yo ..

so, ive recently moved #mystory content to password protected content ..

explanation : ish

i been thinking for the longest time *groan* about what is ‘available’ publicly, & respecting my growth .. what i put out there .. why i put it out there .. blah de fucking blah . yah get my drift.

what it forced me to look @ is the why …

for those that have been round forever, you’d remember i started this site / blog cos i literally had no resources prior to being given a computer & a subscription for a years internet provision.

i shit you not.

& here’s the thing.

theres broke & then theres broken. & @ the time i started this blog, i was both.

i hadn’t left the house in years. i was dizzy. anxious. frightened. no money. no job. no nuddah .. but worst of all, i was running out of energy.

that was like 8 years ago.

i would love to say that help just magically appeared. that there was a long list or even short list, of agencies or people or support places, that were on to it, that i could tap into.

but there wasnt.

i finally found some resources but was pretty fucked up by then.

blogging was free.

& thats it.

thats why i started this ‘journey’. it was my way of processing & making peace-ish with the bitch ass that is pts(d).

& now im here.

ive resolved a whole heap of shit .. other shit is still in ‘process’ lol.


so this is where im @.

i didnt spend 40 plus years reliving fucked up shit to get here & forget that child sexual assault is still a real fucking issue.

its not gone anywhere.

it hasnt diminished any.

people like me are still crippled af by the effects of it.

& honestly, fuck that shit.

its layers of bullshit.


does my story inspire resistance & fortitude for others? fucked if i know. but i know i didnt come this far for nothing. i’ve shared in one way or another, what resolving, letting go, re-resolving, re-living, un-earthing, making peace, making war, fucking shit, looks like for me.

i know im more @ peace with myself than i ever used to be.

whats the moral of this long winded post lol ..

i’ve locked the grisly content so i can move on .. for this part of my journey.

however …

theres always a how-fucking-ever with me lol ..

if yah need to read my lifes story cos it may help You with something .. im gonna pin this post. you can leave your email deets in the comments section (which i won’t make public & will delete after) & ill send you the password for the #mystory content.

i only ask that you do one thing for me please ..

i’d like you to google “local agencies working with child sexual assault victims”.

that’ll take you on a wild af ride.

but when you find the one that resonates with you, please make a donation to them. anything. big or small. monetary or whatever you can.

cos honestly .. this whole sexually assaulting children is some fucked up shit, thats way past expiry date.

& it takes more than the village to dismantle that shit.

it takes more than sheer determination to heal that shit.

feel me.


so yeah .. thats it.


good grief ?

grief .. is a funny old thing.

circumstantial, locational & has a timeframe all of its own.

no other can be in sync with yours or ask you to be in sync with theirs.

it is what it is.

its momentum loses & gains whenever it feels like it. 

yah gotta ride that wave.




in between all that rage ..

there was this ..

its not a very good shot, but aight for 5am out my window.

& this be the crescent moon on the morning of our summer solstice.

& then there was this ..


kpm © ig @kpm-artist


the looming internal fuckery …

its right thurr.

panic vs dialogue.

& this is gonna be a rambled post but i gotta get it out.


i’ve been struggling with this impending doom, nervousness, panic thing, all day. i feel physically ill, like i either wanna shit or throw up or both. i’m jumpy AF & my head feels like its gonna explode.

it won’t of course. i know this.

but im trying to dissect it & fuck with it & haven’t been able to figure it at all.

then as im doing my deep tissue massage shit (trying to find relief) i hear my little insides saying “fuck, im done!”.

not a suicidal thing or even a an over tired thing .. just a i’m fucking done, thing.

i dont know why im nervous & im tired of trying to figure it out. i dont know why im jumpy AF. i dont remember anything happening to set it off … but it all feels fucking familiar.


& then i decide i want cake.

like, wtf?


& as i say to myself ‘you deserve’ cake … my internal dialogue says : why do you deserve cake bitch?


& thats it.

i feel like i cant have anything, do anything, unless i ‘deserve’ it.

again, wtf.


& then out of nowhere, comes another internal voice, which says a whole lot of shit i didn’t quite expect …


“its alright gf … you deserve cake, & more. how many people do know could’ve survived half of what you have? you have every right to be fucking nervous. nothing in your life says “its sweet, it can be trusted”. no. you’ve worked on your instincts & they have been deadly fucking accurate. people cant be trusted. no-one has done anything that is purely for your benefit. to care for you. listen to you. take into consideration what you’re all about. no-one has protected you, watched you, thought about whats better for you. you have learnt that peoples intentions are hidden & usually selfish as fuck, to your detriment. you deserve way more than fucking cake honey.

you are brave. you are strong. you are resilient. you are determined. you are afraid. you are scared. you are nervous.

& you have every right in the world to be all of those things.

sit with it all, & eat your cake.”


& thats where im at.

me & cake & some pretty random but validating thoughts.


kpm ©


how, to & why, i roll :

issuing abits of music:

thens a bit of writ. feels.

followed by 2 ounces of dissociative twat.

a pretty picture anyone?

a visual explanation of a meditative state?

then a sarcastic snap.

dumped on top of some intersectional stank.

