Memories: 7 December 2023

7 December 2023

7 December 2022

Full moon rising!

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10:30am It’s a beautiful but hot morning. I woke up early, at 8 am. I am not feeling well, beset by gut issues. I ate too much pumpkin salad the other day. So much for healthy eating. But I ate rather a lot so now I am paying.

A kookaburra is laughing above my head. “That’ll teach you!” I know, right!

Charley is talking in my ear, demanding constant attention. Whistling and yelling “hello” and some other indeterminate bird garble.

She is loving that I sit with her in the shade under the trees at the back of my garden. Living our best life we are, even with my sickening tummy troubles.

“I am healthy, wealthy, happy, truly greatly loved, valued, respected” a manifestation that resonates accurately occasionally. Spiritual wealth and health dragged back from near death experiences and encounters with evil ones.

True love in abundance even if it only comes from my pets and loving loyal brave friends and my daughter Crystal.

I got to thinking bemusedly about the King Parrot visitor that landed right next to me on Monday 28 November. I always joked he is symbolic of a new man (or perhaps an old flame re-entering my life)

Then on Friday I did indeed meet not one but two men who were intensely introducing themselves to me. One too young and the other too nervous, so he got claimed by another woman who was more eager than I.

So the sign from that beautiful bird was accurate to the point that I must continue to be Queen of my own Destiny, keep aware that there are interested parties whom may not yet be revealing their most ardent heartfelt intentions and as is usual, be circumspect about the usual sadistic tricksters that try to twist my heart into a gnarled mess instead of bringing peace, clarity, honour, integrity and true romance and passion to my heart/mind/body and soul. For that, I have to be my own man and stay safe and circumspect.

7 December 2021

8:46 pm someone is tapping my energy. I sense it is someone close to me (but not in my immediate circle!) perhaps someone I have not had contact with for some time. It feels like a living person but I can’t be certain.

I am riddled with anxiety as the car gets serviced tomorrow. I know that I have triggering after the last evilness involving the former mechanic and Bob Jane T mart.

I have to fight through the triggering as this mechanic (second time tomorrow!) seems a kind person and charges reasonable prices too. So the fear is completely irrational and related to the past abuses.

Yesterday my beautiful Royal Doulton Aries plate jumped off the top of the hutch dresser by itself and smashed. So something or someone got my attention in a very negative way.

Something is afoot. I can feel it flowing through my body in an electric wave.

Hmmm.

I guess I will find out who it is in due course. If human they have the power of telecommunication. If spirit they have the power of telepathy. If it’s important to communicate they will need to ask permission instead of smashing my best China…the cunts! Lol

My angels won’t let just any rabble through so if they were able to do that…it might be a warning of imminent danger. Or just some hellish poltergeist feeding off my psychic energy…

7 December 2020

My goddess but it’s scathing hot today. High humidity. I have cleaned out the fish pond filter and was very quickly bathed in my own sweat. Yuck.

I rang Buranda Housing Centre to inform them about the flood in my kitchen last week. They are sending out a contractor to remove the Lino and inform me they will be charging me for the damage. Double Yuck.

I don’t have household insurance so the dude tried to comfort me that I can pay it off slowly.

Quite frankly the house is way overdue for a new kitchen and bathroom and desperately needs painting and new flooring but this is a convenient excuse to punish me even further.

I will have to wear it as it was my stupid mistake. I was trying to multitask and did not realise the sink was overflowing until it was too late.

Fuck.

7 December 2019

It’s 3 am I must be lonely... nahhh, home from a good night of dancing at the casino. I am actually quite exhausted. But I finished off my night having a little singalong with George. I asked him to play Walk on the Wild Side for me. We sang loudly and joyously.

Then I saw an old friend I used to know from Irish Murphies. Helen. She was always so sweet and encouraging trying to get me match made with Dave. I thanked her for her sweetness in the good old days when I still held hope for a loving partnership. I told her she had always been so kind and sweet to me.

I hadn’t seen her for a few years.

I also saw my friend Morris. We joked around a bit. It was hilarious. Then I came home to my other quiet life as a middle aged woman with a devoted loyal dog, cats, bird, goldfish and rather bloody sore feet. Ow!

Time to Schluff (sleep!). Laila tov or rather Boker Tov. (Good night/ good morning!

…

Yesterday my psychiatrist told me I was angry and that was why I was wearing red. I told him red is my favourite colour and I often wear it. He said “No you usually wear black!” I agreed that I wear black too. But now I am wearing red and reclaiming my fiery wildness and “quilling” like a good burnt-out explosive Phoenix bird.

He told me my health issues are quite seasonal and recurrent, like every change of season. I agreed. You can fucking set the clock by me with my physical malaise that accompanies my complex ptsd.

I told him I was hoping to be normal one fine day, achieve things, maybe even get a job and a real loving partnership.

