Why?

Forgotten, dead and buried.

Out of bed at 6 am and cleaning my room. Why do I have to push the bed in the middle of the room and lift all small furniture on it every day so it’s easier for her vacuuming? Just like me, the vacuum cleaners in our house never has a day off. It’s 6 o’clock and I’m already super tired. I didn’t sleep much and don’t think it will get any better. My mother kept screaming and I tried not to hear her. It’s hard. The walls are not keeping her voice out. I can hear children playing outside, my mother’s car if she arrives in the street, the neighbour playing drums and Bart making music. He lives next to our neighbours. If I can hear all these sounds people can hear her too.
Breakfast with my parents at seven, breakfast in silence a choking silence. I’m never allowed to speak so that isn’t new but usually my parents do. I should say my mother is. She’s the one who talks, talks, talks, repeats herself and repeats herself and repeats herself and tells you to repeat what she said which I can’t. So I keep my mouth shut which makes her furious. If I try to repeat what she said I can’t remember the exactly right words. The thing is she always says the same so after the first words I shut down. I close my ears and try not to hear her. I eat my bread and focus on my plate, on eating. I don’t want to hear her voice. She rattles on and on and on it’s always the same. How great she is, how ungrateful others are, blah blah blah.

Why don’t I have a normal mother? A mum like Ellen, Louis or Françoise has? A mother with a normal voice who lets you play with other children instead of punishing you for everything she can think of? I watch dad slicing cheese for his bread. If he doesn’t answer she will attack him. He never needs to repeat what she says. I wonder how auntie is doing. She no longer visits us. Will she go to grandmother if it’s Christmas?
I don’t want to hear her voice but it fills the kitchen. If I close my eyes I hear that voice everywhere around me.

Why did dad marry her? Did she ever say a sweet thing or was it her dad’s money? Grandpa is dead. There won’t be money for him. He’s no family but the man my grandparents never wanted for their daughter. Dad doesn’t look very happy. Perhaps he will sing if he cleans the bathroom and kitchen?
Her hand smacks me in the face. My head slams against the wall. “Are you sleeping again? Stand up, you lazy kid. No one is as lazy as you. Why don’t you comb your hair!” All I can do is stare at her. I have nothing to say. Whatever I would say isn’t good enough to make her forget her anger, make her like me. I try not to touch my face or head while I look her straight into the eyes. She looks at me, observes me, waits till I say something. She turns around abruptly and slams the door behind her.
“Get up you’ll be fine,” dad says. He didn’t help me. He gave up risking his neck for me. “Let’s clean up the place before your mother is back.” He starts cleaning up the breakfast table and I go back upstairs. The rooms, stairs and hallways, toilet and living room are my task. No polishing shoes today. I don’t know who will vacuum since she isn’t there. If she comes back at the end of the day she’ll be mad because the house is a mess. That’s how she calls it a mess.

I don’t feel like cleaning. Everything is clean. I pile up the small furniture on the beds in each room. I clean doors and doorknobs and wipe the dust not a single person can see. In each room, I wait till the time is over. The time it takes to clean a room to her standards. I don’t hear her, I don’t hear her car. It’s silent till dad comes upstairs and starts singing while he cleans the bathroom. I clean the toilet. Tile after tile. Another door on which I’m not going to spend 33 times scrubbing on.

How many times did I step outside to knock the dust out of the duster?

The living room is the only place where furniture can remain at its place on Saturdays. It’s clean like always. The Christmas tree is still outside. Will she be back to decorate it? I sit on the floor and wait. My head hurts. I touch the spot. Blood. She’ll be mad if there’s blood on the furniture or carpet but I have to lay down.
Dad comes downstairs and I hear him enter the kitchen. Later I’ll tell him I finished my tasks. I like to listen to the sound of the clock. Dad sings again.

Dad told me to help him to set up the tree in the living and he put the lights on. The smell of the tree fills the air. Shocked I was as I looked at the floor. A trace of needles everywhere from the living through the hallway and kitchen. “We’ll vacuum it before your mother is back, after that we get the boxes with decoration,” dad said. It felt as if he had everything under control and no longer cared about what she would say or do.
“No hiking today?”
“No, it’s vacation. Dad… I don’t want to go hiking ever again.”
“I know.”

The day didn’t end too bad. The bakery delivered boxes with bread, cookies, cakes, a Christmas loaf and chocolates. My mother came home with bags with stuff she bought and decorated the tree. It took her hours because it has to be perfect. She made a mess again and vacuumed the living three more times. She didn’t say sorry or look at me. I stood there and watched her. Unsure if I was allowed to leave or had to wait for a new order. She let me put some ‘angel’s hair’ on the ranks. It looks nice but it hurts if you touch it. The tree looks beautiful all silver with white of the ‘hair’ and the yellow big candle lights. My mother knows how she has to decorate a tree, furniture a house and how to spend too much money.

Saturday
December 18, 2021


I visited Sunday school and my parents went to church. If I don’t comb my hair straight you can’t see the blood on my head. It’s cold so I wear a hat outside. The teacher didn’t notice it.

Sunday
December 19, 2021


No school, no housekeeper just me and my mother cleaning. To my mother, it’s an ordinary Monday. She works 24/7 and if she doesn’t work we clean. In the morning we start cleaning till she has to go. She leaves if someone calls her or if she visits people at their homes. She visits in the afternoon. A few evenings a week people visit us. Dad says he has things to do. He left.

I don’t like staying home during vacations. Vacations at home are good for more cleaning, scolding, whipping and pain. That’s all it’s good for.

In the evening I’m allowed to sit in the living and watch the tree. The living is for weekends only. I spend the most time in my room or the kitchen if I’m not at school and have to clean the house.

Monday
December 20, 2021



The living is in the Christmas mood my mother isn’t. Her mood goes up and down. I’ll never know what she will say or do next. I don’t trust her and am glad I don’t need to share a bed with her like dad. If she kills him who takes care of me?

Tuesday
December 21, 2021


On television is more Christmas spirit than at home. I’m afraid of my mother. She acts weird. Dad says nothing and stays in the little room upstairs. She keeps walking up and down while saying the same words over and over again. Can’t she just sit down for a moment and act like a normal person?
I try to watch telly but it’s hard with her around. She can snap any minute. We didn’t have tea yet. I leave and hide on the toilet and try to think about what to do. I can put the kettle on and make us some tea. I go ask dad if he likes some tea.
Back downstairs I fill the kettle with water and put it on the cooker and wait. I wait at the kitchen table and try not to touch more things than necessary. My mother always knows if something is touched, moved. It’s good enough for the next scene. Why is she walking up and down? Is she crazy?
I fill the teapot and a dad’s mug. I’ll give him first before I ask her. Back in the hallway I no longer hear her voice behind the door in the living. Should I enter or drink my tea first? I knock on the door and carefully open it. She stands in front of the tree.
“Mother do you want some tea?”
She turns around stares at me as if I’m a stranger.
“Yes,” she says and follows me to the kitchen.
“Take some cookies.” We sit at the table and she pushes the wooden cookie box over the tablecloth towards me. The madness disappeared.

Wednesday
December 22, 2021

Today felt like a better day. I read the book school gave me again and my mother was in a chocolate mood. She ate a lot of chocolate and butter cookies. Not if it’s coffee time or tea time but just so. I don’t like the butter cookies and chocolate she buys. It’s made by the baker. Grandmother’s chocolate is better. She buys small bars of chocolate with hazelnut or Koetjes bars (the wrap is blue-white with a cow on it). Always five wrapped together. I don’t think she eats them. It’s for the visitors, sometimes she gives me one. It’s the only sweet my grandmother has in the cupboard. My mother’s cupboards are filled and one huge drawer of the antique cabinet is for cookies, cakes, chocolate, pastries only. Perhaps her mother never gave her candy?

Thursday
December 23, 2021


At 5:30 I’m out of bed. The laundry will be collected and the clean laundry taken back. We have enough sheets for at least twelve beds.
My mother started the day in a good mood but halfway through the day, it changed after grandmother called. Tomorrow we will visit grandmother and the next day granny. Each year with Christmas it’s the same routine. Granny cooks too but we never had Christmas dinner with her.

At midnight we visited the church. It was crowded and I couldn’t sit anywhere. I don’t like to be in a cold church in the middle of the night and listen to a story I already know. A story about the hope for peace, love and light. Peace, love and light? Try to live with my mother for a week or better month and all the hope and dreams you had are gone. If you are lucky you get out sane. Jesus is lucky his mother isn’t like mine or perhaps he’s not. With a mother like mine you wish you were dead. If no one believes you, everyone is blind for what she does there’s no reason to stay alive. What is a lifelong scolding and beating worth? Even in church, I hear her voice. That voice is always in my head. It’s hard not to change into that man Norman Bates. He knows how it is if you can’t escape out of your mother’s claws. Jesus didn’t rescue either did god. It is as it is. If there’s a plan for everything it means God doesn’t care and he won’t come to your rescue. He wants you to suffer. I don’t believe that old man preaching. He says what they all say but never talks about real life, real suffer and pain.

Happy to be home back in bed even my bed is cold.

Friday
December 24, 2021


Not much sleep. Out of bed at 6 am.
Merry Christmas… I’ve watched a film on television. Grandmother doesn’t have a tree. Auntie and my new uncle came for having Christmas dinner with us. Soup, goose, dessert and coffee with apple pie. I like grandmother’s dining table and chairs. The legs are claws of an animal. We didn’t sleepover. My mother was angry and granny was too. Dad drove us back home. Tomorrow I will see granny. A long drive in the car again. The light of the star of Bethlehem in front of our window was on. Welcome home.

Saturday
December 25, 2022


It was good to see granny is still alive. My uncle was home and another uncle came with his wife and children. I don’t really know them just my uncle. I like him most of all uncles I have.
We ate nothing special but it doesn’t matter. I can’t eat much anyway. Again soup, rice and beans and meat and chocolate custard. We had coffee and cake and I helped granny do the dishes. I like her gas heater and watched it burn. No one talks to me. Uncle didn’t stay long. My other uncle can be a bully and hates my mother and the adults talk to or fight with each other. It doesn’t matter if it’s Christmas or not. There’s no love, no hope, no light wherever we go.

Sunday
December 26, 2021

Days pass by. The tree is the only light in the darkness even if it loses its needles. My mother waters it daily. I think it’s too warm inside and it starves. What is cut dies. It will be hard to get it out of here.
Mother gave me chocolate wreaths at tea time. She sang. I hope she isn’t up to something bad again. Dad visited uncle G. He never takes me over there. I’m not sure if my mother was there. I think she likes him somehow. She doesn’t like people and never forbids me to take his candies.

I had to come along with her as she visited the people. I felt bored and it’s cold in the car if she doesn’t drive. The car makes me sick and it takes long before she comes back if she visits someone. Why do I have to sit and wait in the car? Why?

