angry

today i was told i was ‘too angry’.

pfft.

.

ever wondered why?

.


kpm©


 

psa & self determination

i was raised amongst WW2 veteran whanau, fresh from war & the depression sporting undiagnosed ptsd, who voted social credit & believed the only way to change society was through government. 

i was also raised in a pentecostal christian environment whose theories included revelations & the mark of the beast, the return of christ, a white saviour, racism noting Maori & indigenous peoples being inferior, homophobia & white men being superior.

i was also raised amongst neo-nazism. whereby white supremacist theories hailed hitler as a saviour, jews as evil, & cleansing the population as imperative to the survival of the aryan nation. 

i believe in self determination as did my tipuna.

.

always ask questions.

always ask the ancestors.

always follow your instincts.

breathe & remain calm af.


kpm©


 

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 :


dream.

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.

bedroom.

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.

.

.


kpm©


 

qik update :

its been nearly a week and a half of not being at home!!

i’m currently elsewhere doing shit i need to do.

here’s what i am concurring :

  • i need the ocean, sound and smell, like a fat kid needs cake.
  • i am able to more than i originally thought
  • i am able to be away from home when the need is relevant
  • i can enjoy my life anywhere
  • i am completely able to find the joy in the small things no matter where im at, sometimes its a little harder
  • i am waaaaayyyyy more heartier than originally thought ;)

i go back home in just over another week & i will breathe in the air like i never left. but in the meantime i am practising being absolutely present where im at.

its harder than it seems.

but i can do it.

i can actually even enjoy it <3


kpm©


 

the past

i met my big girls father when i was about 12. he was 13. he was my first ‘boyfriend’, such as ‘it’ was. the ‘relationship’ involved long silent phone calls, an ‘eye’ acknowledgement occasionally, a possible wave & more than anything, the title of being someones girlfriend & vice versa.

that ‘relationship’ didn’t last long of course. 

we ‘met’ again when i was about 14 or 15. the relationship i entered into with him wasnt with deep reflection or thought on my part, it was a knee jerk reaction to all that i was, all i wanted to get away from, all that i thought would ‘fix’ & remedy what i needed, which was, in a nutshell, protection.

what i actually entered into was a childish relationship, a violent relationship & a series of events that would add to and change the course of who i was, forever.

our time together was violent. drunken. full of angst & unknowns. poverty. disempowerment. dishonouring. anguish.

out of all of that came our beautiful little baby girl.

i had just turned 16 when she was born. still a baby myself, upon reflection.

.

today her fathers mother, her grandmother, died.

.

when she rang to let me know, i felt nothing. no sympathy. no angst. no sorrow. no nothing.

.

as we talked more there was a stirring in my gut that has only just started to dissipate. sort of.

.

it was a time in my life that i walked away from. i chose to leave the relationship as it became more violent. but leaving, as such, was harder than i had anticipated.

.

all that memory came galloping to the from of my brain & my feels today. & i wasnt prepared for it.

seems to be the way shits working out with me at the moment.

.

i’ve spent a few hours wading through things i had purposefully forgotten. partially because at the time, there was no other way to deal with it. my safety, my girls safety, were more paramount than  any other ‘feeling’ i may have had.

.

remembering that i was 16 at the time.

.

how does a 16 year old, in all reality, deal with this in a manner that is ‘appropriate’?

.

well i did.

even with everything else (sexual assault aftermath & continued hostilities) going on, i knew i had to keep my girl safe.

.

i realised today, that at the time of beatings, bottles flying, walls and windows being broken, car crashes, no food, no means of escape .. i was beyond petrified. 

.

again.

.

but being petrified propelled me to change shit. to get away by any means necessary.

.

and i did.

.

today i felt all that again. and im still reeling but am finding a different kind of ground or firm footing for myself. 

.

i’m not that scared child. that scared young mother. that person. that person who experienced all that physical violence. 

i’m grown.

i more than survived it.

i had one beautiful friend who would check on me & i am eternally grateful for him.

