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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Just as I was starting to get all disheartened because my blog visits/likes were down, the lovely soad88 nominated me for The Super Sweet Blogger Award!

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I’ve never really thought of myself as sweet, but that’s awfully sweet, so thanks, Sweetie, Darling! 😉   We really must celebrate.  Bolly?   Stolly?!

OK, so here we go….

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The rules to this award (for me and all nominees) are:

1. Thank the Super Sweet Blogger that nominated them

2. Answer five super sweet questions

3. Include the Super Sweet Blogging award image in your blog post

4. Nominate a baker’s dozen (13) other bloggers

5. Notify your nominees on their blog

 

The 5 Sweet Questions:

Cookies or Cake? – Home made cake (not necessarily by me), none of that pre packaged crap

Chocolate or Vanilla? – Probably Vanilla, again, as long as it’s the real thing, with little black flecks and not ‘flavouring’

Favorite Sweet Treat? – Amelia Rope Pale Lemon & Sea Salt chocolate, or Haagen Dazs Salted Caramel Ice Cream

When do you crave sweet things the most? – When I’m pre-menstrual. Really; you don’t want to get between me and any of the above at that time of the month….. Time of day?  3pm is when it really hits bad….

Sweet Nickname? –  Dirty Harry (don’t ask….). Can’t reveal any others as it would give away my real name, and then I’d have to kill you…. 😉

 

Here are the Sweet Nominees:

메간 – Lovely girl, great blogger, but don’t even ask me what that symbol means……

CatLadyJennie – Fellow cat and tea lover, and great writer to boot.

Maggie Mae – Love her poetry

Yarn to Spin – This blogger makes me want to go buy yarn IMMEDIATELY

The Worlds top 10 of Anything and Everything!!!   – For his Top 10’s, with special mention for Cat-erday 🙂

Just me – Love her encouraging, brave, hopeful posts x

helenvalentina – LOVE her writing

sethsnap – Seth’s photos make me want a green card…..

Markovich Arts – Lovely photos apart from the one of sanitary towels…made me grin though!

LindaGHill – New friend, but think it’s going to be very sweet, love the cut of her jib 😉

clearlywriting – Great writer, really funny, gives good advice x

misssamanthajill – Sweet kid, great writer x

mrmarymuthafuckingpoppins – Look I know the name doesn’t sound sweet, but he is, bless ‘im….

You have my permission to eat something with at least 1000 calories worth of fat and sugar to celebrate!  Oh and the bottle of Stolly is compulsory…

Enjoy xx


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THE GHOST OF EASTER YET TO COME

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I had a rather chilling glimpse of the future tonight.

Not in the form of a ghost; I’ve seen a few spectres in my time so that wouldn’t have bothered me too much.

It was alive.

Nor was it silently pointing.

It talked.  A lot.

Nor did it show me my grave.

More unnervingly, it showed me my life as it was a living, breathing mirror held up to my face, showing me what might become of me if I let fear rule my life, and continue to cringe, hide and stagnate.

It spoke of misery and hopelessness.  Despair and paralysing powerlessness, a living, breathing, yawning chasm of need and desperation that will never really be filled or satiated.

It was a magnet facing the wrong way around, repelling not attracting and never understanding why, unable to spin, turn and draw that which it needed toward it, condemning it to a life of poverty in heart, body and soul.

I see the beauty, the heart, the goodness within.  But it scares me so, I have to fight my own horror, garner my courage, look it in the eye and abide with it awhile.

But I cannot save it.  I can only be a friend and hope it finds it’s way.

Spirit, tell me that this is the ghost of whom I may be, and not a vision of whom I will be, and that I can depart from that course in life and change my Easter future?

No answer.

But I can tell you one thing.  There will be chocolate.


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THANK TUESDAY IT’S CRUNCHIE

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Some days all I can do is sit staring into space as minutes, hours, huge tracts of time go by.

Doors bang as others leave the building in the morning, and slam when they arrive home at night.  In between those times, the letter box clacks, mail and spam hits the mat, buses trundle by; workmen, delivery men come and go, Jehova’s Witnesses (or some other unwanted intruder) press the buzzer in vain, gangs of school kids yell, squabble and banter en route home for their tea.  The sun rises, brightens, moves slowly from the small bedroom window past the sitting room, to the other side of the block, then dims and sets.  The sky darkens, the moon comes up and I barely notice.

This time is interspersed with the bare minimum of activities; getting up for tea or water, using the loo, feeding the cats, cleaning the litter tray, going to bed.

At these times I still manage to care for my cats when I can’t for myself, but I thank God that I took them in, and that I love them enough to honour the small but important responsibility of being a kitty momma, as goodness knows what would happen if they weren’t here.

Days go by.

I know I’m coming out of the worst of it when I want to run a bath.

I know it’s not a false alarm if afterwards I want something to eat.

I never want much.

Sometimes I have something wholesome like a slice of wholegrain home made bread toasted, and spread with butter and Marmite.

Sometimes I want an orange, mango or some other fruit, craving something fresh and juicy for my dry, foul tasting palate, savouring the moment it soaks up the liquid goodness like a brittle, wispy, under watered plant.

Other times I just open the cupboard or fridge and grab anything that stops the hunger pangs until an authentic desire for food returns.

But sometimes only a Crunchie and a cup of tea will do.  I usually have a stash tucked away for such occasions.

Lest you confuse this with a binge, let me clarify that this is not so.  One Crunchie does not a bulimic splurge make.  And it’s usually the only thing I have or will eat all day.

Let me set the scene.

I’ve had a bath.  I’ve cleaned my teeth.  I’ve combed out my wet hair, put on clean pyjamas or a robe, moisturised my face, made some tea and am curled up on the couch, fresh and clean as a small child, waiting for a story before going to bed.

A new drama or movie will be about to start on TV.  Whilst watching telly can be unhealthy, addictive escapism, I actually want to watch this programme as opposed to blindly gazing at anything that happens to be on the box for hour after hour, and I will most likely turn it off and go to bed when it’s finished.

I carefully open the Crunchie which is cold from being in the fridge, and slowly, tenderly snap off a small chunk, push it to the back of my mouth with my tongue and bite down.   The firm coating yields, the honeycomb shatters and my mouth fills with the slightly burnt taste of sugar and smooth, silky milk chocolate.

I then take a sip of boiling hot, milky tea, and the remaining shards dissolve along with the chocolate and flood my mouth with sweet, sweet comfort and a powerful sugar rush.

I slowly, carefully continue in this way, savouring each mouthful until the Crunchie and nearly all of the tea has gone, whilst losing myself in someone else’s story playing out on the TV screen.  I then fold the wrapper until it is as small as can be and pop it in the bin.

When your cry for help has been unanswered, when you don’t love yourself enough to eat proper food, and you’re still waiting for The Man (as opposed to ‘a man’) to appear, all you can do is give yourself 10 minutes of oral, sugary comfort and thank Tuesday it’s Crunchie.