He replied that People with my level of survival will never be “normal”. It was only my intellect that kept me alive and my core life force, inner resilience/strength.

I told him my intellect didn’t do shit for me. I have failed at every aspect of my life. I used to black out in exams at University from the pressure. Although the constant threat of rape did not make it conducive to study. Fuck that filthy University. I had to drop out to survive even that. He furiously scribbled down notes.

Now my life is almost over it’s too late to reclaim my “success”. Instead I go dancing and weave my strangled tattered life back from the edge of the abyss like grandmother spider. It’s beautiful and terrifying and a tad pathetic.

My doctor tells me that I am intimidating and that is why no man claims me. Um...duhhhhh!

I reminded him that I am only still alive because of that Hag called Hope and my own innate curiousity. More furious scribbling. Curious and curiouser. And no, I will never be Normal. I embrace my innate weirdness and Wildness now. It’s a balm to my Soul!

It’s all good. I like who I am. I fought long and hard to be Me. It is what it is. Courage in the face of my own demolished desecrated and even desiccated life. Beauty. Truth. And a picture of Bliss reconstructed from nothing.

I am a lucky woman blessed by the gods and some wonderful friends.

The therapy continues... I am healing. Walking in my own Light. Dancing as fast as I can. Loving my Self and my truest Beloveds. Flicking the fickle finger of fate to the rest.

It’s all Bollocks! Brilliant but bollockingly Blasé.

Which reminds me... tomorrow will be another blazing hot day.

PS I felt a bit alarmed. That my esteemed Doctor was being Soul-ridden by that evil spirit David Davidson. He also used to chastise me for wearing red and bitch that I was too wild and intimidating.

But it’s the end of the year and I know my psychiatrist is exhausted and due for a holiday. I won’t take offense.

I won’t ever be normal but I won’t ever stop living and loving passionately either. There will be Red!

I was not actually angry but fuelled by my inner Fire to keep surviving after that awful terrifying illness almost 2 weeks ago.

Sometimes my determination and fiery life force looks like Anger. It is more like “courage under fire”.

He is right about my seasonal Affective disorders every change of season though. I see it in my writings that come up in my memories. I was violently ill at exactly this time in the last few years. That pattern is real.

He also told me yesterday that I am very Grounded and contained now.

Good. I ground every day by walking barefoot in my garden. I contain my emotions as much as possible (although emotional button pushing still sends me a bit fucking Troppo). But getting older and wiser I recognise it for what it is. Attempts to dominate me or destabilise me. Hmmm.

…

It is so scathing hot outside even the birds are struggling. There were four kookaburras lined up, eyeing their pond. I am glad to provide them with some fresh water and respite.

I had to come back inside as there is still a fair bit of smoke and my lungs aren’t coping.

I had a quick cold shower. Now lying here, pondering my existence as I do! It’s quite amazing. This life!

…

Dammit. Now I can’t sleep! Arggghhhh. Wired! Oh well.

7 December 2018

3:15 am. Broken intermittent sleep again. Blech!

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Sleep! 5 am to 9:48 am. It’s gonna be a Berserker kind of day. Oh well. I can always nap in the afternoon before my Dance

…

I received news at 3:46 am (I was still awake!) from my friend Esther that Myrna Freed, the former Principal of Sinai College has died on 4 December. I am still processing this news.

She was a good woman. I had some difficulties with her when she deemed my daughter “mad” and insisted I take her to a youth counsellor. My marriage had broken up, I was freshly strangled, and my kids were naturally in distress and Myrna (although married to a psychiatrist) was not a specialist in complex trauma.

I was very angry about that. The ongoing bullying of myself and my daughters at a time when we were most vulnerable.

But I forgave her. Enough that a few years later, I was sitting in Margaret Street shule at a Bat Mitzvah. I was invited to the service but not the after party as I was deemed not quite good enough by the elitist cunt former friend - ugh never mind - the scourge of poverty, divorce and trauma caused many superficial friendships in that community to sour at that time.

Anyway my fond memory was of me watching the Bat Mitzvah, being stared at from across the shule by my ex-lover David Davidson and feeling very bloody triggered but holding my own as I often do, when sweetly Myrna, who was sitting behind me with her daughter Barbra and her new baby girl, offered me to hold the infant and it was like a closing of the loop, a completion of our experience as mothers and as a new grandmother, and when Barbra lovingly placed her baby into my grieving empty arms, and Myrna looked on with pride and recognition and a sense of connection...a strange ecstatic bliss permeated every fibre of my being.

My heart opened and my spirit soared and I lit up like a blessed angel and I looked at their dear sweet infant and blessed her and kissed her head and felt the warmth of new life/potential/innocence/beauty seep through me.

