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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YOUR FRIEND’S IN THE NORTH

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So.

I made it ūüôā

It wasn’t easy. ¬†Of course it wasn’t. ¬†I am a drama magnet, so anything that could go wrong went wrong, to the extent that post move I actually got embroiled in some legal action (from which I ended up the beneficiary¬†– fuck you, unprofessional, lying, scaremongering biatches from HELL!), but gradually, gradually, things are getting better.

I have nice neighbours, a couple of friends nearby, am closer (but not too close) to family and don’t go to bed in mortal terror of what my dreams might bring. ¬†Yes I have bills to pay (I am NOT on benefits. ¬†Yet. ¬†But hopefully never again), there things to buy and do for/to my new home, so I need some work so I can carve out a decent life for myself.

And of course I still have the darkest of dark nights (and days) of the soul with no real means of support; mental health is not something that is a high priority in Stark Land. ¬†If I’m lucky and can prove I’m on the verge of suicide, I may, just may get a prescription for Sertraline, a disapproving frown and a ‘Pull yourself together woman!’ admonishment from my new GP, and of course I have no intention of telling anyone in my new life about my condition.

But I own a home outright, the cats are settled, I actually have a view when I look out of my window at night, everyone is friendly and nice, it is quiet and peaceful, and when I unlock my door and step out onto my path of a morning, I do it to the sound of birdsong and the robust aroma of cow shit instead of the wail of police sirens, snarls from passers by, and a blanket of London smog clogging my little traumatised lungs.

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So, unlike the original cast of the above mentioned much loved ‘posh soap opera’, (whom all for the most apart still reside in the Smoke and have never looked back), I have come back from London chastened, an older wiser Sista, and hope to discover my real life’s mission back in the county I was born in.

Anyway I am sorry for not having written for so long.  This has been for a number of reasons:

 

First, the sheer gruelling, creative energy sapping toll that moving house has on one, left me with little energy to wax lyric about anything really.

Second, the hellish bouts of major depression that hit me like a landslide when all seemed to be going to pot.

Third, I honestly didn’t think anyone would miss me. ¬†And, let’s be honest, most of you probably didn’t. ¬†And that’s OK. ¬†I have no problem with that. ¬†Life and blogging goes on.

Fourth, the fact that I felt, and feel that I’ve said everything there is to say about myself, my life and BPD.

Fifth. ¬†Right. ¬†I wasn’t going to say anything about this, but it’s actually gotten to the stage that being subtle and kind only had a temporary effect,¬†so I’m going to be frank and honest and hope that it works.

Since been off air, so to speak, I have been prompted, chivvied and nagged incessantly to come back¬†by a certain individual, and I cannot even fart on Twitter without it being commented on, and it’s now gotten to the stage that I feel almost stalked and ¬†dread even the thought of logging¬†into WordPress, so unfortunately for him,¬†the net result was probably the opposite of what he intended.

 

Note Рsome of you have gently enquired once or twice via WordPress where I am and what has been happening since my last post.  These comments are not directed at you, OK? x

Re my future blogging, I now feel that I have shared too much and feel a bit exposed on this profile, so I need to decide if I’m going to stick with it or start up a new one. ¬†Under another name.

But I’ll probably be back in some way, shape or form and will stay in touch.

Promise.

Over and out for now x

http://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2010/sep/18/our-friends-flannery-eccleston

 

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2016 – The Year Of ? (Make Plans, God Laughs)

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Is it that time again already?

Yes folks, it’s the start of yet another 365 days on planet earth and I’m still here.

The good news is I’m nearly 24 hours into it and nothing horrible or stupid or disastrous has happened yet ūüôā

That said I have been wrapped up in a Christmas/New Year comfort blanket where normal people take a break from their jobs over the holiday so I am forced to put all the stressful shit on hold until they are back in the office on Monday. ¬†Not that I haven’t taken full advantage and put everything gratefully on the back burner, but I am more than aware of the rather urgent pending challenges that await me this month. ¬†On Monday to be precise.

But, so far, 2016 has been OK! ¬†Only another 8736 hours or so to get through ¬†ūüė¶

This year, dear readers (if I still have any) you will find me an older, sadder and wiser Sista and therefore I’m not going to be giving 2016 a name, positive motivational¬†theme, or even to go through specific resolutions.

It’s not that I don’t have any; it’s just that my lofty aims and ambitions can so easily fall to the ground and shatter into a million pieces. ¬†And then I read back my previous posts and feel like a total arse, hence my long periods of absence on here in 2015.

Another reason is that not a lot has changed in the last year. ¬†I’m still not working full time. ¬†I’m not fit. ¬†I’m older and fatter. ¬†I’ve left my group therapy.

And I’m more frightened than ever.

But I think I’m softer, kinder, less abrasive, I’m taking less medication and, like I said in my last post, changes are afoot whether I like it or not. ¬†The Universe has ran out of patience with me, and as on previous occasions is winkling me out of my hidey hole an propelling me bodily out into the great unknown.

This, my friends, will happen in some way shape or form, so I have no need of a specific resolution. ¬†I have to pull down my oxygen mask, assume the crash position, and kiss my ass goodbye just in case I¬†don’t¬†survive the¬†landing.

Getting past this stage is the only resolution I can deal with right now, such is it’s magnitude, stress inducing propensity and urgency.