.

i’m all grown up even though i thought i was grown then, that was a forced grown. a child that was sexually assaulted & tortured, who grew up trying to escape. & that continued throughout my life and relationships. whether i chose willingly or unconsciously, ive been trying to escape all my life.

.

im tired.

& rightly so.

i survived.

& rightly so.

im good like that.

.

this part of my life needs a proper burial i decided.

i need to face it dead in its eye. deal & let it go.

.

thing is, this letting go thing, is a new layer. its different. deeper.

i know its good, it just doesnt feel good. 

.

it hurts i think.

.

it hurts that my girl has to deal with the new layers what i wanted to protect her from. as an adult she has chosen to relate to this family. and i admire the fuck out of her for it.

it just hurts to watch it all unfold.

.

sucks ass actually.

.

.

(this is from a couple weeks ago .. bit delayed .. & still lots going on with this shizz .. im here .. im doing it ;) )


kpm©


 

a quick peri menopausal moan ..

lol.

yup shes still rolling.

& yah know, just when i think i got it sussed .. like, ah yes, thats a hot flush .. it will pass   ..   or, ah yes, that is the walls of my uterus flexing causing pain right down through my asshole, it will pass … or, my personal favourite .. ah yes, its a constipated bowel routine even though you had the shits a couple days ago .. it will pass .. LOL.

my fuck .. its never fucking ending .. & im trying to remember that all this biology helped birth beautiful babies etc etc .. *eye ball roll*

but some days i get the curve ball & today is one of them.

hot cheeks.

thats it. flushed as fuck hot ass cheeks.

nothing else.

& it feels like those bitches are on fire. so much so i thought i had a fever.

yup i checked all that & nope i dont.

finally googled & guess what comes up. thats right, peri fucking menopause.

i dont know how to settle uncomfortable hot ass cheeks down cos i aint ever had them. fuck.

lol, i mean in the big scheme of things, annoying hot cheeks isn’t really huge, other than the fact that they’re annoying.

so today im doing ice packs on the cheeks with a jersey on so the rest of me doesnt freeze ffs. & ima taking it easy.

*insert the usual*


kpm©


 

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!


kpm©


 

a memory

‘raukawa’ (a place i once lived) was a time i loved, un-interfered with, parenting, loving, & raising kids .. but it didn’t last forever .. i wish it could’ve been slightly different etc .. but, i had a goal, a purpose, and the kids were it. looking back i not only made the best of that situation, i enjoyed it. i loved it. and the memories of it i also love x


kpm©


 

johanna

been thinking a lot about my blogging friend Johanna.

i reckon, with all thats happening in the world right now, she woulda been right up in that grill, fist in the air, screaming for freedom.

I remember the first time i had a slightly heated, possible ‘disagreement’ with her in this realm lol. it was something i came appreciate deeply .. that she was never afraid of stating her perspective & listening to that of another.

on this particular occasion, she’d been to walmart i think it was (we dont have that here .. but a few crass equivalents lol) & she had been treated deploringly. she’d rounded off by stating that there was a prevalent ableist & ageist attitude which she had experienced there .. not the first time .. & was bound, to not be the last.

my rebuttal as such, was more out of offence for her, for having been treated that way. i came back with my usually .. ‘fuck walmart & make sure ‘we’ dont support them’.

as an activist, this is a powerful tool to wield.

however, i was surprised (at first) at her comeback. she quite abruptly noted that the ‘poor’ sometimes didn’t have the luxury of making a knee jerk reaction like that.

she broke it down thusly :

she lived in a small complex, it was cheap & generally unmaintained by the landlord. she had fought hard to find this place & while she was quite happy to take her landlord on, she was aware that her options, if she should be ejected from the property, were extremely limited .. actually NIL.

so from where she lived there were a handful of shops she could purchase her essentials from, walmart being one of them. out of those handful of shops, there were 2 she could afford to shop at. again, walmart being one of them.

i came back with the shopping online rhetoric (god, i cringe now ..) .. & she noted that her internet, as it was, was limited.

then she went into receiving ‘disability’ payments (as such) & what that looked like & that spending copious amounts of time and money on internet connections weren’t an option.

i came back with going to a library or mcdonalds where the wifi was free .. *eye ball roll* .. she came back with her limited mobility.