& we have me.

the unfolding of, anyways.




& again, for those in the back

no. this time of the year isn’t pleasurable for me. it’s loud. it’s random. it’s expectations on overload. it’s pressure. did i say, it’s random AF?

& yet i’m managing it.

when do we get a holiday? those that put up with / manage the global expectations thrust up our asses because some cunt has pumped consumerism & now they ‘deserve a little break’? when do we get to tap out?

cos i am way the fuck over it.


kpm © : ig @kpm-artist


an end

my threads

are a hope.

a series,

of hopes.

the hopes

that I’ll have an answer

a reason,

as the time goes by.

that as i go through the process

i’ll end up with better



i be forgetting though,

that the process

is the answer.

that there is no beginning and end.

it just is.

kpm ©



why am i letting it go?

Theres a time and place for everything … apparently. According to ‘the wise’, the bible, ancient scholars … important peeps – apparently.

But as I was pondering my shizz this arvo; and ruminating on shit I’d read in the last couple days … things I’ve learnt … things I’ve said … things I’ve Had to say … I came up with the above short liner – ‘a time and place for everything’ bullshit.

Not really understanding what the fuck that had to do with anything, I left it.

Till about 10 minutes ago.

You see …

I hold onto shit, because its mine and because some ancient white twat told me to let go of it.

And that sums up my lifes work really.

If you Tell Me I should do something, by fuck, I won’t do it.

If You suggest politely, that I might like to think about doing it ‘such-in-such’ a way, because it worked for You; by fuck, I won’t do it.


Because it’s not my choice.

You can’t manipulate Me into making Your choice. You can’t buy Me into making Your choice. And by fuck You can’t Make Me do what You think or want Me to do.


Because My choice was taken from Me too early and it shaped who I am now. Surprisingly, I don’t care.

Now as simplistic as that sounds is besides the point. Yes it may sound childish … because it fucken is. But when you fuck with a child, ‘normally’, they will show you their stubbornness – their ‘will’ – they will exercise their ‘choices’ … and thats how they learn.

But when you silence them … suffocate and rape them … all that freedom to choose bullshit goes out the window. For That child, it becomes a matter of survival.

Fast forward forty years and someone is suggesting I should forgive and let it all go … You: as well meaning as you might think you are … are just hindering my process.

I don’t let go and I don’t give a fuck if it kills Me.

Do you know how many near death events I have faced?

Can you comprehend what it feels like to be crushed under the weight of a fully grown man whose trying to gets his rocks off, and You are 1/8th of said mans size?


Can you comprehend gagging and choking at the end of a giant dick, wondering if you can breath through your ears?


That my friends,  is survival.

And letting that go is not about forgiveness, thats about making others feel comfortable that I have made peace with the whole fucking thing and we can move on to talking about your new car, or the recipe you got off’ve an ‘amazeballs’ website …

NOT letting go, for Me, is not about forgiveness or unforgiveness …

Not letting go, is about remembering how fucking gangstah I am.

How fucking ‘amazeballs’ that little girl was to learn to breath through her fucking ears!

Not letting go … for how ever long that is … is My choice; My remembrance and my fucking celebration of the sacrifices that little girl made so I can have breathe today.

In her darkness, and in her fucking suffering, I have life.

Why the fuck would I let that Go.

kpm © : ig @kpm-artist



dissecting, processing and clarifying : Me styles

Bullet points on ;)

  1. hey [Me]
  • by disabling the relationship, an air of maturity and authority is thusly donned.

2. I don’t mind you hating me you got every right,

  • affirmation and confirmation = I’m about to fuck you over … wait for it …

3. but

  • said after the initial ‘grooming statement’

4. when it effects my mokos

  • classic, ‘what about the children’ routine

5. to see your hatred towards me

  • classic blaming tactic … *yawn*

6. it hurts them and thats not fair,

  • ‘the children, the children … what about the children’

7. especially when they miss their mum,

  • ahh yes, the thick layer of guilt
  • ‘remember your sister died, you heartless bitch’

8. you can do whatever you like to me,

  • just to reiterate the opening statement whilst dusting off the super hero cape …

9. this is the second time you have done it,

  • just to add a touch of intellectual mystery … before …

10. you are nearly fifty and you still have a chip on your shoulder that I can’t help

  • oh, a big slathering of  …. the obvious!

11. just for the record

  • ahh, getting authoritatively technical now …

12. i didn’t abandon you, your mother left me,

  • ahh yah … strong women tend to do that after their husbands have beaten them and they’ve had enough of being treated like shit
  • aunty google said abandonment is waaaayyy different in definition to NEGLECT. JS.