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Once I’ve done that it’s more about setting up a new life for myself and not, I repeat, not hiding away in my little¬†cottage and getting pelted with rotten fruit by the village children who proclaim me resident witch.

Which is massive, as I managed to be a recluse for most of 2015 in London, so the temptation to tuck myself away and fester will be enormous.

Enter Aunty C (my counsellor and literally my life saver) who promises to manage me from the 200 odd mile distance and pep talk me over Skype for as long as I need her.

Leaving the few friends I have is a terrifying prospect, but my gut tells me that my London days are over and my future lies elsewhere, so it will be interesting to see where and how I am doing in 12 months time. ¬†If I was going to theme 2016 I would hazard a guess that the word ‘Changes’ would be most relevant.

But, I reiterate, I make no resolutions or promises this time. I’ve let both you lot and myself down too many times for that.

In the meantime I wish you all an amazing 2016 and hope that it’s a good one.

Namaste bitches

SS x

 

 


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The Daily Post ‘To-Do? Done!’ – SOMEWHERE THAT’S GREEN (Updated)

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‘Quickly list five things you‚Äôd like to change in your life. Now, write a post about a day in your life once all five have been crossed off your to-do list.’

Of late the majority of my posts have been about the dire stuff that has been happening in my life,¬†hence I’ve been less and less inspired to write, so I thought ‘I know! ¬†I’ll shut up¬†whinging about my shit (yes I do whinge, CD!) and do a “Daily Post” challenge to take my mind of it!’.

And here we are.

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Ahem.

WTF, I’ll do it anyway.

My five things, sorry, five OF my things are:

1. Get out of this shitstorm, sell up and find somewhere affordable to live where I don’t keep waking up in a cold¬†sweat (and no it’s not down to the menopause) in the dead of night waiting for the bailiffs/debt collectors to come get me.

2. Find a way to manage my illness with or without the help of professionals, as right now it’s looking like I’ll have to forgo my two years of schema therapy if I move out of this borough. And I can no longer afford to live here.

3. Find some gainful employment that I can tolerate/cope with, so that I¬†don’t keep waking up, covered in sweat, in the blah, blah, blah….

4. Sort out my body, i.e. stop treating it like shite by comfort eating, staying in 24/7 and deliberately depriving it of exercise, and look after it as least as well as I do my car.

5. Find some way of forgiving, accepting and even loving myself so that I can love and be loveable to others and have/keep people in my life.

Pretty fundamental stuff eh? ¬†None¬†of this ‘buy a pair of Louboutins’, ‘pull that hot guy at the gym’ or ‘have a closest clean out’ trivia pour moi. ¬†Such stuff does not even register on my radar right now. Survival is the name of the game.

And how might things look should I achieve the impossible?

Perhaps a little like this:

To clarify, I’m not physically injured and don’t have a ‘semi sadist’ boyfriend; I sometimes wish I did, as I’d be able to justifiably beat the crap out of him, which would be a great exercise in stress relief. ¬†ūüėČ

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It’s just that I have no idea what a ‘normal life’ would look like for someone like me, so this is as good an illustration as any, and as cringe makingly embarrassing as it is, like Audrey, I¬†do yearn to be away from the city and reside ‘somewhere that’s green’.

But I’m copping out here, because I’m scared to paint the picture. ¬†Because in my heart I daren’t believe it might come true.

But OK, challenges are challenges, so I’ll take a punt at it.

No picket fence, no shrink wrapped furniture (no plastic has been invented that my cats can’t annihilate) and no Howdy frigging Doody who/whatever that is.

But yes, I’m living in that ultimate cliche, a cottage near the sea.

I cook a darn sight better than Betty Crocker and now have a dining room so I can have friends around for BBQ’s, parties and big Sunday lunches. ¬†

I’m living closer to my friends. ¬†I’m¬†close enough to my family that it’s not a five hour journey to get to them, but not so close that it makes either of us twitchy. ¬†

I’m walking distance (or I’ll settle for a short drive) away from the water/beach so I know I can go there and watch the waves¬†when the mind monkeys are driving me ape shit.

I’m walking distance (OK, a short drive) from my part time¬†job which is challenging but not too demanding, leaving me enough energy to pursue the kind of work I love, and yes I have a baking business on the side.

I have the energy to write and make even be embarking on a novel. ¬†At the very least I’m in a writing group and mixing with like minded folk. ¬†

I do yoga. I dance.  I have a social life.  That would be kind of wonderful.

And the biggest thing of all, NO ONE knows about my shit, and whilst I¬†might never pass for normal (quirky/eccentric¬†has been attributed to me in the past), I am accepted and embraced for who I am. ¬†There is no point of me moving to the sticks if the townsfolk know that there’s a (albeit innocent looking) little monster planted in their midst.

If I can have all of that I won’t even need a ‘Seymour’; not yet anyway. ¬†But I live in hope that one day I’ll know what it’s like to be held by a man again, cherished and maybe even¬†enjoy walks on the beach with a strong silent soul.

Control freak dentists¬†of¬†the Shires should, however, watch where they put their implements ‘cos¬†I’m nothing like as sweet as Audrey.

I’m much more of an¬†Audrey 2 really.

With much bigger teeth. ūüôā

If I ever achieve all of these things on this list, you’ll be the first to know. ¬†just don’t hold your breath, OK?

Namaste x

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/to-do-done/