teacupsandtolstoy

[teacupsandtolstoy]

what i do & why i do it/part two.

(radio interview pt.2 with flic manning on 3cr melbourne/may-june 2023)

[teacupsandtolstoy]

where ive been, what i do & why i do it/part one.

(radio interview pt.1 with flic manning on 3cr melbourne/may-june 2023)

[teacupsandtolstoy]

stream of consciousness/ thoughts from the in-between; the disabled hermit girl in denial & falling far behind the others out there living in the real world; trying to keep pace with a life no longer meant for her. approx 2021-2022.

Deadline/Completion Date: I’m not a complete fkn idiot. I’m not going to put a time limitation on something as important as this. Doing exactly shit like that - trying to fit my disabilities/chronic illnesses (Read: limited existence) & ADHD-hardwired way of thinking/navigating this world into a life that never quite fit right, that I could never really make work, and of course it was at a pace that I could never keep up with, leaving me behind and feeling defeated and very alone each and every time I tried my little heart out to make it work. My isolation at Balwyn Cottage and very limited social interactions outside of home or at all had this awful way of making me feel like I somehow had started existing outside of time that ticked by out there, watching people pass by my windows, faces almost distorted as if I were viewing them on a sped-up VHS tape.

The people. Busy & full with their intricate and interwoven lives. The million and one faces of humanity floating by the cottage window, every one blissfully unaware of the sickly hermit girl, hidden within the cottage, unseen for closed doors & shut garden gates - and how she ached with missing the daily ordinary of their lives. How they made moving through the world look as if they were dancing across days – their lives an artform – one that her neurodiversity could just never make sense of. She never ceases to gape in awe at the ease, the grace of movement - The people outside seem to be so inherently gifted with; the way they move effortlessly through the hours – stepping & spinning in and out of social circles, passions, learning; with the must-dos, need-to-dos, want-to-dos - beautifully burdened & blessed by the obligations & expectations bestowed.

And yet, the sick hermit girl is still to see any one of the many-faced outsiders stumble on the beautiful paths each of them cut through the day. Not one has ever missed a step.

Not yesterday. Or the day before yesterday. Nor last week. Not six months ago.

The sickly hermit girl has counted years made from the numbered days spent at the cottage window in silent wonderment at the beauty of the lives dancing across her view; at the artwork in their fluent motion, weaving through the world, navigating their paths through this life with such natural ease.

She cannot remember if everyone outside always were so teeming with rhythm & joie de vie - or perhaps everyone is a lowkey professional ballroom dancer in their spare time.

The sickly hermit girl didnt know. Even when she lived in that world, she never quite could figure out how.

Oh yes. She is envious.

#disabled #disabledisolation #chronicillness #immunocompromised #healthmandatedisolation #adhd #neurodiverseworld #disabledlife #sickly #hermit #hermitlife #streamofconsciousness #musings #forgotten #leftbehind #fullysick #disabledat31 #disabledyouth #sick #PEG #PEGfeeds #enteralfeeds #chronicmalnutrition #chronicmicronutrientdeficient #neuropathy #nervedamage #cognitivedamage #connectivetissuedegredation #geneticcondition #nailpatellasyndrome #botchedsurgery #endocrineconditions #PCOS #pituitaryadenoma #chroniccholecystitis #hyperactivegutnervoussystem #adhesions #abdominalcavityscartissue #gutdysfunction #stomachdysfunction #enteralfeeds #nasalgastrictube #stoma #medicaltrauma #medicalPTSD #medicalgaslighting #socialisolation #disabilityisolated #chronicmalnourishment #broketummy #alwayssick #leftbehind #PTSD #cPTSD #EMDRtherapy #diagnosed #TPD #totallyandpermanentlydisabled #fulltimecarer #unemployed #disabilitybenefits #healthindecline

(youtube channel collecting all the silly, weird, informative & sometimes very sad videos/clips ive been unconsciously making since becoming disabled in 2018)

(the only song ive ever heard about sickness & death that has ever knocked the wind outta me. its so fkn real that i completely fall to bits whenever i hear it.)

