the feeling of always having to be available .

always being open, available, learning , grinding , selling.

then move to other spaces to heal, recouperate, create ..

that makes no sense.

everything constantly having access to you.

also ..

the old ‘god breaks us to remake us’ bs.

whats with that???



Ruminating on this for a long while but hadn’t quite put all the pieces together.
Watched a couple igtvs that resounded my internals and been reading similar shit for ages ..
Gist is ..
The only ‘body’ that should have complete access to me, in totality .. is Me.
Noone, nothing else.
Even a hoe gets paid.
Having complete access without consent is otherwisely called .. rape.

& letting that shit ruminate …



When did it become ok, to say , sorry I can’t be there , I have to work. .. but it not be ok to say, sorry I can’t be there.



mental health professionals love quoting animal euphemisms when recommending we adopt certain ‘healthy’ behaviours, like vulnerability. Since I know virtually nothing about animals, my question is : what 5 animals willing make themselves vulnerable to a predator or an environment, in order to learn a valuable lesson.

rhetorical question.



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.



“don’t speak unless spoken too”





“don’t be too proud and full of yourself … it’s a long way to fall …”





on grooming

so defined by aunty google as:

gerund or present participle: grooming
  • 1.
    brush and clean the coat of (a horse, dog, or other animal).
    “the horses were groomed and taken to shows”
  • 2.
    prepare or train (someone) for a particular purpose or activity.
    “star pupils who are groomed for higher things”
    synonyms: prepare, prime, make ready, ready, condition, tailor; More

    And what does this have to do with Me?

    lets re-google and quote the learned Urban Dictionary:

    The act of luring another with gifts, favors, promises, praise, or bbqribs with the intent of gaining sexual favors. The perpetrator of “grooming” must have a significant advantage of emotional intelligence, financial independence, intelligence quotient or simply perpetrating against a minor.

    Please Note:

The perp must have a significant advantage of … etc.

But where does “having a motive or intention to do something in your own favour, without the ‘recipient’ knowing your motive or intention” fit into that equation?

You see, people ‘groom’ others everyday.


Yes they do.

For instance.

I want the last piece of cake. I could get up in the middle of the night and eat it. My intention is to have it by all means necessary you see. But instead … I do the following:

“Have you put on a bit of weight?

“Those pants look a little tight … but it suits you … sort of …

“Are you still watching your sugar intake?

“You seem a little OTT today? Have you had extra sugar?


And then come the end of the day, when I ask:

“Do you want the last piece of cake sweetheart?

You Say …. Ahhhh No thanks, think I need to watch my weight and sugar intake … help yourself :)


So, has this all been a manipulative process – with method and intent – to get what I want?

Sure has!

And it worked a treat!

And does this occur everyday in nearly every situation we are put into?

Yup, it certainly fucking does. Too lesser or greater variations.

So as a heads up.

I Do Not Like Being Groomed.

Not for anything. Ever.

And as for intent …

I smell your intention long before you’ve entered the room.

Previous sexual assault, and living with its effects, gives Me a dam fine snout when it comes to that sort of bullshit.

And that right there is an A.1 positive fucking outcome that I am embracing the living shit out of right now!

kpm ©


unity? collective?

Just ‘adult’ words for:

do it my fucking way.

kpm ©



when life is just a

contamination of the good


getting raped by the bad,

its time for some serious


kpm ©




So, I’ve decided I’m gonna take a break. Not sure how long for, or even if it could be considered an ‘actual’ break in ‘mainstream’ terminology. But it is what is it and means I won’t be posting my usual award-winning daily material for a little while.

I updated my Front Page:

about, © & disclaimer

Welcome to my slice of paradise *sarcasm intended*.

At present, I would describe myself as the awkward and irreverent owner of the ‘pts(d)’ title. I am a nonconformist by nature. My art, photography and writing is my attempt at  “Flipping My Narrative”. Not because I’m some kind of pts(d) retard whose in some warped denial, but because I get now, that bad fucking shit happens for sure, but I can’t and won’t ever agree with the ‘quo’ explanations for said bad fucking shit.

Everything in this Blog, is my shit, copy written as, kpm © 2003, unless otherwise stated.

Note: Throughout My Blog, there are liberal splatterings of, and reference to, infant/child sexual assault. Although I know a shitload on this subject, I am a professional in MY field, which is ME and only ME. I am not ‘qualified’ to give ‘medical, therapeutic or psychological’ advice. I only have my opinions and experiences. As such, don’t take my shit as lore!

The main update and reason for the ‘break’ lays in this:

At present, I would describe myself as the awkward and irreverent owner of the ‘pts(d)’ title. I am a nonconformist by nature …  but I can’t and won’t ever agree with the ‘quo’ explanations …

I’ve got hormones raging; arguments going on in my head; I’m afraid of nearly everything, but most of all I’m afraid of ‘feeling’ … and this stops Me from feeling or I medicate so I don’t feel the feeling; I feel confused and most of all, fucking frustrated.