That fucking filthy psychopath David Davidson looked at me from across the shule and smiled radiantly back at me, because he saw what I was experiencing. Closed circuitry lighting me up with bliss and delight. I had longed for another child. It was not to be. But that tiny baby breathed life back into my cracked and broken heart and soul. As only babies can do as they are still so close to G-d.

I left that service as soon as it finished and walked for a while in the city botanical gardens. Processing my grief and concurrent ancient traumas. It was a beautiful but also triumphant day. The Tanya, the unloved but often Desired One. Ruth Tanya Bat Abraham v’ Sarah. “Your people are my people and where you go I will go”.

I tried to live up to my name but in the end it was not that simple. A Jewish Witch, a greatly stigmatised marginalised much hated woman is never permitted real love or safety.

I descended into decades of major depression then one day I snapped out of it. But that was only in June 2016 after I felt strong enough to go off all my psych meds and reclaim my mind again.

Ironically I started weaning off my meds in May without knowing that Davidson was dying and when I finished my last antidepressant on 3 June he began haunting my front door and it took 3 nights before I was miraculously shown, via fb that it was his spirit that was pounding on my door (otherwise I would have thought I had gone quite mad!).

He banged on my door one more night for good measure (to confirm that it was him!) but I sent that Dybbuk to Valhalla or gehinnom for necessary cleansing and processing and told him to fuck off and haunt his own wife and children as he was not getting into my front door!

So anyway, goodbye Myrna Freed. May you find rest and peace with the Ein Soph Aur. I honour you. You were a good woman. In spite of our differences. I thought of you in recent weeks, but had no idea you were transitioning.

So here we are. Alive and aware as the past is tying up loose ends for me which means perhaps my days on earth are slowly, inexorably creeping to an end too.

I wonder what beautiful and also cruel stories will be told of me when I leave this earth? For we are only whispers on the zephyric winds or in my case, typhoons of tragedy and Berserker screaming that blast out any doubts and fears that my life could have ever been peaceful or safe or gentle.

But I chose Life so I participate in it, sometimes quite unwillingly. Curiousity serves me well.

Blessed Be the Holy One, the true judge!

…

This morning I manifested joy by having a lovely chat with my neighbour Tash. Standing barefoot on the earth as is my wont. Breathing sacred fresh air.

Embracing the rising Divine Feminine (the Schechinah) who gives life and love to all the earth but especially ennobles women so we can take our rightful place as co-creators, mothers, daughters, sisters and thrivers: with harmonic resonance, balance and peace for all.

Smiles... getting there. Savouring the miracles of this season and welcoming the many miracles yet to come. Myriad beautiful soul nourishing life enhancing miracles. Grateful to be still alive to bear witness to the new epoch.

…

Unravelling: the warp and weft of my story from a snarled jangled tapestry to a new design. But the threads are picked up and reworked. Survivors of old stories that bleed and merge with each other.

We honour our ancestors and reintegrate our current paradigm to create a solid foundation for our progeny. We think it is solid but of course we unpick and rethread and unfurl ribbons of light and dreaming into the seeming seamless integrity of all our lives, intermingled and criss-crossed.

It’s becomes harder to find the locus or the central force in that centrifuged corpus. But we sit and plotz and begin again. A stitch in time saves nine.

A village raises the zombie children beset by neglect, abuse and abandonment. Throws us up on strong shoulders. Nurtures our minds, feeds our bodies and recalibrates our souls until we have a better story in our glory.

Honoured, sanctified, extolled. No longer stray threads of abject horror. The return. To wholeness. To Love!

7 December 2017

I gotta get up early tomorrow morning as I am taking my car in to be serviced. Gahhh! But at least I will know the car is safe to drive.

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Yesterday my doctor told me that I may have developed a learning disability as that is also a side affect of trauma. I felt somewhat relieved to learn this as I have struggled so hard with new situations, or attempting new skills. When I tried Archery 5 years ago I was a wreck! (It didn’t help that I have mixed vision/hand coordination).

So I am thinking about all the evil schmucks that damaged me so much over the decades that I have been held back from fully functioning and realising my potential as a woman.

To these people: fuck you. Glad you are dead and to those still living, you stole so much from me and still you draw breath and sit like squatted toads in your own gloating satisfaction.

But The Tanya is seeing miracles all around her. Creating miracles for her Self as well. Blossoming in this late stage of her life. Unfurling her torn and gnawed-on petals in a fecund flowering of her middle age. So there!

I rise and shine as I have watched mine enemies fall into decline. The season of the witch, the wild woman, the survivor, the goddess reclaimed, the big-footed hobbit woman grounded into her own mortal reality is upon me!

Glory be to the gods, the earth, the multiverses. In another paradigm another Tanya awaits me, cheering me on and guiding me into my own glorious and beautiful nascent Becoming!

