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: In Loving Memory – EAT ME

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‘WRITE YOUR OWN OBITUARY’

‘Here I lie all spent and gone

I am dead but you’re not done

Much you took, but hear me, Living

I’m the gift that keeps on giving

 

Here I lie all spent and gone

But your greed it has not done

In life you took from me, but still

There’s yet the reading of the Will

 

But before you exit Hon

The giving is not as yet done

There’s my wake and if you might

Will you stay for a quick bite?

 

There is coffee, there is tea

Much for you, and much of me

For the main course is a roast

Of the girl you’ll miss the most!

 

Have some bicep, have some pec

Bite me, get it down your neck

Binge on this my last repast

You can even eat my ass

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Oh, you’re a veggie do you say?

Do not fret my friend, I pray

I will don a mushroom suit

And you can dine on my grey fruit

 

You going to pass? Well OK Honey

Just don’t think you’ll get my money

EAT ME, or you won’t make good

So lick it good just like you should

 

There! I knew you’d join the dots

A leopard does not change its spots

Have some wine my friend and pray

That it might take the taste away

 

You took in life, you take in death

But as I inhaled my last breath

You were not there to keen or mourn

I died alone, as I was born

 

So as you suck and gnaw my fingers

I pray that this grave lesson lingers

And you then know, my kith and kin

That you get out what you put in

 

Take my money, splurge and spend

But Death will come for you my friend

One day when you will lease expect it

Then you will leave the stage and exit

 

Will you give as much as taken

From your greed will you awaken

And vow to give and love enough

Cos in the end it’s all just stuff

 

You’ve ate your fill, oh praise the Lord

It’s time to go get your reward

I hope it feeds you and you find

I’ve left the best of me behind

 

Here I lie all spent and gone

I am dead so now we’re done

Much you took, but please do know

You only reep just what you sow

ELVISthankyou

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/in-loving-memory/

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THE LIGHTNING TREE

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This 30 day forgiveness thing isn’t as easy as it looks.

I’m not talking logistically.  The process is rational, workable, and so far I only have to deal with pardoning one person, and not the worst fucker I have ever encountered in my entire life, and as I’ve mentioned, I’ve been focussing on 7-8 out of 10 rather than an 11.

And I’ve kept it up.  Reading the very sage words of Desmond, Mpho and the other contributors.  Listening to the meditations and thoughts about the stages that can bring about forgiveness.  I’ve done the written exercises.  Acknowledged my part in the friendship’s downfall, and yes, I’m feeling a bit better about her in my head, heart and soul.

Yay for me!

So why have I been so full of rage for the last few days?  I have been so shitty that I had to miss my pub quiz because I didn’t trust myself not to snap at one of my team because she annoys me so much.  One of the gentler souls emailed me asking if I was just feeling ‘meh’ or what is something more?

‘Oh just ‘meh’, coupled with a white hot anger that could take London down like Vesuvious did Pompeii, but don’t worry, it’ll pass…’

He didn’t reply.  I don’t blame him.

I had such plans, to take inspiration from others, to communicate more with my higher self, to find more to love about life, and I was keen to press forward the process immediately after my last post.

But it didn’t happen.  I got stalled.

It’s frustrating.  I’m coming to terms with what Miss Psycho did to me, so why don’t I feel better?

Trouble is, she is only one person.

At the front of a seemingly endless queue apparently.

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I’ve never kidded myself that I only have a few people to forgive.

But some seemingly irrelevant folk come shooting out of the past and hit you out of nowhere.

A few days ago, a long lost old school friend contacted me out of the blue on Facebook to tell me that someone we both used to know is currently in London.  Curious, I asked who and it turned out to be one of my old teachers.

On hearing that name, I felt my skin bristle, my bones stiffen and something dark within me stir.

‘Do you remember her?’ asked old school chum excitedly.

Oh yeah.  I remember her.  But not for the right reasons.

A year ago, I would have told OSC what I thought of this bitch and why I wouldn’t piss on her if she was on fire.  But I impressed myself by appearing cool, calm and collected (thank God for IM, I’m sure my icy voice would have betrayed me on the phone), and remarking indifferently that I didn’t really know her that well, and hoped that she’d drop the subject.

‘Oh you must do Sista, she taught our class!  And she remembers you!’

