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Memories: 17 February 2023

Calling? Calling? I am here! Hineini!

By Tanya Arons Published 2 months ago Updated 2 months ago 32 min read

17 February 2021

I have been watching Nos4a2 which is brilliant and creepy and an almost satirical reflection of our society.

I mean it’s triggering at times. But yes, very deep and powerful. It’s on Amazon Prime if you like Action/fantasy/science fiction shows.

Today I had a lovely visit from Lyn. We chatted as we often do, about spirituality.

My first spiritual circle group just bombed but I am delighted that my closest friends both came to continue with our “work” of enlightenment and sharing stories and knowledge of all things spiritual.

Circle? What circle? I am expected to show up (or perform like a fucking monkey) in other people’s circles but when it’s my turn...crickets. Hmmm. But I can rely on the deep love and support of my true authentic and loyal friends. So I am grateful and happy about that.

A solitary eclectic witch does not actually need a huge tribe. Keep my circle of trust and magick and awe small, and delight in the ones who delight in me, and share positive energy and light in a constant flow of life affirming edifications.

It’s not calling me anymore. It’s breathing down my neck and smashing down my door. It’s bringing me souls who value, cherish, support and if/when necessary, protect me. It’s powerful and beautiful and fierce.

It’s Love, Peace, Justice. It’s the Divine Feminine arising and lighting everyone up. Waking everyone up to a new World that we must co-create with the gods in order to survive on our planet, Gaia. It’s you and me. I and Thou. Holding hands and hearts across the Multiverses.

Blessings for this beautiful joyous and great Day.

Love from

The Tanya

(Not just your average Nudnick or Lunatic). I have walked these worlds and swept these floors and claimed that broken ephemeral Jacob’s ladder and never have the gods forgotten me or betrayed me: even in my darkest despair they reached across the multiverses to gift me another day, another light, another evolution in my ragged jagged flagging life.

This is the blessing and curse of being “Chosen”. The only way out is through... Fulfil my contracts with the gods: for my truly loving, peaceful, safe, joyous life they promised me eons ago when I was but a tiny child. Psy sighs.

It’s coming! I can hear it breathing...the new paradigm. I am ever waiting for Godot but Godot waits for no man, woman or child. It just IS and shall always BE!

Tap tap tap. Wake up, wake up we are late for a very important date. But whom am I to blow against the wall?

I have huffed and puffed and been strangled, stymied and suffocated longer than most people...yet still I find delight in the eyes of small children who (like me) are still attached to their Awe.

Still I smile at the radiance of a new bloom in my garden or the streams of sunshine flowing from that distant star. Life. L’Chaim. A hard task mistress for many. A whimsical delight for some. A momentary blip in the face of eternity.

Yet still I cleave to this body, this mind and recalibrate my soul according to the Will of the gods, manifesting in fractalised mirages across all dimensions of time and space.

Take courage, Little One. The Holy One sees you. Honours you, lifts you up on his shoulders so you can see the horizon of this perfected Design!

Is it really a hologram, oh Lord? Is it all just a complex virtual game played for other Beings with no comprehension of humanity?

Guard your soul Tanya, walk with me and dance and sing and when the right man arrives (Baruch Ha ba’a) make love again, opening your body in all the magickal yet temporal bliss you used to enjoy but this time being loved and honoured in a flowing sacred Return. Like the infinity symbol...yes? Yes! Say yes to Life Tanya-le I have gifted it to your Sacred Trust.

(Okay okay...I believe you...) sheepish grin from me.

I just got back from a walk with Beau and saw little Evie and Susie who lavished me with lots of hugs. They were doing happy dances of excitement at seeing me hobble up the street.

Then I saw the little Koko doggess goddess who lavished me with doggy kisses. I stopped to chat with Ailsa and Pete. Koko smooched me so much and looked deep into my eyes that 91 yo Ailsa laughed and said “what did you do to make her love you sooo much!”

I quipped that she was really eating my soul. But Koko demanded lots of cuddles so I happily kept picking her up for more lashings of dogged smooches. Even though it hurt my back to bend down to lift her back up into my arms!

I joked that if she were a human man I would have to divorce him as it would all be too codependent and needy. Koko just blinked a few times...smiling knowingly. I said “ you want a doggy divorce?!” But she knew I was teasing so she snuggled in even more and we laughed and laughed.

