Memories: 30 May 2023

30 May 2023

Suffering with Imposter Syndrome. Trying too hard to shift the albatross or the energetic blocks. Some are old curses deposited on me by knaves. Others are my own delusions of grandeur and solipsistic glassine hopes.

What is happening in my World? Nothing changes if nothing changes? But the zombie ghosts are surrounding me. I can pull at their coalescing stringlike trammelled nets of putrescence…or I can shake off the old dogs and walk free?

I live in a paradigm that is not my doing nor my liking? What can be done? Nothing. They chose this quite willingly.

So I must stand in my own authority/autonomy and classic Boudiccean Defiance they fear so very very much.

The old bones are rattling in their closets and they know…oh how they know…I see through the bullshit.

But what can be done? But live each day. Hoping against hope for the True love that never comes and the recalibrations.

It’s beautiful n‘est-ce pas…THIS SURVIVAL. Why it’s become legendary…an art form. What shall we play at today?!

Humour. Wise wrinkled eyes and belly laughs. The Dybbukim can’t withstand laughter or freedom or older women gone wry.

Get off my roof you defunct Klezmer Muppet. Don’t you know The Tanya will never let you in again.

He flicks his cigarette. Lopsidedly smirks, his penis extends like the fetid farce he always was.

Don’t waggle that monstrosity at me. Like all psychopaths you had Charisma, Baby but you were actually a very average lover. I know. I never told you that but it’s Time. You realised…how insignificant you were as a man. But you did realise, didn’t you? When you attempted to kill The Tanya and she not only survived you and your petty moribund weakness but outlived you.

So now your minions tag me in their photos and remind me how far I have come. To gain mastery over their psychopathy and to thrive.

They want me to remember them…and you. How can I ever forget? You were breathed and sullied and shitstained into my very bones. My bones had to rebuild me. From too many ground zeros.

I look at that photo and I remember the young wife/mother and business woman I was and how you all crushed me like a garlic press. Tore my wealth, homes and remnant family from me, fucked my vibe. With your bestial slander and petty envies.

But Lilith carries me on wings of faith, and shows me true hearts and their debauched minds.

So that one …that one….hahahahaha its too perfect, too beautiful. I did nothing but wait…eons.

And so it is. Perfect karma. Perfect peace. I built with the love of the gods…from nothing…with no thing…my heart went on…my soul flew. And those who were/are worthy of my light are still with me. Even from beyond the veil.

They come to me when I call on them. Surround me in strength when I don’t think I can survive another day or night.

They dance me to my own immolation. But I do so willingly, joyously, triumphantly and all along it’s just a charade…until my real love/life begins again…in the next dimension.

Whoosh…here they are. The house is full with their energy. Holding me to Earth because I have “work” to do. Always holding up my end of the universe…like the angels on the top of a pin. When will you release me of this burden, Adonai? Perhaps never.

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Psy sighs.

He screams in my ear... ”You’ve got it all wrong? You are Loved. You were always Loved…even beyond mortal ken!”

I smile. Fuck off David you filthy liar. You know nothing about Love.

Love is praying in temples and synagogues where you were betrayed and slandered to a God that was tortuous and ambivalent.

Love is sending forth life from my mutilated genitals (thanks Mister Smith my ob-gyn fascist who ironically delivered me also) only to be mocked, derided and scorned for my ”ugly” vagina by lacklustre cuntish men. My “patchwork quilt” outdid you, motherfuckerupper!

Love is holding your own in a sea of humanoids who gave away their power and their bloodstreams to a foreign substance not fit for their safety or effectiveness…and still fighting for those foolish blindsided entities.

Love is writing my truth and plying my truth even when I might be one of the last ones left standing.

Love is grace, hope, magick and wonder and awe! Love is authentic. Love is kind. Love is Chosen. Love is honour. Love is courage. Love is sweet sweet Release. Love is You…love is Me.

Ahh fuck it…I waste my energy on Nothingness again. I am barely coherent.

Time to bloom.

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I took Bobo for a quick walk and we ended up visiting Rosie the Labrador instead. She was ecstatic to see us. We had a lovely play and lots of cuddles.

We came home as the night chill was descending and I as usual, need to guard my lungs.

But I feel much happier now. Thanks Rosie (and Margot, Susie and Evie who came out to play too).

30 May 2022

One skin cancer excised. Another one to be done next Wednesday. I feel shaky from the anaesthetic. Awful.

