Phoenix Fights

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




I’m being asked (or have been asking myself) to believe a great many unbelievable things of late.

Whether via ‘The Artist’s Way’, self help books, creativity workshops or even ‘The Real Housewives of Atlanta’, the message is that all I have to do is figure out what I want, visualise it, focus/concentrate/pray/all three and it will surely come my way.

Well, right now, whilst I pray, hope and ask for enlightenment, love and a sense of purpose and direction on a daily basis, I’m still waiting for something/someone/anything to happen as nearly a year has passed since my ‘crash and burn’ and I still haven’t made any tangible progress with regard to forging a new, self sufficient life for myself.

Maybe I’m not asking nicely enough?!

Don’t get me wrong; I think leaving my job and damn near having a total breakdown was probably one of the best things that has happened to me, as I’m starting to figure out who I really am (well, probably more like who I’m really not) and no longer have to pretend on a daily basis that everything is alright whilst wanting to jump out of a 10th floor window, but I have been dreading bumping into old friends or colleagues from that particular world, as I have no clue what I can say to them.

And now one of them, H, wants to meet up with me to ‘catch up’.

I can just imagine it.


‘Oh hi!  How are you?  Really?  Oh that’s great, good for you how amazing!’

Big smiles all round.

‘What? Who, me?’

My smile faltering somewhat….

‘Well I’ve been training to be a yoga teacher…..

Cue wide eyes and big enthusiastic smile from H.

….but not sure I’m going to follow it through as it’s all a bit cultish, and if I don’t join and do as the Guru says they might burn me in a Wicker Man….’

H’s eyes look confused and smile diminishes somewhat.

‘I’ve had some cool ideas for new businesses…..’

Relieved eyes and some cooing about my being very creative.

‘….but I haven’t really had the bottle to run with them as I’m scared to do it on my own….’

H’s eyes will suddenly, tinge with just a little impatience/contempt, as she glances down to look at her watch, no doubt hoping for a swift escape.

‘I’ve been on a few dates recently…..’

Eyes widen again. Something worth gossiping about at last?

‘….but nothing much has come of any of them, apart from one guy who thinks I’m a cardboard cut out stand in for his ex wife….’

H’s eyes say ‘BORED NOW!!’ and mouth makes soothing, apologetic noises as she picks up her coat, squeezes out of her seat, and her legs transport her towards the exit.

‘But I am getting better, being kinder and discovering more about myself every day!’

Footsteps quicken.


Door slams shut.


You see my problem?

Yes, I know I shouldn’t care what other people think, but I hate to think of my ex boss or those smug oh-so-sane bitches at Wankers R Us smirking away on hearing any such thing, or worse still, that I end up lying to her and making something up just so that doesn’t happen, as all they’ll see is that I’ve been out of work for a year because I’m still mad (true) and can’t get a job.

So, it seems to me that it’s all very well, this ‘Ask, Believe, Receive’ cosmic ordering malarky, but it doesn’t seem to be working for me at all.

On the job front, I have also been applying for roles (with some trepidation admittedly) that might both fill my wallet and my heart, but strangely enough, no one seems too keen to employ a 50 year old woman who’s been out of work for nearly a year.

On the dating front, I have finally deleted my online dating file and given the fuck up as nothing ever has or ever will come from being on them.  Then again, maybe you have to have Kim Zolciak levels of bullet proof self belief and confidence to attract the right man, settle down and play happy families.

The 2009 Fox Reality Channel Really Awards in LA


Oh, and it doesn’t hurt to be under forty, bleach blonde, with massive tits and an even larger bank account.

Seriously this woman and women like her totally fascinate and fill me with admiration.  When you see old photos of her, she was far from being a looker. Did that stop her? Hell, no.  She dyed her hair, had lots of surgery, bought a pile of wigs, had her tits done, got herself a sugar daddy, landed a TV show, shamelessly exploited her day to day life for rubberneckers like me, met the love of her life and made a fortune to boot.

