Phoenix Fights

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

THE TEARS OF A HOUND

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I cried yesterday.

From what I can remember, it’s the first time I’ve done so this year.

I didn’t cry for myself, but because someone sent me a video of an abused bitch that had been used as a bait dog being rescued, shown some love, regaining trust and finding a new home.

Everyone who saw this said they’d got a tear in their eye, but I full on bawled my eyes out.

‘How can people be so vile?’ I asked my friend, gasping with distress and dabbing mascara from my stinging eyes.

‘Yes, but look at the happy ending!’ said he.

Which says it all really; I immediately got caught up in the cruelty of the people who did this and wanting to punish them instead of seeing the positive end of the story and walking away with a smile on my face, a habit that Aunty C immediately homed in on when I saw her the other day and told her of a recent negative encounter I’d had with a friend of a friend.

‘You have to learn to accept people as they are and not take things so personally!’ she said giving me one of her impatient ‘Duh’ faces which always makes me laugh, ‘so what if someone doesn’t like you?  That’s their problem not yours!  So what if a friend snubs you?  Maybe they were having an off day!  You have to learn to get along with people and not go after them if they offend you if you are to get on in life!’

The tear fest didn’t end there either.   When I turned to my ever reliable friend the goggle box for blissful distraction, practically everything that came on made me want to weep.

A gospel choir who sang their heart out on ‘Songs of Praise’ immediately brought tears to my eyes.

Dammit!

I quickly grabbed the remote and put on my recording of Simon Schama’s ‘Story of the Jews’ which, whilst I’m not Jewish, was so moving and beautifully told that a hard lump of unshed tears rose in my throat like a cork in water.

Fuck!  What is the deal here?

I then turned off my traitorous TV and started knitting, but eventually my neck started to hurt from being in a fixed position for so long, so I turned it back on just in time to catch the start of ‘Senna’ on Film 4 the story of arguably the greatest racing driver the world has ever known.  Again, I am not a fan of Formula One (noisy real life Scalextrics as far as I’m concerned), but Ayrton Senna was a man with a huge heart that lived his life to the full, totally fulfilled his potential, gave back to his fans both during his life and after his death, and had an indisputably interactive relationship with God, something I have longed for for quite some time.

And whilst he wasn’t perfect, he channelled his passion in what he knew best whilst still being his own man and standing by what he believed in.

And he was loved. By a whole nation.

The day that he died, the footage of him showed him almost anticipating his own pending demise, struggling with it and in the end, submitting what seemed to be God’s will.  He and his story are quite, quite extraordinary and his face stayed imprinted in my memory for quite some time.

All in all, I felt like someone was trying to get me to break.

I didn’t but I did feel awash with emotion when I finally went to bed.

I then had a very restless night.  I’ve lowered my meds considerably over the last week and I wake up regularly in the wee hours, my heart pounding crazily with a horrible taste in my mouth.

I must be detoxing.

Which would explain another less than positive aspect of my personality coming to the fore.  The harsh critic, the confronter, the attack dog if you will.  It’s remarkable how little time it has taken that side of me to come hurtling up to the surface.  I barely know I’m doing it until afterwards.

Perhaps I relate too much to that poor, bewildered terrified little dog hiding in a bush, wanting to trust but unable to risk the danger of being hurt again. But unlike little Cadence, I’m only too ready and willing to bare my fangs and snarl at anyone who would ever dare cross me again.  Were I taken into that refuge, I’d spend the rest of my life in a cage as I would never be take home by anyone again.

Time to start running or training in the gym again i think as I need to channel this energy into something constructive like Aryton Senna did otherwise I’ll explode and someone will get hurt and I’ll have to stay on my meds indefinitely.

I never thought I’d ever say this but maybe it’s better to transcend the past and be a gentle, forgiving, trusting hound and be loved, than a snarling, suspicious bitch and never to know love again.

It is not going to be easy, to break the habits of a life time, but I am going to try.

Time to go to my basket, I mean my bed now….

Night night x

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