I love her. I love you. I love my friends and few beautiful remnants of family. I love my ancestors. I am learning to even love the poisonous gifts bestowed upon me by my enemies. They wanted me dead and instead I stood up and was counted each and every time they knocked me down, I got up again.

It got harder to get up. One day I may not rebound. But that will be the day that I unleash a million trillion hells upon the heads of all those that sought to destroy me. Karma to the power of ten. The vengeance is the Lord’s but I am a perfect tiny refraction of the synchopated fractalisation of the One.

My power resides not in my Furies but in my ability to Love.

Quiver in Ye Jocks!

…

Heading to see the skin cancer specialist for a bit of a burn off. Every 3 months.

I am a snake in Chinese astrology and I am accustomed to shedding old skins and standing naked and sacred in new ones.

But having one’s physical flesh cut or burned, is a very humbling unpleasant business.

The Sun-god has gifted me with mortification of my flesh. A rent and burned garment. But of necessity I am rather attached to it. This body is beautiful even with its predilections to wear out or break out or breakdown. Let’s kickstart this carcass! We got healing to do!

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I really like this Molechex clinic. The young male receptionist plays old show tunes. Currently listening to “summertime” which is a nostalgic song for me as my (former) sister used to sing it to me as a small child. I suppose I can thank my bastard evil progenitors and their enablers for their love of music (in particular musicals) and movies, books, art etc.

On the wall behind him is a picture of Charlie Chaplin (I recently found out he was a paedophile!) standing with his cane in his classic clown stance. My father was a big fan of Charlie Chaplin.

Anyway my skin doctor asks me to strip down to my knickers (which is usual practise as they have to scan your entire body). So I am standing in front of him and he flicks the bottom of my coral necklace which comes down an inch below my breasts. I steel myself, eyeballing him, my face beet-red but he does nothing inappropriate (good!) as being almost naked is already vulnerable enough!

He comments that my coral necklace comes from the Torres Strait Islands. I respond I have no idea as my mother bought them years ago and I am told you can’t get real coral necklaces anymore as the Great Barrier Reef is bleached out.

He says “no that is not true as I just bought my wife a coral necklace recently in Thursday Island”. Wow! Good to know! He tells me about how Christmas is gonna be full-on busy as they have 5 week old twins and a 4 and 5 year old. All girls! I relax then. He is a decent man after all.

I tell him “Well the Divine Feminine is strong with you. Surrounded by all those females! I see your wife even dresses you in pink and it suits you well!” (He had a light-pink striped shirt on). He grinned happily.

He gave me a small injection to burn out the benign but bothersome haemotoma. I dress again and he recommends a moisturiser cream called “dermabrate” which will help smooth out my blotchy lumpy weird chest. Hmmm! Ok.

It was very kind of him to remove the haemotoma today and the last two ugly ones on the last visit 3 months ago.

I am glad I don’t have to go back for 6 months although he is a good doctor, it is still somewhat uncomfortable for me getting naked in front of a male doctor.

I guess I strip my emotions bare (naked and vulnerable) in front of my male psychiatrist too. I was feeling vulnerable yesterday too. I joked with my psychiatrist how when I was a baby and a toddler at 2 years of age I was a very powerful formidable little Being and it has taken 50 years to reclaim that! We laughed! En Francais! “Formidable!”

But I am having a lovely week. Blessed be the Holy One who brings me out from horror to holiness and from darkness back to light, from stormy turgid grotesque depressions to lightness of ‘formidable’ being.

Being loved unconditionally, supported, valued and validated brings peace and contentment.

…

I have had a lovely day! I went to Coles to buy a few groceries and the staff were so lovely to me. I got given two! Pieces of pavlova with cream and berries by the lady exhibiting Coles cream and pavlova. (She came back to give me a second piece when I was checking out!)

The lady at the checkout gave me 3 Free Coles magazines (when she heard me say I had not collected them before she brought out 2 more from previous weeks). I was delighted in how I was fussed over.

I suppose they are being extra nice as the new Aldi opened next door and they also have Woolies across the road from them, so now the three supermarkets have lots of competition! However I was pleased and grateful to be the recipient of so much cheery service.

There was a man in the checkout line in front of me. He had a towel over one shoulder to catch drool or sweat or whatever. He was very overweight. I had passed him in the aisles a few times.

At the checkout he asked if he could get an item he forgot. I said “Sure! I have time!” So that was why the lovely Asian-Australian lady showered me with free magazines as she was happy that I was willing to wait.

As he passed by me he said “I have time too! You could have my Life!” I grinned awkwardly. When he came back he thanked me, then boldly and loudly declared that he has plenty of money, in fact he has all next year’s wages saved up!

I tried hard not to roll my eyes but smiled politely while simultaneously feeling a little ill! Why do men do that? Try to impress me with their (alleged) wealth.