Oh does she now?

Then I realised what OSC was hinting at.

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Then something cruel and malevolent twitched and ticked and turned inside me.  So, she wants to meet up with me, eh?  Hmm, that could be fun…I’ve waited over 40 years to put this old hag back in her box and tell her what I really think about her and her teaching methods, and I now have the quickness of wit and verbal dexterity to tap into her insecurities and disembowel her.

So many people I know say that they only think of the sharp ripostes after the person they were arguing with has gone.  Not me.  They come up bang on time, and fly off my tongue, thick and fast.  Not many people who know me mess with me for that reason.

I could remember her tearing me a new arsehole in front of the entire class for the most minor of infractions; screaming at me, her face so close to mine that I could smell what she had for lunch on her breath; how I boiled with shame and unshed tears as I hung my head and stared at her legs, wondering why she never shaved them (I swear she looked like an extra from Planet of the Apes) as she humiliated me time and time again; for being such a two faced **** whenever she spoke to my parents about me on open days.

And why was she like that with me?  Because at first I liked her and thought she liked me, so was probably a bit over friendly and familiar with her when I was first in her class.  A terrible, heinous, presumptuous thing for a hopeful, gullible, innocent 8 year old to do, I know.

How very dare I?

Before anyone says it, I get that a lot of people encountered at least one sadistic wanker from their schooldays, be it teacher, fellow pupil, or if you’re extra lucky like me, both.

But this burned me, and has clearly left a scar on my heart that has not shifted or abated for all of these years.

This is where the personality disorder diagnosis rings so very true.

We BPDs never let things go.

When did it start?

I’m starting to think I was born this way. I cannot remember a time when anger was absent from my core.

And now, this stupid song from a TV show from my childhood keeps running through my head, and it goes like this:

‘Down in the meadow where the wind blows free, in the middle of a field stands a lightning tree.
Its limbs all torn from the day it was born for the tree was born in a thunderstorm.’

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And that’s what I feel like sometimes.  Something torn, charred, contracted, but not allowed to die, and so used to being struck that it’s as if it’s branches are like arms, as it stretches up to the sky in defiance and screams ‘Come on you fuckers!  Is that all you’ve got!  More!!  BASTARDS!!!’

Two years ago, I would have gone to meet Miss S for tea, wearing my most expensive outfit, all sweetness and light, and I would have waited for just the right moment, then taken that bitch down.  I would have told her what a sadistic bullying twat she truly was, reminded her how many other kids she probably scarred with her big screechy outbursts, and that she was so crap a teacher I can’t even remember what she taught.  I would carefully and forensically emphasise how much I disrespect and despise her to this day, and the real legacy she has left in her wake, so if she thought that dropping in on her old pupils would be a feast for her ego, she should really think again.

I would then have dabbed my lips with a napkin, flicked my hair, dropped some money on the table, chucked said napkin in her general direction and strode out of the restaurant.

Exultant.  Avenged.  Justified.

They say God doesn’t put anything on your plate that you can’t handle.

This however just isn’t fair.  I’m good at destroying people with my tongue dammit, and to wave this opportunity under my nose like a nice bit of rare steak, then snatch it from me before I can sink my teeth into it makes me want to howl with rage.

And then I saw this <warning, v harsh language so don’t open if you are easily offended>:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/05/20/weapon-of-choice-physical_n_5359828.html

And I thought to myself ‘Do I want to be that person who hurts people like that?’

And the answer was………YES! 🙂

Well definitely this person at any rate.

But I won’t.

I’ll hold fire, even though the temptation is ENORMOUS.

Not that she deserves it.

Looks like I’ll be working on this forgiveness thing long after 30 days have past.

Today, in old London town, the heavens properly opened and torrential rain and hail bucketed down. Thunder rumbled, lightening flashed and people scurried and struggled with their umbrellas, as I sighed with pleasure and turned my neck from side to side as I drove over the bridge home.

I always feel better after a storm.  Maybe there’s hope for this old stick yet.

‘Grow, grow, the lightning tree, it’s never too late for you and me;
Grow, grow, the lightning tree, never give in too easily’

 


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EXCUSE ME?!

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GGGGRRRRRR!

This forgiveness malarky is not very easy at all….