I was spoilt with so much Love today! Just wonderful :-)))

I got to meet Laimee and Damon’s new baby girl today. They named her Ayla (which is Finnish and Scottish). I told them Ayla was a shamaness or medicine woman in the book “Clan of the Cave Bear” and that once again they have named their daughter a very powerful name. (Their other little girl is named Sophia which is a gnostic name for Planet Earth).

Damon does not know how to handle my mystical Witchy ways so kept walking hurriedly home after I told him. (I do it deliberately sometimes to wind people up!) but having read a lot of books I am Sometimes surprised at how these thoughts stumble off my tongue quite unsolicited and salubriously but quite magically! (quiet chuckles).

Little baby Ayla was a month early so I am quite sure she will be grabbing at life as powerfully and eagerly as anyone born in a great hurry.

May she be blessed with happy healthy peaceful prosperous and loving life. All anyone can want for any of us!

4:12 am no sleep tonight. I watched a tv show until 2:30am. Then went to bed and Nup...still wide awake. My back is still taut and painful but now my mind has launched into insomnia instead. I guess I got plenty of rest the previous few days as I was unable to move much.

17 February 2020

Megan Phillips: the heinous man was certainly clever enough to have an escape and to make everyone believe they'd take their own lives before capture, can you understand and speak German cuzn?

Me: I only speak a few words here and there. I understand it a bit better.

I recently gave away 12 German books that were beautiful and valuable to a friend who has a German mother. I could not read them (would have needed to sit every day with a dictionary!) so I thought they were better off with someone who can read and enjoy them.

I have two or three books left (poetry!) and kept one that was my mother’s primer book when she started school. Although she told me that her father Erich Meyer taught her to read before she began school.

He started off by getting her to read street signs. I believe her as although she was a narcopath and a fucking monster to me most of my life, she was in fact highly intelligent. She missed out on attending university due the war.

Ironically she loved attending Student Rabbi Dana Evan Kaplan lectures on Spinoza and Reform Judaism back in 1992. She even once told me she was considering converting to Judaism also and preferred Orthodox to Reform which I found interesting.

She believed her maternal grandfather (her mother Eva was born in the Charite hospital in Berlin - illegitimate) might have been a Jew. But if that were so the documents were hidden well. No father on the birth registration and Eva was baptised evangelisch (Lutheran!). If there had been any proof of Jewishness my grandmother Eva and Gisela would have been exterminated in the camps.

I sometimes wonder however. Eva hated the Nazi party and hid a wireless radio tuned to the BBC in their apartment. She also threw food packages to a holding camp in the middle of Hamburg (with bread and wurst) an extremely brave and dangerous thing to do during the war.

Mum said she had a tiny Chanukiah as an ornament (mum realised what it was when she bought my silver Chanukiah (menorah) as a gift for me after my conversion in 1984.

Eva also had some friends who were famous jewish opera singers. The husband was forced by Hitler to divorce the wife. I believe she made it to England before war broke out. But I am not sure.

Anyway I don’t claim jewish ancestry as I am unable to find any documentation to prove it. As it was on the patrilineal line my grandmother and mother would have been considered “Mischlings” by Nazi Germany.

It is enough that I decided from the age of 6 that I wanted to be a Jew. My soul decided. But my experiences in Brisbane here for the past 32 years have been to put it politely “problematic”. Such is life.

Btw Meyer was a common name in Germany (as common as Smith or Jones!) but it is also a jewish family name. So the “plot” thickens.

I know my half sister was told when she was living in Hamburg in 1973 (when we visited for 6 months) that we would never know the full truth about our family as even then in the 70s this person feared for our safety. I have no idea what they were inferring except perhaps our jewish roots (or god forbid something even more nefarious?!)

I wish that person had had the courage to tell the truth or write it in a letter as it has me curious as to what they really meant.

At any rate I have experienced a great deal of bullying, vilification, false accusations of being a Nazi (it took two years and a Rabbi and the then head of the board of QBJD Bernie Jacks OAM to “clear” my name and I fought hard for the right for my German/naturalised NZer mother to attend Temple with myself and my daughters, back in 1991.