sweet geezus ..

we went back and forth like that for quite awhile.

from my end, i was trying to give options i thought she may not have thought of & aim for the whole empowerment gig. she, in all her aged wisdom, kept coming back, not with, negatives per se, but realities. & realities that i fucking completely understood.

in hindsight, i get now, she was trying to school my ass, gently. that while the ‘fuck the power’ part of me wasnt wrong, & was definitely passionate, & based in my own struggle .. i wasnt hearing her in her entirety. that her lived reality was more than 6 steps to freedom.

i think of this interaction often at the moment.

i’m well aware that my normal looks nothing like ‘most’, that my struggles are misunderstood by most, that my ‘working it out’ also looks way different than most.

and thats ok.

but for those that i love .. that are learning .. that are actually trying to understand .. i need to be a little more patient with them.

like she was with me.

i miss her.


kpm©


 

splayed out, splattered out .. me.

shes a messy bitch ..

.

i’ve realised every time someone has said, be in the moment ,  it makes me feel angry. And then, sad.

My moments have been for 32 plus years, have been something to brace myself for, they’ve been combatant, been a thing done to me that I haven’t been able to control. To be in the moment is to realise and embrace anger, sadness, being subjecated, controlled, it has involved deep loss .. to be in that moment in all that it actually is , would have meant absolute madness .. to be in a moment has always been about holding on .. 

So I missed it.

Missed large portions of supposed happiness? What? What did I miss? Perception, someone else’s perception?

It is cruel to ask someone to be in a moment that they could not bare themselves. 

It is judgemental and belittling of their pain. It is dismissive of their survival.

This decade has been about rest. Space. Realisation.

So i can be in a moment without having to bare it, but to enjoy every little intricacy in it.

At the same time I feel like I am mourning .. grieving.

Nearly ready for more.

.

reassessing what a decade ‘did’ .. thinking that it was a waste or a rest .. actually it was ..

figuring out what happened.

what i suffered.

remember details.

trying to find good pieces to go along side those stories.

reassembling the stories.

dropping some.

remembering what i wanted.

dropping what i wanted.

trying something else.

dropping something else.

whilst aging.

the body changes.

the hormones. learning about them. and touch sensations .

figuring out what i dont like.

what i dont mind.

what i like.

what is necessary.

what isn’t.

.

someone once had a dream about me & a broken hand .. the interpretation was that was me, that i needed re breaking to reset the bones to heal properly.

.

i had a dream recently, that the femoral artery in my leg had been ‘knicked’, & it was bleeding out with my pulse.

i found the bleed, not the site of the wound. i stopped the bleeding. .. by wiping it clean and keeping still.

.

theres practically no-one saying that i cant do something anymore. there are the odd criticisms but its not a literal, ‘no you cant go here, say that, do that, voice that, parent like that’ etc etc .. theres no-one. so why do i continue to hear it? do it?

.

so i should, Stop .. telling myself I should be doing more! 

Berating myself for resting.

Beating myself up for supposedly not knowing better.

.

I am allowed to rest. I done did 32 years of being beat down, and yet I still survived. I done 32 years of torment and abuse. I suffered. And I still survived.

I survived 32 years of being groped, raped, suffocated, belittled, not believed, changing tactics, self healing, moving, managing, changing, learning and being degraded and still survived.

I did all that and still managed to achieve shit.

My kids are my greatest achievement.

And then I did more.

I am allowed to rest! Recoup. Heal.

Recalibrate, ponder, soul search, get angry and heal some more.

I am allowed.

I am allowed to manage illness in my own way, finding solutions, getting what I need.

And I’m still allowed to rest.

“Cut yourself some motherfucking slack girl!

Geezus!” is what i keep telling myself. 

Watch the sunsets.

Gaze out the window.

Sleep.

Breathe.

X

.

by 11, smoking was my way of silencing my pain and anger and giving the finger to anything that said I couldn’t. It was harm done at my choosing.

And now I’m trying to let it go like an old toxic friend and I can feel its roots pulling out from the base of my spine, my puku.

