Phoenix Fights

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



What’s the most surreal experience you’ve ever had?


I don’t want to sound like I think myself ‘special’ or gifted, but I’ve had such a weird old life to date, that to be honest, the norm tends to freak me out more than ‘Whoa!’ encounters.

I’ve seen and interacted with ghosts, witnessed a proper miracle, read fortunes, seen into the future, and felt so many incidents of deja vu, I swear God’s trying to fuck with me and having a right good laugh to boot.

I’ve even had a poltergeist tamper with my toiletries in my flat share bedroom (the door was locked whilst I was out so there was no way it could have been anyone else) in the form of inverting them with the tops off so that I had to let the contents splurt out onto my dressing table in order to put them back again.

But even then, I shrugged and thought ‘How annoying, must have been a man’ before cleaning up the mess and going downstair to watch TV, so nothing much phases me really.

Until this one night, when I believed that I encountered evil.

At least that’s how it felt to me.

I was working in a bar of a gentleman’s club in the West End at the time, and believe me, all kinds came in.  Actors, politicians, gangsters, triads, businessmen, footballers, drug dealers, gamblers and of course, other hospitality workers, but none of them cracked my composure.

On the surface I was a hard faced, aloof, bleach blonde bitch and everyone, whatever their status, was treated the same, with anything from professional politeness and a bit of banter if I really liked them, to cold, scathing dismissal if they behaved like twats.

Underneath this veneer I was a seething mass of contradictions, tempered by an undiagnosed personality disorder, an unpredictable temper, and a dogged fear of any kind of personal intimacy.  This was the ’80’s and being mentally ill was not something you ever shared with anyone.  There was none of this, transparency, new millennium empathy (well on the surface any hoo) and willingness to understand.  Oh no, if you were fucked up, you kept it to yourself, which is why I ended up thinking I was the only one who felt that way for years, so on went the suit of armour whenever I left my room and interacted with the normal everyday folk.

Back to the story.

So one night, in walks this guy.

A perfectly normal looking man.

Not handsome, but not ugly.  About average height and weight, smartly dressed, wearing good shoes and a nice watch.

Not a loner like some of them.  He was accompanied by a bunch of relatively respectable looking buddies.

Not drunk, or gobbing off and being obnoxious, like some of the hard men, or the famous, giving it ‘Do you know who I am?’.

The perfect customer really.

So as he approached the bar, I stepped up to serve him.

And that’s when I realised that something was terribly, terribly wrong. Because as his eyes fixed on mine, he smiled and I immediately felt uneasy as my gut started to churn.

‘Hello darling, how are you tonight?’

Confused at my body’s deeply visceral reaction, I managed a shaky smile.

‘I’m well thank you sir, how are you?’

The smile broadened, and the eyes twinkled with some kind of malign glee.

‘Very well indeed love!  And I must say you’re looking beautiful tonight!’

Not pervy.  Not an inappropriate thing to say at all.  It was a bit cheesy though, and in normal circumstances, I may have come back with some sarcastic/humorous retort, or a cold, impassive stare, depending on my mood.

But hell, no.  I was not going to fuck with this guy.  No way.  No how.

‘Thank you, that’s very kind of you to say so.’

My manager, Tony who just happened to be passing, overheard, and flicked me a puzzled glance, recognising that this was not my usual M.O.

The smile broadened even more.

Now I really had his attention, and all I could do was hope and pray that he would take it away, and I could feel a trickle of sweat run down my back.

He chuckled

He knew.  I swear to God he knew.  I immediately dipped my eyes away from his scrutiny.

What the fuck was wrong with me?  Get a grip and serve the man Sista, do you want everyone to know what a crazy, paranoid headcase you really are?

And there we were, the sane man, the crazy woman exchanging pleasantries as the rest of the staff and clientele acted like nothing was amiss at all.

But it was.  It was.

I cleared my throat and willed myself to look up.

‘Anyway, what can I get you?’

How can one face contain so much knowing?  He knew that I knew, and also that I knew that he knew that I knew.

That sounds like some kind of old Radio 4 comic skit I know, but this was not in anyway funny at all.

And he wasn’t going to let me off the hook that easily.

‘Oh I’m not sure actually’ says he cocking his head to one side, ‘what drink would you recommend for me?’

He also knew me.  He could see me.  I don’t know how else to say it.

He saw my fears, my pain, my self loathing, my self destructive ways.  He knew how ugly I was, both inside and out.  He could smell last nights tawdry one night stand on me as surely as if his nose was plunged into my crotch.

The skin on my belly crept with fear and loathing.

He licked his lips casually, enjoying the spectacle of me squirming on the gaff of his attentions.

Then, before I had chance to fashion a reply, my saviour arrived in the form of lovely, lairy, chain smoking Tone who nudged me out of the way, rolled up his sleeves, grinned at the gargoyle in front of me.

‘Time for your break Sista.  Garn, get a wiggle on or you might miss your role model, Sue Ellen on Dallas!’ then winked conspiratorially at him.

‘Come on mate’ responded my tormentor, ‘is that any way to treat a lady?’

As I scurried away from the sound of their raucous guffaws, I knew Tony would be puzzled by my lack of response, but all I could think about was getting as far away as possible from that impossibly sane man.

This was of course coupled with an irresistible urge to turn around and look again, if only to verify that what i’d witnessed was real.  Evil is always fascinating to even the average sane Joe, but thankfully self preservation won out that day, and I made it to the staff room, shakily made myself a strong cup of tea and prayed that he’d be gone when I had to go back.

Because that’s what I believe I saw in that man that night.  Pure unadulterated evil.

The hole in my claim however is that no one else seemed to perceive it.  Not Tony, not his mates, none of the other staff members.  No one.