Wednesday
December 29, 2021

Tomorrow we visit grandmother again. She’ll bake oliebollen and apple beignets. I like the apple beignets most of all.

I didn’t need to clean that much and was allowed to go outside. It’s not so cold. No snow. It doesn’t feel like Winter. I didn’t know what to do or where to go to. I watched some children play and met Ellen. We searched for coins on the paths behind the row of houses where she lives and followed the path to where I live. Some mothers were outside frying oliebollen just like last year. It makes it smell nice outside.

Thursday
December 30, 2021



Laundry day. The last day of the year. No illusions it will get any better. My mother won’t change into a beautiful fairy if the clock strikes twelve. She will be ugly on the inside forever sneaky, mean, violent.
At 10 o’clock she received a phone call. She sounded agitated finished her coffee with cake and went to her room. She had to do her hair and makeup first which takes hours. She called for me and my task was to check her hair. She doesn’t need me she has 4 mirrors plus doesn’t believe what I say anyway. It took and took and those people called again which made her angry with me. Finally, she left. I felt relieved, cleaned up everything and took another cup of tea. I put the dishwasher on. It’s not difficult and I know we won’t leave if she finds tasks to be done. Dad left. I hope he is back home before her. I’m not sure what to do. I checked every room if it’s clean. My mother hates dust and dirt and every single item needs to be right at its spot. Should I vacuum the stairs an extra time? I walked the steps she can see it on the carpet.
I vacuum underneath the tree and sit on the floor with a dustcloth in my hand. It’s better not to touch anything. She doesn’t only see footsteps but fingerprints everywhere too. I hug the dogs but can’t feed them. If they come with us in the car they feel sick too. If they eat they vomit and make my mother furious too.

She arrived late. Dad bought us something to eat. She didn’t say anything, didn’t complain about what the house looked like. Dad drove us to grandmother. I think grandmother was angry. She said she waited for us the whole day.
“Shut up woman,” my mother answered angrily, “you know I have to work.”

If I would only think these words she would wash my mouth with soap and best me to death.

“You could have called.” Grandmother looks at dad but he doesn’t answer.

I went upstairs to the room in the attic. Three long stairs. For New Year’s Eve, we always dress up. Black suit for men and women and girls wear a long dress or skirt. I don’t know why because no one takes a picture and we don’t go outside to wish the neighbours a happy new year. It’s the first thing we do the next morning.
So long dress it is just to drink hot chocolate, eat oliebollen and wait till it’s midnight. No one plays with me, talks to me or cares if I’m joining them in the front living room. They watch a show about the past year. I don’t know if I should laugh or cry. I have no clue what is talked about on the telly. Grandmother put bowls with oliebollen and apple beignet on the dining table in the back living room. No one cares how many I’ll eat. They are there to be eaten and if the bowls are empty there are more, way more in grandpa’s office.

Champagne, happy New Year wishes, fake kisses. Firework outside and on television. I don’t like champagne or coffee. All I drink is tea and on rare occasions hot chocolate or hot milk if I am staying with grandmother.

In my bedroom, I watch the firework up in the sky through the small window. I can see the colours while I’m in bed. Tomorrow everything will be back to normal. My normal which isn’t something to be happy with. The Christmas spirit is already dead and buried. I don’t have anything else to achieve other than staying alive till I find a way to get out of here.

Friday
December 31, 2021

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Danser encore in 2021

Looking back 2021 wasn’t bad.
Why not? I mainly forgot what happened back then, from the beginning of the ‘old’ year till the end. My memory is short it prefers to forget what is bad, why it went wrong, the role I played.

January’s 2021 lockdown, the cold no longer hurt me today. I survived, lived my life and did it my way.

February’s pain and struggles are past. Not one single member of my family, friend, acquaintance, neighbour or villager lost life by a virus ’cause the epidemic stopped in May 2020. Locked in their homes many did suffer from depressions caused by tyranny and false prophecies, schedules that always turned out to be wrong. I focused on cryptocurrencies. No Valentine in 2021 for me.

March had his way and so had April. Great news the government resigned, left. It turned out to be a hoax. New elections, more corruption, the counted votes were falsified. The conspiracy theories turned out to be true. How can that be? This is not America.


April came to an end. Spring was late but the Easter bunny hopped by while ‘Dancer encore’  (dancing on/continue dancing) travels through Europe. The protest song is about the fight for freedom. No face masks, QR code, being forced into experimental injections.
More good news the shops were never really empty. Toilet paper piled up. There can always be found something to eat even after they increased the prices again.

May. I no longer counted all those lockdown days. I stayed home for 27.5 weeks from November 2020 on in a row.
At the end of this month, life is back to a normal we never had before.
Back to school, back to work, mowing the lawn, staying at home to make an income. I can still pay my bills, no debts. The promised kitten -December 2020- to my child finally arrives.

June here I come. Trying to catch some sun. Laundry outside, the fight with stable flies, ants and stink bugs.

The shock of being bitten by a thick twice. I’m still not over it. It scared me more than anything in the past years. The doctor would say: You have corona. So I stayed away. You can’t have everything you know. I lack trust in the honesty and policy of doctors, specialists and all those terrorist who rather see me dead than alive.

How to get the car tested? Repairments in and outside.

July without restrictions. No one needs a jab. Kids at work. I enjoy the sun till the insects make me run and hide inside. Should I go to the pool? My daughter found another job.
What did that minister say? 2G? What the heck is that?


August. Angry feelings, irritation about a friend… I had to end this new friendship.
What a relief to be free. After all these years I’m quite grateful for that. He is too pushy, rude, make bad jokes on behalf of others, shows no respect and scolds me on the phone. Are you kidding me?
I sent a parcel to my daughter for her birthday. I don’t want it to arrive too late.

Fun with the bus-kid. We bought an e-bike.

I repair walls, paint, collect wood because I need the timber. We saw and saw. Worries about how to survive the cold Winter.


September means back to school again. Summer holidays are over. It’s my daughter’s birthday and I can’t be present. It eats me. I ask a friend to represent me and I’ll organize a surprise party from a distance. No one should be alone, forgotten. I order more cake than anyone can eat plus American cookies and candies.

That parcel I sent? It only caused stress. After a month it was delivered with… me. There was no track to be traced. Thirty-eight euros lost, complaints ignored by the Dutch post who left me with empty hands. I didn’t intend to but I sent it again.

I already expected the ‘no’. I can’t get my car tested and no longer drive it. On the 18th I bought a car for the bus-kid.


October. What can I say? Autumn is on its way and it was short. No rain, no mushrooms everything is grey. It’s already cold inside.
My best friend forgot about mine and my youngest’s birthday.
So far it’s a year with hardly any rain. I finally caught wasps in bottles and jars with homemade lemonade of 2015.


November first I gave up on Whatsapp and read about the Eugenics’ plan to depopulate 90% of the people.

What’s new? A video about depopulation (1930). It’s not a tale, no science fiction, no fiction, no black mirror this is the world we are living in.

Black mirror? (see Netflix – Nosedive)

Life goes on. No lockdown yet. The vaccines don’t work more shots on the way. We all are healthy and still have a job.
My child builds a computer and had a check-up at the school dentist. A check that doesn’t fix anything. Only jabbed people can visit the dentist.
My eyes are tested for free.
It finally started to rain. So far it was a dry year. Fog, grey skies and short days are back. I sleep more.


December. Saint Nicholas’ December 5th parcels are late. Sent to the wrong country (PostNL again).
I’ll stay home. We all hope for a lockdown to have a break.
The bus-kid was sent home with a headache and tested virus-positive on the next day. We never received any proof of that. No QR code either.

My new glasses make me nauseous. They turn out to be wrong.

Ten days quarantine for the entire family. The child is relieved and happy, not one moment sick and very talkative. I and the youngest have a headache for a day too.
Lockdowns and quarantines are good for saving money. I need more cash, to minimalize, declutter, build my own paradise.

I made room for a soberly decorated X-mas tree.

It’s four months later. Thanks to the French post I received the shipping costs for the returned parcel back.

December was a month of hardly any (cooked) meals. On the last day of the year I baked 50 oliebollen and 25 apple beignets outside to celebrate the last day of the year. It was sunny and at least 12°C.

2022
You may say what’s the difference because 2022 sounds like twenty twenty (2020) too (2) but it will only be another 2020 if we allow it. If we forget how life was before the WHO changed the definition of an epidemic. If we easily forget about all the lies told, refuse to see how governments and media worldwide tell the same story and change it rapidly.
It will be another 2020 if we rather believe it was a virus that killed, divided and wiped out all humanity instead of restrictions made by WEF governments no one elected. Governments who don’t care about the elderly or any longer applaud for caretakers. They rather shoot them dead because natural immunity doesn’t exist in their mind. Goverments who no longer care about the constitution, freedom of speech, life that matters.

Since the elections in March 2021 those ministers who resigned, who said they left, those who are not chosen by the people still reign. The King goes on vacation, hunts and celebrates birthdays during lockdowns with over one hundred people. His X-mas speech started with a new version of and a changed bible and was mainly about climate control. Do we really write history together?

You wonder too what the next generations will say about you and if history will be changed to make it all look better or differently? Let’s see what they say in one till five years from today.

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Daily routine

Saint Nicholas didn’t visit us but there was a bag full of presents. I had hot chocolate and as the front doorbell rang and dad opened the door pepernoten and candies were thrown inside. I think that was the best part of the day and night.
I watched how Piet knocked at the door of someone living across the street. I don’t know who sent Piet but it was a nice gesture. I collected all the candies from the floor. My mother does not even say that it’s dirty.
I have a piglet made of marzipan, a new book and boots. I don’t like the boots because they look cold and are not for children. I know my feet will hurt but I didn’t say anything except ‘Thank you Saint Nicholas’ which everyone does after opening a present.

Sunday
December 5, 2021


Today was like usual. We start the day with a prayer. Next, the teacher tells a story from the bible. After that, the teacher asked how we celebrated yesterday. I just listened. I feel tired if I arrive at school. I can’t just hop out of bed, get dressed, grab a slice of bread and leave for school. I have to wake up at 5:30 am and work hard, be scolded at, beaten up and kicked for nearly three hours till school starts. So I sat at my desk and tried to look interested and not to show how I feel. I wish I was invisible.

Monday
December 6, 2021


Ellen asked me if I can play with her tomorrow. I’m not sure if I can not even if I asked my mother first. She can say yes but at the moments I leave to change her mind or she says she never agreed.
My mother always changes her mind and if she blames me. She says I lie but the one who does is she. I told Ellen I would like to but I have to ask my mother first and she isn’t always at home. I think it’s partly true and partly lied. She isn’t always home and if she can be in bed or at work or it’s too dangerous to ask her because everything I say or do triggers her to hit and punish me.

