note to self:

Easier said than done sometimes: But I get it …

And Breathe –

#meme reads:

If it fucks with the vibe of your soul you got to let it go.


vinyl highlight

#throwback Apr 14, 2015 @ 06:30, and taking stock of what I Can do now … where I’ve come from … how far I’ve come … ‘cos sometimes, actually, most times, I forget …

A good day….managed to get out of the house, into the car – back seat still – and go to the shops…breathing all the way, with all my little bits and pieces [ I’m looking forward to enjoying ‘the journey’ more, and not gripping the seat all the way…figurative and literal! ]…but I did it…

I managed 3 shops before I started looking and feeling like a possum in the headlights :)

And the best part was finding two pieces of vinyl to add to my collection! I haven’t done that in sooooo long…it feels good; real good!

freestyle: rethink

when life is just

contamination of the good


getting raped by the bad,

its time for some serious



happy birthday my pookie

#throwback Sep 6, 2015 @ 23:34

I found this today, and it made Me smile. The last post was a bit heavy and this just lightened the feng shui slightly ;)

I love love love my mokos (grandchildren): theres nothing on earth like the love for grand babies <3

At this stage of my pts(d) unravelling, I was still struggling to even leave the house and definitely was not feeling crowds of people … btw, a crowd at this stage was more then 2 lol.

This was one of those thoughts … events … moments … that I needed to do, and did do … and have realised, 3 years on, that even though it’s still fucking hard some days to do the people thing, or the event thing, or the anything thing … I have had moments upon moments that have made the next thing slightly more bearable … I am able to prepare just a little bit better.

I’ve also figured out, that things that I WANT to do need to take precedence over the things that I HAVE to do and DON’T WANT to do.

This was one of the former ;)

I call my littlest moko, Pookie. It suits her…for now. I’ve always given the babies nicknames that seem to suit them when they’re babies and wear off later…some have stuck though.

I used to call my nephew ‘Pud’, as in Pudding…but now he’s nearly taller than me, with long lanky beautiful basketball legs…so Pud wore off :)

But Pookie turned 1 recently. And I had been ‘preparing’ for the family gathering for months. Visualising…breathing…blah blah.

My daughter, mother of Pookie, decided last-minute (well week before actually), that it was all getting a bit much to try to achieve her high expectations lol…so I asked her if we could do Pookies birthday at our place. I figured it would be a nice last celebration for this place, us…and our Pookie.

She loves us BTW :) Just saying…

My partner was rather caught off guard…looking at me side ways doing that…’are you sure you wanna do that…you ptsd freak you?’…Yes, I do.

So we did…I breathed…I paced myself…I managed my anxious partner…my anxious daughter…her lovely but slightly disillusioned friends…and Pookies ‘other’ family and all their ‘chips’ and quirky ways. And I managed me!

Well celebrated the shit out of that birthday! And Pookie…well she loved every little minute…every little piece of cake…every song that played…every song we sang…every dance we had…every piece of dirt she managed to find as she crawled around on the floor…every cuddle and every little bit of giant love that she got from every single one of us!

And me, I loved it! I actually enjoyed it…more than enjoyed it…but I’m not sure of what the right word is lol! And I love that I’m starting to enjoy this stuff…instead of regretting that I missed so much stuff.

Fuck anxiety…fuck ptsd…they’re bitches.

I can’t wait for the next birthday now :)

And you know what’s even better…because I’m a little OCDish…I managed to have our entire place cleaned up afterwards, in about an hour lol.

Love you my Pookie darling xxoo

big ups

Yes, its all about taking note of and celebrating each little piece; each little achievement, which in some ways are hu-mungous achievements!

This was first posted on Apr 2, 2015 @ 03:33.

So 3 years on, I can see how far I’ve come! I remember this like it was yesterday, and the feeling of nervousness – sheer terror actually – of getting myself ready and then going and doing it, hasn’t disappeared … it’s just minimised and I feel more in tune with whats happening than I did back then.

I’ve learnt (learning) to embrace all that shit, because it is the way I am … and if I can’t do what I want / need too … theres always tomorrow to try again.


