..dear reader..

I wonder where the balance lies between writing ourself into being or having been edited and lied about into something confused, mad and no real threat to anyone with any power. This blog as a means to nail us down or as a means to become present and take control of our life. Either way what it can't do is verify anything, what and who we are isn't something we can prove. Although stories that answer those questions can be openly discussed in front of us with lots of hate and derision as always of course and then denied if we should ever repeat them. The Daffodil Rites page and the password was set up in 2007 but the posts didn't begin until 2010. We are not able to explain to ourself or articulate here any sense from mess of others demands and intentions of why and how it came about. We could see how it could help us work through some things and that maybe could be used to reduce the phonecalls maybe even the physical visits and definitely could be a way of bringing slaver...

Think it's because you always knew when we were in the bath even when we tried to stop you from feeling it that we often find it hits us again when we go for a soak. Brain still stuck in 'this can't be' mode can't see how we will ever get out of it. You wouldn't want me to feel like this but you would also know we don't have any options. The day after an Epsom salts soak we often feel good but lazy and are happy to go with it. Until later on and we start getting restless, tearful, furious again.   We stopped the calls from abusers pretending to be you eventually with Lainey's help. I remember in the living room in Dundee with our arms around her so we could feed her the lines we couldn't speak ourself but she wasn't as experienced and started laughing and that spread to us, it the spell was broken anyway and was wonderful for morale and that is usually the most important thing needed to resist that crap. They were always very motivating that p...

Laura and Margo would of gone nuts for a May like this. It's horrible to think how Laura's last summers meant enduring the constant evilness from so many sources and the child abusing, murderous, police protected meth heads on the other side of the fence making sure she couldn't even enjoy the back garden. It's better feeling sad than scared, disgusted and furious constantly though.  Has there really been no fighting, no threats, no abusers getting into the home and doing their jobs, no trigger calls, no situations forcing us to pretend the triggers worked when they didn't or forcing us to figure out a way for them to stop working when they did, not even people hanging about outside since we came here? It feels quite wonderful to let the weather and the light help get us moving a bit more without the certain knowledge that it will be deliberately fucked up by grotesque ignorant hatebags pretending to even more ignorant than they are. We are apprehensive about t...