Memories: 12 March 2026

12 March 2026

8:37 am Here we go babies. Root canal this afternoon. It’s a pretty morning. I am exhausted. I worked at dusting and polishing my furniture in my living room last night. Two items of furniture to complete today as I wore myself out.

Anything to distract from today’s root canal surgery. But here we are, another day in Paradise. I will finish the lounge this morning. Then one room will be dust free at least.

Bregje Tit: To make a tooth gold or silver AFTER it being pulled is a total original artistic statement! Great idea ❤️

Me: hmm I could cast it in silver…I was thinking more about bleaching it with hydrogen peroxide and carving and wearing on my witchy charm necklace.

…

On the bus to Herston Dental Hospital for my root canal. Please pray for me. I am a wreck. But… I have dusted and polished almost all the furniture in my lounge. Washing all the ornaments. I still have the small book shelves to do. I ran out of time! lol. I have been very productive the past week. Nesting for my few weeks of vulnerability.

…

12:21pm arrived. I have an hour and 9 minutes to “kill”. It took me an hour last week but this time I caught both buses without wait time. The universe is pushing me forwards. lol

..,

12:35 pm. I have had a nice almond croissant and a cappuccino. Still 55 minutes to wait lol. I will sip my coffee slowly. Cool my heels. It’s good I am so early actually. It gives me time to calm down.

I had a moment of panic when I caught the first bus as I don’t have my Ventolin inhaler with me (what?!). But I just did deep breathing and talked myself down. My lungs are not happy but I am here and all shall be well.

…

4:25 pm waiting for the bus to return home. The surgery ended at 3:59 pm. The dentist was unable to access the two tiny canals where the infection sits behind. She said I could come back for another attempt on the root canal but I said there is not much point if even the professor stated he would have trouble accessing it. So we have agreed that that tooth will require an extraction which is the only way to eliminate the infection.

I don’t want to wait another 6 months for her skills to advance, to work on a grumbling infected tooth. I needed about 8 injections of pain relief. She put medication into the root canal she could access so that will alleviate that part of the tooth. She also placed a temporary filling.

I feel distressed and a bit traumatised but even I could see that she worked hard on my tooth. It is shaped oddly (like Mickey Mouse) and had three canals. Once again, evidence that I am an anomaly! Dear goddess!

During the surgery there was a fire alarm so we had to evacuate. FML!!! She held my arm to assist me down the staircase as I was lightheaded from the distress and anaesthetic. She joked with me it was so I won’t run away.

I laughed “Do they (the patients) really run away?” “Yes” she said “they run like hell”. Another Slav with that delicious black humour! Then the computer wouldn’t restart so she could not see the xray.

The “Prof” comes in to supervise. He is German or Austrian or perhaps Swiss. He tells me I talk too much. (What? Why do I get the feeling he was referencing something other than professional specialist dentistry….hmmm?)

I reply drily “Then I will die with my mouth open!” (like one of those clowns in fairground attractions silently swallowing red balls they did not sign up for. Like a hell loop. No escape. Nowhere to run. Nowhere safe for me. Nowhere on Earth.

I burned through 8 anaesthetics only to have the dentist admit that she knew it would be very difficult from the xray at the outset. She thanked me for letting her practise on me. What choice did I have? They had me under the delusion they would excavate the infection and fix the tooth. Only to be informed it will need to be pulled anyway. Rather vaguely, in 6 or 18 months time.

But here I am, going home. I met some lovely young people on the M2 bus. They were very sweet and kind. So that brightened up my day somewhat.

It was 35 •c today. Bright lights in my eyes with the overhead lights and bright sunshine stabbing my eyes as I look for the 180 bus. This too shall pass.

My next ordeal will be the painful tooth extraction on 24th March, then this one sometime in the future. Farrrrrkkkkkkkkkk! Toothless, breathless, septic in Bris Bane. On we go. Relentlessly, courageously, holding my line.

…

On the 180 bus going home a young woman offered me her seat which was very kind. I said there is enough room if we scooch up together. She told me her family are Polish. Her great grandfather escaped a train bound for Auschwitz. Her father is 60, is single and a free spirit. “Give me your phone number and I will introduce him to you”.

