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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In a bid to try and manage my inner, and indeed outer she-wolf, I have decided to write about each outburst and instead of just venting, trying to figure out what it really resonates with me, in the hope it will help me put things in perspective and calm the hell down.

I hereby name this series of posts ‘Anger Watch’ so you can either track my progress or, if you’ve a mind to, avoid my rabid ranting like the plague 😉

‘Anger Watch’ will be kind of something in between ‘Spring Watch’, as far as observing the habits and behaviours of the human animal that is moi, and ‘Crime Watch’ with regard to the ramifications of my inability to hold myself back as I could potentially end up smacking someone in the teeth, as, since I’ve been lowering my meds, I’ve lost my rag at least three times.

And once I go, I go.

I don’t get that few minutes storm warning that most people have before they flip where they can catch themselves, punch a cushion, talk themselves down, take deep breaths and chill.


I just go 0-60 in even fewer seconds, and it completely takes me over.  I literally tremble with rage, go ‘Patrick Bateman’ on whichever poor/stupid/annoying/abusive bastard has pissed me off and I take absolutely ages to calm down so it is not good for my health at all.

To date the choice has been drugged don’t-give-a-shit or homicidal maniac, so i know I’ll never lose my fire, so I’d like to be drug free and more in charge of it.

Also for some bizarre reason people seem to find it really funny when I go off on one.

Until I started blogging, I used to sound off all the time on Facebook and my FB friends used to ‘like’ it  in their droves.  So when I let rip this afternoon about a dodgy tradesman dicking me around today, one of them posted ‘Hurrah!  The real Sista is back!’


I must have seemed like a very dim shadow of my former self to them over the last couple of years.  😦

The truth is, I don’t know who the fuck I am either.

Wounded mutt, savage bitch, little lamb or rabid wolf, Mother Teresa or William Munny, child of God or spawn of the Devil.  I’m probably all of them.  And then some.

And if, as Buddhists believe, anger is one of the three poisions (along with greed and ignorance) and one of the primary causes of samsara and rebirth, my outbursts over the last 50 plus years has probably earned me quite a number of new lives to live yet on this miserable earth, so I’d better get my shit together and play nice otherwise I’ll be here until Armageddon.

And yes smart arse, I know i’m getting my religions all mixed up, but I’m sure you and the Man/Woman/Large Rabbit in the sky get my meaning.

So get your Barbour on, bring a waterproofed groundsheet, get your binos out and hunker down…oh and don’t forget your mobile so you can ring 999 if it all goes horribly wrong.

Hope you’ve brought a thermos and some provisions too, as it’s going to be a long, long night….


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