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Memories: 23 June 2022

by Tanya Arons 2 months ago in humanity · updated 2 months ago
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La vie en rose or living la vida loca: all is in a constant flux of Becoming…Better, Wiser, Bouteaous, Beautiful and Blessed….Breeerrowwwww!

Today I finished this calla Lily 23 June 2022

23 June 2022

The past two days I got hammered with such bad bronchitis that I thought I might just die. 57 years of dying. Over it! So I started a three day course of prednisone.

Today I sat in my garden, on a blanket in the warm winter sun to heal my scars on my back (I had a cardigan on) and to give extra warmth to my lungs. I did my shamanic trance drumming, listened to Tuvan throat singing, took my dog and bird for our usual walk around the block. Then came home and finished polishing my Calla Lily pendant I started making three days ago.

I have achieved a lot in the past week with a freshly sutured wound plus the absolutely exhausting chronic bronchitis plus not being able to walk properly for the first 40 minutes each morning and feeling weak and dizzy. I also had nerve pain in my left thigh this morning.

But I fought my way through as I do each day. I am grateful for my cleaning lady who comes each Thursday to clean the bathroom and vacuum and mop my floors. It’s a huge help. I still have the dusting, washing etc to do. Last week I dusted my studio as it was thick with dust but I still need to do the rest of my home. Gahh.

23 June 2021

Mama T finally fixed the toilet seat back on. Loo with a View kindly sent me the replacement parts. Thank you!

But holy hell it has taken me an hour and a half to replace it. The constant use of Domestos had eaten into the bolts and one had to be cut off with my trusty intrepid mini dremel. I tried a hacksaw too. Lots of swearing and almost crying…but I did it. Amazing!

Giving myself a firm hug as there is no Jack Daniels or chocolate in my house! (I could do with something yummy to celebrate my determination!)

All good. The prize is: no more wobbly fairground attraction loo!

Also the gas fitter came this morning to check why my oven blew the gas out while I was baking an apple pie a few weeks ago.

Fairly new oven so should not be faulty. He couldn’t find anything wrong with it and said it might have been a one off!

Told me to be careful not to shut the door hard during cooking as that might have blown out the pilot light.

I didn’t open or shut the door as the pie looked very well cooked on the outside but was still frozen inside and the gas flames were out.

It’s fricking weird!!! But I noticed sometimes on windy days the gas has blown out on the stove top too. So it’s not my imagination but it checked out okay today so that is all we can do.

Two jobs sorted today! Time to take the Beau and the Charley Girl for a walk.

23 June 2020

My beautiful talented daughter painted this of me some years ago. (When all I had to sit on was a donated blue couch sourced for me by Judith Krantz - see...I do remember the charitable acts as well as the ignominy. The human condition of give and take, life and death, loyalty and treachery, dark and light. Psy sighs.

Anyway I just walked into the lounge and smiled at old me with my beautiful Tristan on my lap. (He died in 2011)

And it struck me...the look of satisfaction and accomplishment for my mere survival (even on my secondhand but gifted couch!).

I have been loved and protected: if only by the gods.

I had a lovely chat this morning to Heidi Cerexhe (my mother’s first husband’s daughter from his second marriage). She is the only member of my family of origin who still is happy to speak to me and treat me with loving kindness!

She told me that my mother and my own self had always been kind to her when she came to live in NZ. I thanked her for her kindness towards me also. A rare privilege and a gift in those days and even now.

Value your Beloveds: they are angels sent from heaven.

23 June 2019

@ Megan Phillips. This is my childhood home at 382 The Esplanade, Island Bay until I was 15 (the beach is across the road!) Then we moved to Cees’s house (the Zino Building) at 351 The Parade that later got sold and turned into a restaurant.

We lived in Melbourne for 3 years (from age 9-12) also. I hated Melbourne. But there I met my childhood friend Margaret Jakovac so that was some happiness, while living with Cees.

In these pics I am 14 and Mum made me paint our house. Exploitive fucking narcopath but I was a child and always went with the flow. Funny how she always found ways to rip me off later in life. Evil hag!

She sold the land at Waiheke Island our Pop left for me and put that money into Cees’s house. That was the first “inheritance” they stole from me but in typical Phillips fashion my Pop had trusted in her handshake and honour (Jesus!) and nothing was ever in writing.

My parents both proved later on to be very spiteful and envious of my Pop wanting me to prosper, the same when I married and Harry and Hilda paid off my husband’s mortgage so we could live easy.

Later with our business my evil lying mother told people she owned our business. She never gave us a cracker instead expected free food and fêting!