Maybe if I hadn’t been so fucked up, I could have done the same?  Without the tits, wigs, sugar daddy and reality TV escapades of course.  I think.

But this is the thing. Miss Kim probably knew who she was, what she wanted and what she was prepared to do to get it pretty much from day one and set out to do just that, never letting anything get in her way, as is usually the case with successful people in all walks of life.

As for me, a line from a song from ‘Little Shop of Horrors’ springs to mind:

‘Poor, all my life I’ve always been poor

I keep askin’ God what I’m for

And he tells me, “Gee, I’m not sure

“Sweep that floor, kid!”‘

So whereas Kim Z is the equivalent of a blonde juggernaut, moving steadily, confidently and relentlessly through life, achieving her aims, crushing anything that gets in her way, I am the proverbial tent in the wind, blowing this way and that, occasionally skimming the ground, lingering, but never long enough to hammer just one peg into the earth and create a starting point for myself.

But what is the answer?  Wait until I can love and have confidence in myself and maybe then enlightenment will come my way?  How long will that take? Confidence is all very well, but will be fuck all use if I’m living in a cardboard box on the Embankment?  Or just have a punt, run with something and try something else if it doesn’t work out?

I’d like a clue, please God.  Just one fucking clue.  Pretty please. With a cherry on the top.

And if nothing comes of this desperate prayer then I’m going to give myself an ‘Ask, Believe, Receive’ reprieve, and get the fuck on with something as if I don’t start earning soon, I will end up sweeping floors….





As I mentioned in various posts, I have recently grasped the nettle so to speak, and rejoined a dating site for a month.

I know a month isn’t that long and a mite ambitious if my aim is to find true lurve, but this is how I do it, because to be honest, by the end of that 28/30/31 days, I’ve usually had enough.

Here are only a few of my ‘Matches’.

JD is clearly minted and makes no bones about the fact that he does not have to work too hard for a living.  JD ‘can’t abide the thought of being with a gold digger’ but states that he holidays 5-6 times a year, dines at the most exclusive restaurants, and is looking for a woman ‘who loves fine dining, being spoiled, lots of travel to foreign parts on the arm of a handsome man, watching the sun go down on a tropical beach and looks good in a bikini.  Ahem.

JD ‘likes’ me and whilst I won’t be returning that ‘like’, I appreciate his interest and would therefore like to offer him some advice:

‘JD if you don’t want the sharks to circle, take your big, fat, wiggly worm out of the water.’

Then there is AlexG who urges ladies on the site not to lie about their age or appearance because ‘what would be the point of that?’.  Alex describes his build as ‘fit’ and ‘muscular’ but from what I can see of his head shot, he has more chins than you’d see at a Bruce Forsythe lookalike convention, so I can only surmise that he is being a teensy weensy bit economical with the truth about his own, hmmm Alex?

Jaffar likes ‘good looking people’ but that doesn’t mean that he is superficial.  Oh no.  The person who will win his heart doesn’t have to be beautiful.  In an effort to guide us with regard to our acceptability, he very helpfully cites Sophia Loren and Cate Blanchett as examples of women who aren’t classically pultritudinous but are both unique and very attractive so would be deemed acceptable as a contender to the Mrs Jaffar throne.

Jaffar incidentally resembles a small startled woodland animal (probably a stoat) and in one of his photographs, where he is sat on the bonnet of a large, red, mid life crisis car, his shorts have ridden wedgie like up his bum causing some unseemly constriction around his crotch, and his legs are dangling like a child’s because they are too short to reach the ground.  Sassy!

ArtLvr2 quotes Jean-Paul Sartre, Malcolm X and Steve Jobs all in one paragraph, his writing style is so florid and pretentious he makes Brian Sewell sound like Joey Essex, and pretty much comes across as complete and utter twat.  He may not be a twat, he may think he needs to sound like a twat to get female attention, but as a life long piss taker, he’d be human cat nip to me and it could only end in tears.

