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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EAR WORM No. 23 – The Smiths – THERE IS A LIGHT THAT NEVER GOES OUT #SUICIDE

No prizes to guess why this particularly ditty is going round and round in my head.

‘Take me out tonight….’

https://sistasertraline.wordpress.com/2014/10/27/take-me-out/

The lyrics are also darkly, comically astute in this instance.

‘Driving in your car
I never never want to go home
Because I haven’t got one
Anymore’

That said ‘I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care’ because it’s by the mighty Smiths who can do little wrong as far as I’m concerned, and whilst lots of people take issue with Morrissey, their controversially outspoken, mincy front man, no one can deny their musically prowess and, whilst you may not agree with Mozza on everything, you can’t deny that the man has ethics and isn’t afraid to voice them, acceptable or otherwise, and his quotes are legendary.

Plus he’s an animal lover, which makes him one of the good guys in my book.

There is a surprisingly optimistic line in this song which is, of course, ‘There is a light that never goes out’, and whilst I somehow doubt that it’s a reference to God or anything to do with the afterlife, I could be wrong.

Perhaps it’s all about clinging to that moment (or moments like it) when you’re driving around in a soft top car on a warm summer’s night with someone you love, your wages/student grant burning a hole in your pocket, the air ripe with frivolity and possibility, and shitty old real life is on the back burner, and seems so very far away.

Until of course, the clubs close, your money’s all gone, the air is ripe with the smell of stale beer, spilt blood and fresh vomit, your hangover is just started to kick and and you’re sat on the pavement still off your tits waiting for the night bus to take you home.

That’s the rub. We always have to turn back around and face what’s lying in wait for us.  Even Morrissey knew that, hence he was willing to die just to stay in that moment.

Can’t say I blame him really.

Despite all this, I find this sing-a-long classic strangely optimistic and I guess, like some wise soul told me recently, ‘Just remember, when you’re sat on the (beer soaked) floor, you can’t fall off!’

I just hope that there are no uncovered manholes within crawling distance, that’s all.  Or dog shit come to that.

Enjoy the song x

http://www.lyricsfreak.com/s/smiths/there+is+a+light+that+never+goes+out_20126868.html

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TAKE ME OUT

wolf

Well.

I did it.

I rang my mortgage lenders, hung my head, and rolled over, then closed my eyes, waiting to be torn to shreds.

Or that’s how it feels at any rate.

And although it was what I was advised to do, and in theory the most sensible course of action, I know in my heart that I have sacrificed my last shred of dignity.

Lost job?  Check.

Claiming benefits?  Check.

Bad credit rating?  Imminent.

The thing is that I rang them in good time so that this wouldn’t happen.

But I am such a naive fool.

Because even though I have no bad debts and have not defaulted on any outstanding payments (yet), now that I’ve alerted them to the fact that I may not be solvent for much longer, they are now on red alert.

It also doesn’t help that I have my mortgage, bank accounts and credit card all with the same people, so I’m guessing that using my plastic is going to be touch and go from now on, and that any overdrafts and/or loans will be totally out of the question.

Not that I need or want debt.

It’s just like having that ‘You can stay with us if you’re desperate’ offer which, as I’ve previously mentioned, has not being reiterated of late.  There is no way I want to stay in anyone else’s home, nor accrue debt if I can possibly avoid it.

it would just be nice to know that these things are in place should the worst come to the worst.

Just in case.

But now the final nail is in the coffin of the person I used to be, the person I thought I was at any rate.

You see, whilst I don’t think i have much to be proud of in my life, one of the few things I have prided myself in over the years is that I have been quite sensible with money.  Apart from the occasional splurge (which tended to be on food/wine as opposed to designer clothing), I paid all bills well in advance of the deadlines, paid my credit card off in full every month, and did everything I could to ensure that I would never end up on the street.

A tough working class upbringing by one parent who lived in the pub/bookies and another who scrimped and saved and who feared this above all else tends to rub off on a kid, and I was determined that her fear would not be my fear, let alone my fate.