When, an hour later, I returned to the bar, he was gone.  But Tony was not.

‘What the fuck was that about Sista?  You alright?  ‘ave you got your period?’ he jibed, flicking me on the backside with a soggy bar towel.

Relieved beyond measure, I managed a feeble ‘Yeah, have you got a spare tampon you can let me have?’ whilst he cackled and pretended to look in his pockets, assured in his old school, sexist way that I was OK, and well enough to finish my shift.

But I never forgot that encounter.

And some years later when I read Stephen King’s ‘The Stand’, I immediately recognised a version of him in the character ‘Randolph Flagg’.

I of course, could have been wrong.  Could have been having an off night.  It could have been the manifestation of my own inner turmoil that, for some reason I plastered all over the visage of this very ordinary young man.

But I don’t think so.

And I still evoke it to this day, some 30 years later, prodding it like a tongue nudging a rotten tooth and wonder who he was, and what his role was here on earth.

I guess I’ll never know.  Hell I don’t even know what mine is, let alone his.

I just know that I never want our paths to cross again.

Namaste x





Made a discovery the other day via that made me think so much, I tipped over into a skull cracking, earth shaking migraine, which only served to give the theory more validity!

God, can the next wake up call be a little less painful?!

I have always known that by nature I am empathic, but I have never heard the term ‘Empath’ before.

But when I read the Empath Guidebook everything seemed to fall into place and I’m a bit gobsmacked really.

We all know stuff about ourselves, don’t we?

I know that I’m sensitive, depressive, creative, paranoid, a ‘rescuer’, a bit psychic, highly defensive etc. but this condition unlike depression alone seems to incorporate so many of my applicable characteristics.

Let me break it down:


Yup. Frequently. Sometimes after a panic attack I’d look in the mirror and not recognise my own face, so this fits 100%.


This is what clicked the most as, whilst I’ve always tried to help others in distress, recently I can find it totally overwhelming and seem to ‘catch’ the mood like a disease or sickness, either brought on by my breakdown, current vulnerability/instability or I’ve lost the skill of keeping my boundaries in place. This explains so much and is reassuring as I’ve felt like I’ve let down some of my more vulnerable/damaged acquaintances/friends of late as I can’t cope with being around them.


As some of you might know, I see dead people. To be serious, I seem to attract entities (ghosts, disembodied spirits or whatever you want to call them) and am subject to their attention seeking tricks. They don’t tend to materialise when I’m happy and I have never been sure that they want to help, hurt or just mess with me. Apparently they can feed off people like me and whilst they’ve rarely worried or scared me that much, maybe I should learn more about this and how to protect myself from the dodgy ones.


I am actually photosensitive and pretty much wear sunglasses intermittently the whole year round. I am also very intolerant to unnecessary/excessive noise! If you chatter, fidget and rattle your popcorn during the entire movie when going to the cinema, seriously, do not sit near me!


I am not good in crowds, hence avoid them like the plague. I cannot get onto a crammed tube train or go to crowded festivals as I cannot bear others leaning on me, touching me and being unable to get away and it makes me feel really hostile if people invade my space. If I want someone to touch me, they’ll know about it!






This dogged my life for decades, but have pushed against of late out of sheer defiance. People who try and lay guilt trips on me really piss me off, so clearly I have issues.


I am not ‘Medium’ level, but I do have some, and my instincts when followed, have never let me down. I can also read the Tarot.


Abso-fucking- lutely.


For years and years I have felt like a tent carried away by the wind, and have been unable to get down and nail a peg into the ground. I have rarely ever felt grounded or like I belong anywhere in my entire life.


Yup. I reject before I’m rejected and leave if I get that vibe from anyone or in any situation/scenario.


Totally. Aunty C (my counsellor) used to tell me off for making decisions/assumptions off the back of this, but the problem is, I’m rarely wrong 🙂 .


Used to. Don’t any more. Much prefer physical violence ;-).


Love both, and feel as close as I can feel to being at peace around them. Most animals are drawn to me. Especially mosquitos.




Check. I think it’s what I’m here for. Not sure how though.


I used to be able to when I did massage, people used to tell me that my hands would heat up. Not sure if I still can, should be able to though if this is true.


I don’t!!




I do feel energies changing, used to be very useful in business meetings/negotiations.


This apparently can happen if a spirit is trying to communicate with you. I don’t have this. Mine just knock things over, wake me up at night and hide my credit card/nail file/travel card. Bastards.


When I am in a very dark place or angry/upset, I can affect the people around me. It is palpable, so that’s when I turn hermit as I don’t want to upset anyone. I don’t use it to attack, it’s never occurred to me to do so. I’m also told that I ‘glow’ when I’m on a high.


I do subconsciously put love into my food and used to push energy and healing out of my fingers when massaging people. For that reason I would never take on a client I disliked and I rarely cook for anyone I don’t care for.


Yes a lot of the time. Probably down to lack of confidence.


Empaths can take refuge in these. Whilst I would never classify myself as a alcoholic and have never really used recreational drugs much, wine and prescription pills do dull the pain. I know they’re not good for me though.



These are just some of the characteristics listed in this 191 page document, plus there are suggestions and help re how to deal with the condition too, so if any of these symptoms correlate with you, you might want to check this out. Bach Flower remedies seem to be the main source, and there is stuff about using spirit guides that I have yet to get my head around, but there is too much that makes sense here for me to dismiss it.

I’d better start reading up, who knows, this may be a turning point for me and my health.

Look out pesky disembodied souls, your annoying hide-the-thing-I-need-most games may soon be coming to an end!

All together now ‘I ain’t afraid of no ghosts…’