Phoenix Fights

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




As you all know, I’m a total award whore and I was very chuffed indeed to get this WordPress Family award from mrmary at  ASpoonfulofSuga

It’s usually quite hard to figure out who awards should be passed onto, but with this one, there are always people on here that one engages and converses with extensively who do kind of feel like family.  And this certainly applies here.

After a recent spat with a friend, she lost her temper at me and sneered ‘Go talk to your internet friends then!’

So I did.  Because as far as I’m concerned these are authentic friendships and I’m happy and grateful to have them. So there bitch!

I love her rilly….

Who knew I’d end up with a buddy called mrmarymothafuckingpoppins?  We must exchange Xmas cards this year dude, as I’d love to write that on the envelope! 😉

Anyway, here we go….


1. Display the award logo on your blog.

2. Link back to the person who nominated you.

3. Nominate 10 others you see as having an impact on your wordpress experience and family

4. Let your 10 Family members know you have awarded them

5. That is it.

In this instance I’ve taken the last 20 people (yes, I know!) who I’ve had conversations with, and I now pass this onto them with friendship and lurve….


  1. Chatty Owl
  2. tarnishedsophia
  3. The Iron Cheftress
  4. workingwithwords
  5. JayNine
  6. EightLeggedGemini
  7. AdonaiShekhinah
  8. Shackled and Crowned
  9. Jen and Tonic
  10. Lipstick and Chaos
  11. moanymina
  12. annetbell
  13. Tamina’s Turn
  14. starkinsanity
  15. menomama3
  16. ClearlyWriting
  17. Gwen and Elinor
  18. Spastic Sausage
  19. Gary Leigh
  20. crazyaboutbipolar


I’m bound to have missed off someone important, so please don’t be offended if you’re not on here!  Most people don’t follow up or acknowledge these things anyway, but if you want this and I follow you, treat it like a breakfast buffet and help yourselves 😉

And just because this is getting a mite sentimental and cheesy….


Big love xx




Another one of those fucking nightmares.

They always look different, sometimes with the real people there, sometimes not, but the theme is always the same.

Why do they always happen after a good day?


I’m back at my old office, but it doesn’t look like my old office.  

They look different, but I know it’s them.  And they know me.

And they watch.

Everyone is whispering.  IM’s fly across our small cyber space.  The faux sympathy.  Sly eyes that watch, oh how they watch, but they don’t, won’t meet mine.

I keep my head down, avoid all contact, and work.

And wait.

Wait for the hammer to fall.


My heavily drugged mind is still hyper with anxiety.

Have I done everything?

Did I meet everyone I was supposed to meet?

Have I tried everything I could to get that deal?

Have I answered every email today?

Have I approached every client?

Waiting for the hammer to fall.


He’s at the other end of the office.

I can feel his eyes staring through the glass wall.

I feel you, you worm.  I see you, don’t think for one moment that I don’t.

Can I fight the accusations?

Do I have an answer for this?

Do I have a counter for that?

Can I prove this?

Prove he did do that?

I KNOW he’ll never admit it.

THEY know he did it, but they’ll never admit it.

So we’re all just counting out time. 

Waiting for the hammer to fall.


I know it’s going to happen.

They accuse, they threaten, they allude, they condemn.

They collude, they join forces, they circle.

I may be mad, but I’m not stupid.

Why don’t they move?

Make your move cowards.

Make.  Your.  Move.



I go into meetings.

No one will tell me much.

I go to trade shows and walk the carpeted halls as if in a dream.  

I meet with clients I’ve known for years, and even they look at me with different eyes.

Embarrassment.  Pity. 

Kindly but in their passivity and concern, condemning me too.

Poor thing.  Having a breakdown they say.  Can’t cope with the stress.

You bastards.  You fucking slanderous bastards.  How dare you?

The looks.

The whispers.

The looks.

The waiting.

Bring it, you bastards.  I’m not afraid of you anymore.