Funny how things turn out, hey?

You think you know yourself, or one knows oneself, don’t you, until things gradually fall away.

Your job, your business, your ethics, your social life, your dignity, your pride.

Maybe this is what is meant to happen to me.  Maybe I’m being tested.

On the plus side, there isn’t much else I can lose right now.

Apart from my life.

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And right now, I just wouldn’t give a shit.  In fact in some twisted way, I’d love it because I’d be able to just give in, for real, rent out this shit hole, guilt one of my friends into taking in my boys (with visiting/sofa rights of course cos dying would make me shameless), get the old credit card and just party until all my credit has gone and/or the geezer in the black coat arrives with his big knife thing and drags me off to wherever.  Maybe the place where the other sucker with the white robes should have dropped me off in the first place.

Whatcha say big boy?  We got ourselves a date?  Because dragging me ain’t gonna be necessary.

You don’t even have to wait till Halloween, I don’t want to come on too strong but any night works for me.  Hell, you don’t even have to buy me dinner.  I doubt you’d eat much anyway.

Because, for the record, you don’t scare me, you boney bastard, so quit all that grimacing and whoo-ing and get your skinny arse over here and take me out.

Before the next thing happens.   Because I have a horrible feeling that I haven’t even reached bottom yet.

Incidentally someone is so going to get it in the neck for all this one day.  Because my memory, patience and appetite for revenge probably even outstrips yours.

In the meantime, God please help me endure this life and that which is yet to come.

It’s the fucking least that you owe me.


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FRIENDS

Just a quick line to say thank you for all your messages and offers of support.  

Just because I wasn’t fit to receive them doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate them more than I can say.

Was on very shaky ground there for a day or two, but I managed to get to yoga last night and am tanked up to the eyeballs on Divine Miss S, so am working towards getting my baggy old butt out into the world if only to breathe freshly polluted London air instead of the aroma of drug sweat, tea breath and stale cat farts.

Also I have a big family event to attend next week, and aren’t as selfish (or cowardly as some people would claim) to ruin their big day by not attending or something far worse.  That and the urge to punch the touché éclat off the boat race of a certain Shep Smith, who/whatever that is.

How fucking dare he? What is it with him, Hannity and all those other pompous, brainless right wing pricks being paid to mouth their ignorant, short sighted, stupid opinions for money?  Who watches that shit anyway?

Unlike the song says, my problems haven’t gone, but I am done seeking gurus, spirit guides and signs from above to light my way.  It’s down to me to put my big girl pants on, and get myself out of this shitfight. 

Most of my friends have gone.  They took themselves away, truth be told.  Or did I drive them away? Right now I neither know nor care. 

But it gladdens my heart to see you lot easing down the road, smiling and waving instead of hiding behind lampposts in the hope that I pretend I didn’t see you, and fuck off home. 😉

I’m also here if you need me, but i think you know that anyway.

Special thanks to CD, you little tinker.  Stay in touch!

Big love xxxxxxxx


22 Comments

ANOTHER LIFE LOST TO ‘THE FEAR’ #depression #eupd

What can I say that others have not said before me?

I was so shocked and appalled at the death of the Hollywood great that is Robin Williams.

Like many on here, I have grown up with his TV Shows and movies, and it would particularly gladdened my heart when he appeared on chat shows, as he along with Billy Connelly was raconteur par excellence:

And of course everyone has been going ‘Why, why?’ and some particularly stoopid folk have called him selfish because they can’t understand why such a talented, rich, successful man could end his life in such a way.

Well let me tell you wankers, mental illness along with cancer, AIDs and death is one of those great levellers that cannot be fixed or alleviated by wonga.  Sure you can afford rehab and retreats and get to see the best physicians in their swanky offices, and recline on their velvet covered couches, but at 3am in the morning, when you can’t sleep because something is coming for you, and you are that close to taking an overdose, if only so you can stop running, it doesn’t really matter how expensive your designer jamas are, what the thread count of your bedding is or how presidgeous your postcode/zipcode is, the dark is the dark, and the Fear is the Fear, and there’s no escaping it, no matter who you are.