Tuesday
December 7, 2021


She made a scene slammed the door and left. She said if she would have an accident with the car it’s my fault. I drive her crazy.
I don’t know what to say. I think she is crazy. I don’t know when it started but she has always been like that. Crazy.
Grandpa said the geese said he is crazy. My grandmother said her mother was in a madhouse. Perhaps she was crazy or no one liked to take care of her. My grandmother is angry with her mother, my mother with my grandmother and me. I just want her to be out of my life. My mother will never like me I only make her angry and unhappy.

I stayed home. I don’t know when she’ll be back but if someone just scolded you, hit and accused you of things you never did or thought it’s no fun to play at a friend’s home.
I’m not allowed to use the phone. I couldn’t tell Ellen I cant come over but I think she already knows.

Wednesday
December 8, 2021


After school, I had gymnastics again. Nothing to write about. I’m going to read my book in my room. My mother is at work in the room next to mine. I hear the voices and people walk up and down the stairs.

Thursday
December 9, 2021


Laundry day, clean bedsheets, polishing shoes, setting tables, cleaning up and school. My mother was home for lunch which is the only cooked meal. Today it’s leftover day. The only great meal of the week. I had the Endive stew with bacon. Baked with butter in a pan is the best.

Friday
December 10, 2021


I told dad I don’t want to go hiking. I don’t like it. The bus drive makes me sick, my feet hurt. He said he would talk about it with my mother. The skirt is cold and too small and my coat isn’t warm. Why can boys wear warm trousers and girls have to catch a cold?
I left after I did my tasks so my parents have a day without me. The only good thing was the pea soup with smoked sausage. Not much but better than the canned soup of Unox we eat on Saturdays.

Saturday
December 11, 2021


Sunday school time. It’s better than the church. After the story, we sang songs. I’m making a cover for the candle.

Too much food, my belly hurts again. I don’ like those puddings my mother cooks. Those tiny coloured pieces make me gag. I can’t help it. Shouldn’t a dessert be a treat? Why am I forced to eat it?

Sunday
December 12, 2021


School started with Christmas decorations. There’s a huge tree in the hallway and the auditorium. Each class has a tree too. Before the school closes they give the trees away to families who don’t have one.
So fast Sint Nicholas is forgotten.

Monday
December 13, 2021


We do not have a tree yet. There is a Christmas wreath on the front door and an Advent wreath on the table in the living room. I think it’s for the visitors. In the daytime, we don’t use the living. It’s cleaned or the door is closed. As I came home my mother was hanging the star of Bethlehem in front of the window. It’s made of paper and there’s a light in it. Most people who live here have a star.

Tuesday
December 14, 2021


On Wednesdays, I have school till 12:15. My mother had a better mood for a change. It doesn’t mean her mood can’t change any minute. She tried to have a conversation with the housekeeper and kept reading from the bible short. I was grateful for that. She can’t read, talk or sing in a normal way. Her voice hurts my ears which makes it hard to focus.
She said she would go buying a tree and allowed me to watch the telly. I hope she won’t be back too early and in a bad mood. I feel nervous if she’s home. I never know how she will act.

Wednesday
December 15, 2021


The tree is huge and outside in the garden. It stays outside till Saturday. On Saturday she will take it inside and the decorating starts. I don’t look forward to helping her. Finger crossed nothing will go wrong. Of course, there will because Christmas trees lose their needles.

Gymnastic again.

Thursday
December 16, 2021

Friday again. I’m tired of everything. I was sent to bed after the meal at 5:30 pm. It’s fine with me. My parents always fight.

Friday
December 17, 2021

A kid’s diary

The face in the mirror


My wish list


One, two, three, four, five, six…


Bad memories stay


Promises

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No rabbit for Christmas

Christmas dinner?
Food habits have changed through the years. Just like many habits, norms, values and rights. What once was common, normal, the right thing to do disappeared or is wrong. At least it is if it comes to the common people aka mass.
I don’t care about ‘woke’. Things are like they are and woke has nothing to do with it. A lack of education but above all knowing your history or the history of the country you live in, the habits you adapted has.

Rabbit
The grandfather of a schoolmate -primary school- did breed them. He had a shed filled with rabbits. That shed wasn’t much different from the huge shed my grandfather had. His shed was filled with rows of cages. Cages with chinchillas.
Those rabbits were not meant to keep for pets. They were food. Food for celebration days like Christmas. Even the poorer could have a Christmas dinner if they kept a rabbit alive till Christmas.

It’s hard to believe but today rabbit is food for the rich just like a good steak or meat in general. The habit of keeping your own future meat -chickens, rabbits, geese- in your garden or shed is no longer done. Neighbours will complain about the noise, smell and call you an animal molester.
At home, we never had rabbits for dinner. Christmas dinner was at my grandparents’ house and we had goose. One of grandpa’s geese and it was big enough for the entire family of nine people and it was tasty. As a child, I knew a goose is an animal. I knew what it looked like alive, it was killed and the piece of meat wasn’t produced in a factory (today children might say with a 3D printer). Did the food on my plate make me feel miserable? The answer is no. The goose had a great free life in an orchard that was at least six if not eight times bigger than my grandparents’ garden.

The first and only time I had a rabbit for a meal was at a friend’s home. I was surprised they served it. It was about 20-25 years ago and I said to my daughter: Look it is Flappie.
She shrugged and said: I don’t care it tastes good. I always admired my child for that. No matter what people say if it tastes good is it good and she doesn’t lose her appetite because of what others say, emotions or the animal/ingredients are different from what the norm is. Indeed she knows who Flappie is but Flappie’s abruptly unexpected death was his faith. 

The song about Flappie is my favourite Christmas song (I added the original Dutch version underneath). I still shed a tear if I hear it. I see the upset child, hear the tears in its voice and understand the anger. The anger of not respecting that Flappie belonged to the kid. The lies and stupid joke the father made. I grin if I listen how the story ends. I love the dark humour. Believe I know how it feels if you see your father with different eyes and understand why that evil man’ ended up in the shed. Till today Flappie is not forgotten. After all these years Youp van het Hek still makes his point. Who knows he even managed we Dutch people gave up on eating rabbits.

I remember my first meatless Christmas very well.
A magazine of a supermarket provided in it. An omelette with spinach. It was quite disappointing, tasteless. A pathetic meal which wasn’t even cheap because eggs and spinach are expensive especially in December. I don’t believe I’ve had great Christmas meals since then.
It was an economic crisis again. From one year to the next restaurants decided to stay closed during Christmas while only a few years back reservations had to be made eight till six months earlier. Today it’s the lockdown why restaurants are closed if they aren’t bankrupt already.

While others cooked at home I lost my appetite. To be honest I don’t see any point in spending a lot of money to cook for people who don’t like to travel if the weather is bad. I’ve always been the cook, the one with the stress, expenses and dirty dishes and if it comes to my children. Little children don’t care if they eat rabbit, hamburger, bread with chocolate sprinkles, chips or pancakes. What counts for them is we share quality time and they can do what they like.
So I gave up on the cooking ceremony, the new clothes, on inviting people and started our own Christmas ceremony. A tree with lights and red ribbons, pyjamas day, hot chocolate or anise milk, watching films together and sleeping longer. We eat if we feel to it. It’s fine if the meal is skipped or we have some snacks or chocolate.

What did we have for a meal on the first Christmas day December 25, 2020?
Next to hot chocolate milk, tea and bread I fried chips. The only reason I did was that it wasn’t freezing outside -I fry outside- and I didn’t want the chips to get spoiled.

December 26th I baked pancakes for brunch (breakfast + lunch). Two pancakes for each. One with cheese (Gouda + Parmesan) the other with banana (one banana in slices per pancake).

In the Netherlands, pancakes are originally not eaten for breakfast. Pancakes are more like dinner. Our pancakes are thick and big. Usually, people eat only one. If you like to see what our pancakes look like you can visit one of the many ‘pannenkoeken restaurants’ in the country. At home, people bake them differently and not as big. I don’t have a pan big enough and if so no plates.

The most known pancake is made out of milk, egg, wheat flour, salt, and vanilla sugar. It’s eaten with sugar or ‘stroop’ (syrup of sugar). The next famous pancake is with bacon or apple. Today pancakes are eaten with nearly everything on them. Let’s say what we put on a slice of bread or pizza can be found on a pancake too. It all depends on the creativity of the cook and the taste of the customer.

I’m not too crazy about pancakes (raised my youngest with pancakes) and if I bake them I frequently use oatmeal flakes. With oatmeal, the pancake is thicker, taste different and it fills the stomach. In a way, the smell reminds me of porridge.

Ingredients
* 1 mug oatmeal flakes (no need to use oatmeal flour)
* water
* 2-3 eggs
* salt
* wheat flour
* butter or oil to bake

I don’t add oil to the dough and didn’t use vanilla sugar in my recipe because a sweet pancake with cheese smells and taste so good.


Baking trouble/your pancakes fall apart?
* If you use oatmeal you need something extra to make a good dough. Eggs are helpful and so is wheat flour.
* Too much egg makes a pancake taste like an omelette.
* You didn’t use enough flour.
* You turned the pancake too fast.
*  You use the wrong pan. Some pans make it hard to bake a decent pancake.
*  The fire is too low or too high.

Pancakes shouldn’t look dark brown or burned it’s unhealthy.

How to
* Oatmeal flakes in a bowl.
* Add water to it (let it soak become soft)
* Add salt and eggs.
* Add water stir, flour stir and so on till you have the amount of dough you need.
You can let the dough rest if you like. It can become thicker because of the oatmeal. You can add some extra water if it’s too thick.

Make sure your pan is hot before you start baking. It’s nonsense the first pancake is always bad. Once the pan is hot put some butter or oil in it and add the dough.
Be sure the dough in the pan is dry before you turn it.
Next, you can put cheese or banana on it.
I fold the pancake so the cheese can melt and the banana is warm faster.
If you like you can turn the folded pancake to its other side for a short time.

The pancake with banana is served with powder sugar. I used a coffee grinder for it (works with rice, oatmeal flakes, nuts too).

My children love these pancakes. It’s more like a dessert, a treat than an ordinary pancake. Thicker pancakes save me time plus the thin ones are always cold at the time I finished baking and we eat. Another plus is the cold bananas are eaten instead of being ignored and thrown away. I don’t like to spoil food. So Christmas was again without rabbit, goose, deer, turkey, chicken or steak but we had chocolate and enough to eat, time for each other and no piled up dirty dishes, stress or expenses I can’t afford. We ate what I had stored and in 2022 I’ll see what the prices of groceries look like.

https://linktr.ee/wakeupkitty

#kittywu #christmas #rabbit #habit #recipe #oatmeal #pancakes

The thing about cryptocurrencies – BCH

For how many euro/dollars you invested in cryptocurrencies?
Most of you will say I do not buy Bitcoin, BCH or even Steem. About Bitcoin cash they say it is the crypto to use, not to invest in and to keep in the wallet. When someone starts with this phrase everyone starts saying it which feels a bit odd to me.