Only to have her undermine me with false accusations via her bf Buck Scherer in 2000!). Which led me to move away from a house I was renting from her and completely cut ties for several years. By then she was in early stages of Alzheimer’s (unbeknownst to me...I just thought her vicious abuse was escalating out of control!) and under the abusive control of that vile conman who had already begun gambling her 130k in cash away. I saw the hundreds of TAB receipts when I was given access to her house after his death and her step kids granny dumping her in the high care facility in 2008!

It became clear that he had conducted an all out war and smear campaign against me in my own jewish community, in the court system with the fake DVO and with the adult guardian who later apologised to me. I was persecuted from every angle and no one in any official capacity had my back!!

The vilification and harassment seemed endless! On top of that I was harried from house to house in extreme poverty, under vicious physical attacks with two small children (only to have some complete stranger of a cunt DARE to call me a VICTIM on Wednesday evening!!! Utterly FILTHY!!!)

I got a quick taste of that vilification again, at that meeting. I have written my characteristically-scathing letter to the facilitator of that meeting about his utterly disgraceful attitude towards me. But in truth he was not the only one in that room to express complete hostility and shunning, both verbal and non-verbal.

I walked out in great dignity only because... I am so used to this kind of abject Matyrdom. It is beyond heinous!!!

As a Jew, as a Universalist, as a “Witch”, as a woman and as a CSA survivor.

They won’t be happy until I am dead and I almost gifted them that in 2015!!!! But there were other factors at play back then. I am stronger now (or like to think I am!). But mostly I am tired.

Even in that recent surgery at the PA hospital I had to fight against utter systemic abuse from male doctors, and a phlebologist. The nurses were brave and did their best to treat me appropriately. Even as I was flailing in rage at the doctors.

So the System is producing modern day Mengeles who prey on women who are trauma survivors and disability pensioners. Victimhood. I think not. I fought them…hard with my freshly divested gall bladder!!! In fucking agony!

So you know...I know I am not safe anywhere in this society. And it’s utterly cruel and sadistic. The constant reminders.

But still I refuse to be Silenced. Not even by that foul Israeli woman who thinks I am a “Victim”. She is no doubt a fellating sychophantic “handmaiden” for sure. Filthy. All of it.

When “they” come for me…eventually it will get too much... always remember and never forget.

I was a Jew! I was a Woman who held my ground in the midst of great indignity and rape culture. I was a mother! (A largely unappreciated one! - shit happens!) I was a decent daughter to my evil mother in the last 18 months of her life. I was a loving woman to my friends, my pets and even my few lovers (even though I was often beset by grief and trauma and betrayals!)

I was loyal to my God and all the gods/spirits/Fae/ and the few actual ancestors that love me (no doubt going back many generations as my fucked up family of origin were nothing but Abusers).

I was a Spirit that fought through more horror in contemporary times than the average person only to be branded a Victim for showing up and speaking my personal Truth.

Which is not victimhood at all but incredibly Couragous and a bit Fierce and in my own unique way Beautiful and Loving as with Truth we begin to Heal and with lies or secrets or deception or foul judgements we fester and rot and repeat history and become the most Debased of Abusers.

Well I have no intention of becoming anything like my child molesting, greedy, slanderous filthy Abusers nor like any of their henchmen and henchwomen.

I presented my truth in dignity and peace and I walked out the same way. No shame in my “game”.

Oh and I will acknowledge this much. In 2015 the then President of the QJBD did actually have my back when I was lured into that child sexual abuse exposé by some very sick perverted people who then had the arrant chutzpah to accuse me of defamation!

I still don’t know what that was all about as the woman who lured me to advocate for her adult sons never followed through!

But then not long after another stalwart of our community was in fact taken to court with charges of paedophilia (no idea what the end result of that was or if he was in fact, convicted).

But it proved that I was not paranoid or lying about the ongoing pernicious abuses that went on in this community throughout the 60s (at least) until this current era.

But okay. Shun me and vilify me but I knew at least one actual survivor. So I was not lying or defaming but speaking out to protect our kids.

Oh and excuse me if I might have to go have a little scream now!!

But I stood up and was counted on every fucking Front. Victim??? If that’s what makes some of them Happy. Perverts. Hahaha.