I just used to roll my eyes but when she died and her full spite and salacious lies were put into her will, I realised that she had only ever hated me and wanted me utterly utterly destroyed. Shit happens.

I will continue to blossom and rise above it. Although it has taken me decades to heal from All of their abuse. Maybe I will only truly Heal when I am Dead. But one by one I have witnessed my familial enemies and vicious former lovers and friends be smited by something bigger than each of us.

I was always a good little girl and a good kind woman but it was not wise of them to continue to strive to damage me. My anger is not something to be teased or stoked or erupted. It is a fury of a child debased and neglected and abused for so long...so long that something in my psyche cracked wide open.

I fear my own innate fury myself now 😉. But sometimes that slow boiling in my guts and heart and mind like a combustion engine in the Titanic is all that keeps me Alive! So I honour that!

Tanya 14 painting my mother’s house. I am quietly furious as every dirty motherfucker in greater Wellington has driven past the house across from the sea and whistled or catcalled out to me.

The last time I was ever slim. I put on weight to protect myself. I even contemplated the fact that I was really a man trapped in a female body. I thought about being transgender. (I am not!). But at 14 with already years of sexual/emotional abuse I was not comfortable in my bleeding vulnerable body.

So it is quite miraculous that at 17 I met my husband and became a mother at 20 and again at 22 and floundered around fully embracing my femaleness and motherhood for decades.

But after my divorce my inner man came out to protect me. And only recently I feel in perfect harmonious balance with both my masculine and feminine qualities.

Mind you I had to stay celibate as I am done with liars abusers and creeps. Celibacy has gifted me with my own empowerment. I always spend years celibate after an awful break up. Only way to survive for me.

Recently (only in past few weeks) I realised how deeply I still love someone but love for me is dangerous, terrifying and too often hugely sabotaged by spiteful envious ghouls.

So I am praying and waiting for the One. If he ever wakes up to himself and if the gods allow me to have the love I so richly deserve after a harrowing life...then it is happening for me 😉

If not...next life. I pray for a life of peace and joy and authentic love. The rest...is commentary. Hahaha

From the comment section:

Laura Martin: How utterly despicable they were and the horrible way they treated you! I wish I could find that sweet young girl and give her a big hug and tell her that she is loved and appreciated! When I try to explain to people what my childhood was like, I sometimes say that it was a lot like the movie, "Carrie", except that I didn't have telekinetic powers. But my childhood was a picnic compared to what you have been through! 😟😰😧

Me: No comparisons. All trauma is relative to the experiencer. But yes..I did survive a lot even at that young age.

LM: I suppose that is true. But the way I'm feeling, I kind of think it would have been a lot easier if we did have telekinetic powers. 🙄

Ooops! Did I say that??? 😯🤭🤫

Me: Laura Martin, well actually it was safer for our abusers. I would have burned all three houses down as well as the illegal casino Trevor Singh and Graham Najdenich (later Denich later John Mohr) owned. Yes. I probably would have burned down Angela as well. But shhhh nice holy sanctified thoughts....haha.

“First comes the blood then the boys...”. My family did not even wait for the menstrual bleeding. Dirty bastards. I long to fly to NZ to punch my half-sister out for not protecting me as a child or as a 45 yo woman with that will. Unholy evil cuntish cunt.

But that is my squally gall talking...just think how lovely and docile I shall be when not soaking in my own vomitous Bile and RAGGGGEE! Haha.

LM: I'm not feeling particularly holy or sanctified right now. I've just been accused of being a "bad Christian". Why, you ask? Well, I'm glad you asked! It was because I posted a humorous, satirical piece from the Andy Borowitz Report about the Rapist-in-Chief, Donald Trump. 🤬

Megan Phillips: Hello cuzn, I always wondered what became of the land at waiheke island...never knew your Mother sold it, had no idea...it seems Phillips have always lived near the sea like the pic I showed you, it was in nana Phillips album which I have...hic my inheritance lol 😉😂

Me: Yes we are definitely sea people. My mother’s biological father was a ships’ carpenter as a young man and had the ability to “whistle the wind”. So we have magical seafarers in both sides of the family tree. (Along with the usual narcopaths, psychopaths and general nutters!)

And yes I am Still extremely pissed off about the Waiheke land. It would be worth a fortune now. You could have lived on it. Or I could have holidayed there. But alas...destined and contrived into extreme poverty.

Never mind. It’s a beautiful day and I am free of them all. Spiritual gold if not actual gold is more golden sometimes 😉

Just threw open my back door just in time to catch sight of a very fat friendly pale-headed eastern rosella (they have yellow heads!) sitting on the back of one of my plastic chairs a few feet away from Charlie having a quiet communication with him. Delightful.

