Phoenix Fights

Fighting the FEAR, depression and BDP on a daily basis AND making my own bread. Bring it on 2016….




Isn’t it funny how your mood can suddenly change by virtue of a couple of text messages?

Oh, and the little matter that I forgot to take my meds this morning…..

Sometimes I kid myself that I can wean myself off this stuff, live solely on yoga, meditation and alfalfa and exist in a bubble of peace and harmony (man) with the help of the occasional capsule of St John’s Wort, but then something relatively small happens and if I’m off my meds, my temper just soars…..


I’m a depressive and have some friends who also have mental health problems.  Some of whom that I have known for a relatively short amount of time, but because we all belong to the Looney Club, they seem to think that, because I understand and try to empathise with them, that I am there to serve them.

They are relatively intelligent people, but in their eagerness to offload their shit onto me and ease their burden, they forget that I have my own shit sack to carry and even if they do remember, it’s still all one way traffic, as they just dump it onto my creaking back anyway.

One thinks I’m her fucking mama and that she can come to me for sympathy, succour and advice, and then piss off when she feels better. Since I tried to gently transition from mother figure/counsellor/taxi to friend, I haven’t seen hide nor hair of her.

Another spent three hours offloading on me without asking me anything about myself, then said she wanted to set up a book club that we would both host, but because she doesn’t like public transport (Me?  I love it.  NOT!!) it would have to be held at a place located approximately five minutes from her home and, erm, a two hour, 25 mile drive from mine.


Another I have know for all of five minutes, but seems to expect me to pay for stuff, pick her up, come round, rescue her and house her for a weekend when she gets ill, and listen to her endless ‘woe is me’ shit and venomous rants about other seemingly innocuous souls, making me wonder what the hell she says about me behind my back.

The shame of all of this is that I love to give.  I am an Empath, a recovering rescuer, a borderline ‘Feeder’ and someone who loves to nurture, and whilst I’m aware that giving too much is not healthy, I still have the urge to offer help to people.  Note the word ‘offer’.

Because, what I don’t like, appreciate or enjoy are people I hardly know putting their expectations on me as if I signed a contract to be their unpaid lacky or something.

One of these charmers wanted me to pay for us to go away for a long weekend last year, after she’d spunked away £50K redundancy money on six months in Australia whilst I was still working my arse off in corporate hell.

Her justification?

‘You have to understand; I’ve been living on a beach in Queensland and I’m not used to working anymore.’ 

This was said entirely without irony and with complete and total conviction.

Really?  Well I haven’t even had a week away for over a year, so fuck off, you sponging, self pitying, parasitic bitch.

The one that’s gotten me in this mood today however is a bit more subtle, if you can call loud sighs, constant whinging and massive hints subtle, that is.

‘I’m on such a tight budget, no one seems to understand that I can’t even buy a cup of coffee and a cake without working out if I can afford it’ – Said after asking me to meet her for coffee.

‘I don’t have anyone, I can’t do anything, No one gives a fuck, I need someone to help me!’ – After every single helpful suggestion of piece of advice I’d given her was roundly rebuffed.  Arrghhh!

‘My family won’t see me’ – Really?  I’m amazed that they’re still in the same country…

‘Oh I’d love to go to such and such place which is around fifty miles away, but I don’t have any money and I don’t have a car, so I’m just waiting for someone to take me’ – Followed by a pregnant pause and a long, expectant look.

‘Aw, guess what, I wasn’t feeling very well so B actually picked me up, brought me here and is going to take me home afterwards! Such a good friend….’ – As B stares at me with haunted eyes as if to say ‘Flee!!  Save yourself while you still can!’

Aunty C (my counsellor) wants me to avoid people like this as she wants to wean me off focussing on the woes of others and to sort my own out first, but I haven’t the heart to totally abandon her as I do feel for her as she’s very, very unhappy, but clearly I can only cope with her (a) in mixed company, (b) in small doses and (c) whilst nice and tanked up on my highest dose of medication.

Anyway she wanted to go to a new shopping centre she’d heard about on Monday, so I agreed.

She texts me:

‘Hi, what are the arrangements?’

Huh?  You initiated it, why don’t you tell me?

Easy, Sista, easy….

‘Well, I was planning to get there at 9am as I need to leave by 12.30pm, that OK with you?’

‘Oh.  Guess I’ll be getting up very early then, LOL….Where is it?’

Another prickle of irritation.

‘I’ve looked on the internet and it’s apparently walking distance from Stratford Tube.’

‘Oh.  I’m not sure how to get there from here and my internet’s down. Were you planning on driving?’

‘YES!  I know! Why don’t I get up at 5.30am, drive three quarters of the way around the M25, come and get you, drive you there going all the way back where I came from, buy you a new wardrobe, treat you to lunch, drive you back, listen to all your woes all day, empty my purse into yours, give you a foot massage, clean your oven with my tongue, then kneel on your carpet so you can put your feet up on my back?!’

Actually, what I really said was:


And bit my lip.  Hard.


‘If it’s too early, you can get there later if you like, I just need to leave by lunchtime, that’s all.’


I haven’t heard anything back since, so not sure if she still wants to go, but I feel hugely irate and exasperated, hence instead of getting ready for bed as it’s nearly midnight, I have been beating the shit out of bread dough and waiting for my meds to kick in.

Why do people have to take the piss?  Half of the pleasure of giving is the surprise element and seeing the pleasure on people’s faces when you give or do something nice for them, all of which is taken away from you when someone takes that control out of your hands and demands it, changing a nice gesture into a reactive acquiescence.

All three of these people have good personality traits, can be great fun and good value, so I honest hope that I can keep the friendships going without any detriment to myself, but at times like these?

I honestly doubt it.

Anyway, to look on the bright side, at least I’ll have some fresh bread for breakfast in the morning.

Unless Madam turns up and snatches it out of my mouth, that is……

Thank God for Sertraline, that’s all I can say…..

Thanks for listening! x



  1. It’s good to be compassionate and understanding when dealing with members of the “Looney Club” (I’m Secretary and Treasury) but it’s important to remember that members, while suffering, can also be assholes, moochers, and whiners. It’s often made worse by their particular disorder, but that doesn’t erase the fact that they’re awful people. Or maybe I’m just a dick.

    • Hey I’m founder member and president of the Dick club! Wanna join?!

      Just re-readlast nights rant and felt like a total bitch, so thanks for understanding. Being able to sound off and share on here means I’ll be much more forgiving and tolerant in real life, so thanks for getting that. Xxx

      Now where’s my chauffeur uniform… 😉

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s