The only reason I absorbed that shock without retaliating or creating a scene was we are all the children of Holocaust survivors so in that level of secondary trauma, (even though that person bragged about her fortunate life - rolls eyes but it’s nice that some of us were spared a life like mine!) we are all actually Equals (even if her smug elitist entitlitis, which was so well exhibited by my own half sister back in the day) does not accommodate for authentic trauma survivors with authentic truths.

Hurt people hurt people. Healed people heal. I must remember that on my descent to Valhalla or the rabbit hole or wherever the gods vomit me out when my time comes!

Although I dress in “alternative” ways I am not involved and have never been involved in BDSM. I was told by a former Dominatrix friend that I am a Natural. Most likely because I am strong, hold my ground and fearless and unwilling to allow others to beat me (literally and figuratively) into submission.

I endured a lifetime of abuse as a child so no, I do not ever want to crawl slavishly at a man’s feet, be humiliated by him or vulnerable to rape. Been there done that, got the 20 years of therapy.

It was utterly vile at a recent Shoah meeting that I was treated as if I were a prostitute. Made to feel unworthy or dirty because of my background. It was sick actually.

I rose above it like a Queen as it was an old trope of abuse and says more about that little enclave of “Privilege” than it could ever say about me.

I share this article as I find it interesting. I would not enjoy being in that scene. But if I explored it I would be the best damn Dominatrix in the business. Why? Apart from my alleged Natural abilities, I understand trauma more than most people, having lived it all my life and I would be wise and compassionate to anyone that lay at my feet.

I am so sick of being spoken to or abused by filthy cuntish men and assumed that I am a prostitute. All because I am not even remotely interested in fucking anyone, let alone these putrid ugly filthy bastards who can only go on about my shoes. If they can’t fuck me they must utterly destroy me.

Well I have been destroyed enough by the time I was 7 so how about ...yet again...for the people at the back.....No.

17 February 2019

Crystal visited me this afternoon and evening. I got to give her some more “Stuff” but not too much as her studio apartment is also overburdened. We went to IKEA together and had a look around.

I put another dvd shelf thingy on the kerb for collection.

My house is finally feeling more comfortable and less strangled and smothered by excess stuff! I no longer have the constant craving to run away to Byron Bay!

I have accepted that I am destined to stay here until I die so I might as well make this space as joyous and liveable as possible.

I still have another old timber tv unit in the 3rd bedroom to empty out and put on the kerb. Then I shall be finished for this year at least.

Last night at the treasury casino was weird. First of all, as per my written request, they did not turn up the air conditioning. Ugh!

Then on top of that, they have made a rule that no drinks are allowed on the dance floor so now we are all punished like bad children for the few clumsy drunken clots that constantly smash their drinks on the floor (and security just brings cleaners in and allows the same drunken buffoons to keep smashing glass!)

So um, yeah...whatever! Not my monkey not my circus. But then it got a lot weirder!

Mohammed comes up to me. “I have always loved you and I want you!” This is not a comfortable declaration of passionate love even though it has been my manifestation for how many decades now. (Hahaha! Fuck my life!)

I tell him there are many men in the casino that think they love me and none of them are serious and I am not here for that.

He starts getting very loud and screams out that he wants me and he does not use condoms. I am utterly horrified. I tell him to lower his voice.

Then I tell him “You, Mohammed from the AIDS Capital of the World, from Mother Africa really should be using condoms. 13 children you have got and you still have not worked out how unsafe you are! I am done with users and liars and unclean men and African ’gentlemen’” (which is African code for playboys!)

“No no” he says “I will go to the clinic and have the test and show you I am clean!” I roll my eyes. I say “Even those tests can be faked, I have heard stories about that! Ughhhh.

Why do you think I am not going there with any man but especially you now, who just proudly advertised you do not use condoms! You need to use two condoms and a glove!” I giggle at my gallows humour.

My stomach turns and I feel like I might vomit but my stomach is empty as I forgot to eat before I went out and I have only had one drink, so all I have is raw nerve to chew on!

He shows me photos of himself and photos of his brother in America and one of him with two of his sons. In the last photo he shows me he is wearing an African type sarong and a Muslim hat and is sitting with his legs wide apart like a man of some status but I look and, still queasy from his offering of sex without condoms, and odd declarations of love which I know are Insincere, I tell him “you better close those legs!” “But I love you!”