Sweet girl. Only 19. The same age I sold my life down the river to my Polish Jewish husband. So I demurred. I said that is a very kind offer and how typical of Slavs to hook each other up but I need to eyeball my future partners or meet them on my own terms. I don’t do blind dates. That’s how I ended up married so young to an arsehole.

Young one tells me she doesn’t want to ever get married. I replied “You should get married…. Of course you should! But wait until you are 25 and your brain has fused together so you know what you are doing!”

The Indian lady sitting next to us burst out laughing. Well…it’s true! By all the gods.

The young one exited the bus saying she hoped we would meet each other again! Sweetness. So much sweetness after such a torturous ordeal today.

I turned to the beautiful Indian woman and said “that young woman made my afternoon!” She chuckled and said “So did you!”

I just arrived home. Time to contemplate my future.

…

All day I have had bright lights in my eyes. Even on the return journey, the sun blaring into my sore stressed eyes like a laser pointer. So I am going to enjoy the setting sun and the end of that entire ordeal. WHAT A FUCKING PISSTAKE?!

I could have even found myself a man if I had complied with my sweet little matchmaker. Lose two teeth, gain a partner…! Say what? Hilarious! The young one must have liked my spirit though. Even as I was extraneously flying out of my body like the shaman I truly am (but was in denial about for 57 years). Just wow!

…

More and more I have a strange sense of Déjà vu. The three young people on the first bus seemed familiar, then the young Polish woman on the second bus wanting me to meet her father. It felt like we had had the exact same encounter before. The same offer to meet her father. Like a Twilight Zone repeat patterning fractalised holographic transfer.

I wonder if I am dead and this is hell. Nothing has felt right since Beauregard’s death in 2023. Like reality is inverted or obverse, like a black mirror. I wonder if it is just grief and trauma activation and today’s reaction to the root canal surgical finagling. I want to scream and cry and tear out my hair because I need that tooth out also. How much more torture will my body endure?

But like Dorothy with her red shoes I hold the power after all. I must rest now. Recalibrate my options.

Comments 13 March 2026:

Bregje Tit: Hold on sweety! Your on top of your wits emotionally, but seem to pick up mystic things also (and cleaned hysterically, I recognize that 😄). How did the root canal go? Now you can relax and be kind to yourself! Big Hug 🫂❤️✨️

Me: Bregje Tit it was a fucking nightmare. The tooth needs to be pulled. She couldn’t get through to the two smaller canals. (I have extra roots and extra canals in my teeth). Probably due to a mutation as my mother took one Thalidimide during her gestation with me. (I am lucky I am not missing limbs)

Even the Professor who seemed bored and hostile told my dentist that he would probably not have been able to access the canals either.

So they gave me a temporary filling with some antibiotic medication rammed into the one canal l. She cleared the old filling and debris from that one and left me to wait for another tooth extraction. (With the infection untouched as they could not access it).

So frankly, I have a still permanent infection that has been left for a year and a half awaiting treatment and even the treatment failed.

In 11 days the bottom tooth gets extracted (which will be another hell Loop!) then who knows how long they will leave me with this failed rooted canaled one? Until that gets extracted.

I had a good sleep. Even my breathing improved (O.8 events - stopping breathing). So I don’t know if the cyst or the infected teeth will kill me but I am

Getting weaker. I was quite disoriented trying to catch the second bus home, where I changed at Sounthbank Station. Some young people I befriended on the bus helped me reorient myself.

So the gods protected me, sending me young people to show me kindness in my trauma activated distress.

Then I had a funny encounter on the second bus coming home. A young woman also befriended me and wanted my phone number to introduced me to her 60 year old father who she described as lovely and a “free spirit”. I said “Is he good looking, who doesn’t love a free spirit?!”

It was so bizarre. Even the nice Indian lady sitting with us laughed. She said “You lost teeth but gained a man!” The whole bus giggled. But I can’t do it. Sell myself off like that when I am vulnerable.

Almost all my love affairs or relationships began when I was “vulnerable” : and ended with some extraordinary life threatening behaviours.

So fuck that!

Little Polish girl (19!) which was the age I married! Says she hopes we meet again on the same bus route. She got off the bus at Greenslopes. Which is not far from where I live.

I had a mad moment when I thought, perhaps I should have given her my number. Met her Dad. What possible harm could it have done? But I was brittle and broken from hours of toothy invasions and a man was and always will be the very last thing I need in a crisis. Never there for me. Never. So I dragged myself home.