I had Me a lovely little flashback the other day, and had a post prepared but got sidetracked … Here it is in all it’s glory *insert eyeball roll*:

Really need to find another ‘descriptive’ term for that event that isn’t so god dam poxy … who came up with that bullshit ay … some white coated cunt who’d studied far too much and hadn’t lived a second of it maybe???

Any way … until such time as I come up with a suitable replacement … flashback it is:

I was just about to put my hands over my ears today … there was a truck down the road doing something noisy and obnoxious, and it was getting louder … hands to ears till I could find my ear plugs was the thought …

And then I remembered being in my Grandparents bedroom, watching a little 14 inch TV. My Nan was in the room next to this. It was a hair salon; she was a  self-taught hairdresser :) Anyways … I was staying near her and trying to stay out-of-the-way of the pedo cunt. Think I was 8ish … and I must have been there for the holidays, I’m not sure. The pedo cunt finds Me. Sits by the door and starts talking about Me and my family going to church. I wanted to get up and leave but that meant going near him and round him. So I pretended not to be listening to him. He was in earshot of my Nan who kept telling him to shut up. But he wouldn’t of course.

He kept smirking at Me.

Fuck he was a cunt. A torturous tormenting cunt.

When he could see I was trying to ignore him and focus on the TV (and pretend I wasn’t petrified), he moved over to the TV and started turning the volume up. If anyone remembers what those old school 14 inch TVs were like, you’ll know they weren’t built for HD sound that’s for sure!

As he started inching the sound up, waiting for Me to retaliate, he was talking, but I wasn’t listening.

What I remembered though: was my ears started ringing – not just from the sound but from his voice and the look on his face and his aura … I can’t describe it really … but I was petrified. He knew, I knew, he could do whatever he pleased whenever he pleased and No-one was going to stop him; and if they tried, or I tried, it wouldn’t make a shit bit of difference.

I screamed at him finally.

He laughed.

And I got told off.

I was told that I should just handle it; after all – I sit in church and listen to all the loud music was the reasoning.

Saying it out loud today – it sounds completely bizarre. And it was.

I believe though … this is where my sensitivity to sound and the knot the happens in my gutt and the panic fucks that happen during … this is where they started.

Nice to know ay.

Now what?

Not sure … but I figure the great flashback fairy had something in mind when she decided to reveal this puppy today … I fucking hope so! And I fucking hope its good!!

But these and my dreams are plaguing Me at the moment … well they’ve turned up a decibel. I seriously cannot tell the difference between a panic attack, a bit of anxiety, a hot flush, normal anger, hunger or sadness. It all feels (in my body) like the same fucking thing … uncomfortable!

This morning I’ve had (what I think are) 2 hot flushes. I think I know this because I ‘feel’ hot to touch. But I hyperventilate and end up on the floor and then in tears. Whats that about??

As I was rocking and breathing and crying on the bathroom floor I recognised I was afraid. Of this … feeling … of being a biological woman … of change … of vulnerability … of fear itself … of being trapped … of having no say over what my fucking body is doing … of being afraid.

I ‘feel’ like a boxer in a ring – in the corner, getting the fucking snot beaten out of them. You’ve seen those ones ay … the ones that curl up, hands up over their heads, just taking body shot after body shot cos they can’t move but they have to protect themselves. This is the picture of my life really. The bell goes, I get a 1 minute breath and I’m back in there getting the shit kicked out of Me. I’m down, but never out. I’d make it to the final round, but in what condition I wonder?

And it’s here that my thought shifted.

What am I doing?

I’m in a fight I didn’t ask for; I don’t know how to fight; waiting for someone to explain the rules so I can get with the program; waiting for a decent break so I can gather some strength …

Why don’t I just step out of the ring and fuck off and do my own thing?

Because: and here is another part of my personality that is becoming a hinderance instead of an attribute …. because: I do not quit.

I don’t quit the job that’s making Me sick … not till I can’t stand anymore anyways. I don’t quit the relationship I don’t want to be in … because, maybe I didn’t try hard enough. I don’t quit the violent relationship I don’t want to be in … because this is my lot … I chose this, not my daughter.

Instead I strap up and hang in for the long ride … cos … it might get better, if I just don’t quit …

Fucks sakes.

And as of this morning: if I am really about Flipping My own Narrative, then some uncomfortable shit is on its way and I need to deal with it. Not nut it out, or knuckle down … but get the fuck out of the ring and stop fighting something that just isn’t my fight.

I think it’s about Letting That Shit Go … Walking Away and not looking back.

Now that brings a tear to my fucking eye and I have no idea why.

I get that I have endured some fucking ratshit shit in my life; that I am a survivor and a fighter; that I’m attempting to embrace all that I am …

But I want more than that. I don’t want to be just another ptsd fucktard who has a great story to tell; or another medicated survivor who knows how to function ‘her own way’; or anything that anyone else thinks or says I should be – fuck I don’t even know what I ‘should’ be. I do know I don’t want to Be this though.

