When i was twenty six i underwent nine months of chemotherapy.

After twelve different doctor visits my lymph glands swollen and having absolutely no energy i was told i had suspected non hodgkins lymphoma

Whilst a relief to have some kind of diagnosis it was also pretty daunting.

I was halfway through my university degree and after bouts of depression had made a secret mission to make a comeback to hockey;  and was on my way to getting fit again

This was important to me.

I had previously played NHL and vice captained the state under 21 team before overdoing it and suffering a breakdown.

My adrenals were running on NOTHING.

Hockey was where i found my sisterhood; my love family; those forever there’s

Girls who had one another’s back

And heart – literally

We were legends;  all of us

I was never very good at hockey just superfit and a workhorse. I had clever skills and trained particularly hard; a true team player and i loved it.

It was my place to release, healthily, all that pent up unexpressed anger.
Not many knew i disappeared.

Nor why.

I was the all-rounder; academic and an athlete; I couldn’t choose which one was more important

I consequently developed some bad habits

Coffee, all night candles, studying, working in pubs till 4 am then training; trying to do too much

Then i got sick; again.

This one was a biggie.

Was told at twenty six I may die

I was exhausted and could not go to uni some days; even my mother yelled at me; “I dont think you want to finish this bloody degree ”

If only she knew

Just how much i did
Dad had been having affairs and started to get very untidy

Kissing women in cars out the front of my house

Leaving condoms in the spare room where i had friends to stay

Humiliating me
I was getting fucking sick of it by then

Fucking men and disrespect for women viewed as toys

Sexual objects


And beautiful like a little game for their small dicks

Throat closing over

Increasing discomfort
Trusted male mentors said don’t say anything.

So for a while i didn’t

Ms Libran keep the peace

Do not make waves

My mothers matriarchal teaching

Bullshit rule

Where is truth honesty integrity ?

Especially when it hurts ones you love most even ones you are supposed to

But it almost cost me my life.

Any wonder my lymph glands were swollen?

In my throat?

Speaking out…
Even my own brother said don’t say anything…

when i had countless evidence

And was being used as scapegoat by my own dad

It was strangely like in the end he actually wanted to get caught; be saved from his own sick addictions lies and behaviours

The old boys club persists
Like a freemason brigade it makes me sick
All i could think of was my beautiful mother
That; is the truth

And if i was her

i would want to know the truth..

Her generation was a little different

Maybe you put up with it

Infedility was expected if you were a man of importance, in parliament or had so called money and power

Not in my little Pollyanna rulebook; who still liked to believe in the good things coming
So one day i rang dad…and said are you happy?

He said yes; why..?

I told him what i had seen

He told me it was bullshit and a lie

I said you tell mum or i will…

Ironically it was mother’s day

And my body and soul were literally and metaphysically dying

Over mine and my mother’s pain and grief

I rang mum

She suspected anyway

And i said don’t sleep in his bed

Sleep in mine.

She had about four pimms and dry; she usually had only one

And slept in my bed

After walking into their room and saying I hope you get aids, storming out

THAT is big for mum

She was a classy woman who remained gracious no matter what

By this time my body was ravaged with an autoimmune disease

I had to take responsibility for creating it

And essentially not dealing with my and my family’s shit

Mum left dad for a while and came and stayed with me in the city

This was hard and a big change for her but she had plenty of friends there

Of course, My father told everyone she had left to go and look after me

He always did that

Blamed me for most things like a little boy

Not that she had left because he had affairs and had been sleeping around since day one of their marriage but

Because Anna was unwell

We felt for him

Mum and i

We gave him so many benefits of the doubt being sent to boarding school super early, maybe something happened there ( i suspect so ) not being taught nor shown love

Or the power

And true beauty

of woman

But how many chances does one get? when he abused us verbally mentally and financially; mum and i would often say we wished we were hit


The guy is a cunt


He hates me for exposing the truth

As for not speaking up; i got sick

So my diagnosis of histiocytosis x and consequent chemotherapy,  no hockey, nor uni, unruly  weight gain and corticosteroids losing valuable youth time and plenty of Spirulina and soul searching