Today is Day 3 and I had to write a list of people that I want to forgive, and that list, I have to tell you, is quite a long one…

As for the list of people that I wanted to forgive me?

Just the one.

And that’s debatable.

Because I rarely do anything that wrong or that wasn’t deserved in the first place. 😉

Then I had to choose one person from the first list that wasn’t too traumatic to address and eventually forgive, but by the same token wasn’t too easy either.

A 5 or a 6 out of 10 as it were.

So I choose someone whom I believe that used my vulnerability to her own selfish ends and tried to punish me when I no longer danced to her tune.

The trouble is though, within a matter of hours, someone else’s rating has shot up and I’m going to have to address him one way or t’other.

Because, I’ve just discovered, not only did this person judge me, influenced another person against me and screwed me over, but used something I gave him to benefit his position, and had no qualms about sharing this information with me today.

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Oh dear.

Now my inner Malvo is whispering “He. Is. Screwed. He made a choice and now there’s a consequence. You? You’re the consequence.  Here there be one very pissed off dragon, and someone need a roasting…”

I’m seething.

So much for a successful day three. 😦

I SO want REVENGE.

The thing is, if you knew what this infringement was, you probably wouldn’t think it was a big deal.  And on it’s own, it’s not.  It’s just the last straw as it were.  To screw someone over and then to casually throw into the conversation the fact that you used something you gave them to benefit their position was just a large pinch of Malvern salt scrubbed into a not yet healed wound with a nice, big, scratchy granite pestle.

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I mean, someone has to pay here!

Right? 😦

To think I was whinging on the other day about not having any weapons; right now I don’t need one.  I could decapitate him with my teeth if need be.  The fact that he’s still in the same county amazes me, but to be fair, he didn’t know the ‘old’ Sista otherwise he’d be getting emergency plastic surgery as we speak just so’s I didn’t get my hands on him.

Dessie Tutu, I don’t want to forgive this asshole!  I want to annihilate him!

Sllooowwwwlly…

God, there has to be some state between feeble/weak/pathetic and homicidal rage, because if there isn’t I don’t think I can do this anymore without picking a side, and right now, rage is most likely to get my vote…

But I went for a walk, pounded the shit out of some bread dough, then pondered on that old adage about the very best kind of revenge…

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🙂

Also:

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Let’s make it clear, whilst this person and I are no longer close, and he isn’t going to feature heavily in my life moving forward, there’s no benefit in slapping him down over this and he’s still going to be around, so…I’ll let it slide this time.  Water off a duck’s wotsit.  If he’s learned something from me and used it to get more business, good for him!  He clearly has no ideas or imagination of his own.

He also has to deal with me beating his performance at every turn moving forward.

So I forgive you Wanker.  That said, you clearly have no moral compass and I’ll bear that in mind in future.

And I’ll never share anything with you ever again.

So you’ll just have to find shit of your own volition in future.

But let’s face it.

It won’t ever be as good as mine 😉

Today, I forgave someone.  🙂

OK I’m hardly Matty Gandhi here, but heaven knows I’m trying…

And God, as we know, loves a trier!!

Namaste xx


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FORGIVE (WITH) ME!

 

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Today I planned to meet up with a couple of people whom I believe screwed me over, and naturally I was apprehensive about the encounter.

Why, you might wonder, was I meeting them in the first place?

I was meeting them because I have this habit of permanently falling out with friends over intentional or unintentional infractions of the friendship and consequently don’t have many left, so I have to learn how to handle people better and forgive and accept their failings as they probably accept mine.

I’m not very good at forgiveness, you see.

‘You have to be mindful of who you let see your ‘child’!’ my counsellor Aunty C urges, ‘some friends can be trusted to this end, but you can’t be super close to everyone!  You have to protect yourself whilst figuring people out!’

She’s right. I’m not much for casual friends.  And If I meet a ‘kindred spirit’ I tend to spill my guts, show my vulnerability and then when they can’t resist the temptation of fucking me over and/or letting me down, I furiously see them off with my (metaphorical) sawn off shotgun complete with a 20 ft flame thrower attachment.  And they, understandably, run.  Never to be seen again.

You would think that someone in my position would do everything they could to hang onto friends wouldn’t you?