(pawninsuburbia secondhand & handmade. independent, disabled owned & run creative studio space. what i choose to do with the little functional hours that i am gifted. make beautiful things in spite of this place. skillshare tutorials free of charge for others facing isolation and poor mental health due to chronic health & disability/neurodivergence in the local community. how i use the two or so occasions per year i can get it together & put on a market stall/s to make new friends/enjoy my rare time out in the world & this small part i have in it. custom & collaborative orders, fully subsidised craft tutorials, online store channels, crafting how-to guide & item care instruction library downloads. upcoming events. depop store link. all enquiries & studio contact details. handmade gallery and previous works portfolio.)

[teacupsandtolstoy]

(37 years as family scapegoat is 37 years too fkn many.)

this close to publicly tearing down that piece of shit sociopath, and taking the false world shes built for you all to see right the fk down with her.

its about fkn time the world saw what she truly is.

a sub-human narcissist, complacent in and participant of the decades-long abuse of children. which is only one horror on a rapsheet of cruelty, lies & harm longer than i am tall.

im absolutely fkn done being your punching bag.

i know more than enough truth to tear your life apart.

im done being afraid of you.

and since cutting you out of my life completely hasnt deterred you from your usual depravity, knowing that all the distance possible wont keep me safe from you, im not going to bother trying to run away further.

im putting you on notice.

be very fkn careful.

it would be time to start walking on eggshells, if you even know how.

there is nothing you can take from me that you havent stolen a thousand times over already.

this is your only warning.

back the fk away.

leave me the fk alone.

im done with keeping this dirty family secret for you.

its time for you to know what real fear is.

[teacupsandtolstoy]

there is peace hidden in the everpresent. emerging only after she buried her past, killed any future and mourned the loss of neither. nothing exists but the now. the space between seconds is her home. the world and all its riddles and awe exist within a microchasm, forever in all directions. an entire universe tucked between her rapid heartbeat.

[teacupsandtolstoy]

pre-op (2020). 6 hours until surgery. just in case i never get the chance to tell you.

I'm really afraid but that's okay. It's okay to be scared. Or forget yourself for a moment and lose yourself for a bit in the rabbit hole of increasingly morbid hypotheticals before rationality kicks in.

Yeah.

.it's 3am and the world is so quiet yet I hear everything. Every. Thing.

Silence is thick with heavy slumbers, closed windows and drawn curtains.

The silence in itself its own operatic Aria resonating, note held, fading off into the night

The loudest and most quiet

Most resolute and still frozen in fear.

I have no idea what the morning will present to me. Or what cards a poker-faced tomorrow will lay out on the table.

I will not sleep tonight. Because I would loathe to miss out on this, this bursting idiot heart of mine and the immeasurable peace of my witching hour. I am so grateful, even if this must be our last

There's no anger and I have no blame to give.

Grinning cross legged in a silly Russian hat and my head is muted. The beauty of it all. sometimes I can't breathe with how much I love all you humans. My entire life nearly every human that entered my orbit gave no cause not care. And I love every one of you and have each day of my life unfailing and at times to my immense harm.

That all I've ever wanted you see. To love you all. I don't think I will ever understand why every one of you fears, rejects and wages war against it unceasingly.

I am so happy that I could love you all so very much.

And have nothing but overwhelming gratitude, wonderment and awe for every day of my stupid tiny life.

[teacupsandtolstoy]

mad doomscrolling skillz

[teacupsandtolstoy]

unholy st. seroquel, forgive us our days of missed psych meds & abysmal self care.

bless us with temperance despite the veritable feast of mental illnesses within.

give us courage to allow the beautiful moments in, for the strength to crawl through the dark, and to make kicking & screaming in defeat become our fiercest war cry.

we belong to st. seroquel, patron of the fucked up, battle weary & discarded.

our hymns are DBT worksheets.

our bible is a DSM-5 manual.

say three hail seroquels with a hello kitty rosary less the evil eye curse you with inpatient again.

bear dirty souls in the sanctity of the therapy confessional.

bless you. bless you.

and for fucks sake, take your goddamn meds.

amen.

[teacupsandtolstoy]

oh wayward forest children. Heed the whimsy fae. Their angel faces cursing any wanderers waylaid.

hidden in that tangled wild where no saint dares to pray.

small fingers crossed behind their backs; leading souls astray

[teacupsandtolstoy]

the patron saint of your demise

The Unholy Reliquary Cross of St. Seroquel.

A relic to the patron saint of us black heart cherubs and demons of pure soul.