I put my arm across his much taller shoulder, which means I have to raise myself up on my large hobbit feet, and I quietly ask him “Do you even know what love is?” A deep profound sadness permeates from within my own bones and I wonder to myself...Do I??? He gets upset then and finally leaves me alone and I am somewhat relieved, but still a tad sickened.

He has been stalking me at the casino for years now (I told him he is Stalker number two and he grins back at me so I tell him that this is not a compliment) and I realise he is triggered as the last woman he hooked up with was a married woman so he tells me she is a liar... so he must think that now I am his only hope as I am nothing if not blunt and honest.

But when I tell Karen she laughs and says I should give him one and I start to feel a tiny bit insane as after all, why should I give up my celibate status for another rebounding playboy that is just out to use me for a roll in the hay.

He has his own business, he tells me. I don’t even ask what? I am not for sale and cannot be bought by vague promises of profit or false delusions of love.

I am owned by the government and that has some few merits, like freedom from having to latch onto any cock supreme in the hope of mere survival. I am so very grateful for that. My insanity has been a blessing after all.

I tell Mohammed that our entire relationship is based on we dance at the casino and on rare occasions I dance with him. That is all. Nothing more.

“No condoms!” Give me a fucking break. That is all he can offer me. His naked cock and forsworn capricious “Love”.

So in the style of every stalker man that vowed undying love to me on that over-heated turgid dance floor, he brings several blonde women to dance near me and I grin impishly as this is an old trope.

I reject them and their unsavoury cocks so they try to make me jealous. But to be jealous, one has to be madly deeply in love-lust with someone who one is deluded enough to think they care for you.

I don’t get jealous over these Shadow Shallow men. The One who is truly Mine will not parade other women in front of me like dead corpse-brides of a felineous drooling cat!

I watch patiently as blonde one and blonde two quietly ditch him. Women are not stupid. They watch my amusement and see that he has no chance with me and perhaps he has stupidly offered them sex without condoms too. Which must be some new form of foreplay?!

Or what? What the actual fuck?! No small wonder Mama T is not giving out any.

My doctor is correct after all. I need a break from that place. But nowhere is truly safe and men are going to offer me their cocks and somehow, somewhere I am expected to see that as a great blessing to my life.

17 February 2018

5.55 pm Time to take Bobo for a walk and clear my head.

Mentally and physically exhausted. But I can do this! More dancing tonight. 🙂. Not giving up on myself. Thriving! In spite of everything!

The most beautiful words that were ever told me were : you are safe! “I love you” means nothing. Mostly empty promises or lures to entrap the lonely and vulnerable. I have witnessed so much deception and depravity in my life. All so prettily packaged up as “I love you!”

But prove to me I can trust you with my life and my heart and mind and I will then revel in a Love that is more beautiful, powerful and meaningful.

But how does one prove such trust? By consistent respect, guidance, protection, and authenticity.

It’s not that hard or impossible to achieve. But still so many refute it. Pain is growth and growth is self-determination and courage and wisdom and being a beacon to inspire or encourage others beaten down by more bastardry than you can poke a stick at, to shine a light in the bewildering wilderness of darkness and disdain.

Life finds a way. Love flows where even death glows.

No one is worthless or forgotten. We all have a role to play in this delusional illusion of physical existence. Be a role model. Be kind. Be grand. Be humble and most of all, be Blessed.

I actually wrote this as I was musing on recent triggers by posts and nasty commentators on Byron Bay community page. Also thinking about a former lover last night.

I hate fake corrupt superficial exploitive one -dimensional using lying people.

Yet after being raised by Narcopaths, paedophiles, gamblers, violent men and their sychophantic enablers I guess my antenna is a little too finely-tuned and I have become very sensitive to bullshit meted out by abusers (on both sides of the social construct). It is hard not to lose myself in the diffusion and confusion of all the glove puppets in my personal world.

I have been watching on Gaia, a show that suggests that we are all living in an advanced simulated computer program and that none of our reality is actually real but as Shakespeare succinctly pointed out, we are all merely players on a world stage.

If so, I don’t want to be part of this obscene parody that exists only to entertain and delight capricious and cruel off-planet gods or the psychopaths of this earth.