During my therapy prep session with the Perkies earlier this week https://sistasertraline.wordpress.com/2014/04/29/holy-moses/, I was asked a series of questions about whether I was (a) terrified of being left by men/family/friends, (b) whether I ever begged them to say, and (c) whether I ever used emotional blackmail on them to make them stay.

I believe my answer them was something along the lines of ‘I’d rather cut my tits off and hang them on a barbed wire fence.’

That caused a bit of pinkcheekitis I can tell you.  Bless! 😉

It was then that I started to think that I might not be BPD after all.

Then I remembered.  I did used to do those things when I was young, green and vulnerable with no confidence in myself whatsoever.  Then my mum died and, in my fury and outrage, I turned to stone.  Then when anyone messed me around or let me down (especially men), I wouldn’t cling to them.  I dumped them so hard their ears bled.  I essentially despatched them before they got chance to despatch me.  Even if they never intended to in the first place.

I was one cold bitch.  And I loved it.  I gloried in my intractability, my formidable reputation, my ability to show no fear, and my merciless resolve to never, ever forgive them for what they had done.

I felt STRONG.  I was respected.  No one dared cross me.

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And decades later, when I finally unravelled, my so called armour collapsed like a wet cardboard box, leaving little peeled prawn me quivering and trembling alone in the barren landscape of my reality wondering how the hell I was going to protect myself now.

I’m starting to realise that I had it all wrong.  As in keeping out anyone who let me down, I also kept out not only their potential goodness, but the good people who could have had a positive, supportive role in my life, because, from a love perspective, I am essentially alone now.

And without being cringy, corny or a God botherer, it’s only since I’ve been using my beads and praying that I’ve seen any kind of positive shift in my life.

When I had a rather intimidating family get together the other week, I prayed for help in getting through it, to not deliberately sabotage it by make things awkward no matter how annoying they were, to not take offence at any tactless/dumb/hurtful thing that might inadvertently be said, and to let them in, if only for that day.

And I survived it.  They thought it was a great success.  I was exhausted, but exultant and relieved it was over.

My pow wow with the Perkies?  I prayed to be patient, trusting and to remember that they were, and are, trying to help me.  It’s not their fault that they are young, lovely and normal!  And apart from one or two awkward moments it was fine.

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Today was going to be hard though.  Because those naughty Mind Monkeys were at it again, telling me that Friend 1 was the instigator and was now shitting himself because I might drop him in it with Friend 2, so perhaps I should do just that, hmm?  Serves him right hey!  And they reminded me that Friend 2 was nervous after getting a chilly reception from me last time our paths crossed, and wouldn’t it be a good laugh to keep her on tenterhooks all day by way of punishment? After all, she complicit too, so deserved to be jerked around.

It’s hard to resist those prankish primates with their mischievous, amusing, destructive ideas.  They kept tempting me with sharp, witty, faux innocent one liners to smack my friends down with, reminding me of their weaknesses and that I should punish them so that by the end of the day, they’d know that they’d been Tangoed per se.

Boom!

Actually no.  If I went down that route, no one would be speaking to anyone by lunchtime, so whilst I was sorely tempted to exact a little revenge, I asked for help in keeping calm, not being cruel, getting over what had gone before and, without putting my ‘child’ in danger to let myself be softer and to try to see the good inside them.  And, if possible, to forgive them.

And apart from one teensy weensy bitch slap (Look, it was more of a pat than a slap, OK?!) which only happened because someone decided it was a good idea to resurrect a point of contention, it went fine.  I was a bit stiff and uncomfortable at first, but by the end of the day everyone was happy, relieved and it was evident that we had finally put the entire matter behind us.

I think I’m over it.  And it might not sound like a big deal to a normal, balanced, non BPD person, but for me it really is.

Getting over shit and not holding onto anger, bitterness and the desire for revenge seems to be at the heart of my potential recovery.

Then I saw this on today’s Reader Feed.

http://forgivenesschallenge.com

Timely, no?

I don’t know what this consists of, how it’s going to work or whether it will be useful, but I’ve decided to give it a go, as God knows I need all the help I can get.

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That said, I’ve just played the first video and if I was a cartoon I’d have a huge question mark above my head right now.

You’ll know what I mean when you watch it. 🙂

Strange days indeed, as I’ve said more than once of late…

If you too have an issue with forgiveness and feel ‘stuck’ because of it, drop your weapon of choice and join me.