Alas I did not get a photo as he flew away as soon as I opened the door. Awww! So nice for Charlie to have wild bird visitors though. (As long as they are not trying to attack him!)

I am feeling weak and a tad nauseous and anxious about the impending excision of a defunct organ. Yes it has to go but my mind is fighting me. Weird as I have been so ill for so long with it and soldiering on and now the reality of having the surgery so suddenly thrust upon me has me shaking and vulnerable. Ridiculous!!!

But...I have decided. If anything should go wrong with the surgery or I find myself floundering in the shadowlands unable to get back to reasonable physical health again. I will suicide. I don’t care what anyone thinks, what the gods think or even if I am forced to incarnate again.

Maybe I will get lucky next time. But I am done suffering like an animal, kicked by fate and by abusers at every turn. I am too old for any further bullshit.

So this is a promise I will keep to myself and I am making it public so when/if it happens you will all know it was my own decision and choice. Dying with my own dignity.

This is not a guilt trip or a drama performance. This is my intended future if I should get much worse in my being.

If I get better...then glory be to the gods but I will strive to continue to enjoy what time is allotted me. I am not giving up on myself just yet.

But I am being called to declare my own authority as it is all I have left after a traumatic life.

From the comment section:

Me: Love you too, my gorgeous radiant heart of Light. And all my other wonderful friends and family.

I am okay. This is not a threat of any imminent demise. Just a promise to myself to not go down in any sort of violating ignoble way.

All complex trauma survivors feel this way about our bodies. We will fight for our body autonomy to the bitter end and when our health is severely compromised we choose to bow out gracefully. It is our final gift of dignity to our selves.

But don’t freak out just yet. Mama T/The Tanya aka me...has survived decades of horror and if my sweet short mad Hobbit body can keep going...it will!

I survived my hysterectomy/bladder/vagina repair in 2007 which was so awful the nursing staff referred to me as “the poor bitch down the hall”. I heard them.

My then psych nurse friend threatened the QE2 hospital staff with the health rights commission. They had no idea I have many powerful and professional friends on my team. Ahem. Never fuck with a “poor bitch”!

Catherine Holdsworth: {{{Tanya}}} you are a powerful force I so admire xx all power to you Goddess... and sooooooo much love you courageous , resilient heart 💓❤️

Me: Catherine Holdsworth hugs but we goddesses always rise and shine in our own consummate power and only other gods/goddesses recognise our beauty xxx

PS I am really happy in my own mind these days....it’s just my failing body that fills me with trepidation.

Be’ezrat HaShem (by the Will if G-d). I have lived all my life between both worlds. Been forced to choose life all my life except on one serious occasion when I did not and the gods still dragged me back kicking and screaming (Lmao!). My Will is strong and my Spirit is strong but my body is fighting me daily.

All good. I survived many things in life and this is just another event.

I pray I feel much better too and life treats me with much greater kindness.

I look forward to better health and wonderful blessings.

Thank you all for your loving support. I value your kindness.

@Kelly Anne. One word. Indomitable. They have pushed and piqued, kicked, beaten, strangled, impoverished, even raped us: physically, mentally, spiritually. Yet even at death’s door we have risen and shone. At the eleventh hour. At the eleventh hour and 59th minute.

I am amazed at how miraculously powerfully resilient and strong we both are.

Never ever ever let the bastards grind us down for we are some finely ground powder by now and we are still Gonna get right up their nostrils and permeate their evil guts.

Don’t give up just yet. I send you more strength. Enough for 1st July. Hugs!

Update 26 June 2019:

I am fighting every day for my life. Even fought an entire team of doctors when they refused pain medication to take home with me.

The young surgeon tried to delegitimise and invalidate me. I completely lost my shit. He had already made inappropriate comments to me at pre admission (24 June 2019) as had the male blood tech and the anesthetist so I went into surgery already traumatised and came out in post surgical pain (which is normal) But the pain continued all day yesterday.

They called me a liar. I will seriously consider making a formal complaint to the health rights commission. But I need to heal from the immediate effects of the surgery and ensuing trauma first.

It’s now 4:56 am so I managed to sleep from 7:30 pm last night. Still in pain. But I am resolute. No one should have been treated like this when they are sick and vulnerable.

23 June 2017

Beauregard has had a delicious bath (under sufferance), a luxurious brush and we are now walking in Whites Hill Reserve as I promised him. Charlie is hanging off my clothes, enjoying the Walkies too. It is a glorious day, HALLELUJAH!

