A new start.

Hi folks. I just wanted to let you all know, I have started a new blog. I will still come in here and post, and will most likely re-blog some of the posts from the other here also.

The new blog is here: https://wornoutphoenix.wordpress.com/

Thanks for following me.



I don’t know where exactly I want to start. What a crazy week, both personally and in the worldwide community. Well, maybe I’ll start with one thing, and keep it short and sweet, although I feel like I want to say more, but in all honesty, it would be pointless. Let’s get straight to the point, WTF America ???

Ok, now that is out of the system, to the rest.

This crazy thing that is my life right now is like walking on a tightrope, whilst hurtling through space on a rocket. All it’s taking is the smallest thing, and I find myself sprawled in a wasteland. Any hint of negativity from another person, and it leaves me feeling drained of all life and energy, and dirty. Take today for example. I had to visit a government agency, where I have never had any major drama’s, the staff being very good at their job. Until today. Someone new. Rude, disrespectful and combative. Queen Bitch. I was shocked at the treatment. So shocked, that as soon as she took the form I needed to submit from my hand, I walked away. She may not be so lucky with the next person who is on an emotional knife edge. And it will happen, because this government agency is where people go when life has given them lemons.

The side effect of her obtuse behaviour, was that my son’s school missed out on me doing a job for them today. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I couldn’t. I had to ring them and let them know I wasn’t coming in as it had been a rough morning. Even driving home the 20 kilometres or so was a struggle. I had plans to do a few things today, but all due to Queen Bitch, none have happened. She drained all my energy away, leaving me in a crumpled heap that didn’t eat lunch, and crawled into bed at 1pm for a couple of hours sleep. I am sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that if she was American, she would have voted Trump. She’s the sort of person who blames the victims of the system, for the system, that she and her ilk created, to destroy others lives. ( Still can’t get how the American people fell for the “I’m anti establishment” line when he is well entrenched in the establishment, he IS the establishment. America, he is the ultimate con man. )

Moving on, I saw my doctor today, will be increasing my dosage of meds from tonight, and now have a referral to a specialist, a rheumatologist, in regards to my suspected fibromyalgia. Life goes on, and so must I. Keep on keeping on.

An Open Letter to America

Queen Victoria

trump4Dear America

Our relationship is over. Please delete my number, unfriend me on Facebook and un-tag me from all of your photos. In fact, it might be best if you never mention we were friends to anyone, ever. I would prefer you pretend you don’t know me because, you know, it’s pretty embarrassing for anyone to know how close we once were.

I can’t totally forget the good memories, but your disgraceful behaviour has tainted them. I grew up thinking you were like this cool older cousin who always made me laugh and who I could trust to be brave whenever I needed you. You always had the good guy winning. The aliens were always defeated, the asteroid never once destroyed the earth, the bomb got close to going off but never did, the super-hero always saved the day, and the story unfailingly had a happy ending. That’s what you…

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Mixed Bag

Wow ! What a day !! As emotional roller-coasters go, today was a doozy.

Was very tired this morning when I got up, I slept well, but stayed up way too late last night. It didn’t last long though, and got into the swing of things quickly, got Mr 6 to school early, caught up with one of the Mums I haven’t seen for a while, and then got home by about 9.15am. Things were going great.

Then I commenced finishing off a project I started about a month ago, I had stripped all the old floor sealer off the slate floor of the bathroom, and today I got the first coat of sealer on, finally. Stripping the old floor sealer was a crappy job to do, so that’s my excuse for taking so long to finish it off. Once the 2 coats of sealer have dried, I will put 3 or 4 coats of gloss on it, the gloss dries quicker so not such a big job. I was still doing fine, and felt like I had accomplished something worthwhile.

Then I started finishing off the final touches to the living room, putting things away, vacuuming, dusting, all while listening to music very loudly. No neighbours home, so I took advantage. Things went downhill very suddenly.

Not sure why I crashed, but I did. Trying to pull myself out of it, I kept tinkering and tidying and had a nap, until Mr 6 needed to be picked up, and while waiting in the car, I bawled my eyes out. Yay !!

Anyhow, I composed myself to go into the school to wait for Mr 6, managing to hang in there. Mr 6 knew I wasn’t right when he came out, I obviously failed at hiding it, and he immediately came over and silently gave me the best hug ever.

When we got home, we just sat an vegged out watching a movie I had recorded on the TV, and I felt the burden lift, cooked a fantastic sweet and sour chicken stir-fry with Singapore noodles, and then got Mr 6 all ready for bed, tucked him in, and felt fine. Since then over the past couple of hours I have been up and down a little, but doing OK.

I think part of it is related to the remarkable young woman I met on the weekend. I don’t see us crossing paths necessarily again anytime soon, but she certainly left a big impression on me. I hope we do get a chance to have another great chat.