Do we really believe BCH is the key to our financial problem or are we copy-pasting the message -by now the BCH-slogan- because we feel obliged to say so? All heads need to be turned in the same direction right after all the place where we can receive that precious currency for free should be cherished.
If someone invests in us, rewards us, some loyalty is the right thing to do. Besides that if BCH isn’t promoted, not many will invest and without investors no one will benefit from it.

Imagine what happens if we all give up on the same currency today. Those who invested in it sell it or swap it for another coi . This means the trust will be gone. There’s plenty of choice by the way. All those (big) investors who sold their BCH could buy ETH, Steem, HOT or some other crypto with an attractive shortcut like ADA (sounds like a girl’s name) or they massively invest in Monero because this currency is what cryptocurrencies should be about: anonymously which can be very important in the nearest future.

The great reset is a fact. The plans are unfolding. Worldwide countries are bankrupt because governments spent and keep spending money they don’t have. Banks use 90% of people their bank accounts and talk many into loans they can’t afford to pay off. What we know as money lost it’s value.
Officially it can not even be called money because if it comes to the definition of money -six rules are set for what is allowed to be called money- the euro, USA dollar or any other currency doesn’t follow these six rules. Printing extra money is not the answer to a financial crisis. A crisis governments worldwide created. I dare to say it is done on purpose.
If it comes to finances every 30-40 years a country has a new crisis, a new coin and financial system. Governments and banks are always bankrupt, broke and corrupt.

BCH may sound like a great solution but isn’t the only one. To be honest I always wondered why so many currencies exist. Why not one coin for all? The idea behind the invention of Bitcoin (BTC) was already gone as more crypto lovers started investing and using it three years ago. If you invest in or use crypto you can be traced, you are not anonymous, you do leave a footprint behind. Your trace is saved on the blockchain forever. The kind of forever governments, dictators who love the Chinese social credit system are interested in. The system we all are heading to.

I wish I could use my cryptocurrencies for my groceries, to pay my rent and gas and electricity bill but I can’t. In my country, hardly anyone accepts these payments. Not in Steem, Bitcoin Cash, Bitcoin, Ethereum or Monero. If shops, entrepreneurs don’t accept it it’s simple: BCH is not for spending, is not suitable to use in every country and personally I don’t know how to change that.
I asked around. I asked several people with a business if it’s possible to pay in Bitcoin cash but to most, it’s too difficult -or complicated- to learn more about this new payment method. I thought all those lockdowns and extra time would be used well by the present entrepreneurs to invest in a new business model included with new paying methods after all that’s what we are heading to anyway.

Although the Netherlands is called a western country, modern, we are limited if it comes to our payment methods.
The most wanted payment is the debit card and we are forced into online payments. Instead of a debit card, you can pay with your phone -switch NFC on- or with the chip implanted by a tattoo shop in your hand (strange since any doctor, vet or idiot can plant a chip). The wallet with cash changed into a plastic card, next smartphone followed by a chip.

If you no longer see, can touch currency you lose the value of it, will always be short and it doesn’t matter with what you are paying. Euro, Dollar, Steem, Florin or Litecoin.
We pay with numbers or numbers behind the comma and lose track. How much Bitcoin cash do you pay for bread 0.0045 or 0.00045 or? Most people can hardly count and if bread is needed we pay whatever is asked.

“I don’t understand the benefit of paying with cryptocurrencies,” someone said to me lately, “nothing loses its value so fast as cryptocurrencies.”

I can’t deny that. It’s true. The value of each cryptocurrency is measured in dollars or euros or whatever currency is used in the country you live. Today 1 BCH can be 600 euros and next day 300 euros only. If you don’t need to use it to eat and invest it doesn’t matter. If you spend it the price of bread increased by from one day to the next with 50%.

How does paying with cryptocurrencies work for you and me?
It only works if you get it for free but not if you need to buy it first. Buying already means paying a fee.
If I like to pay with cryptocurrencies I need to search for entrepreneurs online willing to accept it. They can not easily be found. They do not have a sign on their door, frequently they do not even mention it on their website. Another negative aspect is only very expensive items or services can be paid for it besides marijuana.

Source: pixabay.com These coins don’t exist.

The situation in real life in the Netherlands is like this:
Just the bank’s debit card, NFC, chip in your hand or online payments in euros are accepted. No credit cards, cheques, cryptocurrencies. Soon no cash either. The beggars on the street will need a bank account and pin chip reader or better ask for food, gloves, a shirt or bread. Here each card reader is different and most card readers cannot even read a foreign card no matter if maestro is printed on it.

If you like to invest in cryptocurrencies you need a third person and to be registered.
Name, ID, address, bank account, social security number, photo, where the money comes from you invest and so on. If you give all your personal information it may be clear there is no anonymity. You are registered, they know you, can find you, watch you and check you out. Not only you as a person but they track your payments too and if they check you they do not give you your ‘money’. This happened to me several times which means you do not receive it fast unless you call several hours till days fast.

Investing in cryptocurrencies sounds interesting but isn’t easy either is spending it.
Most of us need a third party to change the investments into a currency we can use. We do not buy our groceries with Steem or Bitcoin cash but a different currency and lost our anonymity as soon as we needed to give our data to a stranger we know nothing about. Someone we need and who shares this info with banks, the government, the taxes department, the police or anyone who asks for it.

It’s great to invest but I admit that I’m worried.
Worried because so many of us count on it because this cash helps us through the cold Winters in our life so we can afford to eat, buy a little extra while some can even buy a house with it. That’s great but what will happen if our entire life depends on electricity and they shut us down, steal from us or close down all the accounts? Will there be a way to survive without electricity, online payments and digital currencies? Is there a personal plan B? Will we go back to paying with bricks, shells use ancient trading systems or go for a skill/task for a meal?

I hope there will be a future for cryptocurrencies. I hope all the benefits it once started with will be back including easier and more ways to adapt and use currencies. I’m sure this is possible since Monero does it and the governments are going to use that easier way to force the nation into their new payment system. A system where your account will be closed if you are a shopaholic, doctor, scientist, offend people, bought too much plastic, meat, medication, didn’t keep social distance, are jobless, vulnerable, share ‘crazy’ ideas about one god, democracy, decentralisation, show interest in history, watch horror or sf-films, listen to music, drink lemonade or coffee, eat candies or refuse to be chipped.

To answer my question: i invest. I just need to figure out how it can benefit me or my children in the -nearest- future. I might set this as a goal for early 2022. The clock ticks.

https://linktr.ee/wakeupkitty

#kittywu #bch #cryptocurrency #investing #spending #future

Why? A Christmas tale

It was dark as she woke up. Was it night or early in the morning? She couldn’t tell. The clock was ticking. In a way it was comforting but at times it made her furious too. Not that she showed the anger inside. She knew she had to wait. Wait till they had time for her, told her it was time to get out of bed and start the day. Why was it up to them?
She knew the time had changed but that didn’t matter. She was no baby still she had to go to bed early and came out late. Not because she needed much sleep, her rest but because they, those who took care of her had a life too. They needed their privacy, relaxing time or however they called it. She wasn’t a priority to them or anyone just a job that had to be done. Day after day all she did was wait till it was her turn. How many times in her life had people told her her time would come? Lies, it all been lies. She turned onto her left side and pushed the pillows aside. All those stupid cushions. How could anyone sleep on them? They hurt her neck, back and head. Why wasn’t she allowed to sleep without? It was her bed, her night rest and her body.
The clock was ticking and the thoughts kept running. Today it was Christmas. The reason to celebrate the bringer of light, love and laughter but instead the made up fat Coca man who brought gifts was applauded. Not the person who bought all those gifts, the one who should have all the credit but some fat old imposter who steals milk and cookies while he travels by light. Or did he use a time machine? Why? Why did people fall for that and so many other lies? Ten lies a person tells in an hour, each hour, and no lie detector detects them. Can you imagine that?
A time machine would make a great gift. Which time and place could she pick to get that better life?

The sound of a soft click. She knew what it was and meant. Not her turn yet, more waiting. Christmas wasn’t a reason to get out of bed early. Not to them. She had to wait till it was her turn. How come it always took so long? They had time to shower, get dressed. They had their tea or coffee and breakfast and all the time to play with their phones, bracelets and that chip implanted in their hand. She had seen the bumps and wondered why they felt so excited about it. They walked around like a chipped animal although, all these pets were still dumped on the street. No way a chip could be read if the dog didn’t like you, not want you near. She had watched how easily the dog catcher had shot many best friends. Human’s best friend he had called mad dogs. Those dogs hadn’t been mad. The poor animals were afraid, afraid, molested and hungry.

She turned on her back pulled the blanket over her head to protect herself against the cold and the sound of the clock. Tick tock, tick-tock. Why didn’t she leave? They say Christmas is the best time of the year. It didn’t feel like it and wouldn’t happen if she stayed in bed and obeyed. She suddenly remembered the old tale Cinderella. That girl had left and because of that act, her life became better. No God or Santa was needed.
She could do it. She could get dressed and walk out just like that 100-year-old man in the film who climbed out of the window. She smiled. For the first time in a very long time, she did. She moved her toes and fingers underneath the sheets. Her legs felt restless it was time to make a move. Today was the day. No one would pay attention to her, they hardly knew she existed. She turned on her left side again and thought about what to wear. It was important to stay warm. Did she need money or did everyone use a chip?
“There’s food in the kitchen, eat before you leave and take a filled bag on your way out,” a voice inside said.

She heard a sound in the hallway and waited. They wouldn’t open her door in the next hours. She had to get out of bed to act. The cold made her shiver as she sat on the bed’s edge wrapped in her blanket. Outside of her window was a cold, white world slowly awakening. Was it possible to climb out of the window? She put on her socks and trousers and found her way to the toilet where she sat in the dark. It didn’t bother her there was no light. Clothes, she needed more clothes. Layers of clothes to stay warm just like Heidi.
She opened the closet pulled out what she thought might fit and put it on. Without any doubt, her mom would say she looked badly dressed like a homeless but she didn’t care. Important was to wear what kept her warm and together it looked colourful. Her tiny hand searched the shelf at the back of the closet and felt something soft. What was that? She pulled it out and remembered the gift of long ago. The scarlet knitted hat and scarf she’d never worn because they were useless inside the four walls she was locked in. Did she still have a jacket?

She carefully made her bed. Pillows pushed underneath the blanket. For sure that would keep them busy if they entered her room at all.
“No chip, no bracelet, no phone. It will be hard to track and trace me. They might shoot me like a crazy dog,” she whispered on the way to the door.