I am okay. Ongoing infections which I have already survived for a year and half can just burble away until the infection takes over. We all have to die of something.

I had wondered why I was having trouble walking, getting so breathless even after very short walks, and exhausted all the time. Why my grief had increased. Why my flashbacks from past abuses and other horrors had intensified. Why my dreams were vivid and florid and powerful again. I had been in denial. Now I have landed with reasonable aplomb.

This is my life now. Poverty has meant “they” can soft kill me without anyone raising an eyebrow. Agenda 20/30 has won out.

Love you Bregje x Thank you for your sweetness and support. Hugs.

Bregje Tit: Tanya Arons hey dear, first, when you are feeling better, just go out for a coffee with that free spirited man. If his daughter thinks it could be a nice connection, just try, we with our backgrounds are probably better off ifcwe do not choose our connections ourselves, you know what I mean? We choose unsafe people. So try this out, you never know, a friend is always welcome. And talking of roots.... you say you have extra roots (the symbolics of it!), and I had a forth root in my own root canal tooth! So, the fact that it needs to be extracted is probably the best thing, get rid of that 'root'. Sorry that they couldn't get to the infection/abcess? Here they would get there through the side of the job (surgery!) but that is more horrible to experience than extraction. And now, your idea to make something out of your tooth when it is out, is even more beautiful and symbolic. Make it an expression of your 'roots'. Turn old pain into Art and Transform it. This is your Forte! 🫂❤️✨️

Me: Bregje Tit I didn’t take the girl’s number. I was vulnerable after the dentist and I promised myself I will never begin friendships or love affairs from a space of vulnerability again. They always end up toxic or life threatening.

Also I am not so sure a 19 year old woman is wise enough to choose a partner for me lol. Just look at the shitshow I chose for myself at 17 then married that creature at 19!

Some patterns must never be repeated!

But yes she was a sweet girl and if I meet her again I will give her a chance. She was instantly besotted with me. I don’t know why. I should have given her my number as she seemed to just be so thrilled to befriend me but throwing me to her Daddy was a bit of bizarreness and a red flag.

But as you rightly point out, he might be a nice person to have as a friend and certainly his daughter is ambitious, loving, respectful and full of delight so he didn’t raise a monster so that speaks highly of his parenting skills.

Sometimes the gods send me earth angels when I have had surgeries or tooth invasions… it was a very strange day and I am still Laughing about it. The sweetness…not the horror of the Professor who told me I talk too much so I stared that German right back in his contemptuous eyes and told him “then I will DIE with my mouth OPEN”. Be careful what I wish for.

They can’t provide free dentistry without finding ways to humiliate, insult or degrade me…the bastards. But the student specialist dentist with a Russian or Bosnian name was indeed very kind to me. She tried her best. But without proper supervision and my weird anomalous tooth….she gained no traction.

I am okay, my face hurts a bit this morning (day two!) so it’s gonna be a rough ride for a few weeks. Gahhh. The next tooth gets taken out on 24th March.

…

9:53 pm my body feels hot and clammy. Do I have a fever? No. It’s 26 •C!!!! Who the hell has a root canal surgery on a hot day in March? Me, that’s who! Sucker! lol. March should technically be starting to cool down but instead it’s hotter than ever. Wtf?

12 March 2025

7.08 am here we are…back in the room! Back from the psychedelic dreaming. Alive! Breathing. Flowing into full Consciousness.

I started off my night, dreaming about living on a large barge type houseboat when a cyclone hit. It was very stressful and terrifying as I had invited strangers to weather out the storm with me. Insane.

I woke up from that early dream, needing to pee and told myself “Tanya, you have watched too many horror movies, and sci fi movies and lived through too much actual ghastly horror with evil foul mortals to let your subconscious torture you like that. Be kind to yourself. Knock it the fuck off or it won’t be surviveable…this life!”

I crawled back into bed. Put my cpap mask back on…fell back asleep. No more nightmares. Sometimes you just have to take back control and refuse to let our giant festering egregor, created by our governments and media and warmongers and covidian treacherous pissweak shilllers steal what’s left of your mind, joy and freedom. Fuck that shit… ALL OF IT. ALL OF IT!!!