Like im not in control, but I am. That this is my choice. 

Never to be forced again to do what I don’t want to. To bow for the greater good. To listen for the greater good.

But I feel like screaming, crying, smashing and sleeping, all at the same time.

.

its some deep rooted fuckery. but better out than in, right ..

.


kpm©


 

i slept under the stars ..

wondering .. again .. if living in a moment, or rather, enjoying the moment, is just as simple as it sounds.

so instead of regretting something, or thinking that you should be doing something else ‘more productive’, is actually counter productive and full of shit.

that enjoying the movie, sitting on your ass watching the sun set, reading a book or just watching tv, can all be done to its fullest enjoyment, without regrets or second guesses .. if we actually embrace the moment?????

.

so do i reframe what the ‘something’ is? .. eg: i slept under the stars ..

does that have to mean outside in a tent, or on the grass, up on a mountain top, with company or without, does there have to be a photo op for IG, proof of a sunset, stars, moon .. 

or can it be something completely different whereby it is just what it is.

in my bed, under my roof, under the stars <3


kpm©


 

ruminating ..

i cut shit off.

its how i reframe or reorder shit.

its also a form of regaining control of a situation i feel out of control about.

cos yes, most of my earlier years & formative years, have been a reaction or just living to survive.

all of that has brought me to this place in time.

& i find myself wondering if cutting shit off or out, is productive or counterproductive? have i exceeded my limit?

what happens when the toxicity is leaking out all over the place & you cant quite figure out if its You or Them or Something In Between?

.

You stop & take a deep ass breathe?!

.

and thats where im at.


kpm©


 

reiterating the basics ..

this time i’ve refused to do it.

.

those that have been watching / listening me on my waka for sometime, will know the shit that pisses me, that fills me, that recharges me .. the process that i do to get me from one place to another .. practically & spiritually. most of the time, they go hand in hand.

this time is no different.

the beginning of the gregorian year, saw me make a decision to take on ACC in a new way .. with a lawyer.

they’re tiring cunts, for real. & i knew i was tired. tired of fighting, repeating, adjusting & re-doing.

my beef with them has been for the basics & ongoing for nearly a decade in one way or another.

the review for their shit ass decision to decline my shit was due in march 2020. prior to that i employed the lawyer.

an affidavit was written up, documenting the filth i endured from 3 – 18 years of age, because this was the timeframe that was ‘up for review’.

then i went to see a shrink .. yep another one .. for an ‘unbiased’ opinion .. meaning, it wasnt an ACC shrink.

with i’s dotted & t’s crossed, we were ready for review.

in the meantime the lawyer was also in discussions about ‘outcome’.

Then NZ, in response to the covid situation, went into full lockdown for nearly 6 weeks.

during that time ACC decided to reverse their initial decision.

yup.

so technically it was a win.

right?

that was in march.

we are now in june.

the lawyer is off the books so to speak because their is no review to pursue.

i have heard from ACC twice.

guess what?

they’re going back to the drawing board, i’m filling in more consent forms so they can ‘gather pertinent information’.

another words, i get to wait .. again.

without answers. without the basics.

this is the baseline for Me.

.

then add to that, the covid situation, which hasn’t gone away btw, its just been down graded. *eye ball roll* yes, there are folks that have lost their businesses, their livelihoods .. theres a tonne of information seeping out about how many lost their lives, were victims of prolonged domestic violence .. right over to the laws that have been adjusted so the police can now enter out homes without warrant if it is suspected that none is jepodising the ‘covid rules’ .. what are those exactly? well im not sure anyone actually knows any more.

& then, to top that off, our police have recently been armed.

lawdy lawd.

let me leave that one there.

.

we are now in june 2020.

& there is a revolution / uprising happening.

it is long overdue.

but its price is high.

the lives that have been lost along the way .. the life that was brutally taken & filmed for all to see .. has become the catalyst for ‘change’.

i am fully down with the change that is happening.

im not down with the cost that its come at, when all ‘they’ had to do, was listen to what black people had been saying / protesting / screaming, for YEARS. hundreds of YEARS.