Listening to my demented Romanian neighbour baa-ing to his 2 sheep like an old troll is not pleasant. He is happy in his madness. But it's enough the sheep making their own noises without that idiot joining in. I have been out refilling the aquaponic pond as another fish died. So he is only doing it to get my attention.

Oh dear G-d I wish (like millions of other Disability pensioners) that I could win lotto and buy a lovely house in Byron Bay overlooking the sea (similar to how I lived as a child) and get away from that schmendrick. Lol.

I just carry on as usual, manifesting big dreams and living quietly with my animals, getting older and madder myself. Oy veh! But shhh. My story is not over yet and I am the creator of my reality. In my head I can be anywhere in the world I want to be and when I leave this body I can be anywhere in the universes in a blink of an eye.

Or so they tell me!

….

I had a bad night last night with lots of broken sleep due to needing to pee and when I finally settled down Penny went rampaging through the house so I threw her outside at 4 am. Omg. Catttssss are driving me mad.

But I woke up feeling happy and have thought about the events of this year. Jan and Feb were lost due to incessant tooth pain (since dec last year). I missed out on summer due to prolonged agony.

Then March was lost due to news of my horrible father's death, then April spent waiting for his ashes, a man I never wished to deal with ever again but did the right thing as ultimately I always did the right thing by those filthy violent schweinhunds that spawned me, as integrity is everything and they did not deserve me and I certainly did not deserve them!

Then in May I got rid of my engagement ring, a symbol of long dead traitorous false love and people who wanted me dead. Then I desexed my dog so that was another stressful time.

Now June is almost over but so many positive lovely things are evolving. I started going to Dancing in the Dark on Wednesday and Ecstatic Dance on Friday. I opened myself up like a lotus flower to experiencing new possibilities and surrounding myself with beautiful soulful people. I even went along to Jarrod's fish club to support my friend in his hobby.

I am finding my locus again and manifesting a happier, more harmonious and positive life. It is only June so I feel like I have hit the ground running but I am coming out from the fog of death, despair and abandonment and am seeing a new sunrise of golden light flowing to me and beckoning me forward. Some days are still tortuous but others are just, well, spectacular!

Thanks to those beautiful friends who carried me on their shoulders for decades, who watched me psychedelicly swirl and twirl my way to wholeness and healing and so much Love I could burst.

You kept me precious and honoured me even in my darkest depths of horror. You made me feel that life was worth living and you showed me that I could come out the other side.

I am grateful to the Holy One, gods, the angels, the spirits of the earth and the sea, for honouring and protecting me and bringing me to this season of bliss. Amen v' selah! xxx

23 June 2016

I don't know what else to do. I just tried calling the Courier Mail. Hoping to get the story out there about Terry Butler's office hanging up on me, and the Commonwealth bank laughing in my face.

Surely with an election due, someone in government could advocate for disability pensioners like me. Or is my phobia of govt sponsored genociders not really as unfounded after all? I need to get some action on this.

If this happened to me today, how many other disability pensioners were treated like animals today also?

I am sure I can't be that special as to be the only one?

By the way Labour used to always defend the underdog. Which is why I was raised to vote Labour and have always voted Labour. Now even they treat the poor with disrespect.

I guess I will have to start my own party and/or Revolution as this is utterly disgusting and reprehensible.

No one has integrity or a sense of responsibility for the poor and marginalised any more. The homeless are harassed, the disabled mocked. Women beaten or raped or murdered, children raped and molested and even the govt can't enforce its Royal commission guidelines.

Meanwhile women like me are derided and scourged for the crime of ending up alone, poor and traumatised so that we can no longer provide for basics on the pension.

I am feeling like I am living in the bowels of Hell. This country has become a giant of systemic abuse, cowardly evil bullying. A sick sick society.

Trying Terry Butler’s member of Parliament office to find out how a bank can get away with not having recourse to the Financial Ombudsman. They cut me off too.

Government sponsored genociders. They hope we just go and kill ourselves to save money.

I am done.

….

Haha the Financial Ombudsman sends you through its phone system twice before insisting you apply online. When you go online they tell you commonwealth bank is not one of their financial services to dispute.

No wonder the staff were so smug when I threatened to close my account. They think they are untouchable and pensioners don't matter. They even came out of their little glass cubicles to laugh at me. Evil cunts.

Just saw bank. Will close bank account but don't have $15 overdue to even close. Rapists. They stated even the manager would endorse the fact I was incorrectly given the overdraft 2 years ago.

I will contact the Ombudsman. This is how poor pensioners are treated. Like criminals.