Our Lady of Seroquel gives us no scripture and demands no prayer but bids the faithless know the entirety of all sin and vice is hidden beneath the skin of us all, holy and unholy. Behind cherubic faces and pastel saccharine, a black nothing corrupts. There is good in good and good in evil and evil in evil and evil in good.

We are all things. St. Seroquel heeds us not to berate ourselves too much. Or congratulate ourselves too much either. Between self hate and arrogance lies a peace. Peace cannot exist in black and white. Peace is grey. The lines blur. Emotions become part of logic. Logic within emotion.

The Feast of St. Seroquel celebrates the devil and divine in all things and nothing, and teaches us to know reason.

Let the cherubs be dark hearted and pastel tones hail doom!

Our Unholy Lady of Seroquel, Patron Saint of Black & White, The Medicated, and of the good in evil and the evil in good.

May Seroquel grant us the grace to save ourselves from darkness outside and within both.

Amen. Amen. Amen.

Take your fucking meds.

[teacupsandtolstoy]

modern martyrs: the patrons of millenial sainthood.

drawing on the heavy baroque portraiture of matryrs & saints in catholicism and the near-cult ritual & excess surrounding the most holy & sacred catholic relics - the master craftsmanship of reliquaries, in the ornate & intricate icon shrines and the heavily gilded handpainted masterpieces of sainthood portraiture.

modern martyrs is a pastiche of neuvoeu baroque classical art with a relatable post-modern themes and in vogue aesthetic trends (such as kawaii culture, anime cartoons & kitsch themes), bleak, dark humoured & in pastels.

todays youth share a damaged collective psyche that precedes their peer group & prevails as the dominant feature in every consecutive generation that follows after.

the concept of these art pieces is to create a series of relatable contemporary patron saints for present day young adults; the lost children raised by intergenerational trauma & absentee parents.

[teacupsandtolstoy]

wear your battlescars, broken kindred.

don that worn armour with a full heart & that beautifully sad head held high.

wear your colours tall, proud & tear-stained.

decades of battle unseen has made artillery of skin & bones. a girl is a gun. and mistaking your kind for fragile has been the last mistake of many, caught by the thunderstorm in you.

a wreckoning force they never saw coming.

your lips may tremble. but it is idiocy to deny fear within.

fear shaped us into warriors; vicious and bloodstained and weary. ours has set us aflame; raging fire within. leaving nil but scorched earth behind.

we take no prisoners here.

over & again, you charge in to unseen war. a war forced into those tiny child-arms.

and the weight of it.

such a heaviness on those small shoulders. and you will bear it til your back breaks.

you break pace for nothing & no one.

wear those battlescars unabashed & loud, broken kindred.

they are the collateral damage, a paid toll, the price of war.

yet they are the cost of our liberation.

the blood price for absolution.

'where we're standing right now, in the ruins in the dark, what we build could be anything.'

[teacupsandtolstoy]

zarah.

You are rage and battlecries, a thunderstorm within skin.

You wear warriors armour like home.

You know what lies on the other side of fear.

You know this is a bad moment in a series of consecutive bad moments, and like all moments that have ever been & will ever come, this one too will end, and be left behind you where it belongs.

You break your pace for nothing and no one. Ill keep pace by your side, cheering you through, over & out of the sticky black grasp of any bad moment fool enough to try & take you down.

You are a thunderstorm within skin.

Lets show them exactly why storms are named after people.

[teacupsandtolstoy]

thirty-fucking-five.

its a goddamn christmas miracle ive made it this far.

kudos to me, i guess.

[teacupsandtolstoy]

the cognitive decline due to various long term vitamin deficiencies and malnutrition is none more obvious than the complete lack of blog entries, scribbled sentences, lists, jotted ideas; an absence of words in her life

she misses cobbled together sentences. crafting letters and pauses to conjure images, feelings. an outlet. to be heard. words thrown into the infinite abyss. just to be throw. to be out there. instead of trapped and festering within her.

hours, months, years have been wasted, wishing means to break that impermiable frosted glass wall inside a dying mind keeping her words from her.

she sees their silhouttes behind that glass.

and she mourns.

[teacupsandtolstoy]

1:44am. the hot sticky sleeplessness of summer after dark.

so much. so many. big and little. grand revelation and innane footnote both.

gonna take me a bit to get out right. hang on a bit, yeah?

(intermission)