He sat down to watch me finish checking out while drinking from a bottle of orange juice. For a brief moment I worried I might have another stalker but he did not follow me out. Phew!

My new chicken foot arrived today (to attract love!) and it certainly manifested that today! Love came to me in the form of the kindness of strangers, as it so frequently does, and I am happy with that!

It’s a very hot day so I am sitting outside with Charlie, under the big umbrella, counting my naches and blessings.

Update: the Voodoo chicken foot is not used to attract Love but is used to deter thieves. So boy, did I get that wrong…but on the flipside no man has stolen my heart since.

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Beauregard fell into a snooze next to my thigh while mooching after the donuts. Very smooth, Beauregard! You are still not getting my donuts!

7 December 2016

2.54 am crazy epic thunder and lightning that just keeps rolling in. Second storm front as it blew through at 1.14 am as well. Very noisy and intense. No wind. Raining but only lightly. Very unusual given the amount of clamouring in the skies.

Hot. I broke a fan that I brought into my bedroom. The top fell off. Lol. So I dragged another one into the bedroom. I decided it has been too hot and uncomfortable without one. But instead I am kept awake by the strange epic donner und blitzen. I am so tired, and thirsty. Annoying. Might as well get up and have a drink of water.

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(See File Photo)

My mother (before she died of advanced Alzheimer's) used to see faces in everyday objects. She constantly saw changing faces in her curtains. She would describe them to me. She also happened to be psychic and her abilities did intensify with older age (or her dying cognition?) She was a bilocator.

I know that as her friend told me, utterly terrified how she appeared at the foot of his couch as he lay, intending to nap. He said he even saw the glint on her glasses. My mother (my monster!) was a powerful woman. I believed him.

I went to visit her (must have been in between our cold wars) and told her to stop terrorising her friends. If she wants to see them, call them you know like on the telephone, the old fashioned way.

She denied it then went red in the face with embarrassment. I realised she had no control over her abilities. In 12 more years she would have no control over her faculties, bladder, bowel or even words.

Yet she still wielded great psychic control over me, her daughter. She still managed to destroy my any chance at prosperity. Fuck dat bitch.

But here I am, seeing faces in scraps of wrapping. So Alzheimer's here we come. Time to stock up on adult diapers and lose my mind.

…

2 weeks ago I removed my diamond sapphire engagement ring for the first time in 33 years. The band had split and I might repair it one day but at this stage I am enjoying the release from bondage to a memory and an ideal that I had fought so hard for as a teenager.

I remember going to pick that ring out. It was through an acquaintance of my fiancé. I was terribly excited about being bought this ring. In the style of young women everywhere.

The jeweller made a point of telling me that the ring was too expensive with the ceylonese sapphire but I could choose a cheaper sapphire and he would replace it.

I chose a dark blue one with a flaw that when held up to the light looked like a starburst. I knew then as I do now that nothing in life is ever perfect. We are honoured by our flaws, our quirks, our mistakes.

He said the ring was worth $3000 but he would sell it to us for $2000. Micheal had shamelessly haggled. As was his wont.

He invited the jeweller and his wife to our engagement party. At the party the jeweller got rather drunk and declared loudly that Micheal had scammed him and that he had gotten a bargain.

He came up to me and stated "You deserve that ring. You are a lovely young woman. You make sure you enjoy it. See it as a gift from me also".

He and his wife left the party soon after. I was a tad confused. Bemused. It was an early warning but I was too young to realise it.

My mother later sneeringly told me that my father in law Harry had paid for the ring. I argued "No, he loaned him the money!" "No" she said. "That was a lie. You were bought and paid for by your father in law". I thought it was insane.

My wedding occurred one night and one morning after Harry's death (after a frantic call to the Melbourne rabbi as the cantor had refused to perform the ceremony but we were given permission to go on with the wedding as it had been Harry's will as he had paid for my trip to Melbourne to convert in time and his health has declined shortly after my return to NZ.

Our wedding had been planned for Lag B'Omer. If we postponed we had to wait another 6 weeks. (We should have postponed. I never should have married that man. But that is hindsight now after decades of trauma.)

My bitch mother (actually right this time) turned to me and sneered " you should never tempt the gods. Harry said you would marry his son over his dead body. And so it is".

“Fuck off Mum he had stomach and bowel cancer. He was riddled with it. The gods had nothing to do with it. Anyway, he loved me. Did you not tell me he bought my ring?!"

Bought my ring, paid for my flight to Melbourne for my conversion. Asked me to wear my wedding dress so he could see me in it. (I think he knew he would not survive for the wedding).

I burnt that wedding dress in May. I had kept it for 32 years. It was bought secondhand for $50. I had cried. My mother had hit me and told me not to be ungrateful. My mother in law took pity on me. We remodelled it. Made it modern. For 1984 modern.

