thought-tings

if i’ve survived 32 years of trauma ..

if i’ve run more times than i’ve rested ..

if i’ve acted in response to threat ..

if i’ve resisted everything, to breathe ..

do yah think i’m entitled to have a decades rest & recuperation ..

i think so.

thankyou very muchly.


kpm©


Break-Time.

So, I’ve decided I’m gonna take a break. Not sure how long for, or even if it could be considered an ‘actual’ break in ‘mainstream’ terminology. But it is what is it and means I won’t be posting my usual award-winning daily material for a little while.

I updated my Front Page:

about, © & disclaimer

Welcome to my slice of paradise *sarcasm intended*.

At present, I would describe myself as the awkward and irreverent owner of the ‘pts(d)’ title. I am a nonconformist by nature. My art, photography and writing is my attempt at  “Flipping My Narrative”. Not because I’m some kind of pts(d) retard whose in some warped denial, but because I get now, that bad fucking shit happens for sure, but I can’t and won’t ever agree with the ‘quo’ explanations for said bad fucking shit.

Everything in this Blog, is my shit, copy written as, kpm © 2003, unless otherwise stated.

Note: Throughout My Blog, there are liberal splatterings of, and reference to, infant/child sexual assault. Although I know a shitload on this subject, I am a professional in MY field, which is ME and only ME. I am not ‘qualified’ to give ‘medical, therapeutic or psychological’ advice. I only have my opinions and experiences. As such, don’t take my shit as lore!

The main update and reason for the ‘break’ lays in this:

At present, I would describe myself as the awkward and irreverent owner of the ‘pts(d)’ title. I am a nonconformist by nature …  but I can’t and won’t ever agree with the ‘quo’ explanations …

I’ve got hormones raging; arguments going on in my head; I’m afraid of nearly everything, but most of all I’m afraid of ‘feeling’ … and this stops Me from feeling or I medicate so I don’t feel the feeling; I feel confused and most of all, fucking frustrated.

I had Me a lovely little flashback the other day, and had a post prepared but got sidetracked … Here it is in all it’s glory *insert eyeball roll*:

Really need to find another ‘descriptive’ term for that event that isn’t so god dam poxy … who came up with that bullshit ay … some white coated cunt who’d studied far too much and hadn’t lived a second of it maybe???

Any way … until such time as I come up with a suitable replacement … flashback it is:

I was just about to put my hands over my ears today … there was a truck down the road doing something noisy and obnoxious, and it was getting louder … hands to ears till I could find my ear plugs was the thought …

And then I remembered being in my Grandparents bedroom, watching a little 14 inch TV. My Nan was in the room next to this. It was a hair salon; she was a  self-taught hairdresser :) Anyways … I was staying near her and trying to stay out-of-the-way of the pedo cunt. Think I was 8ish … and I must have been there for the holidays, I’m not sure. The pedo cunt finds Me. Sits by the door and starts talking about Me and my family going to church. I wanted to get up and leave but that meant going near him and round him. So I pretended not to be listening to him. He was in earshot of my Nan who kept telling him to shut up. But he wouldn’t of course.

He kept smirking at Me.

Fuck he was a cunt. A torturous tormenting cunt.

When he could see I was trying to ignore him and focus on the TV (and pretend I wasn’t petrified), he moved over to the TV and started turning the volume up. If anyone remembers what those old school 14 inch TVs were like, you’ll know they weren’t built for HD sound that’s for sure!

As he started inching the sound up, waiting for Me to retaliate, he was talking, but I wasn’t listening.

What I remembered though: was my ears started ringing – not just from the sound but from his voice and the look on his face and his aura … I can’t describe it really … but I was petrified. He knew, I knew, he could do whatever he pleased whenever he pleased and No-one was going to stop him; and if they tried, or I tried, it wouldn’t make a shit bit of difference.

I screamed at him finally.

He laughed.

And I got told off.

I was told that I should just handle it; after all – I sit in church and listen to all the loud music was the reasoning.

Saying it out loud today – it sounds completely bizarre. And it was.

I believe though … this is where my sensitivity to sound and the knot the happens in my gutt and the panic fucks that happen during … this is where they started.

Nice to know ay.

Now what?

Not sure … but I figure the great flashback fairy had something in mind when she decided to reveal this puppy today … I fucking hope so! And I fucking hope its good!!

But these and my dreams are plaguing Me at the moment … well they’ve turned up a decibel. I seriously cannot tell the difference between a panic attack, a bit of anxiety, a hot flush, normal anger, hunger or sadness. It all feels (in my body) like the same fucking thing … uncomfortable!

This morning I’ve had (what I think are) 2 hot flushes. I think I know this because I ‘feel’ hot to touch. But I hyperventilate and end up on the floor and then in tears. Whats that about??

As I was rocking and breathing and crying on the bathroom floor I recognised I was afraid. Of this … feeling … of being a biological woman … of change … of vulnerability … of fear itself … of being trapped … of having no say over what my fucking body is doing … of being afraid.

I ‘feel’ like a boxer in a ring – in the corner, getting the fucking snot beaten out of them. You’ve seen those ones ay … the ones that curl up, hands up over their heads, just taking body shot after body shot cos they can’t move but they have to protect themselves. This is the picture of my life really. The bell goes, I get a 1 minute breath and I’m back in there getting the shit kicked out of Me. I’m down, but never out. I’d make it to the final round, but in what condition I wonder?

And it’s here that my thought shifted.

What am I doing?

I’m in a fight I didn’t ask for; I don’t know how to fight; waiting for someone to explain the rules so I can get with the program; waiting for a decent break so I can gather some strength …

Why don’t I just step out of the ring and fuck off and do my own thing?

Because: and here is another part of my personality that is becoming a hinderance instead of an attribute …. because: I do not quit.

I don’t quit the job that’s making Me sick … not till I can’t stand anymore anyways. I don’t quit the relationship I don’t want to be in … because, maybe I didn’t try hard enough. I don’t quit the violent relationship I don’t want to be in … because this is my lot … I chose this, not my daughter.

Instead I strap up and hang in for the long ride … cos … it might get better, if I just don’t quit …

Fucks sakes.

And as of this morning: if I am really about Flipping My own Narrative, then some uncomfortable shit is on its way and I need to deal with it. Not nut it out, or knuckle down … but get the fuck out of the ring and stop fighting something that just isn’t my fight.

I think it’s about Letting That Shit Go … Walking Away and not looking back.

Now that brings a tear to my fucking eye and I have no idea why.

I get that I have endured some fucking ratshit shit in my life; that I am a survivor and a fighter; that I’m attempting to embrace all that I am …

But I want more than that. I don’t want to be just another ptsd fucktard who has a great story to tell; or another medicated survivor who knows how to function ‘her own way’; or anything that anyone else thinks or says I should be – fuck I don’t even know what I ‘should’ be. I do know I don’t want to Be this though.

I am a nonconformist by nature. And I’m hoping like all fuck that that part of my nature has some decent fucking suggestions on flipping my shit!

See yous Soon.


kpm ©