Her door was open, the hallway empty and the Christmas tree looked like a dark monster instead of the bringer of hope and light.
She had a quick stop in the kitchen. So much food everywhere. She filled her pockets and bag with the goodies and pushed two bottles with lids on the top. In the corner, she stood drinking her cup of tea. Was that chocolate?
She waited for the right moment. It was silent inside as she left by the backdoor. The sun came out and felt warm on her friendly face as she walked through the lane. She had no idea where to go but today would be a perfect day.

source: pixabay.com

The shops were decorated, a large tree adorned the square. It smelled nice and she wasn’t in a hurry which was good. It was the first time since long no clock was ticking and time didn’t matter. While she sat underneath the tree she watched people passing by. Those who noticed her greeted friendly some even wished her merry days but no one asked her why she sat there all alone. How come not a single person asked if she shouldn’t be at home?
She ate from the food she took, sipped her tea and enjoyed life. At nightfall, she opened the second bottle and was surprised by the smell. Chocolate milk, not too hot but still warm. She had time to drink it all. She was alone, no one missed her and she knew she wouldn’t go back to the elderly home. Finally, Christmas became the best time of the year. She smiled as she laid her head on the empty bag. She had never been afraid to die only been afraid her life would never start. She stared at the snowflakes who fell off the sky each one of them looked like a twinkling little star.
Within an hour the snow covered it all and it would be before the new year, might be even January 6th or later, the Municipality Cleaning Service would find her smiling underneath the tree.

https://linktr.ee/wakeupkitty

#kittywu #story #christmas

Evicted

Once you are kicked out of your house and are homeless you see how miserable the world is you live in. It’s at that moment you get aware all those taxes you paid, the social help and security offered are not meant for you.

To those who think losing your home, not being able to pay the rent only happen to people who cannot manage their finances, to addicts or lazy single moms simply spending too much are wrong.

The fact is everyone can lose his job. Companies go bankrupt, house owners sell their property and anyone can get seriously ill. A few years ago this might have not been noticed so clearly as now but today we all know -the wealthy ones are an exception- something ‘small’ like a lockdown already does the trick. Many of us learned too that being housed in a small room with only 3-4 people already drives people crazy. Since the World’s Homicide Organization (WHO) decided to depopulate nations worldwide violence, incest and rapes within families increased. Those who can know made it clear. We are no longer safe at home especially not if we are forced to stay close in one room.

The poverty so many live in does not always have to do with debts caused by their own bad decisions.

I’ve watched several documentaries about poverty and being homeless. Families and children tell what their lives look like. It’s impressive to see how intelligent and realistic some children are. They know they will never get a job not even if they can finish school. They know the chance to belong to the upper class is small. Indeed you read it right. The upper class since many with a job and even a monthly income of $1500 a month are still homeless and sleep in their car because renting a house is too expensive. You reader can consider yourself lucky if you do have a roof above your head, if you can live from $10 a week, most people can’t. Not in the country of unlimited chances -or is it promises?- and not in any other first country or like many call it Western country. For several years I ask myself what the greatness is of these countries.

Life in Russia, East European countries -the second world- not even the third world isn’t that bad at all. In a country where you are kicked out of your house if you let a homeless befriended family in is something seriously wrong. In Western countries, you are not allowed to help your friends or family. If you do so you take a huge risk to be evicted too. It’s hard to believe but true. Neighbours, strangers, the postman anyone can and will make that anonymous call to avoid you from giving a helping hand to those in need.

Once you end up being homeless it’s hard to get out. A steady job won’t do the trick if no one is willing to let you rent their place. To get out of the misery you need a helping hand, something to start with. A small home makes a world of difference and hopefully gives enough energy to build your own life back better since that’s the thing you need to do once homeless. You need to find the motivation -no matter how tired, useless, broke or depressed you feel- to show those few willing to give you a fair chance you are worth the trust they put in you.

#kittywu #homeless #poverty #evicted #life

Good girls

If it comes to good I would never call myself a good girl. Those words do not feel right and the more I watch the Netflix series ‘Good girls’ the more uncomfortable I feel with these words. It sounds so American to me. Too American which isn’t me. ‘Good girls’ is about housewives, mothers doing their best to manage their finances. Each one of them has issues. A child that needs medication and a kidney, a lousy husband that loses everything and a restless, single mum who lost herself years ago. What these three women have in common is they are close, they stick together, do the bad things together and do not sell out each other no matter how hard it is and if you are involved with gangsters it is hard.

“We are good girls doing bad things” is what one of the ladies says and it made me think. If it comes to it we all are good girls or boys we are just doing bad things. Some because there’s no other way out of the mess we are dragged into by others or the bills just pile up because a child needs medication and a kidney, four other children would end up on the street and the next child decides to be a boy and needs medication for that too. It all sounds like a tale but it isn’t. This is real life and so are all those people who think they know something or don’t feel any shame to manipulate and blackmail others (in this case these three mothers).

It’s easy to say one has to stay on the right path but in real life, we all know that prayers won’t help and that if you really need help no one knocks on your door. If it comes to managing, a better life you need to DIY (do it yourself). That line is easier crossed than one imagines and this counts for everyone. You only need to see that lady in church who states in the house of god she is a good girl, the Samaritan who gave 10 thousand dollars to help a child with a new kidney. Is this what a good girl looks like? A liar, fraud, a fake Christian?

If it comes to good it all depends on where you stand, what your norms and values are and who is important to you. It’s about principles but priorities too. Family first is what many say and if you put your family first it is a good start. Good as in taking care of each other, reaching out, loyalty and not letting those who are most near to you down. It’s interesting to see that even if you care if you put yourself in the last place if you risk everything and your life is at stake, people -own family included- are so ungrateful. Is it a typical thing for mums to forget about themselves and no matter how crazy they are trying to save their family from more disasters?

While watching on -four seasons to go- it’s kind of weird how those who put the family in this bad situation in the first place -indeed I’m talking about Dean since children cannot be blamed for their health issues or financial problems parents should deal with- forget how the family got into debts at the first place. Surprisingly enough those who are married stick together. The cop turns into a good boy who only does bad things and the dumb car seller goes from one job to the next to end up with bubbling tubs. Since he wasn’t a good guy he can’t turn into a bad boy. His stupidity is welcome while the three ladies found a way to print their own money. I must say I envy them about that. Be honest it isn’t easy to figure out how to do it and develop a recipe to make it look real. How many good girls can do that?

Source: pixabay.com

“I was bored,” Beth said and it’s clear she could have used more action in her life. Being a housewife, being used by other mothers to do the baking and other ‘volunteering’ jobs isn’t inspiring. It’s boring and an ungrateful job next to be taken for granted. We all need some excitement in our life, something need since only something new gives energy. The same old story, same old song doesn’t do that trick. You slowly start to hate everything. While writing this it reminds me of all those men who try to make their wives or girlfriends shut up with the words “you are just jealous because I have a job, because I have friends”. For the information of those who love to say these phrases, I like to let you know that it’s not about jealousy, about having a job or friendship, it’s about being the good one. It’s about always being the one who glues what is broken and about being taken for granted. It’s about people being bored, people who like to try something new and if that new is offered they spread their wings and fly away. Good girls, good boys, good people are people who are not noticed and because they are invisible they will start something new. Something that might not be good but there’s a limit to what one can take.

Although I’m not a bad girl I will never be a good girl either. You can blame that on my childhood, the child abuse, the hard life I had or the fact I fought hard for my freedom and paid a very high price for that. Freedom, the right to live and choose whatever you want isn’t normal, either is a safe home and good food. These are things many of us need to fight for and indeed in times of need, we do more and things we never dreamed of to make it all possible. I never robbed a bank or grocery, I never shot anyone in his foot or killed someone, I did not ask or beg others for money, I didn’t deal drugs, manipulated or blackmailed anyone. I never used drugs, partied whole nights or let others take care of my children. Till today I paid all my bills and even high debts for others. You might call this good but to me, it’s not. It feels bitter because it didn’t bring me or my family anything. We sat in the cold, gave up on our luxury, good food because of others. People who would never do the same for us, for me and you know what? I let it happen. So in a way, I feel like these three mothers. Beth is bored living the life of a good girl, Annie is still abused and a single mum -after a childhood, you do not wish to anyone- and the intelligent Ruby who’s manipulated by a couple that smells money because of a kidney. All I want to say is good girls don’t exist and those who claim they are good are most likely the bad ones. It’s not that I don’t understand why they took that road I just wish I had some of those opportunities too since the bad things good girls do is what gives them energy.

#kittywu #freewrite #good #thoughts

The face in the mirror

My face hurts and I feel something is wrong. If I feel what I feel now I know it will be swollen soon. I’m in bed and that’s the only good thing. On the hiking trip, I still felt fine. It started at home after I had soup and bread, bread with honey. The smell of that dry honey already makes me vomit.
At 7 pm it’s bedtime for me so I was happy. I can’t help scratching and feeling itchy and my mother hates me if I do. The sheets feel cold, my feet are very cold. Dad says I suffer from Winter’s toes and that’s why they look blue and hurt. I think my toes suffer from more. The shoes, hiking and hammertoes. My feet are not made for walking.
The cold sheets feel good against my burning face though. I have a pot of cream left. I can’t use it. It smells terrible and only makes it worse. Since I no longer visit a doctor I think I better throw it away. If I find a way I will. I won’t ever use it again. All those doctors never helped or cured me they just did something. The same is something they do with others. People who are sick for different reasons. I wonder why anyone wants to be a doctor. I need to sleep now. My eyes hurt too and I can’t write if I don’t see what I’m doing. I can’t fall asleep before I hid this diary. I hear my mother scream downstairs. Are my parents fighting again? It makes me nervous if I hear her voice. It makes it harder to fight the pain. Tomorrow I’ll be the ugly monster again.

Saturday
November 27, 2021


I don’t look too good. I think I look how I feel. Dad said I better stay home. No Sunday school for me. My mother left after I served her breakfast in her room. No matter how sick I am I have to work. I try not to scratch, not to cry for pain, not to rub. If I blink my eyes, try to drink, eat or speak the pain is worse. I wish I was never born. I hate my life, my hate my body. It always hurts.

Sunday
November 28, 2021


My mother sent me to school. She doesn’t care about how I feel. She said I skip school too much. The only times I don’t go to school is if she did beat me up. If she beat me up and what she did cannot be hidden by my clothes.
It was hard to concentrate at school. That stupid girl Petra is a bully. She always takes me. The teacher says that name of her means rock. Rock? A rock you can build on. I think he means she throws rocks at other people. I think it means a traitor, a mean person. That is what Peter in the bible was to. A traitor, a liar, a person who would throw rocks at Jesus and say: I don’t know you.

Monday
November 29, 2021

Only a few more nights and the Saint will visit us at school. Some children are afraid of him. I’m not. I think he is kind because he gives presents and never is angry. My mother is a more scary person. I will not tell that to those children. They won’t believe me anyway. Those children who do never visited me again. They don’t play with me at school.