I am a nonconformist by nature. And I’m hoping like all fuck that that part of my nature has some decent fucking suggestions on flipping my shit!

See yous Soon.

kpm ©


once upon a time,

there was “Christmas”:

a narrative that


an old white dude

breaking into your home,

hanging around a bit

and leaving gifts …

while you sleep.


Wonder who benefits from that narrative.

kpm ©




new growth comes … eventually.

kpm ©



my challenge : the explanation

I’ve had lots of moments and memories in the last week or two. I seem to lose them as fast as I have them though. That’s whats partially led me to the following personal challenge…

I’ve decided to take a journey through my life….to retain and document my memory of me; to open up and then lay to rest what I need too.

Its not that I haven’t worked on me at all. I’ve done lots of talking, writing, research, soul searching, trial and era, meds, no meds, natural remedies, ‘alternative healing’, councelling, psychologists, education, focusing, meditating, breathing, CBT, tapping, diets, no diets, change in eating….the list goes on. Its all part of my discovery of who I am, what I am. And I guess this is just another part of that.

At my last ‘assessment’ I was told by the well meaning, reasonably pleasant psychiatrist, that my recollection of timelines, dates and events all revolve around my children’s life moments. Not a bad thing. But I have come to realise I’ve had my identity so wrapped up in them, I’ve hidden in it. I’ve forgotten who I am. And forgotten to develop me. I have a lot of difficulty remembering what I’ve done or who I am outside of them.

My children are my defining moments in life. They are why I’m still in the land of the living. They’ve always had my heart, not always my presence or emotion.

My survival has depended on being logical; clear cut; cold and simple. Living in ‘hypo arousal’ made this my normal. And even if you tag all the psychological titles to certain behaviours, its still my normal. I’ve tried to eradicate these behaviours, but they are part of my make up; my survival; they are who I am, with or without PTSD. They are my normal. Therefore I’ve tended to make logical decisions at times when I possibly needed to use my heart. My emotions? They are definitely unexercised and underutilised muscles that I am trying hard to get into shape.

What I do is, make a decision based on what information I have at hand and in its historical context. I analyse the possible outcomes of the decisions I need to make; eliminating the high risk and reducing the risk on the other possibilities. Decision made.

I do this system for just about everything I do. First I desensitise myself by repeating the thought or decision. Similar to playing a song over and over again….the first time may make you cry or laugh or something, because it touches something in your soul.  By the 50th time, you can just hear words. Hear it again in 2 years time and you will remember the feeling that it brought about but it won’t rock you like it did it at the start…well that’s the case for me anyways.  Sheer brilliance I thought! Shame it hasn’t worked instantly on ‘fixing’ PTSD…go figure!

But I have done/still do this for everything. I even have difficulty writing a blog – my personal cathartic vent vehicle! Dah! I have trouble unfolding. I edit, re edit, delete, clean it out, change it round. I simplify and throw parts out. I do the same thing in my home! Yes, I am a self confessed clean freak! I love white walls and clear spaces…minimal, minimal, minimal…funny though, that used to be called poverty, now its a thing!

Soooo, on this new challenge for myself…part of it will be, to NOT edit, NOT delete or eradicate what I write. NOT analyse and reanalyse what I think, reword and rehash. I will document (the word document makes me feel safe lol), my ramble and leave it alone. Well I may still organise it into categories…and then leave it the fuck alone…for a certain period of time anyway! Till I’m finished…yeah till I’m finished. Ohhh I feel anxious already lol!

I’ve always considered myself to be open and transparent, but somewhere along my path I think I started to fool myself into believing my own bullshit. The truth is…I WAS open and transparent, as open and transparent with what I knew at the time. Then there came a time when I decided to ‘leave it be’. Which in itself sounds healthy, but I haven’t really let it be at all. I’ve forgotten on purpose because it no longer seemed viable. And with the help of some serious sleep medication, I’ve lost my ‘mind’ and memories along with it.

As I’ve mentioned before, I have never slept well. Well never slept as the ‘professionals’ say is ‘well’. And after a few hard out years I opted for meds so I could get some sleep! Some long, good, well needed sleep! Ahhh. Im now going through the agony of weaning off the ‘dependency making’ pills, without more dependency making pills! Turns out I should have only been taking them for 3-6 months, not 5+ years! – which, I might add, the doctor failed to mention, but google had all the info on!

This leads to the second part of why I need to do this. I was challenged after reading a fellow bloggers piece on her and her daughter. I realised I had cut my children, and my gender, out of my personal recollections to others; and myself. Partially to protect them, partially out of guilt. Partially for my own protection, partially because I hated being a woman. My children are my heart; but therefore my weakness; my Achilles heel so to speak. I need to recollect all parts, not just what’s comfortable and non-emotional.

In all of this, I’ve got to be myself. Evolve into the me I want to be. To accept who I am, in its entirety.

So for the next while, week by week, representing year by year; I will be documenting ME ;)


kpm ©