Phoenix Fights

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


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The Fear is biting hard tonight.

It’s May and I’m huddled up by a blazing fire and still trying to get warm.

I hug myself and curl up in foetal position, but it’s of no comfort to me.

I’m on max meds since yesterday but I really want a big glass of wine to file down those still sharp edges and render myself insensible and floppy.

All I can think is that I’m going to get it wrong.

I’m not going to escape.

I’m not going to succeed.

How can I ever make a life for myself?

I’ve been off work for nearly a year now and have made no real moves towards finding a way of making money and carving a new life for myself.

How can I see anyone from my old life?

What can I tell them? That I’ve spent the last year eating, drinking, shitting and sleeping, just trying to stay sane?

I set myself baby plans, little targets, easy projects, but I can’t even make myself do them; be in doing my yoga, making a face cream, researching a market stall, or making a skirt, I’m paralysed by fear and can’t bring myself to move forward.  Anything that represents progress seems to stop me dead in my tracks.

I’m trying so hard, but sometimes I think if I completely stopped trying, every little bit of progress that I’ve got in place to date would all slip quietly away and I’d be back where I was.

If I don’t call, no one will call.

If I don’t stay in contact, no one will contact me.

If I just stay here, no one will come and try and coax me out.

It’s a blessing and a curse because I don’t want to go out and I’m mercifully being left alone right now.

I don’t want anyone seeing me like this.

But what if I never go out again? Will anyone even notice?

I’m very good at extricating myself from other people’s worlds, because I’m not imperative to them.  They don’t think ‘We must do this with Sista’ or ‘Where is Sista’ or ‘I’ll just drop around to see Sista.’

It seems to me that if I don’t make the effort, I never see anyone.  And I’m tired of being the one who has to do all the leg work.

But I made it this way.

The ‘Catch 22’ of the depressive loner.

I’ve created this situation, this world, this existence where I only have myself to rely on for survival.

And God won’t let me escape because if I ask to pull out on the grounds of insanity, that means I’m sane and fit for service.

So either way I have to fulfil my mission.

Let’s just hope I don’t go Kamikaze.

Do I have to do it all by myself?

I just want to feel safe, just for once in my life.

I don’t remember ever accepting this mission God!

I never wanted to come here!



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