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#PTSDChat: normal people

Ever stood there and tried really hard to understand why you should care? I look around and am surrounded by lots of empathetic faces, real concern expressed in almost furrowed foreheads (they would crease but the wrinkles have left with Mr Botox), a sigh here and a stifled sob there.  Yet I just stand there.  Unable to feel anything.  There is a pause in the conversation and all eyes are turned towards me.  I need to dig deep and find someway to express my horror and empathy.  Holy god save me.  So I pinch myself really hard and say, “Oh my god, that’s awful.  Really.  How did you cope?” The tears in my eyes are genuine.  Not from the pinch but from the sheer enormity of the realization that I am simply not Normal, nor will I ever be. The tragedy of a purse with a yoghurt drink spilled in…

THEY JUST DON'T MAKE ANARCHISTS LIKE THEY USED TO

So on Sunday after Church I felt a little contemplative.  I loved the pastors discussion about the meaning of Pentecost; how drunk on joy the apostles were, how they ran out into the streets blathering in any number of languages.  The whole so joyful and how different from the austere, naval gazing churches of today who take themselves so seriously.  How little it matters what creed, colour or code we claim to be ours so long as we at our hearts understand the message from God: one of love, inclusion of all mankind, forgiveness and kindness, compassion and empathy. So I tweeted: If instead of God you think Love: Salvation not Condemnation; Humility, Empathy, Kindness & Love; No Creed Superior; All Equal.  This is my faith. Imagine my surprise a little later when I received a tweet from a @MinouNoireLover telling me (graphically) that God does not…

Kate’s BIO

Kate’s bio. Where should I begin? Born February 8, 1970 in Umtali, Rhodesia.  The Rhodesian bush war started in 1965, my family’s coffee estate sat on the border with Mozambique and my father ran the border post pre-war, he was a policeman (British South African [military] Police).  With the war literally on our doorstep both parents were focused on fighting for their way of life, their rights for white supremacy regardless of the costs. I was one of the costs. My siblings lost their sanity.  We all lost our chances at the ‘happy life’ promised in Disney movies.  They lost their humanity.  Acts of violence, brutality, cruelty in the name of white supremacy: no honour lies here.  Yet my head is full of the ghosts of those who died.  Should I say they died in vane, those boys who were men too soon; mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, children dead because…