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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Daily Prompt: Walking on the Moon – LOVING THE ALIEN

What giant step did you take where you hoped your leg wouldn’t break? Was it worth it, were you successful in walking on the moon, or did your leg break?

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Space; The final front ear.  

Or something like that.  I can’t think straight right now.  And I can’t be bothered to google it.

First of all I’d like to stress that I shouldn’t be here in the first place.  I knew from the off that this wasn’t my planet.

But I stayed.  I had no choice.  I existed, I blended in as much as I could, and I survived.  I did everything I could to fit in, pass for one of you, find a tribe, belong.  But it never really worked and whether it was apparent to others or not, I have always been the loner, the odd one out, on the outside looking in.  Humans are smart and their instincts subliminally warn them not to get too close to the alien in their midst.

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‘You’re too honest/simplistic/blunt/frank/obvious/naive!’ they would chide/laugh/scold ‘That’s not how to make friends/do business/deal with confrontation/get what you want!  You have to pretend/lie/bullshit/flatter/connive/kowtow/deceive to get things done!  And if you don’t believe in what you’re doing or saying?  Fake it to make it!’

‘Um, what about being myself?’ I’d ask

‘Urgh, what are you talking about?  Who wants to see that?!  No, you need to be different things for different people in order to get what you want in this life, so how could that work?’

So I act? Every time I encounter someone new I morph into my interpretation of what they want me to be?

But i was never any good at that.

And then one day, it all got too much, and I cracked and took that giant step when I walked out of my life, cut all ties and fled back to my own space where I could escape these mad, cruel, ruthless, lying freaks; hide, lick my wounds and regroup.

With the aid of hefty doses of Sertraline of course.  My SSRI Sista.  My saviour.

Space (bass?); How low can you go?

Pretty damn low actually.  I was exhausted, battle torn and afraid.

But I had a plan, and that was to avoid the avaricious, ruthless, two faced members of this race and only mix with my true friends and the good humans.   The honest, the true, the kind, the ethical, the like minded souls, and then I could just be myself, and they’d accept and love my fucked up personality disordered alien ass and I’d be able to settle into something vaguely resembling a life until the Big Guy figures out he dropped me off at the wrong stop.

So I lowered my meds, researched jobs/courses/activities/retreats and sought out the spiritual, the creative, the kind and the ethical and tried to get back into being back on the Mother Earth ship.

Are you surprised to discover that things didn’t quite work out as planned?

Turns out the spiritual/creative/ethical/kind etc. can also betray, lie, manipulate, hurt and let you down.  So I now don’t trust anyone and I’m more alone than ever.

Mission aborted!

Take more happy pills and put your helmet on.

And now, I’m drifting, spaced, watching the minutes, hours, days tick by, vaguely aware that I’m running out of oxygen and trying to find it within me to give a shit.

And I don’t think George Clooney is coming any time soon to rescue me. 😦

So I drink, and sleep and drift and wait.

Planet earth is poo, and there’s nothing I can do.

And as much as somewhere under this cloud of chemicals I rage, seethe and despair of my pain and abandonment, I have to make myself remember.

It’s not you, it’s me.

No truer cliche has been quoth.

So I can stay like this or come down a bit, tune into my inner sat nav and try and find my way back by forgiving and making allowances for the failings and flaws of others.

But most of all my own.

So I pray.  And hope.

That my prayers may break the sky in two

Believing the strangest things

Loving the Alien

Can you hear me Major Tom?

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/23/daily-prompt-moon-walking/

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LOVING THE ALIEN

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So I did my one hour date with City Boy on Friday night.

It wasn’t the best of starts as I was half an hour late after getting my times mixed up. 😦  I swear my brain (or that naughty moon) tricks me into sabotaging these things….

But he waited.

And he was nice.

And normal.

CB is on the dating website because he split from his last partner some time ago, and his daughter is off to uni soon, so it works out that he’ll have more time to explore London and will be free most weekends.

He works as a banker, spends half his time in London, half his time in Oxford, has a splendid relationship with both of his exes, they all have timeshare of a big country house where they all get together with their big gang of super successful ex uni friends and academics for big hearty meals, and everyone gets on famously.

So all a bit ‘Peter’s Friends’ really.

He was very chatty and amiable, nice looking, not in bad shape and seems like an all round good guy.

But all I could do is look at him with fascinated wonder and think ‘You’re so…..normal!’

I felt like we were almost different species, and that I hadn’t the heart to inflict my madness on this utterly balanced, happy, successful chap, and that to take this further would be like acting out a posh, British version of ‘The (Wo)Man Who Fell To Earth’ with CB being Mary Lou to my Newton.

And, when the day finally arrives when I have to peel off my mask, reveal to him my true self, and reach for him invitingly with a long, slimy arm, he’d run screaming from the room, wondering what the hell he’d fallen in love with.

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And I just couldn’t deal with that.

I’d like to say that I’d be happy to be friends with him, but even that seems kind of intimidating, so I’m going to let this one pass by and hope he meets some lovely, successful lady in her forties who works high up in media, has a first in something or other, a child of called Muffy, Buffy or Tufty who is up at Eton doing rather well, is on the board of a charity, arranges flowers in her spare time and has an exceedingly close, convivial relationship with her gay ex husband who is now her best friend.

Oh, and doesn’t go all weird whenever there’s a full moon.

On the plus side, Goatee Man has been in touch and suggested a trip to the movies.  Yay!

Whilst I feel there is something about GM that he has yet to reveal to me, I’m much more comfortable with that than, say, normality to the point of perversity.

I must ask him whether he wears contact lens or not though…. 😉