Shall we talk about this article in The Sun?? 😱😱😱
https://www.thesun.co.uk/fabulous/11048480/biba-tanya-cannabis-pregnant/
I best publish this quick….. The Internet has me feeling like a mob of pitchfork-wielding villagers are coming for my arse momentarily.
First of all… I’ve never smoked tobacco while pregnant. Ever. In any picture, I am smoking pure organic cannabis. Cheese strain if you must know. So the cot death nonsense that the doctor spouted was just that, nonsense. No studies have ever been done on the impact of smoking neat cannabis while pregnant and cot death. No studies have ever been done on the impact of shooting pregnant women and newborns up with neurotoxins and cot death either by the way and that’s happening every single day to every new mother following NHS guidelines… You might want to look into that.
I’m sure it makes you feel uncomfortable looking at an image of a pregnant woman smoking a spliff. But that’s why the conversation needs having.
I research everything that goes on or near my children. EVERYTHING. It’s why they don’t use sunscreen, it’s why they only drink filtered or distilled water, it’s why they’ve never had an antibiotic or an antipyretic, it’s why they’ve never been bathed in Johnson’s baby wash, it’s why they’ve never used fluoride toothpaste. I take pride in my research… And I take pride in choosing cannabis over the drugs I was offered.
I was offered so many different pharmaceuticals for the wretched HG that I suffered from during pregnancy. Everything from ondansetron to steroids. These pills came with potentially deadly side effects… Instead, I chose to smoke cannabis. An organic plant grown in the earth.
When my kids need pain relief, I don’t reach for Calpol. Why? Because I researched it. It taxes the kidneys and contains polysorbate 80 which can cross the blood-brain barrier. So I give them cannabis instead. In pure oil form.
I didn’t take the anti-depressants that they offered me for my postnatal depression. They list suicidal thoughts as a side effect you see… And I was near enough the fucking edge as it was. I chose cannabis. And it kept me away from the edge…. Until I discovered the cure-all itself, The Wim Hoff Method.
I’m happy to openly debate this. Ask me any questions at all. What I won’t do is take shit from someone who is sat behind a keyboard inhaling their cancer-causing plug-in air freshener, sipping their neurotoxic wine and popping their antidepressants while claiming that I’m an “ignorant drug user”.
#PlantsNotPills
Actual conversation with a woman today…..
Her – You homeschool? But don’t you worry about them socialising?
Me – Not really. My children socialise every day. With other home educated children of all different ages, from all different backgrounds. With the other adults that they meet while they’re out and about living their busy lives. As opposed to schools where they would be boxed off with children of their own age and only allowed to socialise with them at break time.
Her – But how do you teach your kids everything?
Me – I don’t teach them. I facilitate their learning. If they ask a question, I answer it. If I don’t know the answer, we go to the library or online and find the answer out together. We go on nature walks and scavenger hunts. We draw and play card games. We dance and sing.
Her – But you must teach them something? What about the national curriculum or GCSE’S?
Me – I do one thing and one thing only. I nurture their passions. If my child gets to 14 and decides that they wants to be a neurosurgeon, then we will look at what qualifications that entails, and download and learn the necessary curriculum and we will find somewhere for them to sit the necessary exams. If my child gets to 14 and decides that she wants to teach sign language to chimpanzees in Central Africa, then best believe this mama is going to be signing her up to BSL lessons and booking a flight to the Congo.
It’s not homeschooling by the way. I don’t school my children. It’s home learning. It’s life learning. It’s living. This is a picture of my daughter taken September last year. She should have been starting her second year of primary school on this day.
Instead, she spent the day asking why the waves crashed. We explained about energy passing through water. She asked why it was so much hotter there than at home. We explained the distance to the equator.
School boxes life off into subjects. Maths, physics, biology, English…They aren’t subjects, Its all just life.
I don’t school my children. I just let them live 🌻
“See the line where the sky meets the sea, it calls me….”
…….. And no one knows how far you’ll go, baby girl, 🎶🌊☀
I really feel like I can’t be around alcohol anymore. This has been a gradual transition for me. I stopped drinking when I fell pregnant with Lola… I couldn’t have managed alcohol then even if I’d wanted to. The mere smell of it (and everything else) had me heaving and wretching.
But its never left me… 2 years after giving birth and overcoming hyperemesis gravadium, I still feel nauseous if I smell alcohol. And it’s become deeper than that… I can see the dramatic shift in someone as soon as they have a single alcoholic drink. I see an entity take over… And it’s an entity that I don’t want in my presence.