I have not wanted to be part of this violation and destruction for eons. And yet Some Thing or Some One has kept me here, even in spite of complex ptsd, physical attacks on my body and disease and the propensity for dis-ease that came with it.

I have just beaten back another illness that affected my leg and hip and somehow I find myself depleted and depressed (probably the medications).

But at any rate in spite of my pain and feelings of abandonment and rejection by former lovers and former family and their degrading humiliating false façade of “Love” I find myself still cleaving to a life raft of Hope as that has been my fools’ gold, my glittering superfluous extraneous opulence that shimmers like the mirage it is.

But Hope and inner happiness, even manufactured daily from a deep hidden well inside our psyche, body and soul, is all we can hold onto.

For every scum soul-murdering shallow false motherfucker that laid me down low, there have been people of such sublime resonance and beauty and strength that have buoyed me up and carried me on their shoulders and truly loved me (even from a safe distance) as I became the Becoming!

Older, weirder, sometimes more outrageously berserk but eminently more courageously loving and hopeful than even I thought possible.

My leg is healing. My heart. My mind. My spirit. My soul, already perfected in a time beyond my ken, will find her Way. One day. Or right now.

The matrix is glitching and my life-path is twitching but I have integrity and breath and a voracious hunger for what was taken from me. Honour! True Love! Abundance of bright joyous blessings. Family.

Aye. Maybe next life. 😉


Home from a great night dancing to “Fat Albert” at the Livewire Bar, at the Treasury Casino. Jenny, Karen, Terina and Morris and I had a blast! Now soaking my tired body in preparation for sleep!

Also delighted that my prayers have been answered and there is a steady gentle rain outside at last. The storms have blown through and bypassed my area but this morning we finally have rain! Yayyy!

17 February 2017

Feeling frustrated. I have spent the afternoon trying to glue and putty the welds on my lampshade (the one made from ties that Jarrod hates so much. Twice I thought I had fixed it and twice it fell apart. So stressful.

I guess another item to just let go of!

I also went under the house and got rid of more of my mother's stuff (the remains of my shitty inheritance that I fought for 2 and a half years for). I put the table thingy out on the street.

A man came along and harvested a door handle, the motor out of the broken fan and I offered to help him load the extremely heavy coffee table that Jasmine ditched on me years ago and no one wanted. Boy am I glad to see that go. Another horcrux and permanent reminder!

I dragged rotting pallets out on the street. If I weren't storing Crystal's stuff it would be almost clear under the house. At least there is a lot less. Getting there on my journey to declutter.

I found a newly dead toad from my nightly killing mission under the house too, so bagged it up and threw it in the bin. Big nasty smelly buggar. Ugh!!! Glad I found him before he got maggotty and really stinky.

I attempted to sweep under the house but didn't get far with that. Still it looks better than it was.

I wired up parts of the front fence line, down the bottom, as Bobo can get out. I dragged banana trees I had cut down and put them in my compost pile.

I washed my bedlinen, did several loads. Remade my bed. Now utterly knackered. But I feel like I have made progress. Schlepping the furniture out was a bit arduous. I will need a rest if I am going to have enough energy to go dancing tonight.

Update 17 Feb 2019: A year later and Jarrod tied that lampshade up and hung it from the ceiling. It looks lovely. I glad I did not throw it out after all!

7.01 pm. Finally sitting down to rest. What a busy day. Just plotzing and cleaning up odds and ends from under the house. About a dozen children's books. All covered in dirt. So washed them. They can be harvested for decoupage.

I watered the front garden. Finished washing. Utterly exhausted frankly. I might need a schluff.

17 February 2016

I had a lovely day with Lyn. We had a swim. Bobo jumped in and swam with me. His stocky little legs really powered through the water. I could feel his strength and determination to reach his Mama (the island in the middle of the pool).

He launched off my chest with his very sharp claws. Puppy swam too. Both dogs were delirious with joy. Then Lyn and I bathed them to wash the chlorine off. We had a nice dinner together and Lyn followed that up with a "Fluffy Duck" and a Weis mango ice cream.

I came home to 4 hungry cats and a steaming pile of cat shit under my bed. (That would be Mushu's revenge as the cat litter tray needed changing). Fuss pot!

