.

I’m still figuring out where my high beam is…or how to use it anyway.

Food for extra thought though.

photography & art @kpm-artist 




i know
your faking it.

#throwback Feb 15, 2016