Tuesday
November 30, 2021


The pain is still there. I can feel my skin but the pain in my body too. It’s hard to explain what I feel. I think what makes me sick is inside of me. I wish I could pee it out. I don’t want to be in pain forever. I don’t want to live in this body forever. It doesn’t feel as if it is mine.
I climbed on the stool in the bathroom so I could look into the mirror. What I saw in the mirror that can’t be me! I don’t recognize that face. It can’t be me. I blinked, closed my eyes for longer but as I opened my eyes that strange face still looked at me. I felt shocked and fell off the stool. I placed it back next to the sink. Back in my room, I sat on my bed. What had happened to my face, what happened to me? Who’s that stranger looking at me in the mirror? I’ll never watch in the mirror again. From now on I keep my eyes closed.

Wednesday
December 1, 2021


All I know is I must have fallen asleep. My diary is crinkled, some pages torn but nothing is missing. It’s not like last time. That time she threw away my diary and I started again. This time with two different ones. One she will search for and read, the other I write and hide better, somewhere else or carry with me if possible. I don’t know what happened. Did I do this? It’s hard to believe. I took the pages and puzzled them together. All pages are there. At least I believe they are. I take the risk and will take my diary with me to school. I know it’s not safe. I know that girl Petra will try to take it away from me if I let her. I will fight back if needed. No one helps me anyway. The teacher never does. They don’t care who’s bullied or discriminated against. Just when I’m in the class with the teacher I feel safe. Not because the teacher sees everything or helps kids like me but because all children like him. They fight for his attention. I think the girls are in love with him. He’s the only not old teacher and his hair is long plus he plays musical instruments. All sorts of. I don’t think the principal likes him. The principal is a mean old man. The kind of man you only read about in books. He looks like one of those men of the Inquisition the teacher told us about during history class. Just his belly is way more swollen. His pair of trousers is underneath that terrible belly. I don’t like it if the man comes close and that belly touches me. I don’t want that man to touch me at all. He hits me if he’s in a bad mood. I think teachers are allowed to but I’m not sure. The teacher, that old teacher Mrs Mulder always hit us with a pointer stick. It’s a flexible one so that hurts and it won’t break easily.
My parents hit me too. My mother uses whatever she can find. In most cases, it’s the whip, the mat beater made of pulp cane, or the dogs’ leashes which are chains or leather. It all hurts but if she tells me to get the leash I take the heavy chain. The heavy chain has a large heavy carabiner. If she hits me with it the carabiner will hit her back. She never hits me with her bare hands either does my father. He uses his leather slippers. Those slippers Saint Nicholas gives him. If the Saint doesn’t my mother does then it will be my dad’s birthday present. My parents don’t care if they hit me. They don’t care if I have bruises all over and have to stay home. My mother uses the iron stool to hit me on the head, she uses her high heels and throws whatever is within her reach to my head. The pot with peanut butter empties the pan with soup over my head. She scolds, yells at me, ties me up in bed and locks me into the room without something to eat or drink. She hopes I will die since I’m always sick and the source of all misery in her life. Everything is my fault. Me being born ruined her life. While she tells me this all, I hear my bones crack and my ears make a strange sound I wonder how come it makes her mad if the principal hits me. The anger that old man has inside, his hate against me and his violence… It’s bad but not as bad as what she does to me. Because of her I hardly dare to sleep. She will kill me.

Thursday
December 2, 2021

Yesterday I went to the gym but I no longer want to do it. There are too many places I don’t want to be because I feel unsafe.

Piet was on the school’s roof during the break. The children of the Catholic school next to ours came to our part of the schoolyard too. They push us away and grab the candies away Piet throws at us. It’s hard to find something. I’m not like the other children. I won’t push or fight for candies. I pick it up if it falls in front of my feet or let it be. Some children have their pockets filled with pepernoten, all sorts of candies. They brag and don’t share with the others but the teacher does. One by one we have to step forward and he gives us a handful. Do you know what I hate? Because of my name, I’m always the last one. It’s the same with the Saint. No one is interested if you are the last one in a row. Adults are tired, children want to go home and play with their toys. The Saint and Piet are in a hurry because our school isn’t the only one they visit. For a moment I felt afraid the Saint would call me. I don’t like to sit on his lap and sing a song. I like his beard but I think beards are dirty. Food, cookie crumbs and spit are in it. How does he wash that beard? If you only comb your hair it gets dirty too.
So no sitting on a lap for me. I’m happy about that since my bottom and back already hurt enough.

The school gave us a hot chocolate and after that, we were sent home. Usually, we have school in the afternoon but not if the Saint visits the school. I have a chocolate letter and a book so I’m good. On my way home I ate the candies. I’m not in a hurry. It’s only a five-minute walk and home with my mother is the last place where I want to be.

From the kitchen, I heard her singing. Singing while she vacuumed the living room. I wasn’t sure where to go to so I waited in the kitchen where the housekeeper cooked our meal. She didn’t greet me and as it was ready she told me to tell my mother. At least she sounded as if she was in a good mood.
She talked a lot while we ate the terrible meal. My mother cooks way better even I can. Why doesn’t she cook instead of vacuuming all the carpets for hours? I didn’t say a word because talking is not allowed during the meals. Before and after the meal we prayed and I did as if I listened to my mother who read from the Bible. I have no idea what she talked about. If you ask me she and the housekeeper do not either. It’s just a habit. A habit no one cares about or has any benefits of. Good Christians don’t live in this house either good people. God knows and Saint and Piet too.

Friday
December 3, 2021


Uncle Ger visited us. We just finished cleaning the house. I’m not sure if my mother likes him. His dad’s friend. A friend dad meets if he leaves to go somewhere. It’s in the city I think. The same city I went to the hospital and where I saw dad once. He was wearing a white coat but I can’t remember uncle Ger was there too. I like this uncle. He greets me and lifts me into the sky. He’s taller than my dad and treated me to some candies. My mother didn’t say anything about it but sent me to my room. I don’t care. I saw uncle and he was kind to me. I don’t need to hear what the grown ups talk about. It’s always boring.

Tonight I can set my shoe again and tomorrow we’ll celebrate the Saint’s birthday. I will read my book now.

Saturday
December 4, 2021

A kid’s diary

My wish list

One, two, three, four, five, six…

Bad memories stay

Promises

#kittywu #diary #childhood #childabuse

Med of hope

Nineteen months passed and many lost their lives. Not because of a co’-vi-d pandemic but because of spreading fear, anxiety kills, depressions, bankruptcy and the jabs. Injections are called the “vaccination of hope”. That hope is over.
Thanks to these jabs more people died than anyone could imagine. As long as we don’t know them it doesn’t matter. We don’t feel close to those who suffer as long as they are strangers, as long as we keep our distance.

It’s December 2020. Holidays, Christmas or the month we look back to what we achieved. Lost hope, dreams, freedom of speech, lost health are parts of this looking back just like how we treated all those people who said what we didn’t like to hear. We called them liars, conspiracy tale lovers, stupid and sick. Today the only problem we are left with is these people were right.
This Winter and the next year’s will prove it. The effects of Syphilis can show after 50 years. We know the effects of some meds. Already forgot the Thalidomide drama and the DES daughters scandals all caused by ‘medications’ of hope?

COVID Vaccines: What’s Really in Them?

“COVID Vaccines: What’s Really in Them?
The simple answer is we don’t know. We know what we’re being told is in them, but there is increasing evidence of big variations in the quality and composition of different batches, which may or may not be deliberate.
By Rob Verkerk Ph.D.”

If you go for it go for it and be brave enough to take the responsibility. Be responsible for your own deeds, acts, lack of empathy, life and those of your children. No matter how you put it in the end that’s what counts. You did what you did for a reason. Perhaps if you write that reason and date down it helps you in times of need.

Close your mouth

“Don’t breathe through your mouth. Sleep with your mouth closed.”
It sounds like good advice and logically. At school, we all learned that’s what a nose is meant for. For breathing in and out, filtering the air we breathe in, warming it up and smell.
To breathe you need a nose that allows you to, you need a functional nose. To filter the air you breathe in you need hair in your nose. To warm up the air you should breathe in through your nose. It sounds to me warming up air is only necessary if the air you breathe in is cold. You don’t need to warm up 18 degrees Celsius or more, most likely not even 14+ degrees. That fresh air, that breeze many love to feel is the cold(er) air we are used to.

If the nose is dysfunctional there’s no other option left than breathing through the mouth. It’s not a free choice to do so but like said the only option. An option that happens automatically. If you don’t believe me ask someone to choke you or put a bag over your head and experience what happens with your mouth. Your mouth will open and not scream for help in the first place. To those with allergies or a dysfunctional nose for other reasons, no other options are left. Just breathing with the skin is not sufficient and the ears can’t take over either.
A big nose is no guarantee for a fine working system inside. We’ll know that same effect in animals, mainly dogs and cats, we breed with. Those flat faces, big noses we find cute -and are willing to pay hundreds of euros if not thousands for – are dysfunctional. We mess with the DNA to make normal look different. The handicapped animal we call special and comes with a pedigree is a wrong breed. Nature wouldn’t think out anything like that unless it’s a plant. The fact is these dogs can hardly breathe. That they aren’t able to run and play are always out of breath doesn’t bother us.
If it comes to humans we don’t give a damn either. As long as we can breathe, have a good life there’s no need to change anything. Who cares about someone else’s lack of air? All those allergies are caused by people with their perfumes, aftershaves, deodorants, air wicks and refreshers. All that toxic is unnecessary if we would simply wash and ventilate. If we can use fresh air, pure products, natural products like herbs to influence our stinking environment why don’t we and prefer chemicals instead? Can it be most people have a bad nose, can’t smell well?

The nose can be a fine instrument if it can be used for what it’s meant for. Not for breathing only but smelling too. You can’t smell if you need your mouth to breathe and the tissue inside your nose is swollen, infected, dehydrated. If the nasal mucous membrane is dry has cracks and fissures breathing is painful and smelling much won’t be in it.
How that influences people we all know since the pandemic of fear was introduced. Suddenly a cold, a cough or sore throat is seen as the most terrible thing that can happen to anyone. That and of course losing the smell. The media lets a crybaby or paid actor tell how terrible it is to not have the smell back after weeks. Weeks after they caught a cold. Which cold is never proved either if that person ever had a great nose. Indeed the idea is we believe co-vi-d caused it since a cold, the flu, allergies and cancer no longer exist. Fear needs to be kept alive. If no reliable person can be found a hypochondriac is a great solution. These drama queens, crybabies in need of attention, those people who are always sick, on their way being ill or the first to visit the doctor if they heard or read about a disease. Those hypocrites are not reliable but who cares? Doctors, media love the theatre, they embrace people with the Munchausen syndrome and psychopaths these days.

To those who can’t breathe for other reasons than co-vi-d scam, this might be a plus. Imagine the medical caretakers use ventilators on these people and damage their lungs with this treatment too? It wouldn’t improve their lives most likely kill them and no doctor would ever admit he caused this damage. Damage doctors call side effects or ‘own risk’. Even death is called a side effect since 2020. Patients are clients. Clients pay bills and more bills. Their payments are done without the right of service, examination, a solution, quality or any guarantee. This is for entrepreneurs only. Two years guarantee within the EU. So for what exactly do we pay a doctor, that person who doesn’t care and shares private information with third parties?