Artemis, whom I made the mistake of ‘liking’, emailed me to say that we shouldn’t bother with all that tedious seeing if we have anything in common or talking to one another malarky.  His suggestion is that we just ‘meet and kiss and melt into one another, and as our tongues graze, the rest of the world will pail (sic) into insignificance’.

As I am not in the habit of attaching myself vacuum cleaner like to the face of a stranger without exchanging at least a few words, I may have to side step this one.

Matty has decided to take off his shirt, displaying a set of bony, coat hanger shoulders before taking his profile photo via his webcam. The end result looks like he is gazing gormlessly, gob open, into the back of a spoon.

Jonners has asked that anyone contacting him is not a ‘munter’ or ‘fugly’.  Take a wild guess as to how he marks on a 1-10 attractiveness scale.

I’m sure quite a few of these guys are looking at my profile and mocking it in a similar fashion, and that in real life they may be quite nice, but in the virtual world where mutually matching box ticking equals compatibility it’s very hard to sift out the Man from the Manchild.

What doesn’t help anyone genuinely looking for love, is that the online dating industry is probably one of the few businesses in growth that will stay in growth because it is designed, not to pair people off, but to keep them coming back for more.

The Dating Industry doesn’t want you to settle down with someone you’ve met online.  It doesn’t want your fledgling relationship to last.  If it did it wouldn’t keep targeting people who’ve left, even if they’ve given the fact that they’re in a serious relationship as one of their reasons for unsubscribing.

And then, if this person has a tiff with his/her partner, didn’t get flowers on Valentines Day, doesn’t get laid as often as they think they should, and feels generally neglected in some way, shape or form, they will probably open that ‘Someone Likes You!’ email, rejoin (perhaps under another name) log on surreptitiously and the whole repeat business process starts again.

Kerching!  Two more people back on the singles market again!

Clever, huh?

Invariably this endless supply of totty results in people thinking that they can not only ask, but demand and expect exactly what they feel they deserve, and when that dream date doesn’t turn up, they get awfully bitter.

Like Jay.  Jay sent me a nice opening message on the day that I rejoined, and when I didn’t answer it within 24 hours, blocked me in a fit of pique (just in case I tried to stalk him).  Then he seemingly had a change of heart and sent me another message which I answered, and I got blocked again for being understandably a little sardonic with him :-).  I truly hope he contacts me again cos I want to see how many times I can piss him off.

Roberto (Robert, I bet) has something along the lines of the following in his ‘Looking For’ section:

‘Please don’t bother contacting me if you have no photo or yours are more than a year old.  Also please be honest about your weight as you’re just wasting both our time if you not ‘curvy’ just FAT!  Kids are a no no, this is NOT negotiable, and please bring your purse,  Don’t expect me to pay, equality works both ways ladies!  And another thing, I don’t want……’

And on, and on ad infinitum.

Chaps I know it’s disappointing when true love (or hot sex) evades you despite your pissing away £40 a month on fees, but stomping your foot, baying unreasonable demands, railing about disappointing meets and chucking your toys out of your pram will not endear you to anyone.

Also we all need to take into account that you, sorry, we may not be as hot as we think we are. If in doubt, keep your top on.  Actually, keep it on anyway :-).

Anyone who uses this medium to meet people needs to be prepared to take it for what it is, take a reality check, sharpen your sense of humour, take a damn good look in the mirror and weigh up your ‘must haves’ against your ‘most likely to gets’ before you end up drafting a dating profile that resembles a five year olds letter to Santa, as this is not, repeat not, sexy or attractive.

Online dating; it’s all about managing expectations.

In the words of Mick Jagger:

‘You can’t always get what you want.  But if you try sometimes well you might find, You get what you need.’




So, I’m still applying Scary Man juice (testosterone gel) to try and hot wire my libido back to it’s former glory.

The good news is I haven’t grown a moustache :-).

The bad news is that I’m not getting any real urges down below to spontaneously follow up on :-(.

Take last night for instance. I went to a Latin American style dance show with a friend. We had great seats so were only about five rows from the stage. The dancers were fantastic and had amazing bodies. The men were largely topless and I could smell fresh male sweat in abundance, something that always used to give me something of a high.