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Not for the wankers who’ve hurt you, but for you and your well being.

Because you’re worth it (flicks hair Cheryl stylee).

Namaste xx

 

 

 

EAR WORM No. 18 THE STRANGLERS – WALK ON BY

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I heard this track on the radio today and it took me back to what, now, seems like another life.

To a life where, for a brief period of time, I felt pretty damn formidable.

I was probably at the peak of my attractiveness, my body was lithe and model like, and the boys rather predictably, didn’t seem to care about my dubious nose or big teeth anymore and I hid behind that confident veneer as if my life depended on it.

My punk/new romantic look made my aloof features an advantage, and along with my Miss Whiplash attire and liberal use of black/navy/burgundy/blood red make up atop of my pallid visage, the desired ‘Don’t touch, in fact don’t even look‘ image was complete.

I was earning decent money for once in my life so was starting to realise I didn’t have to rely on anyone anymore.

I’d broken one heart and was about to break another.

The mother who’d never loved me enough had died and after a month of pure agony, my blood was replaced by ice water, my body turned to marble and the six inch thick steel door that stayed in place for a good decade or so, slammed shut on my emotions, making me one very scary bitch indeed.

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If anyone had dared ask, I couldn’t have exactly said I was happy.

I might not have realised how fucking angry I was, but I knew that I was, for once in my life, powerful.

No one was going to make me feel bad anymore. No one was going to let me down when I needed them the most.

And, most importantly of all, no one was going to tell me what to do, least of all a man.

I realise now that under that haughty, superior exterior, I was one sick puppy. But at the time I didn’t know, and if I had known, I wouldn’t have cared.

Anyone who tried to mess with me now was going to pay.

Three decades have passed since that girl partied hard in the clubs of Manchester, outplayed the players, saw dating as a blood sport, and used her sexuality in the most harmful way possible; My looks have faded, my snarl has gone, and after years of therapy, my life blood has returned, my form softened and the steel door has gradually come down.

And for the most part, I don’t like it. And whilst I do still have a weapon, I can’t always find it, plus my challenge is to try to choose my battles and whenever possible, leave it in it’s sheath.

I’m old, unarmed and scared.

But I fight on. For that motherless, abandoned girl for whom love only ever brought insecurity, doubt and pain, who embodied a white hot fury that had to be incarcerated as it was too painful to acknowledge, and I can only hope that I can make a life where she can experience what love, security and self acceptance actually feels like.

So I resist the urge to tool up and fight.

But my God, if I could have put this brain into that young body, I could have ruled the world.

And when I hear this song, I could almost be there, striding into a club, in spike heels, vinyl trousers, flicking my burgundy hair with an insouciant smirk across my plum stained lips.


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‘UNDER THE INFLUENCE’ – MOST INFLUENTIAL BLOGGER AWARD

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I was feeling ever so emotional last night after half a bottle of wine on top of my meds, and on hearing the passing of Nelson Mandela, when I discovered that I’d been nominated for the Most Influential Blogger award by Bradley from http://www.howisbradley.com.

Bradley and I don’t natter and banter as much as I do with some of you but he has the uncanny knack of saying something supportive, succinct and totally empathetic, just when I need it.

He is a fellow traveller on the road to sanity, self acceptance and a passionate promotor of a greater understanding of the effects of mental illness and very valued he is too.

There are many on here that have influenced me greatly but not all of you accept or respond to awards, so I’m going to bend the rules a bit and offer it out to anyone who is enthusiastic enough to do the following:

1. Display the award on your blog.

2. Announce your win with a post and thank the blogger who awarded you.

3. Offer the award to as many people you like or to all your followers.

4. Answer the questions that your awarder asked, and then write some for your awardees (or use the same ones, up to you!)

Here are the questions I’ve been asked to answer and my responses:

1. If you could change one thing about society, what would it be?

How politics and politicians are allowed to operate.  There is too much ‘us and them’ going on where political parties are perpetually waiting for the ones in power to mess up so that they can expose them, and because of this so much is hidden from we voters and brushed under the carpet, so that we never learn from our mistakes or properly thrive as a country.