Caught off guard.

I have been pondering for some time if I would write about this, but as this little blog seems to be a big part of me dealing with things, I need to let the cork out and just get on with it.

The past weekend was a very busy one. My son’s school had it’s annual fete, which consumed several hours of my time on Friday afternoon, and then on Sunday, I was there from 8.30am until 4.30pm, helping out where needed, and at it’s conclusion helping get everything cleaned up. In between that, Mr 6 was invited to a school friends Birthday party on Saturday. So yes, quite a busy weekend.

Now, the thing that has been consuming my thoughts, happened at this birthday party on Saturday. I met a truly incredible young woman. As I have previously said, and have been discussing with my psychologist recently, I really have quite a deal of anxiety in social situations, particularly when I don’t really know those in the social group very well. It eases with time, once I get to know others, and they get to know me, but for what happened on Saturday to occur, well, that has just not happened for a very, very long time.

So, on Saturday, we had all gathered at a local park for this party. I have over time got comfortable with my son’s friend’s parents, and I also am comfortable with both the child’s grandmothers also, one is a co-owner of a local business I regularly visit, and the other quite often picks my son’s friend up from school, as mum works for her parents-in-law at the local business, and the dad is starting his own business. Aside from that, I haven’t really met any of the rest of the family, and as it turned out, it seems that Mr 6 was the only school friend invited to the shindig, so all the rest of the people in attendance were family. In these sorts of situations, I am pretty much a wallflower. Anyhow, very shortly after it all started, a young lady, who I later found out was the sister of the mum, came out of the blue and started talking to me. We chatted about all sorts of things, and it just seemed that time stood still, we just chatted and chatted for hours. It was like we had always known each other. It was all strange, I didn’t even have a single hint of anxiety.

At this point, I have to say a few things. This young woman is about 20 years my junior. She isn’t unattractive, but not a supermodel either, just a nice average young lady. During the whole conversation, not once did she speak like so many , well, all the other young women her age I have encountered recently. She wasn’t a giggly little girl, who was self obsessed, she had intelligent conversation, spoke like an adult and was very mature. To say that she blew me away would be an understatement. And she has stunning eyes.

When the little gathering was done, and we all left, I suddenly realised that I had just had an incredible conversation, with an incredible young woman, and that she had done something that no woman has been able to do to me for a long time, make me feel at ease, and, well, happy. In all honesty, I have actually felt like I am on cloud nine since Saturday.

I hope our paths do cross again, I don’t expect that anything will happen as such, but it would be nice to just have another conversation as invigorating as that one. I have been caught off guard, and finally it seems, a woman has broken the ice.


Back on the Merry-go-round Part 2.

So, the merry-go-round continues.

Since the last posting, I have had the full gamete of emotions. And I’m still not on my full dosage yet. It’s been quite a ride. I have also finally started seeing a psychologist again, the first visit was last week, the second yesterday.

After the first visit, or as I call it, unlocking the closet, I was a mess. I got home after it, felt dirty, so had a shower, and as I dried myself, I glanced left into the mirror, and saw it for the first time in a long while. The scar. The scar, which was from when at about 6am in the morning many years ago, I awoke with a searing ( literally ) pain in my side. A searing, burning pain, that should have been a wake up call, of a previously prepared iron, being held into the side of my torso. Yes, that was how brutal this woman that appeared so mild and meek to many was. I was shocked when I saw that scar again. I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed it for so long. Unlocking the closet must have made me look. Although, as soon as I saw it last week everything came flooding back. I had buried it deep in the recesses of my consciousness. I never told anyone, until I recounted the experience with my psychologist yesterday.

I don’t know what other horrors lay in those deep recesses. I am a little frightened actually of what may lurk there, things that I have hidden from others, but mainly from myself. I am scared of the scars.

In actual fact, I am still scared of HER. The one who now goes to church, because the brainwashers knocked on her door, to try and absolve her sins. She doesn’t have enough hours of life left to ever pray enough to have her sins absolved. I myself don’t believe in such fairy stories of some ultimate being in control of everything ( if there is, he is male, because he is such a prick ), But if I am wrong, then she should never, ever, be allowed through those Pearly Gates. No matter how much she prays for forgiveness. And I have said it before, and I’ll say it again, I have moved on, but she will NEVER get forgiveness from me. I will never give her the satisfaction.

As much as I hate talking about HER, and what she did, I know that by avoiding it, I am letting it simmer in the recesses of my mind, like a slow cooker. I know, because that is why it has started to simmer over into my dreams at night. It has made me scared of people in general. It has made me avoid interaction with others on a face to face basis. I know this all stems from the hell that I have buried in my mind, trying to ignore and forget. But hiding it away and from it, doesn’t work.