Last night I made a big batch of washing powder. But I ran out of Borax. So now to brave the cold and get myself to Carindale to the bank then on to Capalaba Produce for bulk Borax.

6.56 am awake after 6 hours sleep. It took me forever to fall asleep. My skin crawled like there were bugs underneath. So itchy. I felt like getting back up and running mad in the cold wet night. But somehow after all the reflux belching and scratching, I passed out.

I had to get up to pee, drink water, let Bobo out. It is pouring rain outside and I am still so tired. Guess a good morning to stay in bed and just rest. Sleep more if I can.

I need to go to my bank and fight about the overdraft but if I am not well enough today it can wait. I am not going to jump through hoops to beg and scratch for every crumb. Fuck it!

23 June 2015

Those of you who are close to me know that my nickname on Paltalk is Psychedelic Dreamer.

I call myself that because of my trauma-induced wild imagination and my second life which takes place while I sleep. The past few weeks my dreams have been very intense again. No cause for concern, just how my brain debriefs and reconnects itself.

Yesterday I dreamt of an enormous ancient tree. I climbed it from the ground to very high up. I was with a group of people, the idea was we were supposed to abseil from the top of the tree.

I was busy looking for footholds as I had some crazy Idea that I could just slide down it. In the canopy I sat and watched the handsome young man (the leader) and some of the pretty young girls abseil with no fear and no problems at all.

I, however was sorta communing with the tree. I noticed, from my great hawk-eye vantage point the group leader kissing one of the girls. I sat, all matriarchly and bemusedly, quietly chuckling. Watching the young, be...young.

Then they yelled I had to come down. I panicked, looking at other massive branches, not sure how I was ever going to get to the ground, and then this peace enveloped me. Take your time. Do it your way. I will help you. It was the spirit of the tree. I was so grateful. The dream ended.

I wonder if it was Yggdrasil or the Tree of Life? It was white like a silver birch but its trunk was metres wide. A very ancient tree who had seen many lovers, and old lonely Wise Women before!

Another dream from several days ago has stayed with me.

I was busy designing a garden bed. I had many pots of herbs and flowers in those tiny pots you get from nurseries. I looked down at the ground. The soil was black, loamy and healthy. The plants were all wilting and yellowing and strangled. Like I had forgotten to plant them in time. In the dream I was fretting over this, thinking that they might die anyway.

Then I planted them all out, about 20 pots and I fussed over their bound roots and told them, don't die, it's all gonna be okay now. I then planted them in the garden bed, in a sort of zig zag diagonal fashion.

I delighted in the soil, running it through my fingers as I planted each pot out and sort of sang and hummed as I planted. Then the dream showed me what the plants turned out to be like and they were gorgeous, all blooming and flourishing with joy and vitality. Then I thought, Well there you go, I didn't think they would make it.

It was a beautiful dream as I felt such pleasure in bringing the fullness of life back to the plants.

So those are the dreams I remember. I hope they help!

23 June 2014

….

FFFSSSS!!!!! I left the gas oven on again. Just found it on 200c. Another epic gas bill! Furious with myself! Arggggghhhhhhh!

My grandmother Eva put her head in her gas oven to kill herself. Nowadays you can't even smell it. Lucky I don't smoke! Farkkk! I had an uncle get blown up at a petrol station. This is getting creepy. At least the gas was lit. But omg the bill!

….

2.33 am I watched a French film Clara and me on SBS on demand. Poignant. Then I hung out on Paltalk. Time to take my euphoria to bed before I explode into a cascading technicolour sky rocket. Souls on Fire. Love it. A lot. :)

24 June 2012

Bella's been Barking Mad tonight! All evening actually. She seems to be very sensitive tonight. A long walk tomorrow might be in order.

….

Watching True Blood s5 ep 2 and loving it! Sons of Anarchy on tv this week also! Happy Tanya Now!

23 June 2011

Feeling bitterly cold tonight. Need to put on heater. I made a fire in the brazier early tonight to burn up old rotten wood and some sticks and did a few loads of washing. Don't feel like hanging out washing now I'm so cold. Oh well. I could be sensible and put on a jumper lol.

Thank you Lyn and big hugs and huge Thank You to Peter who has made it possible for me to write this message and interact with the wide world web again. You Rock!

From the comment section:

….

Copyright Tanya Désirée Arons

humanity

About the author

Tanya Arons

I write about my life experiences. I write about complex ptsd, the agonies, the angst and my post traumatic growth. About Beauty, Truth and Honour and little vignettes of comfort from the spirits that love me: living and dead. I also Dance!

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