Then I had a shower, hung out washing, brought in washing and fed all the fishponds.

Tonight, I will make some more paper. I have been so creative since my massive heartache on Saturday night. It feels good to channel that energy in a positive way.

Today was a lovely day even though it was stinking hot. Lyn and I sat with our fluffy ducks and watched the mother bats deposit their youngsters in the gum tree crèche before their nocturnal fly-out. They were beautiful to watch.

17 February 2015

2.14 am I need milk so I can have a decent cup of tea and my money should be in my account by now. So off to find a servo that is open 24 hours.

3.02 am Macca's had no Coffee frappes as the machine was being cleaned. No ice creams either. I didn't feel like fries or a burger (highly unusual) but wanted something cold for my throat.

So I ordered a Hazelnut latte (which was very strong and not quite what I wanted) and begged the young lady to sell me four portions of milk as the 7-11 was closed (I didn't feel like driving all over Brisbane to look for a 24 hour servo after all! Mainly because my ankle hurt too much and really all I wanted was a nice cup of tea.)

It is always interesting how many other people are wandering around in the early hours of the morning. I had no bra on, and my hair needs washing so it was a lank oily mess.

I thought, ach, noone will be around. Who will see me? Duh!!!! (Next time Tanya-le put on a bra!) I did actually brush my hair in the car though, so at least it was brushed.

I had a big matt at the back of my head from lying on the couch all day, facebooking, watching interesting docos on aliens and stuff! The joys of a single mature woman. I do what I want whatever!!!!

I had half a mind to just keep driving to Byron Bay but where would I sleep arriving at 5 am? Who would feed the cats and chickens and fish? I do feel like running amok though, or running away and never coming back.

It's been an emotionally harrowing few months and so far, as of yesterday, no respite. So I will attempt to get to Byron this weekend. I need the sea and the serenity and to be surrounded by people who are just vibing on the positive energies of that most spiritual place.


I was harassed by an awful evil woman a few weeks ago. I immediately got a weird throat infection, which travelled to my chest and is now back in my throat. With the attendant asthma.

Two other friends devastated me in the past week, even knowing I am sick and distressed. This is akin to kicking me when I was already down and is callow, cowardly and disgusting. I guess they hoped I would just die.

Well, I won't! Not for them! My health has always been precarious and I have always fought for my rights, regardless of what monsters I was fending off at the time, human or bacterial or viral.

I do get very sick at times or my body completely shuts down in survival mode, but when I get up out world.

17 February 2014

Hot as Hades! Wish I owned my own pool again! I'd never leave it! Time to visit the Ocean and cleanse my energy meridians.

Tomorrow I am having a melanoma on my hand cut out. Ouchies! Dreading it!

17 February 2013

3 hours Nap. Not enough, not nearly enough. Grrr! Crystal coming to pick up furniture items this evening. Car loaded with stuff to take over to Lyn's. Aching legs, no sleep (Whyyyy?) but happy anyway.

Crap! Been in bed over an hour still not sleeping. Grrr! Might as well get up, move some furniture items downstairs ready for Crystal and Brendan to pick up and keep wrapping china for garage sale/ charity. Feet sore, legs aching but can't sleep! Still Happy though! :-)

PS. I am Happy

pps. I am happy to have my Crystal back

ppps. I am Happy Jarrod and Crystal and I worked as such a great Team. Just like the old days

Pppps. I will have more room in my house

Pppppps. I am Happy

Good night/morning! Xxx

5.14 am finally done talking in Paltalk while wrapping all the unwanted china and crystal. Big declutter session which started at 5 pm lol. Thanks to Crystal and Jarrod for helping me let go of excess stuff and helped me sort through it. It was epic and I still have a lot to wrap up but tomorrow or should I say later Today is another day.

I let go of stuff I thought I could never part with. Let’s hope this big clearance in my energetic field means more good times are a-coming and not that I have presciented another house move. I really love this house and want to stay here!!!

Update 17 Feb 2019: Hmmm this decluttering has been going on for over 6 years. Still dreaming of a clear clean serene life surrounded by authentic loves. It must be coming soon, as my house is almost cleared! :-)

Copyright Tanya Désirée Arons


About the Creator

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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