.

for me, my soul grieves.

not morbidly.

it just grieves. i dont know how else to frame it up.

i think anyone of colour can feel that.

.

& then theres the fuckery that follows.

.

peeps be ‘waking up’ slowly & painfully .. & honestly, i cant watch.

.

i am tired of waiting.

& that is just me, on this side of the world, with all of my own self fish shit thats happening & my own issues .. i am tired.

i have empathy. but i can not know what it truely means to ‘be that’ feels. not like this.

i so i stand in solidarity … completely & totally.

i watch & wait.

support where i can.

share what i can.

.

this is a time of complete & entire change.

& like i said, it is long overdue.

.

im kinda cringing to see what happens next. i’ve lost friends during this time, not that i had a lot to begin with lol. but those i had thought were pretty good on the racism front .. turns out, were really good at covering it up.

my decision to cut them off wasnt hard.

i dont grieve for that loss.

at all.

its all way overdue.

.


kpm©


 

Image

the perks of ..

think i’ve said it before, but this whole covid lockdown business, has given me opportunities to do / be at certain things that i didn’t think were ever going to be possible.

concerts.

its a no go for me atm .. kinda above my pay grade for now.

but during this whole pandemic i’ve managed to make 3 seperate ‘concerts’ that i otherwise wouldn’t have been able to attend.

the first was an erykah badu concert .. fuck me, what a kick that was!!!

the second was an erykah vs jill scott ‘concert’ type thing on IG. it was like 3 hours of all their music and singing and reminicing & it was fucken cool!!!

thats me in the middle .. just hanging out and shit LOL.

the 3rd attendance, was a Smart Funny & Black comedy show thing. if you follow amanda seales on IG at all, then you’ll know about this beautiful creation.

its something i’d absolutely love to go to but knew i wouldn’t be able to .. & then …

thats right, they did one online!

yes i bought a ticket and yes i ‘went’ and yes i laughed my ass off for hours!!!!!!!!

& its not just the attendance thing really .. for me, all these things were so fucking healing & liberating & normalising & empowering .. they’ve completely changed the game for me .. its part of whats flipping the shit atm.

its a beautiful beautiful thing.


kpm©


 

next ..

as feeling, sensation ..  comes back to my body; i feel scared. a different scared. is it maybe, an anticipation scared? either way, its giving me pins & needles. & while i’m ‘afraid’ of all of the memories that ‘this’ may bring ..

i know i am ready.


kpm©


 

thinkings ..

had this floating round in the grey matter for a few weeks but still find it quite difficult to string together a legible / literate sentence .. so it is what it is & will come forth as it needs to lol. proceed with caution & open mind as i have not edited of spell checked lol ;)

.

been watching with interest the covid unfoldings & all the fuckery thats come with it. also all the shiftings & good shit thats come from it, cos yep, theres some amazingly good shit thats come from it all ..

here NZ, we are currently in level 3 which apparently consists of ‘staying home’, working from home, schooling from home, non contact sales, limited travel .. etc .. y’all can google the rest lol.

in level 4 it was supposed to be complete shut down of everything except essentials. made for interesting pondering on what & who was actually deemed fucking essential & who was not. i watched as peeps actually devolved into psycho panic stricken toilet paper buying freaks! & realised, these cunts have no idea how to stay home! they cant cook, they cant self soothe & have no internal direction other than OUT!

& for some strange ass reason, i felt a whole lot better & a whole lot more ‘normal’. turns out im not as fucked up as i had originally thought & that psych report or not, i had more idea of how to live in this environment than the rest of the world!

well go fucken figure ay.

but as the ‘threat’ to health has apparently dissipated slightly, the freaks have become emboldened. not america type emboldened, while they feel the need to protest the right to get a fucken haircut ffs .. but emboldened as in, here, they are quite happy to return to the way things were.

the way things were?

i’ll say this for our country .. we are resourceful & humorous which gets us through a lot of BS. we are also complacent & spoilt rotten.

we believe it is our right to live as we see fit, even if it isn’t good for the planet or people of families .. if we can drink our way through anything, than a pandemic is surely it!

now i get that we all gotta cope the BS somehow. but then we gotta move. we gotta move through it or we vegetate.