She put organza in the sleeves to make them puffy and beautiful lace and sequins on the sleeves and trim of the train. I was mollified. It became a beautiful dress. I wore it with dignity and pride.

2 weeks after my wedding when I had slumped into a bout of grief/depression/trauma so severe I could not leave my marital bed, my mother called me home for a meeting. "Your husband says to take you back, you are useless".

I looked down at my engagement ring. That had meant so much to me. A symbol of another man's love/honour/integrity. A promise to give him Jewish grandchildren. I wanted my future. I wanted my babies. I wanted my freedom.

I fell from frying pan into the fire. Abused and manipulated by both mother and husband. The price I paid for adulthood. Farcical. But I was young. I wanted safety. Success.

I walked out on my mother and stayed loyal to my treacherous cur of a husband. I brushed it aside as more of her envy and spite. I did not know I was settling for less. So much less.

After my second baby was born, there was a terrific fight between myself and my former brother in law. Over jewellery. My mother in law's.

They had scalped her of everything she owned, including her wedding ring. I disagreed with it. I called him out on it.

So he was verbally and physically threatening in my own home, while Micheal weakly stood aside. Jacques even threatened me in my baby daughter's nursery where I had gone to get away from him.

At this point I considered smashing him over the head with my reproduction queen ann chair. (One of the few things I brought to my marriage as a 19 year old). Oh how I wish I had done so.

Utter filth who scavenged my mother in law of her treasures like the greedy vermin they were, leaving her kitchen table strewn with empty jewel and ring boxes. Cowards and bullies. All of them.

After that level of abuse I should have taken both babies and fled. But to where? No money, no future. Nothing ever changed.

So after I had finally left my husband I still wore that ring. Never took it off. Never forgot who had wanted me to be happy. To be loved. To succeed.

2 years later in 1998 I tried to sell it to an Israeli Diamond merchant here in Brisbane. In order to pay for Crystal's Bat Mitzvah which my husband (true to form) refused to pay for. The diamond merchant told me he would only give me $240.

He pressed his hand against his chest. "But I can't in good conscience do that to you Tanya. You keep that ring. Wear it in good health. You deserve it. It has intrinsic value only to you." I started to cry but swallowed my tears. I needed that $240 to pay for the simcha (celebration). But he was right. The ring was worth way more than a party.

You know something? I have been brutalised and traumatised by 2 Israeli men in my life. Lovers gone bad. But that Diamond merchant truly was the only Israeli male that never tried or wanted to fuck me over. I have never forgotten that backhanded kindness.

Years later, when I was with Courtenay, he argued with me one night about whether or not my ring had real diamonds. So he took it into my bathroom and scratched my mirror with it. It scratched.

I looked at that scratch with a strange clarity this morning. Such envy. My lovers had envied that ring. I would quip "why are you so jealous? It's not like you were going to buy me one?"

It is not like the ring was exceedingly valuable, except to me. My childbride price. My badge of honour. My promise keeper.

Davidson had actually given me a silver ring with a peace sign made out of Israeli green stone. I wore it with sincere girlish happiness, to me as precious as the diamond engagement ring, until I realised he was fucking around on me with Kylie and I drove to his house and gave it back.

I am not someone you trivialise or throw trinkets at. I handed it to his son who answered the door. "Give this to your daddy. It does not belong to me."

I left in tears. My kids in the car. Jasmine noticed David had come to his front door, standing to wait for me to drive past.

"When you drive past, Mummy, don't let him see you cry. Smile and wave". So we did. My little Viking goddess warrior children. We stood our ground.

So now my hands are free. My life is free. A woman of valour who shall Find, for her price is far above rubies (diamonds and flawed sapphires). Worthy. Loved. Valued. Beyond measure. Freedom!

Oh I forgot to mention. My sweet little nephew, with the heart of his grandfather, aged 9 or 10, grateful for the love and affection I showered upon him. The kid had asthma as do I and was often sickly and was frequently left in our care while his Narcopath parents went skiiing. Or with friends of the family: the Ritchie's.

Well this kid once offered to buy me a diamond ring one day. (What did he hear in that malicious household?).

I don't need diamonds. I need love/respect/acceptance. Only one little boy knew that, out of that family. Proud to know him. The sweet boy has grown to be a sweet man.

I told my psychiatrist about my ring this arvo. He said it would be cathartic for me to throw it in the sea in Byron Bay. I am tempted to do that. But it is still a memory of Harry who wanted me to be happy, successful and loved.

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Home from my shrink.

Went to Petbarn for straw and cat biscuits and Milbemax (heartworm tablets). Beauregard pooped on their shop floor. OMG! Embarrassing! The nice young man cleaned up then helped carry the 12 kg bail of straw back to my car which was parked at the gym. Extremely kind!!

Car covered with cover as impending storm although it might pass me by.

Drinking cold water, eating choc ice block and watching Netflix.