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I spent the evening, cutting tiny pallions of solder sheet for my silversmithing journey. While watching videos on YouTube. By nighttime the pain in my shoulder where the cancer was excised, hurt like Hades.

So I went to bed but couldn’t settle due to the pain. I got up and rummaged through my bathroom cabinet for some Panadol. Very old panadol. Even then it took another hour for the pain to ease slightly and for me to fall asleep.

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It’s truly horrific to be both awake and aware in this current paradigm.

30 May 2021

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30 May 2020

2:21 am 11th night of not sleeping or only in fits and starts. Been in bed since 11 pm, yet here I am. Wide awake like a frazzled fruitbat waiting for something.

It’s cold but not as cold as previous nights. Psychedelic dreamer has to lucid dream while she is awake now.

I have considered taking a Valium or even half a one to quell my nervous system but I have not resorted to that drug since August 2015 when I tried to quell myself right the fuck out of here.

Not sure what is going on with me. The insomnia. The frenetic house sorting. The exhaustion. I am not depressed. Which after a lifetime of Depression is rather a bonus.

I have been lying here clawing at my Itchy sun cancers that the doctor missed, trying to work out how deep they have manifested or if I am dying yet. Morbidity in the night is a tad startling.

Swedish Death cleaning and sweet sun cancers are starting to scare me! On Monday I am booked in for a mammogram as well. Ugh! I am quite sure all that radiation causes cancer too.

But unlike my mother I don’t live in fear of cancer (unless my skin explodes!)

I just keep moving forward in high hopes of a better most beneficial outcome. Like an intrepid little shit-storm Sailor.

I had a very short walk around the block yesterday afternoon and stopped to chat with Clare and her three sons. That was my highlight of the day. My only human interaction.

My best male friend is not taking my calls and I feel thwarted by the gods and fate as usual! But he has his own life and his own rhythms and raison d’être.

So I am ready! For what..I don’t know. Just over a month since I burned Teddy and that manifested in this unusual but spectacular obsessive house re-organising.

No lovers old or new on the horizon. Yet again my personal trickster spirits lied to me. I am not surprised. I am an easy target: vulnerable, gullible dickhead.

But such is life. The Tanya has lived through far worse “storms” than Covid 19. Heartaches and seeping loneliness and the most ghastly gritty betrayals. Even Death cheated me out of Oblivion.

So my time here on earth is not completed or so it seems. But I don’t fancy being a discarded insomniac Zombie for the rest of my life. It was at least comforting when I was a somnolent supine sublime one.

Valiant in my fortitude. No shame in my game. Mother’s little helper held at bay.

I might get up and dance. The dance of the irreverent triumphant stark naked wild witchy woman of Holland Park.

Maybe that is what is wrong with me? I have not danced for several weeks. I deprive my body of earthly satiations and it stirs the blood in strange ways. 5 and a half years of celibacy. No more wars to fight. House sorted.

I need a drink! I will get up and make a hot chocolate. Then try to pass out again.

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Sleep is for the Damned anyway...I am out of bed, in my dressing gown making hot chocolate and about to eat a mandarin....yuck. A tasteless cold floury mandarin. Awful.

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I took Bobo and Charlie for a much needed walkies. Halfway up the hill in Sapphire Street, panting and puffing and dragging my arse up the hill, reminding myself that this is barely a hill at all and nothing like Wellington’s steep mountainside goat inclines, ergo congratulating myself on getting older in relative flatlands even if I do have to deal with flatheads...a song popped into my head “sanctified, magnified etc”.

Leonard Cohen...I think it’s “Some like it darker”. It’s also the words taken from the Kaddish, the jewish memorial prayer recited at funerals and for 11 months after a relative’s death.

Smartarse trickster Spirits are listening in when I whine about my Swedish Death Cleaning. Well when I pop my Jewish Viking Witchy Warrior Goddess Clogs I can die in peace knowing my kids won’t have to scramble in the dirt like we did when Gisela died as everything is in Ordnung Leiblings and they can find everything, including my mad writings which no doubt they will burn as my life holds no great treasure for them…only a circumspection...held at bay like a snarling vicious Hellhound out of fear of the Unrequited Smiting.

Hahaha. Too true. Love them though. All my “kids” including the long-estranged “Evil One” and my adopted brother who is one of my kids as I used to be regularly mistaken for his mother 25 years ago as Life had beaten me down so much I looked 20 years older when I am only 6 years older! So it’s a familial in-joke and...I am worried about my kid.