& all i can see at present is a whole heap of vegetative morons who have sobered up enough to get their asses back to work so they can … make money, pay bills, make bills, drink & make more money. in between all that a few well placed thought provoking memes will do .. but substance? fuck no.

& this is my dilemma of sorts.

if the world cant learn to stay off the mouse wheel after being pushed off’ve it, then what fucking hope is there?

case in point .. 2 days before we came out of level 4, residents here received notification that the forestry block to the the east of us would be sprayed with roundup. now most residents didn’t give a fuck cos thats the kind of people they are .. google it lol .. for me, i nearly cried .. aside from the fact that that shit is poisonous af & im a swarm of immune deficiency, with a badge lol .. i couldn’t help but think of what we as a society, have done to the earth (papatuanuku) over the years .. not out of necessity, but out of greed .. & that she was just beginning to breath again & we gonna go and fuck it all up.

we just cant help ourselves!!! & when i say we, i mean them .. i dont put myself in that category cos ive diligently & thoughtfully extracted myself from those cunty practices for the better part of a couple decades.

& add to the environmental pollution, the myriad of emails & notifications i been getting about supporting local businesses.

geezus.

my take on that is simple really.

if you were willing to assist me prior to the rona, in all ways i may have asked for assistance .. then i’ll continue supporting your business. if you didn’t, then you can go eat a fat one now.

.

anyway ..

thats just me. me & my strain of thoughts.

its an interesting time to be alive.

all in all, im fucking grateful.

.


kpm©


 

please note :

on my gravestone, or whatever it ends up being ..

please note :

“this bitch tried like no other”.

cheers.


kpm©


 

& ..

fuck it.


kpm©


 

watching shit ..

here’s an interesting turn of events i shall place my opinion on .. just cos i can.

as i’ve watched the ‘events’ unfold in the last couply weeks, there is a pattern emerging.

its one peeps tend to go through over a longer period of time, especially those that are faced with a traumatic event or illness or disability etc .. [its one i’ve been unfolding for years ..]

theres denial, then embracing & trying to turn it into a positive thing, then exhausting your current resources & energy, then reframing & looking for alternatives, then back to the positive mumbo jumbo, then a lull (depression), then recalibrating & finding more alternatives after your demand for things to go back to the way they use to be dont work .. & then that is followed by another slump & further denial.

in the denial phase there are certain behaviours apparent. one is the ‘fuck you i’ll do what i want’ mentality, another is ‘fuck this im shit scared & gonna be as complaint af so i can get on with it’ aka back to my old life .. within that framework theres a see-saw, from one extreme to the other. that needs to happen to get to the balance that you can live with.

if you dont look at the shit that presents itself, ie our personal shit storm .. & continue on in outright denial .. you will run out of energy & resources.

Because, my furry little friends, shit is not the same. its changing. 

the stuff you could run from & throw yourself in to eg work, play, dissociative BS .. is not longer available for your embellishment. now im all down for a sedative (in whatever form that takes) or 2 .. imo, its necessary to transition.

but heres the kicker .. its got to be a transition.

you gotta make peace with the fact the shit aint the same and is never going to be. you gotta look at the shit that you dread .. which is usually YOU. you gotta do that process no matter whether its sickness, disability, trauma or the current circumstances. 

the reality is .. this present situation, is not a new thing for indigenous people. 

they have been coming for us for years. we are used to this & have learned to work around it. yes, many of us have gone quiet. but we’re watching. & we’re listening. & we’re wondering if you were listening too.

advice : ground yourself .. figure out what you’re made of. NOW. & fast.

dont be ‘that guy’. 

cos, we all still have control of Us. of how we process .. & how we respond. & in all reality, thats all we’ve ever really had control of .


kpm ©


 

hmmm .. morena

my nan & grandad used to get up @ like 430-5am. i always wondered why, or more precisely, wtf??

well, this morning i woke, again, @ like 430am .. & decided to roll with & see what the BS is all about.

turns out you can be quite the productive little fucker first thing in the morning.

who would have known ay.

;)


kpm ©