.. .. qt .15

just, stop.

completely, stop.

entirely, stop.

now, breathe.



another shift ..

2-3 aug 2020.

this isn’t pleasant .. thats my version of a trigger warning i spose. & i’ve dictated it in very short unedited terms.

it is what it is :


had period, bleeding heavy.

was in pjs, got up to go to bathroom to get a pad.

felt ‘presence’, not seen physical person though – biggish presence – hurried. threatening. looming presence.

felt behind / to side of me first.

knew it was coming, turned head to see no one.

grabbed my arms.

my pants started to come down and blood was dripping.

i was turning my head to see where i was being moved / directed too.


not sure whose.

bed – pushed forcefully down.

they were quiet but the presence was ‘strong’.

they’d pinned my arms.

their weight was heavy on me & i couldn’t move.

i knew there were people around.

the thought occurred to me that i didn’t want to disturb the other people but decided it was my only chance to get this thing away.

as they lifted their arms to rip my top open which they did, and they grabbed both breasts in their hands forcefully, i felt scared.

with that feeling i opened my mouth and throat to scream.

while they were distracted.

the scream started off small and i forced it to be bigger and bigger and louder.

enough to scare the presence.

enough to wake me up.

i woke up semi screaming yelling.

frozen-ish ..

but calm & pleased.

its a shift.


no-one heard me. noone woke up.







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.



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!



the angst.

there is no dispute, not with myself anyways, that i tried to get assistance & protection.


& repeatedly.


up until recently, i hadn’t thought of these incidents as types of attempts to get what i needed. what i deserved. 

but thats exactly what they were.

not just teeny tiny cries for help.

they were loud repeated hollahs to those who should have listened & acted.


but they didn’t.


so what do i do with that?

what do i do with all those words? all those inactions? all those failings? all those reports? all those empty empty words? placating words? condescending & blaming words? condescending and blaming actions??


where do i put all that?




there comes a time, when it is a choice whether you see or continue to see things in a demented form .. whether you choose not to recognise the signs of ill life.


i started smoking at 11 ish.

i was angry.

but im not sure, at what.

i was wanting to fit somewhere.

to be safe.


like everyone else i guess.

but mainly to fit somewhere where life wasnt a fucking irony .. full of hypocrisy.

why pray to a god that wasnt there.

that never answered. never smote those who actually needed it.

cos they were all deaf and couldn’t hear??

what .. all of them??

how do you completely not hear a child for that long.

completely ignore the obvious that you know to be true. 

that something is wrong.

not the child.

but something else.


could you not hear your gutt?

could you not see the signs?

hear the signs?


but i figuring now, looking at the dissonance the world is in, that ignoring all the signs of something quite obvious to those experiencing it, is an art. & an art that is more common than i thought.



theres plenty ..

ever met one of them ‘please fuck up, you’re ruining my dillusion’ peeps?




i have a good way of obliterating myself.

of diminishing and lowering myself.

of flying just beneath the radar to remain undetected.

so no one can touch me.


at the moment ..

thats not working. 

which is ironic since everyones doing the social distance BS.


kpm ©



for everyone thats tuned in regularly for my pts(d) rants: none of the following will come as a surprise. 

the rest .. hmmmm.

for more years than i care to recollect, i have been explaining myself. well, explaining my ‘disorder’ anyways. 

as have peeps like me.

we’ve had to explain to family, friends, colleagues, co-workers, assistants, workers, businesses we interact with, health workers … the list is too tedious to enshrine here. but needless to say, its a fucking substantial one.

there have been reports compiled, long hours in waiting rooms and ‘health care specialists’ offices .. explaining if not near begging, for assistance, understanding, meaning, clarification …

& then, overnight & just like that .. everyone on planet earth finally gets what it means to give consent & not give consent, non-consensual touching, what a safe space looks & feels like, what is appropriate & in-appropriate boundaries .. 

its a fucking shame that its taken an apocalypse & near worldwide lockdown to understand what is a basic fundamental right of every person .. every child .. every womXn .. every mXn  .. every person & thing that is dependent on another for protection.


kpm ©



ae .. cos aint that some important shit ay ..

what am i learning ??

that everyone is scared.


they just disguise it differently.

& for them, that shit aint working no more.

for me : i’ve got 10 years + of dealing with fear, to know how to deal with it ..

& all of a sudden, i am even more grateful af for every single thing i’ve been through.

kpm ©


… …

well, aint this some extraordinary fuckery … *she says with a squint*

kpm ©


qt .13

speak up.



kpm ©


sen-sation ..

a strange sensation.

anxiety / slight nervousness .. about .. possibly, 

going away.

& then .. 

another strange sensation ..



anxiety / slight nervousness .. about .. possibly,

going away.

kpm ©


qt .8

imperfection is perfection.

kpm ©


qt .6

we are all different.

thats how its supposed to be.

kpm ©


qt .5

pts(d) is an injury not an illness.

remember that & treat accordingly.

kpm ©


qt .4

breath bitch.

in : 1 . dot 2. dot 3. dot 4. dot

out : 1. dot 2. dot 3. dot 4. dot

& again.

kpm ©


qt .3

figure out what works for YOU.

thats it.

kpm ©


qt .2

scrap the goals.

you’re aight just like you are.

kpm ©


qt .1

remember :

dont take it personally.

some people are just cunts. period.

kpm ©