13. if you don’t want anymore contact thats fine by me

  • *says whilst hitting the messenger ‘block’ button*

14. my mokos don’t want to come home to hatred like that

  • taadah!! All the patriarchal misogynistic controlling classics, straight from the ‘How To Shut Women Up and Keep Them Silent and Submissive’ Handbook.
  • Now to commence sulking.


kpm ©





Im pretty pissed actually …

i’ve had my tears … done my semi tribute .

avoided my blog, perused everyone elses .

and in true Me form, i’ve done abit of processing

& i’m pissed.

pissed that this area of my life has been effected by

You exiting.

i’m not happy at all.

you see,

you’re supposed to show up with some quick witted statement

& put Me in my place.

you’re supposed to say all the things

that people in my physical life are too scared to say to


you’re it.

you’re the voice of sound fucking reason.

you’re the smartass that combats my smartass.

now who the fuck is gonna do it


[I don’t get it. As selfish as it all may sound … How do you think that Me is supposed to mozy on around this place, and not be affected by your absence??]


[I get that everyone else misses you too … I completely get it … and its a credit to the human being that you are … that you managed to affect so many peeps … but right now … I’m just thinking about … ME.]


I’m not happy.

Not happy at all.

I’m pissed at you.

It sucks ass.

Sucks ass totally


and I’m pissed.

Pissed as fuck.


kpm ©


so in light of that … whats happening

And unfolding as I do …

Me and the partner had a ripper of a ‘discussion slash disagreement slash argument’ that turned into tears and a deeper discussion than what i was prepared for …

I’ve had this overwhelming, can’t shake it – sense of fear (unrecognised) and discontent and anxiety … and one of my least favourite things in the world – fake-ness.

And as I’ve said recently, my body has been doing weird ass shit. It’s sore. It’s sick … more than usual. I think I had the flu a few months ago and from there it’s been one thing (not majors, but annoying shit) after another. Culminating with a kick ass gutts ache and nausea and then a UTI, which I haven’t had for freaking years!

And as I’ve managed, just … I’ve dreamed some weird ass shit as well … and I’ve managed … just.

And at the peak of all that sick and anxiety, I felt kind of desperate.

And … and …

Then me and the partner collided … well over due … and I remembered this shit;

a. he’d stopped talking to me … had gone into silent sulky mode, quite awhile ago…and I’d written about it, but left it there.

b. i had the bitch ass psych assessment that I’d been waiting like, forever, for … and it was stressful as fuck … and, the partner, and no other cunt … gave two shits.

c. and then there was this: the flashback fucker that I tried to brush off

And like a big fat eureka, that happens when you least expect it … it dawned on me:

…. … … … … . when I had this flashback fucker back at the beginning of November 2016, I ‘actively’ tried to take a ‘positive stance’ about it and I ‘actively’ ignored.

Now generally the two don’t have to go hand in hand … as I have discovered. Being all happy clappy doesn’t necessary mean that you put your head in the sand and pretend like everything is sunshine and roses when it is clearly not.

But at this point, I believe I did what I actually despise.

I shoved my head in the sand. So far in the sand I forgot to take it out.

And whilst ruminating on sand particles, my body tried to give me quite a few ‘warning signals’ …. “hey bitch … ahhh, you bn down there enuf now … time to face it … hey, you … bitch …. ”

But instead, I switched her annoying voice off too.

But my body and mind will only put up with so much.

Heres why.

My entire life … yes thats right … my entire life … has been a shit storm of denial to make others comfortable … confrontation followed by a slap down followed by more denial … don’t speak, don’t yell, don’t have a fucken opinion … don’t cry … don’t annoy anyone … don’t smile, don’t frown … just DON’T.

And for safety sakes sometimes … I did just that … I didn’t …

Didn’t respond, didn’t cry, didn’t yell, didn’t rock the boat …

Inside I did … and inside I died a little bit every day.

But I am as stubborn as fuck and I always knew I would come back … come out … eventually. And I did.

BUT, and heres the but …

When I ACTIVELY choose to put my head back in the sand for no other reason than i am too pussy to deal with shit right now … I suffer the consequences of that …

And that is the WHY ,

the anxiety, the dreams, the sick, the sore gutt, the ignoring the partner, the partner ignoring me, the fake-ness, the no energy, the panic, the tension, the fucking fear.

I fear being back where I was.

kpm ©



photographic art: [processing & ‘saying goodbye’]

Our first beach home.

Saying goodbye is hard.

But it’s been such a beautiful place

To rest; recuperate.

I wish we could stay,

but I have a feeling

that better things are waiting.

And every moment spent

In this beautiful space,

I am grateful for.

I appreciate.

Every family moment,

Every laugh, and every tear;

I am grateful for.

Without this,

I wouldn’t know how to love the next.

Without all this;

I’d forget why I’m here in the first place.

I guess everything has it’s purpose.

And has it’s time.

And this did.

Have its purpose and time, I mean ;)

And the memories …

They’re mine to keep.

To add to my ‘nice dreams’


To remember what I like,

and why I like it.

Time to move On


This was when we left our first house @ the beach. I was absolutely pts(d) ridden (anxiety-wise) and stressed as fuck. I was trying to calm the proverbial farm and get on with it but it was fucking hard.

I guess this is sort of where my affair with photography ‘speaking for me’, or expressing emotionally, what I couldn’t verbally / physically, started to happen more.

kpm ©













i’m riding bullshit


kpm ©