And that was the thing that really broke my heart.

That he knew the Fear.  My Fear.  ‘Cos it sounded very much like mine, in an interview he did with the Guardian a few years ago about his addictions.

http://www.theguardian.com/film/2010/sep/20/robin-williams-worlds-greatest-dad-alcohol-drugs

The reporter asked Robin whether it was the death of his friend Christopher Reeve that pushed him over the edge that time:

“No” he replied “it’s more selfish than that.  It’s just literally being afraid.  And you think, oh this will ease the Fear.  And it doesn’t”  What was he afraid of?  “Everything.  It’s just a general, all round argghh.  It’s fearfulness and anxiety”

And I hate it so that it tormented him too.

To the lovely, kind hearted, well intentioned folk out there, please don’t send people like me fucking Fear themed memes or quotes.  We’ve heard ’em all.  Hell, I’ve even sent some myself.  ‘Cos when you feel that bad, none of them mean shit.

51gsHt6YqxL

I’ve nearly finished my schema therapy book.  I thought it would make me feel better. But it doesn’t. What it does do is explain why my years of therapy haven’t been enough to crack my anger, self hatred and self sabotaging behaviour and that, given the number of schemas I have (nearly a full house, folks! Whoop de doo!) there is no way I can do this by myself.

So I’m really frightened now.

I’m frightened that I don’t get picked for schema therapy.

I’m frightened that whatever I do get won’t work.

I’m frightened that I won’t get any work and lose my home.

I’m frightened that I have to give up my cats.

I’m frightened that mine will be the next name in the obits column in my local paper before the year is out.

I’ve read so many lovely comments about the great man on Facebook today and that meme that tells you not to be ashamed about your mental afflictions was all over the place, so just as an experiment, I posted something that wasn’t exactly a confession, but alluded that I was knew more about it that I had previously let on.

Silence.

Nary a ‘Like’ or a comment in sight.

You see, that’s the beauty of Facebook. Everything is out there and can be summoned or dismissed with the click of a mouse, so you can pretend that you are tolerant, politically correct and big hearted, but the tiniest sniff of anything or anyone that could affect your world or turn up on your doorstep, then you can ignore it, block them or log out, and get the hell outta there.

So I guess I’ll need to keep pretending that everything between my ears is behaving itself, and with any luck, everyone can pretend they’re non the wiser if I end up following suite and bow out early one day.

Sshh…so just don’t tell on me, OK?

Robin-Williams.-006

 

 

 


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EVERYBODY LOVES YOU WHEN YOU’RE DEAD

Poem inspired by recent deaths, both in and out of the public eye, and the nature of modern ‘friendship’.

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Oh everybody loves you when you’re dead

Those accolades they go straight to your head

Well they would if it were there

Half mine’s splattered on the stair

Oh yes, everybody loves you when you’re dead

 

Everybody loves you when you’re gone

It helps that you don’t need them to lean on

You don’t lean on anything

When from a ceiling you do swing

In those darkest hours just before the dawn

 

Oh yes, you are adored when you’re no more

And not a living, frightened, needy bore

‘Oh I wish I’d known the score’

Well you would have, silly whore

If you’d gotten up and answered your front door

 

Everyone loves a funeral doncha know

It means you get to put on such a show

Of how much love you had

For this person oh so sad

That you hadn’t seen for, oh, 2 years or so?

 

And you always give good quote

And you’ll don black shades and coat

And you get to show off that new Prada tote….

