Phoenix Fights

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



sad turkey

I watched the final part of ‘My Last Summer’ the other night.

As expected, it was heartbreakingly sad and no doubt the entire audience watching around the UK were in floods of tears.

Not me.

I could feel the raw emotion though, bubbling around inside me like an uninterrupted volcano, and afterwards, I kept doing those big shaky inhalations that you do after you’ve bawled your eyes out.  Except I hadn’t.

I cannot seem to feel or express.  It’s the same as my orgasms.  The body seems to go through the motions if I force it, but it’s not even worth disturbing it, so miserable and pointless is the outcome.

I’m like a big frozen turkey that someone has forgotten to take out of the freezer, and shows no signs of being aware, much less bothered that it’s Christmas day.

Gobble, gobble, toil and trouble, my innards churn but my heart’s made of rubble…

But my throat has a lump that won’t go away, and my heart aches for those poor, brave people who have suffered so much, especially the two who continue to suffer.

I haven’t had chance to see Dr B about lowering my meds yet; that said, I’ve already started without her, but nothing seems to be happening.

Then this morning as I was vacantly TV channel flicking, trying to find the news for the day (yeah, right…), I come across ‘Terms of Endearment’.  It was about 30 minutes in, but to my surprise, I grabbed myself a tea and settled myself back onto the sofa to watch it.

‘What are you doing?!’ nags my Good Parent/Higher Self/Some Nosy Interfering Bastard With Nothing Better To Do, ‘what about trying to cut down your TV consumption and spending your time more fruitfully?  Turn it off, apply for jobs and do some bloody yoga!’

But I’m curious and stay put.

Of course I’ve seen this movie numerous times over the years and know when the worst bits are coming.

And here they come.

The bit where Emma’s told that her treatment hasn’t worked and that she’s going to die.

Slight contraction in the throat, hand raises to mouth.

The bit where Aurora kicks off and screams at the nurses to give Emma her painkiller shot.

I sigh, do a tea burp and shift onto my other bum cheek.

The scene where Emma says goodbye to her boys, and the youngest is sobbing his heart out.


WTF have these drugs done to me?  It’s official.  I must be dead.  Or a Vulcan or something.  Saying I’m a frozen turkey is an insult to fowls everywhere.  Even Bernard Matthews would consider me a heartless old bird.

I sigh, gather my shit and prepare to go and do something productive.  Like comfort eat, do the cats tray or clean the toilet.

Then I pause and decide to stay for the death scene.  What the hell, I might as well finish what I started.

And then, after Emma dies and you see Aurora fidgeting frantically, both contained and agonised, then cracks wide open and howls her grief….so do I.

Let it go, let it go, I’m really gonna cry…

It starts with a solo tear trickling down one eye and then I convulse and break into a proper sobbing fit, complete with snuffing, gasping, a streaming nose and that horrible ache in the throat that always accompanies such an outburst.

It wasn’t a big one and subsided soon after that scene ended.  But it’s a start.

And so the thaw begins.

I maybe even be ready for Christmas.

Thanks for that Shirl.  You deserve an Oscar.  And then some. x




11 thoughts on “FROZEN

  1. Baby steps…think of bound feet.

  2. I read somewhere, some time ago, that if an author writes while she is in touch with and expressing her emotion, it will be carried along the text to the reader.

    I want you to know that I cried a tiny bit while reading this. And it has nothing to do with the movie. I saw *Terms* once and did not care for it.

    Yay for baby ducks, and yay for you! xo

  3. I was so relieved you cried, if only a little bit , in the end. Sista, it will probably be *weeks* before you feel any difference at all, so don’t go taking yourself off more meds yet.

    My husband began freaking out after his son was killed in an accident and the pills the doctor gave him were not expected to work for weeks. I talked him out of taking them, thank goodness. All he needed was some plain old valium in limited quantities, not serious drugs without a proper evaluation.

    Slow and easy will win the race. Take care.

  4. This was so moving to me Sista, you capture every nuance with your words. I, too, was feeling with you, not the movie.
    Keep writing, it’s therapeutic for me, if not for you!!

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