Alcohol is used in extracting essences for essential oils. That’s what it does. It EXTRACTS the very essence of the soul…. Allowing it to be susceptible to dark entities of low frequencies. Why do you think we call the strongest drinks “spirits”?
Do you remember the taste of your first alcoholic drink? I do. It was horrible. But everyone was drinking it… I’d grown up watching my parents drink it… My friends and peers were starting to drink alcohol… So I forced myself to do it too. And I do mean forced. I compelled myself to keep drinking that wretched taste until I began “enjoying” it. And enjoy it I did…..you don’t spend the better part of a decade getting paid to be on more hotel pillows than a chocolate mint without a cocktail or 4, believe me.
I compare that first taste of alcohol with my first puff on a spliff 23 years ago. Feeling that warm sweet smoke fill my lungs felt like I was being held to the bosom of mother earth herself. Why wouldn’t it? It’s an organic plant feeding my body’s own endocannabinoid system.
Alcohol kills more than 3 million people a year and costs the NHS £3.5bn a year…..and yet its sold in every supermarket and corner shop. It’s advertised with glamour and it’s socially encouraged.
Do you know the most dangerous thing about utilising plant medicine? Cannabis, magic mushrooms, etc? The criminal record you risk if you get caught in possession of them. That’s it. That’s the most dangerous thing about it. Does that fact not shake you wide awake?
The more I read about alcohol lowering your vibration, the more it all makes perfect sense as to why this crap is so actively encouraged. I don’t want it around me. I don’t want it around it around my children.
My kids are going to grow up knowing the truth. That alcohol is a neurotoxic poison that serves no purpose other than to lower your vibration and damage your health… And that illegal plant medicine is the cure ✌️🌱
I’m going to explain my opinion that I presented when I was debating if strippers could be feminists. The debate was instigated of the back of JLO’s new film “Hustlers” which Lopez herself has declared as “empowering”…. (you can watch the debate here)
First of all, I haven’t seen the film. Although I personally can’t wait to. I mean its got Jennifer Lopez. On a pole. AT AGED 50. FIFTY!!!! Looking like some form of queen that’s been grown organically in a sun-kissed meadow and never been within a 20-foot radius of gluten or sugar. Has she made a deal with the devil to look like that? JLO in that film is fucking empowering and liberating. No two ways about it. And from what I can gather, the film is about the girls (the lap dancers) forming a comradery. That sounds pretty empowering to me… But that was never my argument.
I spent over 10 years topless and up a pole in some of the best and most exclusive clubs in the world. Aged 17 – 23 it was my full-time job… And then I performed weekend appearances as recently as 9 years ago. In this picture, I was in Spain having been flown over for the sole purpose of entertaining “gentleman” while topless and on a pole. I have objectified myself in ways that I still can’t bring myself to write about. But be it time spent as a formula one girl, a ring girl, a glamour model or a lap-dancer, believe me when I say that my lap-dancing career was where I felt the most exploited.
Your job as a ring girl, formula one girl etc is to turn up and look pretty. If you find it liberating to parade around wearing next to nothing, then hats off to you. I actually had a blast doing those gigs back in the day.
However, your aim as a lapdancer is to do 2 things… Seduce the client and get him to spend as much cash as possible behind the bar. In other words, get him under the influence of a dangerous substance and turn him on to the point that he’s nothing more than a drooling sack of hormones. I defy any topless young woman to be in that environment and feel liberated.
There is a deep-rooted trauma within you that isn’t being addressed if you are happy to be putting yourself in a situation where your primary objective is to get men drunk and horny. I was sexually assaulted at ages 14 and 15. I then spent ages 17 – 30 in some form of exploitative situation of what I thought was my own independent doing. It wasn’t until I began doing deep work on myself that I began to realise the extent of how my childhood trauma has impacted my every adult “choice”.
If women want to show their body off… Then show it off!!!! It can be empowering and liberating!! But please let’s not mistake liberating self-expression with oppressive exploitation.
In this first picture, I’m in a private villa in Spain. I had been flown over to “perform” over there at a villa with a private nightclub. I was flown over by private plane and I was paid…..quite a lot of money. In this picture, I was being exploited. In my opinion, I also think that I look dead behind the eyes here. Being passed around like an hors d’oeuvre at an event isn’t empowering. I don’t care how many private fucking planes you flew on to get to it.
In the second picture, I’m in my bathroom, post explant, post baby body, (skint!) and happy as a pig in shit. I’m showing my body off because I want to… And it’s liberating as fuck.
That’s the difference.