Those scenes from the Commons with all those old buffers bellowing and jeering at each other absolutely infuriate me.  We are paying them for this kind of time wasting behaviour, WTF?  If I had my way, I’d stamp all over this shit, and/or have officials preside over these sessions armed with cattle prods, ready to inflict punishment as soon as anyone started shouting and generally behaving like an arse.

There should be 100% transparency, where people have access to all information and demand referendums when the majority feel it necessary.  We all, Labour, Conservative, Republican, Democrat, want the same things deep down, so to paraphrase Rodney King, ‘Why can’t we all just get along?’ and collude for the greater good?

Very simplistic and naive of me, I know, this is an ‘ideal world’ scenario and unlikely to happen in my life time, but I can dream, can’t I?

2. What do you turn to when in need of inspiration?

My yoga mat.

3. Name one person, alive or dead, who has influenced you most.

I think it goes without saying that right now, Nelson Mandela is in pretty much everyone’s minds and hearts.

What blows me away about this man, was that he could have come out of his prison cell full to the brim with bitterness and anger and organised mass genocide and riots, turning black against white, and man against his brother and no one would have blamed him.  Yet he came out in the spirit of forgiveness and forward thinking, focussing on the greater good, bringing peace and reconciliation to his country and inspiring the world to think differently too.

I have a white hot temper, struggle terribly with forgiveness and have an instinct and desire for revenge if someone crosses me, but I fight on, and on the hardest days I think of Mandiba spending day after day, year after year in a stinking cell, refining his soul, at one with God and resolve to fight harder.

4. What’s your favorite quote?

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‘Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that’

Martin Luther King, Jr

“The problem with the world is that the intelligent people are full of doubts, while the stupid ones are full of confidence.”

― Charles Bukowski

5. Share one key insight that has helped you most in your writing.

Be authentic; try and be anything but and you will be busted 😉

6. Are rules made to be broken?

Most of them, hell, yes!

7. What does democracy stand for as far as you’re concerned?

Fairness, parity and equality in it’s purest form.

8.  Something you wish could be done ASAP?

Something that would save our planet, but I fear it may be far too late….

9. If we respect everyone’s opinion as valid, where does that leave hate speech?

Everyone is entitled to their opinion, but some opinions should not be allowed a big, high profile platform, especially when it influences the young, the poor, the dispossessed or the educationally subnormal to carry out evil that does not benefit them, in the name of a God that does not wish them to do so.

10. Do you think online media will replace print in the next few decades?

I hope not. I still like to open a book and feel the pages between my fingers, and looking at moving text for prolonged periods cannot be good for the eyes.

11. What is the main thing you want to achieve as a blogger?

To learn, to share, to engage, to entertain.

NOW, OVER TO YOU!

As these are such great questions, please answer them accordingly.

Looking forward to seeing your responses, and thanks again to all for your support and feedback this year.

Big love

Sister S xx


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NOT ON THE MOOD

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Long hot weekends are usually a challenge for me, as all the families and couples heading off for beaches, parks and sunnier climes tend to highlight my loneliness and I don’t tend to be the most sought out person when it comes to those particular holidays.

This one is particularly painful as someone who is rapidly moving towards being an ex best friend is still playing mind games with me and jerking me around.  

I contacted B recently because I heard she’d had a bereavement, and we arranged to touch base/potentially meet on Thursday, but there was complete radio silence that day, making me worry that something else had happened, but no.  

Madam, who is ever so popular, was just too busy with her social whirl to keep the date.

The reason for this?  Because I didn’t jump when she called after a  four month absence (where she didn’t even reply to texts) given that she only summoning me then after she’d seen, spoken to and updated everyone else.  And she only called then because I’d called her.

But I guess when your old faithful bitch gradually turns into a slightly narked kitty and doesn’t come running when you eventually get round to taking her for a walk, you’re going to notice the difference. 

It wasn’t done maliciously either; On being summoned to her abode, I, vaguely prickled by her arrogance and presumption, merely suggested that we go out somewhere fun for the day instead.  But this clearly was deemed sufficiently outrageous for her to refuse to leave her patch or to agree to go anywhere with me (even though we are both out of work right now), so we are now locked in some kind of Cold War that I cannot and will not challenge (like I might have done a year ago), and she certainly will neither admit to, nor address under any circumstances.

The biggest irony is that earlier in the year, I created a mood board for myself. 