Scabby, skulking fucking hyenas.


Bring.  It.

Because the suspense is literally killing me.

But I hold on.

I will not break.

I don’t want to stay, but I want them to admit it.

I don’t want to stay, but I want the sheep to see it.

I don’t want to stay, but they will not see me crumble.

They won’t.  

Please God help me to hold on.


You hurt, you threaten, you cite, you counter, you accuse but I see what’s in your eyes.

The stress, the fear and yes, the shame.

The shame, palpable under the corporate bluster and bullshit.

You think a swanky job title means you’ve achieved greatness?

You think that designer suit makes you a big man?

You think you can use my depression to beat me with, in defence of a guilty man ‘for the good of the company’?

Because money is more important than honour?  Integrity?  Ethics?

I may be at the end of my rope, but I’m glad I’m not you.


dangerous animal attacksnews Lion and  Hyenas Fighting lion facts hyena facts animals hunting lions hunting hyena hunting in the wild beautiful dangerous animal pictures

Be afraid you fuckers.  Be very afraid.

Because you know just what you do.

And to whom you do it to.





The looks, the whispers, the sly smiles, the faux platitudes just keep on coming.

And as the day goes on, the atmosphere swells and stretches like the skin of an over inflated balloon that’s about to explode.

Because it is.

Bring it.

Do it.

Because I don’t know if I can hold on anymore.

But don’t expect to be on your feet when this fucker blows.

Because you’re coming with me.  

Every last one of you.


I wake in a sweat and find one of my little cat soldiers, Charlie gazing at me in that concerned way of his.  He then proceeds to wipe his chops all over me, marking me as his own.

Probably just to spite Dexter cat. 🙂

What is this shit about? Is it because I can’t cope with people actually liking me?  Is it my fear of working again?  Or is it simply down to drinking too much on top of my meds?

Hungover as I am, I’m off to bootcamp.

Need to sweat some of this shit out….




Because I’ve been a miserable cow of late, and inspired by one of my favourite songs/artists (and the latest Vauxhall Astra ad ) I decided to do my own version of ‘Reasons to be Cheerful’ and entitle it ‘Part 4’.

It’s also to thank you lot for being so supportive and chatting, commenting and bantering with me on here, it really means a lot 🙂

To the memory, family and fans of Ian Dury I can only apologise in advance; obviously this is not my copyright, as for my lyrics, suffice to say I am not fit to kiss his leg brace…

Ian, hope you’re not too offended by this geeze, and that you are still shaking things up in heaven x


Autumn, Buddy Holly, a full tea trolley 

Having loadsa lolly and quotes

Lily of the Valley, French Sole ballet (flats)

Time to dilly dally and any goats


OPI nail enamel, a ride on a camel

Every other mammal plus a brand new coat

A bit of Motown Philly, a nice thick willy

Being very silly, and toasted oats


The days that I can bear, the times I want to share

Having not a care – cashmere socks

Not being dismissed as haughty, being a little naughty

Being well over 40 – Belgian chocs


To sleep; purchance to dream, Pralines and Cream

Not wanting to scream – cream cheese and lox

No more psychobabble, beating mates at Scrabble

Days without a squabble  – an urban fox


Health service drugs

Kitty cat hugs

A not-too-saggy bottom


The Aurora Borealis

Saving your own aris

Songs by Major Harris


Finding what you seek-o, then things don’t feel so bleak-o

Embracing being unique-o


Making your own pickle, watching Travis Bickle

Slap and tickle

Fresh baked bread, no voices in my head

Not being dead


Writing in your study, phoning up that buddy

Who makes you feel less cruddy

Chunks of hokey pokey, wine that’s not too oaky

Drunken karaoke


Watching the Sopranos, Pizza at Romanos

Shopping in Milano


For once I don’t feel fearful

YOU make me less tearful

Reasons to be cheerful

Part 4  😉


EAR WORM No. 12 BILLY IDOL – Dancing with Myself


Oh, Eight Legged Gemini how do I love thee? Let me count the ways…..

