reconciling the hormones #10

they’re

having

a

nice

little

rest.

thank fuck for that!

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heads up:

FYI.

kiddy fuckers

kiddy fucker supporters:

embody the label retard.

 

Image

reconciling the hormones #9

Me and Me hormones and Me feng shui today ❤

#meme (poem) reads:

I lied and said I was busy. I was busy;  but not in a way most people understand.

I was busy taking deeper breaths. I was busy silencing irrational thoughts. I was busy calming a racing heart.  I was busy telling myself I am Okay.

Sometimes, this is my busy – and I will not apologise for it.

By B Oakman – titled “Anxiety Doesn’t Knock First”.

jam

this

is

my

jam

and

i

will

embrace

the

fuck

out

of

it.

reconciling the hormones #5

  • bleeding like a stuck pig
  • bleh
  • not cool
  • actually roasting like a pig on a spit
  • hmmm bacon
  • well that digressed fast

narrative

ohhh

i can feel a narrative rewrite coming on;

in 3,

2,

1

Video

#IOwnMyLife

from me*

you

don’t

phase

Me

any

more

chastised [usually part of a larger group, whether real or imagined]

I have been mincing around gods green earth for 45ish years now, and during that time I have been chastised for almost everything by almost everybody. Slight over-generalisation you say? I think Not.

Theres been christians, mormons, a hare krishna, a psychologist or 2, family, extended family, strangers, random passerby-ers, doctors, bosses, colleagues, teachers, students, children (even!), old people, older people, homosexuals, anti abortionists, straights, marrieds, non-marrieds ….

You get my drift ay?

I shit you not … this list is as long as my arm pit hairs at present!

But as I was recently pondering on my latest chastisement, I got to wondering … Why?

As this phenomenon seems to know no bounds, it would then appear to be a glitch that covers all races, sexual preferences, religions, ages, schools of thoughtings  ….

So what is it?

What is it that gives one person (usually part of a larger group, whether real or imagined), the belief they have the right to share their heavenly or scientific or self enlightened bestowed-ly knowledge, on another?

In this instance, that ‘another’, is of course, Me 🙂

What gives a person (usually part of a larger group, whether real or imagined) the inkling of thought that the ‘other’, being chastised, is even remotely interested in their version of ‘the universal truth’?

Is this Arrogance?

Is it a miniature version of a colonial/patriarchal mentality being replayed on the daily life scene?

Is it even a thing????

Whatever it is … I am WAY over it! Way, Way Over It … see, I’m using Capitalisation 😉

So heads up y’all:

I do Not need to know that you think I should not speak ‘that way’ …

I do Not need to know Why …

I do Not need to know who supports your theory …

I do Not need to know what you have done to prove your theory as being scientifically correct …

Guess What …

I Respectfully don’t give a rats fucking ass.

Scroll On.

ready, steady … go

Thinking ima gonna start a new section on my blog … a diary slash documentation of:

“Menopause”.

I know, I know. I can hear the jubilation from all areas.

Theres a few reasons:

I’ve pretty much detested being a biological woman most of my life. I felt like this body betrayed Me. I never wanted to be a man though. Ewww. But it’s a hard thing being stuck as something you despise but not wanting to be the alternative.

As the years went on I realised I didn’t have to be anything that was ‘prescribed’ for Me to be either: so I didn’t. I refused to state my gender; I refused to dress ‘ladylike’ – I found my own groove; I refused to speak ‘like a lady’ … yes, I found my own groove; I refused to be anything that was expected of me ‘as a woman’.

But I still despised my biology.

That has mainly been because I thought my gender is what got Me assaulted as a little girl. I didn’t realise then, that my gender had nothing to do with it. My vaginal hole, as tiny as it was, was not the pre cursor for being invaded by a sick cunt.

No.

It was His sickness. It had nothing to do with Me … and as I found out many years later … the sick cunt had no preference between genders … his preference was ‘defenceless.’

By the time I hit my teens and my first baby was due, the after effects of the infant sexual assault had well and truly set in. But I didn’t realise that at the time. I dreaded motherhood. Not my child … but not being able to protect her. It was my Achilles heel.  By the time I was married and pregnant with my 3rd child, I was petrified. But this time, I was petrified of having a boy. Petrified of producing a sex offender. As weird as it sounds, the aftermath manifests in some interesting ways.

I was relieved when i birthed another baby girl, but then scared about the double protection I would have to provide.  I didn’t want to have anymore children. Partly because this world is no place for a child, or so I believed. And partly because I could feel myself starting to break. So I took the next logical step … and had my tubes tied. Yes, at 23, I took matters into my own hands.

I cracked about a year later and left my husband soon after.

Not to get into that story … my point is … being a woman has never been a good thing for Me. In my mind, it got Me assaulted, repeatedly … I bleed … I physically developed and was re-assaulted by both males and females. It has felt like my body has betrayed Me at every turning point.

I understand now that this isn’t really the narrative. Which is why I want to document – the good, the bad, and the learning – of menopause.

This is the final frontier lol.

I want to remember it and where I can, celebrate it, like I should have been doing all my life as a biological woman.

You see I get now, that being a biological woman is a fucking honour. To birth a child … to give new life … no matter what age you give birth … well that’s the greatest honour of all. We are the whare-tangata. And I have despised and sabotaged mine at every turn.

Now, I will celebrate and learn to love and embrace this final part of my journey … this Part of Me ❤