I realised upon waking that I have been on cpap therapy for 8 months now. I’m ambivalent about the results. I don’t feel any better. I guess it’s just a matter of mind over will. I get a lot of nerve signalling around my cheeks now, probably from the constant pressure. I still feel chronically tired too. CPAP has failed to remedy the chronic fatigue. As I knew from trialling it in 2003!

But it was gifted me with the most powerful best intentions in the world: both my psychiatrist and urologist insisting it will help me…so on we go, beautiful ones. 4 more months. Then I can satisfy my worthy scientists that I was a good girl and obeyed their directions but so far it hasn’t made me any better. Not really. Except perhaps I am experiencing more sanguinity and clarity of thought. More determination to live fully. More frustration with my limitations.

It remains to be seen if I can improve in the next 4 months. If ever. But The Tanya has complied and it hasn’t been as painful and awful as it was in 2003. So there is that! Onwards and upwards, Babies.

12 March 2023

Today has not been a good day. I managed to accidentally melt holes in my Smith Little torch hoses. The silver I was casting melted perfectly. I was so proud of the fact that it melted fairly quickly and well this time.

I raised up the crucible to get ready to pour into my sand casting but the tongs I had for it slipped, pouring silver, which splattered at my feet and burned tiny holes in my hoses.

I immediately turned off the oxygen and fuel at the tanks. It was a brand new oxygen cylinder exchange too so I probably lost a lot of that oxygen.

New smith little hoses cost $400 plus gst ($440!) which I will have to think hard about as I am still paying off the Torch.

So it was an expensive mistake and I feel quite rattled.

I was excited about a ring I had cast with stones in place that I bought recently. I guess it’s back to the drawing board I go!

On top of my weird day, there is now a massive rain storm so I was lucky to get everything back inside in time before that hit.

Note to self: I also need to buy the expensive but hopefully more reliable or stable crucible holder. As this was just an awful waste of my time and resources!

Oh well at least I achieved Yoda…the Force is with me? Lol

12 March 2021

…

1:11 am. Angels....my goodness...I am exhausted. But thank you to all that love me, uplift me, inspire me and hold me precious in safety in perpetuity, in sanctity and in sanity.

Laila Tov. See you on the Flipside!

12 March 2020

My midwives sent my former husband home. He was abusive and useless anyway. I should never have had another child with him after that, but Jasmine was a “surprise” and I fought both my mother and husband to keep her.

Would I do that again after decades of horror and grief and trauma? Nup!

Just as well I was completely oblivious at the time. Cognitive dissonance can be such a “gift” :-/

12 March 2019

I had a lovely visit with Lyn and Danni today. We talked a long time about my past exploits and old traumas. It was good to look back with hindsight and being able to tell my truths without breaking into tears. A sign of healing after several decades.

Life truly is miraculous but most amazing of all are my bright beautiful soulful friends. Love you!

12 March 2018

12 March 2017

I stayed home last night and variously passed out with exhaustion during the evening. I went to bed at 10.30 pm.

My spirit wanted to dance but the excruciating pain down my left leg from the pinched sciatic nerve, (still not healed and not surprising given I dosed myself up with panadeine and passionately super-charged my body into the fray to thrash and mosh in a spectacle of middle-aged time-fighting insanity on Friday night) simply would not allow it.

I ran out of panadeine so tried Ice gel instead. Nup. Leg still is contorted in rivers of pain. No respite.

I will have to buy more panadeine forte, or rest more. Or wait this agony out. But by the gods I have proven I have the stamina of ten horses even if my body rebels.

I am fabulous! I am frustratingly putting my life together in a battle to the end stage as I missed out on so very much, in decades of zombified pharmaceutical haze and psychological trauma after many many attacks on my life, on my safety, on my reputation.

In the end, we are but dust, albeit stardust and as I once wrote to a former lover cum bitter enemy who really should have known better, my star is rising.

Now waiting for the gods of Light Love and Truth to pluck my shining star from the obsidian sky and move me to another template. (Like at primary school those felt cutout pictures on a felt background, capriciously placed there in scenes of explication and contemplation to appease a five year old).

How long must I wait? At least until I receive harmonic resonance and balance out the trauma of my current existence with a big love that more than compensates for the utter mindless degradation of the fake loves of the past 52 years. Family, foes and former lovers. Fickled pickled schtickled fucktards of Fate.