This earworm is dedicated to my blogging buddy/surrogate son ELG, because it is ‘im wot planted this bad boy in my ear ‘ole.

Wanna know why? Check out his answers to my Liebster questions in the blogpost below, in particular the answer to Q 8. 6a is a doozy too!

I fact read ’em all, they’re all really cool responses from some of my closest mates on here, and all of their blogs are well worth checking out.

Thanks again for responding guys!

As for the ear worm, I don’t mind it, as I love this song as it takes me back to that time when I was young, rebellious, skint and (kind of) hot.

In fact just listening to this makes me want to get up and dance.

Wanna see a 50 year old woman pogo? Well dream on biatches, dream on…..

Enjoy! x



Royal baby born

The last two days have been a bit hard for me, and I didn’t know why.

I do know that I had my first panic attack in ages last night and had to call Aunty C.

She put in down to encounters with ex work colleagues over the weekend.

And she’s probably right, the meeting with one of them did stay with me for a while.

Not because it was awful; but because of the way she treated me.

Confusing, huh?

She wasn’t rude or horrible to me. She was friendly and seemed pleased to see me. But on arrival, she pretty much launched into her own news and barely asked about mine. And when I did talk about my news, she kind of listened then changed the subject as soon as it was polite to do so.

And she really didn’t want to hear anything about my mental condition. That was made crystal clear.

The same thing happened when I met another ex colleague in Spring. Actually she didn’t even give me a chance to talk about my shit she was so scared I’d talk about my breakdown.

Aunty C was adamant that it wasn’t their fault.

‘This is what you taught them, this is what you offered in exchange for their transient friendship. You were everyone’s agony aunt and their needs always came before yours. You gave away something precious for scraps because you thought so little of yourself.’

This is true.

But these encounters did catapult me back to 2012 and make me remember how paranoid, afraid and isolated I was.

Aunty C understood.

‘Seeing those people was bound to effect you this way because you have changed so much in the last year,’ she said, ‘and what you need to take from this? You reassure yourself, you reassure the child that you will never, ever allow her to offer herself up to be treated as an inferior again.’

I won’t.


But that was Monday.

On Tuesday, baby George was born to the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge and the whole world celebrated, myself included.

Purely by coincidence, ‘The One That Got Away’ and his partner uploaded pictures of the recent addition to their family. (see

That’s right. She was pregnant.

I never knew.


And you know what? The child is as cute as a button.

And for some reason, I can’t stop looking at those pictures of him.

For the record, I never made any effort whatsoever to get with TOTGA, I didn’t mind when he was dating his future missus and (or maybe I just told myself that, because….), I would never have been able to give him a child.

So why do these images have such an effect on me?

And then this baby viral was sent to me on Facebook.

When I went out on my second date with Goatee Man (who is now in the JGF zone, much to both of our relief) he told me that he was childless for a reason, and that was because he wasn’t keen on or interested in kids.

I can’t say that myself.

I quite like kids, ‘cos I’m a big kid myself. And I find babies fascinating and charming.

And they seem to like me.

And whilst I can’t have them anymore and I don’t (think I) want them now, looking at all these pictures of happy lovin’ couples with their little cherubs has made me wistful and sad.

It would be the easiest thing in the world for me to play the victim and say ‘It’s not fair.’

But somewhere deep inside, I know it is.

There was some reason that I was not meant to have a child. From a physiological point of view, I did suffer from endometriosis when I was younger, but there were plenty of times before that that I could have fallen pregnant.

But it didn’t happen.

Psychologically, I would have been a terrible mum back in my twenties for obvious reasons, but the thing that hurts the most is that now I’m getting to the stage where I could have the potential to be a brilliant mum, that that ship has now only just sailed away.