Not so bad day.

7 December 2015 (15 weeks and 2 days after my suicide attempt)

7.45am. Good morning! I have celebrated my life by eating 7 raspberries and 3 young berries from my vines. The young berries were very tasty. Pity there were so few.

Beauregard is celebrating his life by being particularly lively this morning. He has chased Tabitha several times and then Frieda and is currently trying to engage Mushu in puppy play.

Mushu is vaguely interested so he got up from his supine position but Beau remembered he is hungry so left him in the lurch. Mushu's ears are waggling backwards and forwards in bemusement. (Make up your mind, mutt!) He and Bobo will become friends.

Mushu doesn't mind a bit of rambunctiousness, being only 1 year old himself. He is secretly enjoying no longer being the baby of the family. Although he is a bit peeved at being mama smothered less often.

Penny is outside taking a break from guarding a snoring, breath-stopping somnambulant mother-human. Once again I am alive and grateful for a new day.

I feel rather exhausted and emotionally hammered from the past 2 weeks but I have my highs and lows and we are churning up a steep incline so we can free-fall down the other side. With my Beau beside me.

It occurred to me that he quite looks like the Dog, Brian in that wacky cartoon with the megalomaniac baby. What is wrong with me that everything in my life emulates my original narcissist psychopath child molesting family??? Not even projection. Hahaha.

I was not born but created in a cesspool of lies, false love and deceit. My mother the mad money-property materialist and my father the Jack of all trades who pandered to her delusions of grandeur but fought over the size of a safety pin or whether he was right or not, screaming blue murder until the infant, aged 5, declared that no one was right but she was surrounded by fucking maniacs.

"Don't worry, Daddy, I still love you". Living in the shadow of his rage and torment and aggression, waiting to piss him off by walking in front of the tv or by breathing.

My mother, equally easily irritated by "the kid". Being referred to by "the Tulip" as a bonus, another paedophile sexual Harasser then living with threats of rape at 15.

Pushing him backwards down the stairs as my mother was sojourning in Brisbane and left me alone with the creep who declared he could do whatever he wanted with me now.

Worst of all, forgiving (or blocking it out for decades) then being reminded by Lynne's statement for the Will Dispute. Then remembering, married and heavily pregnant how he asked to touch my belly but his hands strayed lower and I walked away in disgust.

Then during the same precious magical time, having my own father step up behind me as I washed the dishes in my own marital home and cup my burgeoning pregnant breasts from behind. Freezing in shock.

Daddy has never molested me before. I am 20 years old, having his grandchild with a husband, respectable Jewish wife and mother in waiting and this is how my father treats me?! I step away. Say nothing. Do nothing.

Ashamed and embarrassed that my fecund body could elucidate sexual feelings in my own father. So began the long slow process of detachment, simmering contempt and skeins of pain.

He never touched me like that again but became creepy and inappropriate when he stayed in Loganlea with me and my children. I lived in constant dread that he might touch my girls.

I hated going to work out of fear of having to leave them alone with him, or any man. I had breakdowns that lasted months but I went to work most days until it became impossible.

Too much abuse, bullying and undermining at work, too much exhaustion at home. Torn between wanting a career and keeping myself and my daughters safe, albeit in poverty.

I chose poverty. For which my little sociopath, Jasmine (it's in the fucking genes, man! Skip generation. Inter-generational trauma. Product of a bitter divorce and poverty and did I mention Trauma?) will never forgive me.

She bought into my narcissist sister's glib attitude "get a job, get a haircut, get money, be a raging success so all the bad shit goes away". It doesn't. I have tried!

My sister raped my daughter's minds by variously being jealous of Crystal's burgeoning acting Career as a tween and feeding and grooming Jasmine's sociopathology. "Oh, Jasmine, why! You are just like me, my favourite niece!" In actual fact she never gave a flying fuck about any of us but enjoyed a good split.

Where was I? Oh yes! Celebrating my life with creatures that don't lie, rape or betray. And eating sweet summer berries. Listening to the crows fight over a dead rat (must be one of Sock's) and living in love with Love for its own sake, just because, as it is the only thing that still gets me through the day. And drugs. Lol.

Tiny pills of harden the fuck up and laugh in the face of horror. Great stuff! Antidepressants for life because my family are fuck ups. Not really fair but it is what it is.

I dreamt of Gila this morning. And my exhusband. My brain is still processing trauma even when I am sleeping. My body is healing itself. Whether I want to participate in it or not. Stubborn gelatinous 80 kilos of flesh and bones.

I have to trust it. It is a beautiful valuable gift from the universe. I want it returned in an unsullied state. Removing layers of empty dead memories and skin and regenerating takes time. Lots and lots of time. Time is all we have. A human construct for all eternity.

Happiness is knowing in perhaps several more incarnations, I will be beautiful, cleansed and luminous.