I have seen true and enduring loves. My beautiful generous respectful friends, my animals and my invisible guiding gods and goddesses that gently spun me around and brought me back up on my feet again and again until I healed enough to manifest this safe place inside of me.

This government home I call Sacred Space: a condescending gift and a nod to the acrimonious damage this government did to me in their systemic abuse as I was a mere woman, a mother and an unloved/unprotected/devalued daughter/wife/sister.

My safe place is built on illusion, delusion, hope and gratitude. It can be taken away as whimsically as it arrived.

So we wait, my inner gods and I. We wait and we yearn in childlike projection for the confection of comfort and true abiding love partnership, always waiting for our lives to manifest and unfold like a pop-up book in delightful 5D splendour what I could not achieve in 3D veracity.

It is all illusion, people. Donald Trump is president. My true love is hiding elusively from me and the sea monkeys have my money.

How do we reframe this absolute debacle in a positive way! (Lessons will be repeated until they are learned). Yeah right, fuck that shit. Kill me, Billy! (Shhh, don't be silly, you have to ride this storm to a new conclusion. It is the journey not the destination. It is the punctuation not the psychobabble. It is...what it is)

I have performed miracles in my own life before. I will sit with myself and my amazement. Chasing dragons and psychedelic dreams is hard work.

Let us eat cake and pull back the curtain on the fakes. My first words shall be my last..."Cup of tea???!"

12 March 2015

Boiling hot night. I have changed my sheets. Now lathered in sweat from the effort.

I have an urge to go out and run wild. Must be the heat. So I am making melted cheese on toast and trying to be good instead :-)

12 March 2014

Today I had my 3 weekly debrief. My lovely doctor informed me that he had been thinking about my pub dancing for some time and he has decided that it has been great therapy for me, to deal with my traumas each weekend.

He said that I am a Powerful Woman and had a very high intellect. I was able to express myself via dancing and interacting with and being protective of the other women in such a way while maintaining my own "avoidance" as he recognises I am determined to wait forever if I have to, for a kind sweet decent bloke who can be my equal partner and not need to be either dominated or expect roleplay as that is just a mask and distancing. I need and require a genuine partner with intimacy as well as passion.

I almost fell off my chair when he told me that men would find my innate Power very exciting and it's only natural that I protect myself in the way I do, while I wait for the right man to step up to the mark and show up. Interesting.

I informed him that I am a degenerate 49 year old (in one month's time) who has nothing and is going nowhere. He said, “Not at all, you are smart, you have wit, and you are exciting.”

I told him about the dreadlocked English man asking me to roleplay with him or dominate him and I said I had decided he was unsuitable as I am not kinky in my private life at all, and need someone who is real and loving. (I joked that for Domination or Role play the guy would have to pay me handsomely!)

My doctor agreed, saying that I would not be able to cope with a lover who was into roleplaying and masking his true nature as it would just irritate me and cause distancing.

He is completely right. Dreadlock Horror movie was weak, inadequate, avoidant, not particularly affectionate and certainly not in my calibre of intelligence. He also made the very poor tactical error of proving me right, when I informed him I abhor gameplayers and superficial men by trawling after my beautiful friend in an attempt to prove what??? Only that he looked sort of desperate. Hahah. My doctor said, "See, you knew he would do that. You are so smart".

Well that is true, but meanwhile, the quest for the best continues, and being smart, avoidant and powerful, beautiful and weird, broke, and older, and overweight is not doing much for my Mojo! LMAO.

My doctor was rather amused when I told him about my homeless friend Brian who looks forward to hanging out with me when the pub closes at 3 am, when I often go and dance for George The Busker and Brian and anyone else outside the casino.

I told him Brian came to the pub Saturday night as I'd told him earlier that I was with my beautiful friend so wouldn't come up to the casino until 3 am, so we still got to hang out, he gave me some pizza and I shared my lemonade and we were happy as two naughty little kids while the other men who were hanging around as they had been trawling after me and my women friends in the pub, practically were banging their heads on the poles outside with confusion and frustration as I had rejected them all, in favour of Brian who might be homeless and a drunk and psychotic most of the time, but STILL has more skills in how to treat a woman than they do. Weird but true!

…

12 March 2011

Copyright Tanya Désirée Arons