To bring myself back

I hated chemo

Every single time

I could feel the liquid poison enter my blood stream supposedly making me better

Keeping me alive

And maybe it did

I had lesions in my skull my lungs and spine and mainly my lymph nodes

Worst times for me were ct scans and drinking the horrid contrast that made me dry reach every time

Thank god i had my dog with me to get me through

My Milly the wonderdog

And i had to meditate and imagine something beautiful to get the bastard down

That contrast chalk shit

Then be injected with iodine and feel like i was wetting myself as i got claustrophobic down the ct scan machine

I was relieved everytime there was no wet patch

You got used to the dying crowd and cancer kids

Our secret empathetic cancer nods and winks even though mine was technically not cancer

So cancer peeps. I know the drill.

It fucking sucks and you live


For a while

I researched and researched

It was very unknown and usually happened in kids

And was often due to langerhan cell histiocytosis that death occurred



That word that tricked me into having chemo in the first place

I do not believe i needed it

It was not cancer

And when symptoms returned they were so quick to want to administer chemo again

I said no way

Give me time

I knew what to do;  this time

Even with chemo my mother had the innate wisdom to take me to a naturopath and auric healer who drew my colours

Lots of red root chakra shit

And purples blues and greens around my head and heart

Anger it said but very intuitive and a healer.

There were better vibrations coming in april next year he said

hang in there, don’t give up and resume your studies

At this point i can remember being really crook even questioning if i would get back to studying

I could hardly walk long distances

Oxygen was depleted

It was really crappy and unrelenting

I had to use all my willpower

I did and he was right

Like my mothers sixth sense wisdom

She probably won’t care to admit in front of conservatives

She was part in saving my life and believing in combining natural therapies

Spirulina vitamin c powder zinc and magnesium helped balance the chemo

Prednisolone made me fat and ugly

And hide away

So; intead of chemo I knew i had to




Get acupuncture and craniosacral therapy

Get love into me

Get into nature

Speak my truth

Be gentle and get back to myself

It worked in the end

I am seething the effects fifteen years later of the chemo with a uterus fibroid and ovarian cysts

And my adrenals are not great

The medical industry

Like the psychiatric industries are rigged

Like politicians

Numbers do not include individualised care

It so desperately needs

And the hands of nature and unconditional love

We are complex mental



psychosomatic creatures

that store memory and trauma that requires constant release

We have unconscious tissue memory in our own DNA and RNA

That has little defence especially as barrier less children

We need Constant trauma release

And emptying

Especially us sensitives

It is amazing that with a brain injury



A broken bone

Empathy is a given

But for ptsd

Endogenous depression


Eating disorders


It is like we bring it on ourselves

The links to narcissists as parents must be huge

Mother or father

The increasing number of autoimmune disorders surely points to a society off tap

Empathy is not given for emotional disorders caused by bullying and stress of not being good enough or fitting in

It is almost seen as weakness or attention seeking

Which is so far from the fucking truth

That Burns

Who wants to travel through life in pain ?


Even without physical pain life can be hard enough

The oversensitve suffer

It is true

We are too much

Or too little

Get rattled too often

Too easily

Want to please others

Be liked etc etc

I am way too sensitive

I admit it

I can also tune into others

And i understand and believe;  pain; yours

And if no buffer

A love

A pet

A constant hug

Therapy or release

One can be playing russian roulette with life

and it can be hard and lonely

And a financial struggle on top of all else

Health should be wealth

Families should be working together on all this. . Right?
Unless you can pass on some softness and healing to another; it may have been worth it

Diving deep

And re emerging

New ish
And deal with the emotional components that triggered all this psycho arrest and dissaray in the first place

Most artists have trauma

That is how the love gets in

And out


Trauma to beauty
So; when you see art


A book

A sublime body

Or hurting eyes

Imagine you are them

They are you

A China doll cracked and broken thrown on the floor

In need of deep love and repair

And reach out

Reach out

Reach out

To soul

And heal someone..


With love Anna xx

2 thoughts on “Betrayals”

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