Such is life. I have outlived my youth and my Benjamin Button declension into childhood. I am older now. A bit wiser. Sometimes. Also more beautiful than when I was in my early 30s: in sheer survival mode cleaving to a big love that never manifested because I was not ....the One.

I am still dreaming of finding my Bashert which means I have not given up on my youthful idealistic romantic notions even though they just make me look ridiculous...and craven.

Odin’s Ravens and Bluebeard and Bluebells, and Bluest of blue balls and bluebirds of Happiness got nothing on me. They can fly to all the corners of the globe but psychedelic dreamer knows her Truth and she will be crucified on it or caroused by it: but she will Live.. as vibrantly and vivaciously as possible as my time has come and it is Now!

(Little pep talk from my higher consciousness as really I am done trying...). But shhhh. It’s a beautiful day in Paradise. Whimsical whirling dervishes and Titanic Titania Tantrums are the only modus operandi now.

Dance with me! For me! Or leave me alone! 😉

Leonard Cohen lives...

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30 May 2019

30 May 2018

May has been a shitty month with stressors about my car. Today’s kick in the guts: a speeding fine. This on top of all the other awfulness. Oh well. Psy sighs. This too shall pass.

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30 May 2017

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Charlie just had a visitor on top of his cage. A scaly breasted lorikeet. A wild bird. It sat on his cage to nibble at the flower I had collected from a native tree for him.

So I gently lifted Charlie up on top of his cage to see if he would engage with the new "friend". He hopped right over and proceeded to bite it. The poor confused creature flew away in horror.

I laughed my arse off. Yeah, that's right. My Charlie Rainbow lorikeet is an anti-social arsehole too!!

Earlier this morning a rainbow lorikeet came down and sat close by in a tree. Charlie ignored it. It was a very nice bird trying to figure out why he was all alone, sitting with a human and a disgruntled dog. It is really freaking out the wild lorikeets!

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I am going to Byron Bay tomorrow with Jenny and Terrie. They have caught the Byron Bliss Bug!

Kelly Anne: You should put in a complaint about your weirdo neighbour. Point out that his behaviour, while it probably wouldn't be considered to put the average person on a pension who needs public housing at risk, does pose an unacceptable risk to a survivor of child abuse who has a confirmed diagnosis of complex PTSD. His weird behaviour does trigger you or I wouldn't hear about his behaviour & weird antics, & feel as much concern for you as I do because it does seem to impact what you do & how you live your life -& it shouldn't be that way.

If you did this & explained you need to feel safe & atm you are at risk in your home due to his strange behaviour triggering you, then they are more likely to work with you on moving to a better property for your circumstances... eg Byron.

There are many valid reasons why it is in their best interest to help you into accommodation that suits you & reduces your stress load!

But you do have to stand up to a few bullies & make a case for it on your own behalf! Either that or ask someone to act as your advocate or something. You won't know what's possible til you look into it. Maybe you could be living in or close to Byron this time next year? Make a case for it! :-)

30 May 2016

My inner child says Yeah Baby Let's go! My 50 something mumble ute-driving smoking beer-swilling persona says Hell no I won't go! But I do want a giant round bed to hang from the trees or the house beams.

I will need to get rid of Crystal's stuff and hope like hell that my 82 kilos plus the weight of the bed on chains doesn't bring the house down (my stumps are cracking with weight of furniture and assorted clutter!). This house has me stumped and gazumped!)

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30 May 2015

5.52 am. Just had a hot bath and a long chat to Crystal in Paris.

I told her that her mother went out looking smoking hot but Wiglet Douchebag turned up at 4 am with another woman. This after he teased me along last week. I am done with his epic school boy games. Done, done and done!

I find it interesting that the prick made a point of showing up to look at me one last time, made sure I saw him then beat it out of there. He really is a loser. Does this make me happy that I loved yet another motherfucking psychopath???? Hell no! Old patterns never die.

Oh well! Just keep dancing, feeling beautiful and sexy and wild and another scab on my scabbed up heart and more not giving a fuck.

At least I have a loving heart, a pure soul and a great sense of humour (not a tumour!) My love life remains a huge fucking let down but I Will attract bastards.

Thanks for the gift that keeps giving, Gisela, David, Angela, Trevor. They raised me in chaos and abuse and this is all I shall ever have. Destined to never be truly loved by men. Farkkkkk!

All good. Mushu is beside me, and Penny. Sophie is in her boudoir and Socks is out on the ran-tan-tan.