 

And naturally the wake you will attend

And meet your buddy’s other lovely friends

And stories you will share

About the times so free from care

Or so it seems to suit you to pretend

 

So the next time you are needed, my dear friend

Perhaps you’ll help and be there till the end

As believe me, it is true

That one day it might be you

Who seeks that ole Grim Reaper to befriend

 

Everybody loves you when you’re dead

The eulogies they’d go straight to my head

If I could hear their song

But alas I’m dead and gone

As your words die, like your roses, so blood red

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A BEAUTIFUL MIND

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Today, coincidentally, I had an appointment with Aunty C my counsellor so I limped off to hers, still a bit shell shocked by yesterday’s events.

And whilst she poo pooed Dr Grey Fox’s diagnosis a little, I noticed that she didn’t look that surprised.

‘Ah, some practitioners need to pigeonhole people like you in order to process them and get them the right treatment.  Believe me, you could probably make anyone fit the emotionally unstable criteria as we’ve all been hurt by life and behaved, erm, abnormally or irrationally at some stages of our lives’ she said, smiling encouragingly.

‘Ah, C, I appreciate your support, but the criteria fits me like a top of the range Saville Row suit.’

Regardez:

1. Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment. – Yup.  HATE rejection and will reject first if I get so much as a sniff of it.

2. A pattern of unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterised by alternation between extremes of idealization and devaluation. – Check

3. Identity disturbance – markedly and persistently unstable self-image or sense of self. – ‘Oh Yes!’ (said in voice of Churchill)

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4. Impulsivity in at least two areas that are potentially self-damaging, e.g. spending, sex, substance abuse, reckless driving or binge-eating. – Yes.  Not so much nowadays, but in the past?  For sure.

5. Recurrent suicidal behaviour, gestures, or threats, or self-mutilating behaviour. – The latter and the desire not to be here

6. Affective instability due to a marked reactivity of mood, e.g. intense episodic dysphoria, irritability or anxiety, which usually lasts for between a few hours and several days. – YES

7. Chronic feelings of emptiness – YES

8. Inappropriate, intense anger, or difficulty controlling anger, e.g. frequent displays of temper, constant anger or recurrent physical fights. – Again, not so much of late, but I used to be a bit of a maniac, and I am on a lot of medication nowadays

9. Transient, stress-related paranoid ideation or severe dissociative symptoms. – Yes

See?

C sighs.  ‘Why are you so keen on labelling yourself?’

‘If it helps move me forward, I’ll have it tattooed on my forehead.’

We laugh, albeit a little sadly.

‘Look, I know I’ve improved and I know some of these symptoms are mainly in the past, but I’ve plateaued, and now I’m stuck.  Frozen.  Still scared to go out and face the big wide world.  And I know you think the ‘good parent’, ‘the inner child’ and all that lot will help me out, but they don’t and I just can’t do it alone.  And if I don’t do something quick, I’m going to be in real trouble financially.’

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Aunty C looks sad.

‘I don’t think you appreciate how well you’ve done’

‘I totally do, thanks to you, I’m not going to use the diagnosis as an excuse to write myself off, and I won’t necessarily buy into everything they throw at me, but I know I’m still quite a bit bonkers and think group therapy might be a good “dry run” for interacting and learning to deal with people outside of my comfy safe circle of friends.’

She looks at me with real warmth.

‘You are not bonkers.  You have a beautiful mind.  It’s creative, insightful, caring, lyrical, instinctive, even psychic but you let it wander off to dark places.  It rules you, not the other way around.  Try and catch yourself doing this, make some notes and we’ll talk about it when I see you in the New Year.’

‘OK, I’ll keep that mo fo in check, sho nuff!’ I quip jokingly.

Aunty C grimaces in frustration. ‘See how you talk to the child! The language!  Learn to be more gentle on yourself!’

‘OK!’

You’ve probably heard this ‘catching my thoughts’ thing before, so forgive me if i’m going over old ground, but it’s a tricky old ting this ‘beautiful’ mind of mine.  One minute it’s my ever faithful companion, and all ‘Oh it’s Christmas, how lovely!’ then the next it’s trying to creep off somewhere without my noticing.