Today I did it…I went to the shop, on my own, and bought a coffee!

I got all my little beepy bits – heart rate monitor, breath pacer, head phones, the right playlist,  sunglasses, stick, bag of meds, comfy shoes…I did my breathing…I made up my mind…strapped that shit on…and put one god dam foot in front of the other! I got to the café, did my order, waited…waited…didn’t run away, or freak out to much…kept breathing….paid and left! With my coffee! I felt better than I did when I got my degree :)

Big ups TO ME!

freestyle: for me

for me,

pts fucking d is a nice way of

abbreviating trauma.

kind of tidies it up.

makes it a bit more …

‘digestable’. For the on looker anyway.

i can be

short and sharp

straight to the point … to the point of being ‘rude’ (so they say).

or silent.

those two ends of the pendulum

are my essence;

trying to find ‘balance’

has been the ultimate bitch.

and the ultimate bullshit.

that thurr pendulum

has been a-swinging

since I was a-little-biddy-person.

it aint changing.

it is my balance.

it’s the different spectrums,


that I can hear and smell and feel;

that in the end

make my mind race,

and then go numb;

if I’m motherfucking lucky enough.

all i can do,

is learn to juggle.

re write – two

“always look someone in the eye when they’re speaking to you”



my challenge : the explanation

Bit of a backstory.

I started blogging at the end of March 2015.

I ventured down this avenue because I literally had no-one to talk too … well anyone that would listen anyway. And I had a tonne of thoughts bustling around my big old brain. Pts(d) was a new diagnosis and I was angry and sad and bewildered and fucked off … and fucked really. When I go over these writings, I remember exactly what it felt like Then … and that even though some days are still pretty fucked, they are Nothing like they were then. I Couldn’t leave the house. That’s different than Choosing Not Too leave the house. I had little idea of what was going on and a mixture of ‘qualified’ opinions, googled symptoms, my intuition and what I’ve always had: some gangstah ass strength!

Anyways, a month into blogging and I realised I had no idea of who I was … not really … my memories were a haze of pts(d), drugs, nightmares and pain.

So I recollected, year by year, as much as I could, and documented it here. I think only one person read it all, and that was my friend Johanna … who I am eternally grateful for xo But one person was all I needed. Sometimes I think 1 person to take the time to listen, is all any of us needs really.

I’m going through this segment again … because I can … because I need to remind myself where I’ve been … my journey … my life story … and My Changes … my peace making efforts …

That I am a non-conformist … that I am finding my own feng shui … that I am more gangstah than I realised … that my narrative is being re-written – slowly and steadily ;)

#throwback : First published Apr 27, 2015 @ 23:02

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 ;)


…..she let go

She Let Go.

Via on Feb 24, 2014

sisters jumping

She let go.

She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go.

She let go of the fear.

She let go of the judgments.

She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head.

She let go of the committee of indecision within her.

She let go of all the ‘right’ reasons.

Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.

She didn’t ask anyone for advice.

She didn’t read a book on how to let go.

She didn’t search the scriptures.

She just let go.

She let go of all of the memories that held her back.

She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward.

She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right.

She didn’t promise to let go.

She didn’t journal about it.

She didn’t write the projected date in her Day-Timer.

She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper.

She didn’t check the weather report or read her daily horoscope.

She just let go.

She didn’t analyze whether she should let go.

She didn’t call her friends to discuss the matter.

She didn’t do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment.

She didn’t call the prayer line.

She didn’t utter one word.

She just let go.

No one was around when it happened.

There was no applause or congratulations.

No one thanked her or praised her.

No one noticed a thing.

Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.

There was no effort.

There was no struggle.

It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad.

It was what it was, and it is just that.

In the space of letting go, she let it all be.

A small smile came over her face.

A light breeze blew through her. And the sun and the moon shone forevermore…

~ Rev. Safire Rose

#throwback May 11, 2015



re write – one

“don’t speak unless spoken too”


freestyle: focus








#throwback March 28 2015.


the unfucking of oneself

weekly project

weekly daily project