I originally wrote this during national breastfeeding week… Ah, national breastfeeding week… OH, THE JOYS!!!!
Breastfeeding is best for your child and the formula industry is one of the most corrupt industries on earth.
I knew those facts and in my heart, all I wanted to do was exclusively breastfeed my daughter for 6 months before allowing her to self wean from me… Be that at 12 months, 3 years or 5 years old.
What’s the expression? We make plans and God laughs? God must have been in hysterics up there with this one.
Lola couldn’t latch onto my breast properly as she had been born with a severe tongue tie and the NHS professionals proved to be as helpful as an ashtray on a motorbike. First of all, they misdiagnosed it. Then they snipped it incorrectly. It took the generosity of a remarkable friend to enable us to get a private lactation consultant and a private practitioner to successfully snip her tie.
When is national tongue-tie awareness week by the way? Want to up the breastfeeding rates? Then make a home visit with a lactation consultant within the first 48hrs of birth an option on the NHS. #JustAThought
Lolas latch only marginally improved as it transpired that she also had a lip tie and a high pallette.
Never the less, I battled on. It meant I was spending 22 hours a day attempting to feed a screaming baby who was clearly unhappy and unsatiated. It also meant my nipples looked and felt that they had been put through a shredder and I was suffering recurring bouts of mastitis… But I dragged myself on for another few weeks.
Until I came to the life-enriching realisation that I was most probably poisoning my baby with my breastmilk…… Because 10 years earlier I had taken the uneducated and ignorant decision to put bags of toxic, synthetic, silicone shite mere millimeters from my milk ducts.
And so I stopped breastfeeding when Lola was 24 weeks old and moved her onto formula. For anyone interested, after a lot of research on the various brands, I moved her onto Kendamil formula for the following reasons. It’s organic, it’s the only formula made in the UK (relatively local to me), it’s non-GMO and its the only formula I could find that didn’t have fluoride added to it (https://www.facebook.com/Kendamil/)
I would have loved to have moved her onto human milk but couldn’t find a donor who could keep up with her demand, despite the best efforts of this amazing group…. https://www.facebook.com/HM4HBUK/
Stopping breastfeeding nearly killed me. It broke my heart, it broke my soul, and it made the postnatal depression that I had been suffering from 2000% worse than it already was.
So happy national breastfeeding week everyone. But I’m saving my celebrations for national tongue-tie awareness week. Oh, wait. There isn’t one.
I’d like to share how I climbed out of the hole that is postnatal depression….and the truth is, it was a number of “tricks”.
I knew I couldn’t go back on anti-depressants. I was on them for ten years…. And it wasn’t until coming off them that I realised what a lobotomised fog I’d been living in for the past decade. Pharmaceuticals were not an option for me… And so I tried everything else.
The ultimate turning point was 3 months ago when I discovered the Guru himself, Wim Hoff….and he would now be the first thing I’d recommend anyone and everyone try. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… His breathing techniques have changed my fucking life.
But there were other things that were helping before I discovered the Ice Man.
Supernova protein powder being one. This shit is INSANE. It contains so many amazing adaptogens… Not to mention ashwagandha and mushrooms… and is honest to god like a hug for your brain. Ditching caffeine and replacing it with this was the best thing I ever did for my diet… I used to take my coffees laden with milk and sugar…. Replacing caffeine, dairy, and sugar with this uber tonic was a game changer…. I credit it massively with my recovery.
St John’s Wort…. A bloody high dose!!! Obviously this is only to be tried if you’re not taking any other medications… But I found it to be a massive help.
Essential oils…I swore by a special blend that had helped me have a pain free birth at home…But I stupidly hadn’t given them a second thought when it came to my depression… Until I discovered that inhaling Frankincense oil would immediately take the edge off any impending anxiety attacks.
EDMR….it was after reading Paul Mckenna’s book that I decided to try this therapy and it was incredible. This therapy has had remarkable results in treating soldiers with PTSD. It’s a story for a different post…. As I primarily used it to recover from a childhood trauma that I began reliving shortly after giving birth… But I recommend anyone read this book if you have trauma you want to put to rest. If you order the Paul Mckenna book it comes with a DVD that you can do in the comfort of your own home. Therapy that comes to you!! Also speaking of books, anything by Gabor Mate will also help.
EFT…. Tapping therapy. Find links on YouTube for more information… But it’s quick, it’s easy, and it can be done anywhere…. And it works.
And that’s it folks!!! That’s what got me from plotting to leave my family… To frolicking by the ocean with my daughter. Let me know if you try any of these tools and what you think ❤️
Recent Comments