I was met at the gates by Sophie and Mushu. Very cute.

I will let the chicky babes out to run then hit the hay.

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I just accidentally took 50 mgs of seroquel. I was aiming for the folic acid. Oh well, I will be calm tonight! My angels probably made me do it! Lmao!

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3.31 pm awake and aware. I had a good rest. I needed it.

Socks slept on my bed with me. He made contented noises and rubbed his head on my hands and for a while placed his paw in my hand so we held hands for a while. He really loves me. As long as he is well-fed! It was nice waking up to such affection.

The universe blesses me with such unconditional love. Who needs cold fishy fuckfaces like Wiglet, huh? Not I! (I adore that man but he is just another sociopath.). Time to face reality.

The dream I dreamed of real love has to die and lie naked on the threshing floor this time. I can't keep breathing life into empty vessels anymore. That is not my role. I pray my angels heal him, and me, so I won't ever do this awful shit to myself ever again.

Frankly I would rather die. I am so sick and tired of being in pain over worthless, shallow, hollow men, mere husks of the richness of life and love.

I can take comfort in the fact that the Avoidant Void will only bring pain and suffering to the other woman as well.

Karma be upon their heads. Karma chameleon. I have suffered enough from Karmic debts and a lifetime of abuse. But the good Lord keeps me alive to continuously torture me through the only means that really can make me weak and suffer.

Through my love addiction. An addiction I inherited from my narcissist and sociopath family. A craving to be cherished, desired and needed.

Thank G-d I have Cats! Real love (albeit technically from Sociopaths as well). LMAO. I can't escape my Destiny. It curls so beatifically at my lap!

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Crystal rang me this morning. She went to the famous paris cemetary, saw Oscar Wilde's grave and Edith Piaf's grave. She also climbed the stairs to the bell tower of Notre Dame!

She queued for the Catacombs but the queue was 2 hours long so she gave up!

Today she is going to La Palais De Versailles which I insisted she go see!

So wonderful. She said Oscar Wilde's grave was beautiful and Edith Piaf's was stunning black granite. She said you could feel the Mana.

Jealous mummy now. Aww! Not really, I am happy for her. It would be just so amazing to see my heros and heroine's resting places. She said there was some graffiti on Oscar's tomb. Just wrong!

She had a croissant and told me it was not nearly as good as the ones we get here! Sacre Bleu! Quel Dommage! Incroyable!

So she had a strawberry galette instead, for which delight she had to take a lacteeze tablet. It was delicious.

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30 May 2014

It feels good to be in love. Even if that love is not returned. That emotion inside of me just keeps over-flowing and brings joy to a tired old embattled heart. There was a time when I thought I would never love a man again. Or trust one again. I am glad I proved myself wrong.

I have to trust myself that my Love is Real and albeit unwanted or misunderstood or even fucking feared...then that is not my problem. I must not own another person's fears or distrust or disrespect for a beautiful gift that was freely given.

I must go on to keep loving and living the best way I can. My way! Thank you Hashem for leading me to good kind people who are not afraid of my love.

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Tonight I went to the pub and danced with Jo and Irma and Ron and Chrissie. I thought I had lost one of my new earrings and was a tad upset.

Walking back to my car, I found my earring on the pavement. Amazing! Things I lose often come back to me. Lucky! Blessed! Honoured!

30 May 2013

Mon 27 May was a lovely day. I crawled out of bed in time to meet my beautiful Heather for lunch at The Rare Pear. She bought me the most exquisite Ricotta Pancakes with berry couli and maple syrup. Still dreaming of them! We chatted about writing and Heather encouraged me to write my book.

Then I visited my lovely Lyn who gave me bread and asked me to stay for dinner. While we were enjoying our meal the parcel delivery arrived with a parcel with a present Lyn had ordered for me. A beautiful Crystal Ball, for my vision quests.

In the evening Crystal came over with a bottle of champagne to celebrate her new business venture! So we supped on my pumpkin soup and strudel and merrily imbibed on the Pagan Grape :-). She left me with half the bottle so Mama had a very lovely finale to a perfect day indeed.

30 May 2011

Aching guts again. Sick of it. I spent the day puddling in the garden but really didn't do much. I did get a lovely handful of raspberries and ate them with poffertjes and maple syrup so that was the highlight of my day!

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30 May 2010

I was very ill the past 36 hours so I had to cancel going out with Courtenay. Today I feel much better.

Copyright Tanya Désirée Arons