When I finished recounting the story to my psychologist yesterday, and showed her the scar, she said ” she should have been charged.” Yes, she should have been, many times over. But these sick people like HER, they twist your mind so much that although they do these horrific things to you, you never dob them in, because although you are their slave, and do everything for them, they make you believe that you wouldn’t survive without them. The fact is, it is they that can’t survive without a victim to prey on.

It was actually quite incredible when I started to empower myself again, and decided enough was enough, to see the desperate measures one of these monsters will take to keep their hold on you, becoming increasingly more frantic, trying everything in the book, to not let you escape. Because, they know, that once their victim breaks free, their dirty little secrets will no longer be hidden any more.

Until I started having the distinct signs of PTSD last year, I thought I had handled everything pretty well in my new life. The damage however, is more than just those physical scars. I know some people think that when you work through these things with a therapist, that you will eventually get to a resolution at some point. I think it is true to a certain point, but although the scars, both physical and mental may fade over time, they don’t go completely. I am under no illusions that this past I am living with, will always be there.

As a postscript to this, I must also mention that my psychologist told me a few interesting things. Her own son, who is a few years younger than I, is currently going through all of the same things I did. He is trying to escape, but can’t make that final step yet. He too has a very young son who he will never leave behind with his abuser.

The other very interesting thing she has told me, which is not all that surprising to me, that of all her clients who have been or are still currently victims of domestic violence, 50% are male, 50% are female. All those men’s abusers were women. This fallacy that continues to be bandied around that men are always the abusers, never the victims, ( or if they are victims, the attacker is another male ),  and all women are victims, has got to collapse soon, because factually speaking, it is not true. And, I will tell you, without a shadow of a doubt, all victims, regardless of gender, are damaged and suffer the exact same amount. Perpetuating the myth that men are less feeling and can just “man up” and deal with it, and that it doesn’t effect men as badly, is exactly that, a myth, and in itself is a form of abuse towards those victims, but this time, it’s not coming from the original culprit, it is coming from society. All victims, have gone through enough, regardless of gender. Society needs to stop being abusers themselves.

Back on the merry-go-round.

Finally, after months of procrastination, self monitoring, seeing each episode getting more intense, both ways, I have commenced medication again. So right now, I am on that round-a-bout that you get when starting a new drug. I took the first little magic pill mid-afternoon yesterday, and after about 15 to 20 minutes, hello zombie ! Was quite a shock to the system, seeing I have been experiencing the depression pretty badly in the past few days, then bang, nothing, not happy, not sad, nothing. By the time I had to go and pick up Mr 6 from school, I was on automatic pilot, wanting to just go to bed, but unable to because life goes onwards and upwards. Then, after managing to cook and eat dinner, I was posting something to Facebook and found myself just in tears about nothing in particular at all. So, the merry-go-round was in full swing.

Thankfully, I woke this morning, feeling satisfied with life, which is a big thing. I have approached the day in a very positive frame of mind, more so than for a long time. I went off to the school to drop Mr 6 off, had some cheery conversation with some staff and parents, managed to get some housework done ( there is piles to do, but at least it’s starting to look like it is getting done now !! ), and taken a walk down to the supermarket to grab some milk so I could have my first coffee of the day (as I forgot to unfreeze a bottle of milk last night), tomatoes and salami for my lunch. It all feels very positive, and strange.

I have also resolved that I will no longer call my disorder the sanitised name of Bipolar. Why sanitise it, for who’s benefit is it sanitised ? It is, and has been known for far longer as, Manic Depression, and honestly, that’s what it is, why make it sound like some sort of electrical term, or what ever you want to think of it as. It is bloody Manic Depression, you have mania, and depression, and it’s original name is better suited to it. Who decided to call it this bullshit name, Bipolar, I mean, what does that even mean ?

And, whilst I’m at it, with all the technology and knowledge that apparently exists today, why are we treating mental disorders with sledgehammers, why haven’t the so called experts designed drugs that are precision instruments, tackling the condition without creating a plethora of other conditions that then need to be combated too ? I just don’t get it. And also, I hear and read some pretty ill informed and often naive statements from so called experts on Manic Depression. Who declared them experts ? From some of my experiences with people in the mental health sector, they are sociopaths and psychopaths, wanting to have control over other people, and not really that interested in actually helping them. How do these sort of people, who are mentally ill themselves, slip through the cracks and get put in a position where they can more often than not cause more harm than good to their clients ?

Anyhow, enough of that rant, all is good today, and now I must get on with some more work around the house before Mr 6 needs picking up from school, and hopefully, the sun keeps shining.

Love and peace to you all.