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12.11pm. Bobo is a genius. He refused to walk down his ramp on the back steps until I realigned it properly and moved a brick back underneath to stop the wobble. He whined and cried until I did this. Not a suicidal risk-taker. Love this dog! 7 weeks old and more common sense and brains than the average bear.

Hmmm, a moment later and the genius is chewing on chook poo. Ugh! Motherly humanoid pride just sank 3 points.

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"I think I better think it out again" Fagan the Jewish pickpocket master in Oliver Twist. So back to bed I go. Happy thoughts.

7 December 2014

The Only Way To Win The Game is NOT to play.

I am Better than this. I deserve Wayyyyy Better.

I can kick this shit to Death or I can Rise Above it!

Free-wheeling, floating, flying and flibber-gibbeting each day.

True Loves, don't lie, cheat or play emotional games.

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5.56 pm. Got woken up at 5. Absolutely knackered. I have run out of meds so have to go to chemist. At least it is a nice cool day out.

7 December 2013

4.29 am. Had a wonderful time with the Two Sarahs.

We went to an art opening night and met the lovely Juni and Brett who were exhibiting.

Then we went to the Bombshell Burlesque show which was stimulating and lovely. Then on to Irish Murphy's to dance along with Berst. I stayed on in town to hang out with my Busker friend George. We had a lovely time as usual talking to the drunks, homeless men and the punters.

I was given a lovely compliment from one guy outside the casino. He said he remembered me from a year ago when I used to dance at the former Livewire Bar (which re-opens this friday yayyy!)

He said he and his wife and group of friends were very impressed with my beautiful dress and corset and he remembered how stunning I looked and that I was dancing with a group of people and how happy I looked.

I tried to remember which corset and skirt I had on back them? I thanked him and couldn't help giggling.

He said "please wear that outfit again. My wife and friends really loved how you looked".

So I told him I have a new one and I will definitely wear it to Casino next time I am there.

So that really made my night. Dawn sprung in the lovely hues of aqua and turquoise and indigo.

Another busker took over from George at 4 am. Then I headed home after watching him get warmed up. Good guitarist but his voice isn't as good as George but that's ok.

7 December 2012

Crystal is in a lot of pain and the Doctor at RBH neglected to send her home with some Endone. Idiots! So I have instructed her bf to go back to RBH to get a script filled for her via the hospital pharmacy.

Sylvia Shine: bloody idiots,what happened,when doctors did a wonderful dedicated job,in the old days?

7 December 2011

Margaret sent me all my letters I wrote to her between 1977-1989. Quite an amazing window on my former life. Thought-provoking!

I can see I haven't changed much. Still a Philosopher, still have a weird sense of humour, still very stupid but perhaps not so naive anymore! It is nice to be discovering the old and new Me and re-integrating my past so I can put it behind me forever and move forward as an entirely new Creation!

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My Darling Lyn went out today and bought me a printer so I can print out all the legal docs from the Will Dispute for posterity! (I will pay her back!). Just the last crap from Scherer's is 100 pages long!

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Just woke up from a nap in time to be confused whether it's evening or morning. The brief twilight had me fooled lol!

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I have thoroughly enjoyed the rain today! It is just delicious to have an entire day of cool wet constant rain soaking into the ground. Outside my window I can hear the garden breathing out happiness, relief and communing with each other!

I know I will have lots of little surprises tomorrow, peeping out of the foliage! I got so cold I went to bed to have a nap and warm up this arvo, but I don't mind, I need all the strength I can get for Friday's Meshugass!

7 December 2010

I've had a constructive day doing lots of washing, dishes, vacuuming, a bit of a swish with the mop, and steam cleaned the windows in the kitchen.

Tonight when Crystal and Jarrod visited with some lovely fish and chips I was in so much pain in my right leg I could barely walk. Oy! Hopefully I will be better tomorrow.

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My dog Bella is a linguist. She has learned to translate English into Dog. She only hears "Bath" or "wash your bum" and reacts appropriately for her. Ie hides under the bed, or under the house so I can't get her and wash her.

So annoying but so interesting. She knows when I'm talking about her, and gets very miffed if she thinks I'm talking about her bad habits. (I might have to hide under the bed myself now)

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Bella had a lovely bath. She was unamused about the removal of the Dag. I wonder why she would get upset about losing it after sulking for 3 days cos I had no time to bath her and hiding every time I mentioned the Bath word?

She hates the bath worse than the schtink I tink. LOL She is now clean as a dogwhistle, all fluffy and sanitary again. She has a great big smile now that the scrubbadubbadoo is over.

7 December 2009

Nursing my broken heart while laughing at my foibles. Life is so confusing but it all becomes simple when you get off the carousel that's been paid for by the Carnie.

Copyright Tanya Désirée Arons