September 2020

Not so chuffed today Daddy. The premenstalness is far from its worst but that's not saying much. Considering moving on a little if we can from addressing you Daddy. Or rather let parts that never knew any good Daddies have the keyboard a bit more. Difficult though. Sometimes we just can't accept that we don't know.
Your back though Em. It's always ridiculous, lovely with paranoia ripples remembering you. The boy I shouted at for paying too much attention. Then slide back into having no idea and no way to find out and its lonely and fucking tiresome.
There was a friend from Uni we have been thinking about but we can't bring ourself to write about it. We can't remember her last name.  We have needed it and would not of survived without it but friendship can turn a glaring light on all the negative ways we are treated. All the pain that isn't felt becomes very noticeable. Things that just are get showed up as seriously not right.
The fiction book we were reading …


It's been a blessing. For us and so far. I have a lifestyle that isn't alien to people I can bare to listen to. It happening here and now with us being safer and securer than we ever have been. Month after month of no School day mornings with an adolescent. Happy, childlike, affectionate, large hairy cherub. 
We are waiting on the monthly universal credit. It's enough. Enough to cover shool gear probably if we get it right. Amazon list waiting, not just cheap shit and don't order the two of the same thing in the same size because then if one doesn't fit there is at least another. New school and he's shot up a lot  and out a bit since the Spring. The adult sizes for his feat on something that might last him is going to be sobering. And there is the hair and the face. And the everything else.The anxiety and exhaustion of other years. Knowing I would put of, would fuck up would get really upset would really upset him about every single thing that had to be done and…

ssshhh.. sleeping Princess..

Seeing rain forecast all day is easing the July depression. I don't think he has had a birthday yet when I haven't had to be really faking it and forcing ourself and the effort of the fakery and exhaustion at living with it all when it's warm and beautiful and sweet and fresh smelling outside means that we can usually forget about August bringing much of break. Fairly organised this year present bought and wrapped, food shop arriving the day before with plenty time to get whatever is unavailable. There's a good start on the uniform organising and making sure he gets school meals to. All this time without the awfulness of the before school mornings, it not being a big deal if we don't get to sleep until six a.m. Hoping when we go back to that we have had enough of a break from it that won't hurt so much. Sleep overnight wouldn't be any easier or possible but.
 Happy that we can enjoy more stuff though, years of being aware that podcasts are not only a thing b…

Who the fuck am I?

Dreams are back. Paralysed by them all yesterday but still really sleepy to. Awful terrifying war ones running around hiding from huge machines in the sky picking people off, one of the piloted by Kate volunteered herself and her children for biological determinism royal. Dreams are much more terrifying than what we can remember of war like experiences when we are generally seriously focused, that's probably the point. There aren't war dreams though are they but slaughter of civilians by big powerful high tech states, that's not war its the obliteration of peoples who were not a threat. The sheer terror of no where is safe and of violence that there is no way to defend from or retaliate to. We shut the blinds when we woke up the first time because we couldn't shake our fear of the sky and really tried to stay awake because we knew we would end up back there couldn't stay awake for long though. There were other dreams after the terror one continued though some even …

Ten Years

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…

Summer. So I guess it will start being wet and cold again.

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 pa…

Looking forward to the sounds and smells of heavy rain.

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 the …