Ever asked yourself which business will go bankrupt first? The doctor or the bakery? My guess is the doctor.
Many already gave up on healthcare they do it themselves just like so many people did hundreds of years ago. The lack of medical care, social care, health insurance and their 1001 excuses why they do not pay plus a lack of money made this possible. People learned they are on their own. They learned how to swim and if not they drown. Just like the vet and dentist visiting a doctor became a luxury again. The pandemic of fear made many realize that. Just like the flu medical care no longer exists and it all started twenty if not thirty years ago.
Who needs a doctor if you know already what the diagnosis will be? Doctors’ offices, medical care phone numbers all use the internet and medical encyclopedia. The same one we use if we are looking for answers.
Doctors no longer listen, examine because the WEF guidelines say the world suffers from co-vi-d the made-up disease. There’s no room for other diseases or doubt.

So if you have a dysfunctional nose -for one reason or another- breathe in and out in the way it benefits them most. Indeed a sore, dry throat is the result and waking up with one isn’t great but it can always be worse.
Something simple like water takes care of that troat and just like others, these people start the day because one gets used to it.
Those with allergies are used to staying away from people who use an overdose of smelly products in the hope to cover up their scent. An odour they most likely can’t smell themselves. With allergies you stay away from what irritates you, that is what your nose is good for. It warns you of what is toxic dangerous in a different way. The detergent section, for example, crowds, smokers and at times nature because polls can irritate too which means ventilating and going outside isn’t in it.

“You should sleep with your mouth closed,” the doctor says as if the one without breath is a moran and doesn’t understand the effects of using the mouth instead.
“Breathe through your nose.”

How did this doctor never examine the reason why this is impossible? How come he always sits behind his desk? It’s not that people say: Hey, let’s do something crazy, let’s sleep with an open mouth at night.
There’s a good reason why people do that just like teeth grinding while sleeping or pushing their teeth together so hard that they damage and the pieces jump off. All these actions aren’t a free choice either. Just like breathing through the mouth, it’s caused by something. Something doctors aren’t willing to figure out but you can and if not find a way to make yourself feel better or to reduce the side effects. That’s all that counts. A liveable life with no extra harm caused by side effects, pills, treatments or cheap advice a four-year-old can give too.
Doctors are not almighty, most don’t care about their clients, all those ‘little’ pains. They hardly have real experience and lack knowledge about the medications they prescribe. Many doctors are a fraud, scam or as they were called back then quacks. To these quacks, a patient is just a client. One out of many and they know exactly how to treat these cash cows. Two minutes of ‘attention’, common advice that won’t harm given by someone who should know even if he doesn’t and lies.

All photos can be found on pixabay.com

#kittywu #breathe #health #nose #quacks

Let’s talk about poop

Men hiding in the private reading the newspaper?
True or? Our toilet wasn’t a big space. I doubt my father could have easily read the newspaper inside but he used Saturdays and Sunday’s to do so. Newspapers back then were big. You could hide behind. Those small-sized papers ‘Metro’ size or called tabloid came later, way later. Later as in the moment, people started to read news on the internet, took that free paper instead of paying for fake, coloured news. With the internet not only the size of the daily newspaper changed but the way, it looked like it as well. The newspaper changed its looks into a gossip magazine. Boldly printed, misleading headlines were used. Headlines famous because they are lies and later we learned they are called on the internet click bates. Rarely does the article correspond with the headline which isn’t important to all those who can’t read, those who don’t care about the truth or use the daily newspaper for toilet paper. Indeed that’s what we did back then too. We used newspaper for toilet paper and if you like it or not it worked. So if you are afraid to run out of paper like you did a year ago know there’s a way out.

If it comes to newspapers the only positive thing about it is the fact a new newspaper is hygienic. A newborn can be wrapped in it but it’s good to use in the litter box of your cat or on the bottom of the cage of your bird, rat, rabbit, hamster, ferret or snake. They all love newspapers, more than most humans do. Not because they read the shit written or copy-pasted from abroad but because they tear it apart, crawl through the layers, build a nest or poop and pee on it and poop is what this article is about. Those mountains of poop humans worldwide produce a day. Defecation entire societies have to take care of together with lakes filled with urine. It would be easier if we all drank and consumed what we dump in a pot or on the street. Rabbits do that, at least if it comes to the first poop. Those shiny, wet rabbit droppings contain what the body needs. Their body needs tricks to digest those veggies and get some energy out of them.  


If you belong to those people -interesting enough they are mainly men- who poop three times a day you will be busy. Busy eating which means you can forget about reading a newspaper on the toilet you won’t have time for that. You need to consume what you just shit out and as a family man, you know a long row of members wait behind that door. They all are in high need after the meal. That habit of the need to visit the potty right before, during or after a meal is what babies have too. Changing a diaper before you feed means you can do it again after the meal. If something goes in something else has to go out. You can call it instinct but it’s actually how the body works. Our intestines are meters long for a reason. That reason is not to store food till the end of the day but is a part of the digesting system. A digesting system that doesn’t seem to work very well for millions of people. Most of these people are women.
Saying these women don’t eat healthy enough, should move and drink more, have to trust their body and take the time for their toilet visit doesn’t do the trick. These are basic tips meant for people who have constipation once a year, not for those who suffer from it for years, perhaps thirty or even over fifty years.

Most girls, women are always busy. Little girls worldwide are kept busy only boys and men can escape from being housewives, mothers, house chores, two jobs next to all they already have to do. Men have all the time to read a paper or magazine or play with their phone on the toilet. Women on the other hand feel the rush and guilty. They multitask.

Men hide in that little room.
Not because they always need to poop but because they feel too good to give a hand and claim they have the right to relax after a day of hard work. For generations, we hear the same excuse. The man worked hard -even if he’s jobless- and deserved his peace. Women on the other hand are lazy bitches. Even those single moms with two jobs who have no time to pee are. Women, busy women don’t need a break. Not even showering for five minutes is in it. There’s always someone banging at or shouting behind the door. Women are always the last ones going to the bathroom, the last ones who sit down because they need to clean the seat and pot first, get rid of the dirt the family left behind. Poop makes people sick did you know that?

Not only the poop we keep inside, hold in for days called constipation but also the poo in the toilet bowl and poop on the unwashed hands. Hands that touch doorknobs, shake other hands and with some bad luck touch your face. Those bacteria living inside one man might not harm that person but it harms others. Now I mention it. Ever smelled ar hands after a toilet visit but also after they are washed with soap? As a mother and shelter owner, I cleaned more faeces and droppings than you can imagine. I shovelled heaps of it away and I can tell you poop and poop is not the same. Even after washing your hands longer with soap, it can be smelled that is if you have a fine nose like mine.


We aren’t such a clean species.
Look around you and you know why we are overweight, sick, develop those diseases which are frequently called ‘luxury diseases’ or if you like ‘first world’ diseases. If you suffer from those diseases you have something in common with many others which is a certain lifestyle. A lifestyle that humans shouldn’t lead. It doesn’t make much difference if you are a couch potato or sit behind your desk, it doesn’t make any difference if you stuff yourself with pizza in India, the USA or Africa. Most people -indeed not everyone- are a victim of modern life if it comes to the rush we live in, the food we consume, and the medication we take.
Our food and drinks are no longer healthy. Most of what we feed our bodies with is prepared in factories. Genetically modified food is prepared or treated chemically. In factories, chemistry is applied rather than cooking but hey, it’s so easy to consume and it comes with a taste we love. Even if we don’t like the taste or the way it looks like we say we do because each one of us wants to be part of that modern life invented abroad. We don’t like to be seen as a loser, we don’t give a shit about our health, all we don’t want is to be the wretch who lingers in the past and can’t afford to do anything. We want, no need to eat those chemical burgers with side dishes at the fast-food-barn even if our body can’t digest it and it sticks like a ball of plastic in our intestines or eats our stomach.

So there we are back on the potty.
We can’t distract ourselves with a newspaper, not even a piece meant to wipe our bottom clean since those good old times are over. You press and press and scream at the top of your lungs and wonder why you are sweating so much. You ask yourself: How can it be that a simple function of the body works for others but not for me? A painful belly and back, all those metres of intestines inside of you turn out to be useless. Thinking back you wonder if this runs into the family. How many times did your grandparents eat, give it a try on that toilet seat and what about your parents?

If you tried everything, the extra exercise, the whole grains, all those promising diets and drank litres of water a day and nothing works you know something else is going on. For one reason your intestines might be longer than average. The longer they are the more impossible it will be to empty them. You can consume kilos of whole grains, drink bathtubs of water a day but it won’t help you it will only make it worse. Focusing on the pain, walking stairs for hours or water with lemon in the morning won’t cure you. Let me say this. If these tricks work for you you don’t suffer from real constipation as in long term, for life. You most likely are overweight, eat too much and your intestines can’t handle all the intake.

Not enough fruits or vegetables isn’t the main reason why millions of people suffer for constipation today. The fact is our digestive system is not evolving as fast as humans are genetically engineering food. It is not only pesticides and air pollution that affect our health. The world’s genetically modified seed trade and the pharmaceutical industry have been influencing our health since the day we were born and for generations. More and more babies have digestive issues, allergies, ADHD, cancer and health issues that should alarm us instead of shrug and ignore while we take the next 160 tablets some doctor prescribed to fill his wallet and eat three more pizzas.


There are books written about poop.
They tell you how to sit on the toilet, what to eat, what to do if your faeces don’t look or smell good. Diarrhoea, by the way, isn’t a sign of healthy intestines and if your breath smells like poo it’s time to work on your health. Brushing your teeth won’t do the trick. A frequently sit on the potty will. The first step is the hardest but needed. That poison stored in your body has to get out. That won’t happen overnight. You need to reduce your intake drastically and get rid of as much body fat as you can. Why? Because fat stores all the toxic and to flush that out you need to slim down and drink water. As much water as you can, at least 4-5 litres. Not for a day or week but for weeks if not months. Massages of the intestines can help just like an intake of more vitamins and minerals so fruits for a meal and water with minerals might save you.

How to get rid of the constipation, that stone-hard poop cannot easily be answered. That’s why you can’t find the answer back in any book about poop issues. There’s no golden trick that can save you from that stored poop inside. The only hope there is is the intestines do their job. It might take three to four weeks, it might feel worse than the delivery of a baby, it may end with a ripped out anus and squeezed out intestines but it will come out. If you hold in for too long the last part of your intestines can no longer do the job. It even gave up on warning you it’s time to shit. The worst scenario is it comes out through your mouth or the doctor has to take it out. Something vets can tell you all about. Our pet cats seem to suffer from the same digestion issues as we. Diarrhoea and constipation are common in cats and even our cows do not poop normal because of what we do to them and how we feed them.