So did this get me off? No. I watched unaroused, smiling indulgently like a proud nana as these ripped gods shimmied past me as they sambaed down the aisle before intermission, whilst simultaneous analysing their physiques in my head (the ex personal trainer in me) as they passed.

‘Great delts, has neglected his triceps though…that one’s a little lean, needs to develop his traps……Bar body! Do something with your legs sweetie, you look like Johnny Bravo…..yup, practically perfect in every way, which reminds me, I must take up dancing again…..’

The question is, if these magnificent specimens don’t float my boat, is a man closer to my age going to be able to?

So, I left shaken (forty dancers jumping around does that in an old rickety London theatre) but not stirred.

Which is probably all for the best as far as they were concerned, as no one likes to see a lecherous old woman drooling over chicken unless it’s with her Sunday roast covered in gravy.

So then, if it is the case that I’m no longer aroused by young men, how is it that instead of going to bed at a reasonable hour last night, I spent a good hour, maybe even two, watching videos of the boy band 5ive performing their hits on You Tube?

And that’s not the worst of it. I wasn’t watching them as they are now on the Big Reunion i.e. in their thirties. That would be bad enough. No, I was watching clips of them from about fifteen years ago, at the height of their fame, when they couldn’t have been older than, erm…. 22?

God, WHAT IS THE DEAL HERE? I tell you something, I don’t embarrass easily, but I’m actually blushing from sheer unadulterated shame whilst typing this….

There have been times when I have really wanted to share my blog with various people in my life, but today I am fervently grateful that no one knows who I am as this is so cringe worthy! My friends would give me major shit if they knew about this (I can just hear them shrieking ‘Ohhh, young man!!’) and I would bloody well deserve it.

Please believe me when I tell you that despite how this appears, I was not turned on whilst watching this footage. Honestly. Why would I lie? At the height of their fame, I wasn’t in the slightest bit interested in 5ive. They were, and are little boys when compared to me as far as I’m concerned.

But I did feel something. A couple of members of the band would have been my thing when I was a teenager (ruggedly handsome rough diamonds for anyone who doesn’t know who they are) so this was probably part of the reason I was watching them instead of, say, Take That.

The more I think about it, whilst I was kind of marvelling at their beauty, sexual pungency, sheer vitality and potential, there was also a sadness, an element of mourning to it I think.

It was kind of like saying goodbye.

It also felt eerily familiar. Have I been in this place before? Is there such a thing as reincarnation? If there is then please God let my next life be one without depression where I could look at my 19 year old self, if not with love and admiration, then not with hate and loathing, and look at boys such as these and think ‘I am as worthy of this person as he is of me’. Because right now, in the world as I know it, there is no going back and living this life again, no chance to see boys as friends not enemies, and no chance to believe in young love and all the enrichment it brings.


As for the state of play re my orgasm, I still have no urge to masturbate and only do it once a week if I remember, rather like going for a run on a Sunday morning to get the papers. But the last time I did it (it was not last night, I swear) it was the same as last time.

Using motor racing terms, it was pretty much 0-60 in a matter of seconds, flying past the chequered flag at record breaking speed, a bit of a buzz, a thrumming engine I couldn’t turn off, so nothing worth getting RSI of the wrist for.

This is the point where I could very easily pull out of the race, bail on this project and forget all about jiggy jiggy, but there is one thing that I haven’t tested yet.

I haven’t been close to a real live man of my own age (as in on a date) for a good year or so, so actual erotic interaction with a real life specimen might be a different thing entirely.

You know I told you that I’d rejoined that online dating site? And had two guys contact me? And I swore I’d get back to them?

I lied. I didn’t :-(. Sorreee…

But I will. Today. Well they’ve probably buggered off by now, but I will interact and be open to meeting someone on there. For experimental purposes only.

I was also told by a very reliable source that marijuana is very good for helping the medically impeded climax, so I’m off to see a man about a dog, let’s hope I don’t get arrested….

Bye for now!