It’s kind of like missing a bus by a nano second because you turned over on your ankle, and then you have to watch it drive away, whilst you’re hopping around on one foot, cursing and feeling like a complete fool.

Then when you next look up, it has gone.

I must have been one seriously evil motha in my previous life. 😦

That said, I can mope and bemoan my fate all I like, but it is what it is.

  • I will never know what it is be a mother.
  • I will never fall pregnant.
  • I will never share the joy of feeling life grow within me with a loving partner.
  • I will never feel my breasts swell with food.
  • I will never bring life into this world.
  • I will never look into the eyes of another human being and see parts of myself reflected back.
  • I will never know the unconditional love that a mother has for her child.

Never, ever.

Now that I’ve said it out loud, maybe the hurt will heal, fade and become like a bit of scar tissue; only painful if I prod it.

Maybe one day I’ll be able to lay this feeling of loss to rest once and for all.

There is so much love banked up inside me, with no one to give it to.

What happens to unused love?

Is is like unfertilised eggs?

Does the soul dispose of it, like the female body disposes of the contents of it’s womb every month?

Is is like unused sperm?

Does the soul reabsorb love as the male body absorbs excess semen?

I somehow don’t think it does, otherwise it wouldn’t weigh so heavy.

It just sits there.

Waiting to be utilised.

God help me find somewhere to put this stuff, otherwise I’ll have to sell it on Ebay or call Big Yellow and put it into storage.

Maybe that’s it; maybe I have to save it.

For the next life, perhaps?

Bring it on universe, it can’t come soon enough for me.

Namaste x

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Forgot to buy oatcakes.

Wanted an oatcake.

Made these.

No more Nairns for me!

Super easy and absolutely yummy.  Much shorter (crispier/crunchier) than the bought variety, have a go!


50g butter or olive oil (I like 50/50 because you get some buttery flavour but it’s healthier than all butter)

100g medium oatmeal (if you only have regular, use a hand blender to make it finer)

100g plain flour, plus extra for rolling out

1 tsp baking powder

2 tsp poppy seeds

2 tsp sesame seeds

1-2 tblsp grated parmesan cheese



  1. Heat oven to 200C/180C fan/gas 6.
  2. Melt the butter in a small pan, then allow to cool slightly.  Add oil if you are going 50/50 or just use the oil cold.
  3. Tip all the dry ingredients into a bowl, with 1 tsp sea salt, then pour in the butter/oil. Add 5-7 tbsp boiling water and combine to make a firm dough.
  4. Turn out the dough onto a lightly floured surface, then roll out until about 0.5cm thick. Cut using the cutter of your choice, moisten tops with a little water, then sprinkle with a little more sea salt if you like. then bake for 12-15 mins until golden.
  5. Leave to cool for a few mins, then transfer to a wire rack and cool completely.
  6. Slather with a really good butter, add a bit of cheese and chutney and enjoy.

This is the original recipe I adapt this from, but if you choose to follow this, for Gawd’s sake, DO NOT USE BICARBONATE OF SODA because it leaves a really shitty aftertaste in your mouth! x


Kids Recognized!

A really heartening, inspiring story about two boys on bikes rescuing a 5 year old girl from a known paedophile.

They probably saved her life.
What amazing kids, thanks Ms Lippy for sharing! x

Lipstick and Chaos : The Fabric of My Life

In a small town, a big bad wolf lurked and lured a child by threat of ending her life a few weeks ago. While the massive manhunt for the girl pursued, two young men on a bike happened to spot the 5-year-old child in the back seat of a predator’s car. What they did next saved her life – they chased down the car until the 73-year-old man, a previously convicted and released sexual predator, let the girl go. The young child was reunited with her family and the two young men were hailed as heroes! As they should have been!

Here is a link to a brief story about their honored moment by the Mayor and the few small gestures that the kindness of strangers have set in motion! Do them the honor by reading their story – and please – if you can – spread this post…

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