It’s easy to say we should eat more healthy but healthy food is hard to find. No matter what we sow or grow it’s most likely genetically manipulated. Besides we no longer eat to feed our body but out of habit, we stuff ourselves. For some reason, many of us act -if it comes to food- as if this is our last meal as if we just survived the hunger winter. We eat without tasting, chewing properly and as fast as possible as if we are afraid someone might steal our plate.
Trusting our body is not enough to end the issues. Reading a magazine can distract and help but works the other way round too. Not the reading but the long sit and the way we sit on a toilet seat. It’s unnatural. The intestines are not laying in a straight line but are curled up, pressed against the backbone, ribs, other organs. Besides those with poop issues will have created a kind of sack at the side of the last part of the intestines. How to get a heap of poop out of there and back into line? That straight line to the anus which is the natural way out?

If medication causes constipation it’s better to ask yourself if you can do without. Also important is to make a habit out of your toilet visit. Sitting for hours on the potty in the cold won’t do the trick but on the other hand, our brain and body needs to get used to the new body rhythm which is what we as a babty did. There’s no need to hold in what should be out. If your life is hectic, that toilet seat is always occupied don’t give up but invest in yourself. Send those family members outside or go at night. Giving your body a rhythm that fits you is a good option too.

Being busy, kept busy by others is no reason to neglect your body’s needs. It’s dangerous to hold in and not visit a toilet. No matter child or adult if you need to go you need to go. If you can not feel the need, don’t feel any pressure go too. Visit the toilet at certain times. Set a timer. For example 15 minutes after a meal or before a meal. Those dishes, the house chores have to wait.

Constipation poisons you and it’s worth fighting it. No matter what they say it’s important to know your body. Know what infects your habits, which food makes your belly feel swollen like a balloon, which food, medication, injection or situation doesn’t do you good. Constipation problems influence the mood, the entire health and are abnormal. Every person deserves the right to empty the bladder and intestines. So don’t use that smallest room to escape from duties you don’t like and give others some room and privacy too. Holding in is dangerous. Not only if it comes to what’s on your mind but that mountain of poop many produce after eating daily as well. If all that poo stays in the intestines the intestines keep working on it. Each bit of fluid will be taken out. What’s left will be like a stone around your neck. Sitting in a crouch should do the trick. It will be hard on a modern toilet seat but one thing is sure. If you sit that way you won’t spend as much time inside. This way it will be harder to read a newspaper or play with your phone.

Obstructions in the digestive system tumours, adhesions from abdominal operations, pregnancies, childbirth, congenital abnormalities such as a longer intestinal tract causing stool to remain in the intestines too long, medication, chemically processed and genetically modified food, lack of rest, vitamins, minerals, anal sex, vaccination, not taking the time to go to the toilet, embarrassment, a strange toilet, are all reasons why millions of people suffer from constipation. When this problem runs in the family for generations, it will not be easy to solve. Regular detoxification of the body is important. In addition, a personal lifestyle and personal menu can offer a solution. This is next to consuming minimally and only food which the body needs which can still be tasty. Keeping a diary about your lifestyle, food and poop habits can be a big help to find out what the main causes are. Air in the bowels but not being able to defecate means that the intestines are still (partly) working. So there is hope. Hope for those who want to get rid of what stands in the way of better health. Do not count on a day, a week or a few months; this is a lifelong struggle. One that is accompanied by terrible cramps and pain and can cost you a few days of suffering a week. Do not give up, have faith in your body and above all take your time. Something that has been wrong since birth or that has grown over the years cannot be fixed overnight. You will probably have to live with that damage and find a way that is livable for you, even if it means a toilet visit only once or twice a month.

“All that man shits out is manure,” a colleague once said and he is right. Your poop is manure. In man’s case waste and harmful. It can no longer be used to fertilize the crops like people used to do. The reason is what we consume, all those toxic intakes. The body cannot use it and either can nature.

By definition waste is garbage. This means if we produce that much we eat too much and eat wrongly. Know constipation is not healthy but either is defecating three times a day or more, a green, yellow, smelly, thin, watery, dark poop and not being able to hold it in.

All photos can be found on pixabay.com

#kittywu #constipation #health #poop #life

Bad memories stay

Today it is…
It is October 20! I woke up. My head hurts. My ear hurts. My eyes are swollen. My throat hurts. I am not tied to the bed. It’s grey outside. I feel the cold. Did it freeze? I tried to sit on my knees on the bed. I feel dizzy. I don’t feel so good. I see mist outside and the streetlight is on. It’s grey.
I woke up felt the pain. I hurt my mother scream at me again. I did all she wanted I did not refuse. I tried to be polite and attentive. She waited for me behind the door. She hit me by surprise. I didn’t do anything wrong. She yelled, cursed, scolded me and kept beating me with the whip. She hit me with everything she could find.
I saw them looking, the neighbours, other kids. She yelled I am a thief and stole all her money. She held her wallet in her hand swung it in front of me. “You stole my money. You’ve always been a thief! I know you are.”
I said I didn’t take her money. I didn’t come into her room as she was asleep. She should know I don’t. I hate to be in her room. It stinks and it’s dangerous. I didn’t take the money. I did not! She kept yelling was furious again because of me. She always says it’s because of me. I saw how people watched me. Now everyone thinks I am a thief. I asked her to give me the wallet. I needed to see if it was true. Was the money gone? She said there was no need for me to have a look. She yelled she had checked it at least ten times. She said the housekeeper already did so. The money was gone and I stole it.
It went on and on and on.
The housekeeper stood behind her. She didn’t say a word, didn’t help me. She didn’t tell my mother to stop. She didn’t close the door. Did she enjoy my mother molesting me?
Next, I had the wallet. I slowly opened it. There it was. The lost money. It wasn’t stolen. No one took it.
“Here it is,” I said and showed her the money. She grabbed the wallet out of my hands turned around and left.
She left me with empty hands, a broken body and didn’t care. She didn’t say sorry. She didn’t say: I’m glad it isn’t lost. She didn’t care about me, my feelings, what people think about me. What will people think? They think she is right. Adults are always right. Children always lie. I lie, I’m a thief and have that crinkle. A crinkle in my head, that’s what she says about me. Crinkles are sick minds. She wants me to die or wants me to be locked in a nuthouse.
Can be I am crazy but I never scream, yell, scold. I do not see heaps of dirt and sand. I do not count how many times I wipe the same spot with the dustcloth. I do not walk the hallway up and down for hours and say: I am nuts, nuts, nuts, you drive me crazy, crazy, crazy.

I remember it all. I remember it very well. It all came back the minute I woke up.  I don’t understand why she hates me. I don’t understand what I did wrong. I did not ask to be born. I did not ask to live in a world with people who hate me. I can’t forget. The memory is back. Memories will never disappear. Not memories of a bad life. My life. It won’t get any better. I will not ever feel better. They say writing helps but I don’t think so. Not if writing is dangerous. Not if she reads it.

I waited in bed longer. The alarm clock stood still. You have to rewind it each day to know the time. There’s a clock downstairs in the living. I can look around the corner and see what time it is. Perhaps when the clock strikes I know what time it is.
I took my alarm clock with me and opened the door of my bedroom. I have to be silent. I don’t know the day or time. The stairs are long, the house is cold. I see the newspaper on the floor. This means it isn’t Sunday. Quickly I turn it around. I read the day. I read the date. I keep repeating it. Wednesday, October 20, 2021, Wednesday, October 20, 2021… Do I sound like my mother? I’m scared and I need to pee. I hurry to the toilet downstairs. It’s at the end of the hallway before the kitchen. I hesitate. It can’t be late. There’s not a single sound. I wait and wait, too afraid to flush the toilet. Scared to leave the privy. If I don’t flush my mother will be mad with me. I flush and ran out to the kitchen. The dogs are inside. It’s quiet. I feel thirsty. The table is set for breakfast. It looks as if nothing happened. The clock in the pocket of my bathrobe cannot tell the time. Did time stand still while I was away? I hesitate. I’m thirsty. I drink water from the tap and eat some cheese. She will notice it but I can’t help. I need to eat. I wait if I hear something. What time is it? It’s Wednesday, October 20, 2021. The living room door squeaks. I will not walk over the carpet. I won’t leave footprints. The clock is ticking. If it’s true it’s nearly 3 o’clock. Three in the morn. I hurry back upstairs, back to bed. Three more hours and the day starts. I set the clock while I’m shivering in bed. Why is it so cold?

Wednesday
October 20, 2021


Yesterday at 10 my mother told me to get out of bed. I had to take a bath and go downstairs. The kitchen was warm and I had my breakfast. She didn’t say a word about the cheese. At noon we had lunch and I could watch the telly. She didn’t speak to me. After supper she said I go back to school tomorrow.
So today was my first day at school. I gave her a letter to the teacher. No one asked where I was. I don’t think I missed anything. Not at school not at the gym.

Thursday
October 21, 2021


It’s Friday. At school, we first read in groups. It’s with the entire school. After school, it was practising for the orchestra and choir. I can not play an instrument. I wish I could but I can’t. We practice for Christmas, not for Saint Nicholas. These songs we do with our class. Christmas is a celebration with the parents. Nine weeks till Christmas. Six weeks till Saint Nicholas. Nine times or eight times to practice. Oh no, fewer because there will be Autumn vacation. The school will be closed.
So I was sick for how long? My mother always sends me back to school before school closes.

Friday
October 22, 2021


Dad is home. Everything is back to normal. Out of bed at 6, making the beds, polishing shoes, setting the table and cleaning the house. Dad sings and my mother complains. I wish someone will call and she leaves. No hiking club today. She said next week. The hiking club already has a vacation.
I don’t like vacations if it means I have to stay home. The housekeeper will stay home too. I try to stay close to dad and hope she forgets me.

Tomato soup and bread for dinner. On Saturdays, we only eat twice. Bread for breakfast and soup with bread for dinner and a pastry or cake at coffee time. My mother orders a lot of pastries, cookies, cakes and chocolate at the confectioner. Most of them she eats. After eating, she sticks her finger in her throat and vomits on the toilet. I don’t like the sound of it.

Saturday
October 23, 2021


Sunday day of rest? No, out of bed early, serving my mother and dad breakfast on bed. I got permission to switch the central heating on. I cleaned and went to Sunday school.
It’s cold outside and I don’t like to wear skirts. The skirts are short and cold. I wish I could wear long ones like when grandmother was a child.
I feel itchy again. I try not to scratch but I can’t stop. My skin hurts. My mouth, eyes and face too.
I don’t like to sit with my parents in the living. Dad reads the paper and my mother is always busy. Busy cleaning, at the telephone, her looks, complaining or with her schedules. Schedules about work. House chorus and so. She writes in the notebook for the housekeeper again the one she keeps it in the kitchen drawer.

If my parents would go on a holiday I could stay with granny… or grandmother. I haven’t seen them for longer. Auntie will get married so I can never stay with her again. I have another aunt. Dad’s sister. I never stayed with her. My mother hates her.

Sunday
October 24, 2021

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