It features everything and everyone at that time that I wanted in my life including family, friends, things I want to do, possible career paths, places I’d like to go to, properties I’d like to live in etc. and B features quite heavily in it.

Until now.

But the scariest part is that (as some of you already know) it’s not just her. 

One friend is officially out of my life after negotiations fell through, one ceased to keep contact once she’d realised I didn’t want to be her unpaid shrink/surrogate mum anymore, one went away and came back because I had offered an olive branch, and there is one old colleague I don’t see much of anymore.

And now, someone who is/was probably my closest friend in the world, who knows all my flaws and vulnerabilities, is now wielding what she sees as her power with all the subtlety of a supercharged cattle prod.

And it hurts.

But when you look at the situation logically, I am the common denominator, as I’m sure they would all assure one another were they to meet up to discuss their relationship (or lack of therein) with me.

Does that mean I’m at fault?

Or is it all solely down to the fact that I’m changing?

I guess there are practical reasons too, such as living a different lifestyle, going down alternative ways of living and not being in the workplace, hence not being in town much anymore, but some friends have hung in there regardless, so it can’t just be me.

At this rate, my poor mood board will be empty by December 2013 😦

And the hardest thing of all to take in?

That someone who knows my condition, my loneliness and trust issues would take out her spikiest Jimmy C’s and slam the heel right into them.

Not because I have avoided her. 

Not because I have been horrible to her. 

Not because I have refused to see her.

But because I wouldn’t play her subordinate anymore and follow her around like a little lap dog when she wants me around, then fuck off out of the way for 4 months without a single note of protest when she has better things to do, more entertaining/influential people to meet.

The bottom line is that she expects me to accept where I come in her list of priorities whilst keeping her top of mine.

And it hurts.

It makes me feel like a piece of shit.

Would a real friend want me to feel this way?

Did or do I have any real friends?   That’s my biggest worry.  When will the next one bail out because I’m not the ‘old Sista’ anymore?

Aunty C (my counsellor) is adamant that I do not play her game, and insists that while I shouldn’t cut off my nose to spite my face, I should keep busy and that when she gets over it, she’ll be in touch.

But somehow I doubt it.

Aunty C purses her lips.  ‘Sometimes you grow out of people, you know?’, she said with rather too much emphasis, ‘Tell me, what is it that you see in, sorry, get from her?’

C knows much about B, and her pretensions, excesses and self serving ways (something she freely admits), but I do care about her, and besides, she has a good heart and really makes me laugh.

As there’s nothing I can really do about this situation except maintain a dignified silence, I took myself off for a manicure to cheer myself up this afternoon.

But as I sat in the little salon, the Chinese girls chatting amongst themselves in their own language and occasionally glanced at me and giggled, and I felt more alone and pathetic than ever.

‘Even these young ‘uns can see how pitiful I am, ‘ I thought to myself morosely, ‘I bet they don’t do that to the other customers.’

Just then, the door swung open and a rather Sloany, impeccably groomed young blonde runs in.

Image

‘Excuse me,’ she brays rather excitedly, ‘I need to get my nails done, because I’m going on holiday and I just found out that MY BOYFRIEND IS GOING TO ASK ME TO MARRY HIM, so I want my hands to look perfect!’

‘Oh fuck off, you smug cow’ I think bitterly but managed to painfully turn my head in her direction, smile at her excitement and nod my congratulations.

But the shop girls?

Not a flicker.

No smiles, no gushing, no congratulations.

Three sets of eyes just stared back at her without expression.

‘So, you want false nails or gels?’ asks the oldest one.

Sloany’s face was a picture, and I was torn between pity and hysterical giggles.

Then it dawned on me.

Some people are just bitches.

And sometimes when you love someone, it takes a while to figure that out.

When my manicurist is finished, I pay her then rummage in my bag for her tip.

‘£3 more.’ she says firmly.

‘What?’

Turns out she’s charging me for superglueing a crack in one of my thumbnails.

Okey dokey, love.  That would have been your tip anyway.

And her face when she realises that her tip is now going into the till is also a picture.

‘Fuck you very much’, I think, smiling sweetly, ‘bye now!’

She’s not the only person who can play that game.

This bitch, you’ll be pleased to hear, is back. 🙂