‘Oh, you’re missing out on so many parties, and no one is missing you…still jobless, still on your own, just as well they don’t want to see you…’

And before I know it, it’s twice the size it was, has grown big, sharp teeth and claws, and has dragged me down some stinking filthy rabbit hole, where it’s all dark, stinking and rotten, and it takes me forever to get out.

‘..and everyone is having a good time without you, but let’s face it, no one would miss you if you weren’t here at all would they, I reckon by next year you’ll be dead and…’

But I’m trying. And hopefully this extra therapy will help.  In the meantime, I’ll just have to adopt the ”Ere, where do you think you’re going?’ approach, implement the use of a choke chain when necessary, and maybe this time next year there’ll be no doubt about who’s in charge anymore.

‘Who’s a beautiful boy then?  But I’m the boss.  And if you ever want a walk again, don’t you ever forget it!’

Whoops.  I forgot.  That’s not a nice way to talk to it.  I’d better modify my tone and try again.

‘OK Mind/Child/Whoever you are, this isn’t somewhere we want to linger is it?  Look at all that mud, poo, and I don’t even want to think what that thing is over there in the corner.  You are loved and liked and will have a lot of fun this Christmas if you put yourself out there and try.  Look there’s a bit of light winking over there, shall we head in that direction, climb out of this hole and go home for a nice hot bath?’

‘OK M/C/WYA, I thought we were doing some business research, so why are we searching eBay for coats/vintage sewing machines/boots/monkey fish mermaids that we cannot at this moment afford?  Let’s close those windows and focus on the job at hand, hmmm?  And then maybe, just maybe we’ll be able to buy this kind of stuff again one day.’

‘OK M/C/WYA, you’re obsessing about things that may not even happen, and if you think more optimistically you’ll have more chance of preventing this hideous glimpse of a possible future.  Focus on the now please, OK?’

‘OK M/C etc, etc, maybe she did betray and deliberately hurt you and maybe she didn’t; fact remains that she only has power over you if you give it to her.  Leave her stew in her own juices and go out for a nice dinner with someone else. She’ll be back, you’ll see her again if and when it suits you, and the balance of power will be a whole lot more even.’

Exhausting all of this Mind monitoring, but hopefully one day in the future it will lie at my feet, trusting and contented, and I won’t have to police it anymore.

Well I can dream, can’t I?

‘There’s my beautiful girl!’

 


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I’M LATE, I’M LATE….

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Yes, its me, Ms Tardy for the Party, as per usual.

What I am late for this time?  

Well pretty much everything actually.

Advancing in my yoga, setting up my business, my hideous fledgling novel on ‘na noo na noo’ or whatever they call it (and only three days in too!) and of course, achieving my aims and resolutions for this year.

And only eight weeks to go.

Of course I have realised that my advancement relied and relies on so much more than mere box ticking and that advancements, especially spiritually, have taken place that I never thought possible.

I also finally realised that I’ll never totally beat this condition; it is a part of me that I will always have to manage, make allowances for and nurture myself in it WITHOUT letting my FEAR rule me or allowing myself to hide from the world.

From a financial aspect, 2013 has cost me greatly, as I have not earned anything, not claimed any benefits and have gradually eaten away at my savings, but without this time away from the rat race I might not even be alive, so whilst I am poor I have much to be grateful for.

My main hurdle for the latter part of 2013 is to do those things for myself that only I can do, but for some reason deprive myself out of fear, self loathing, self protection or whatever.

I haven’t done an update for a couple of months and when I tried to today, I realised that I had let a lot slip AGAIN and am sat metaphorically on the school bus feverishly scribbling down my homework.

But I can’t explain how hard it it to motivate myself and get past my terror of ‘I don’t know what’ when I am for the most part all alone, and can get away with hibernating without anyone getting on my case about it.

But I can, must, WILL keep trying.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya tomorrow…..

I will hold off doing a proper update until the end of the year, when, I hope to have a gleaming school report, resplendent with gold stars!  Or big, splatty inkblots more like….

Thank you for your patience and big love to all xxxx