The Bitch


“Do you want to reschedule?” the girl chirped on the phone as I cancelled my bikini wax. I didn’t. Matters concerning lady garden tending couldn’t have been further from my mind.

I was actually finding it hard not to cry. It perhaps would have been acceptable to tear up during the treatment. It is painful. Or after, if they’d made an arse of it, so to speak. But before would just seem weird.

Plus I wasn’t upset because of anything to do with the appointment. More that I’d had to cancel it. Change my plans just because she was back.

I don’t even know why she’d come. She hadn’t been invited. No-one likes her. One friend describes her as a “fun vacuum that sucks the enjoyment out of everything.”

I’d lost count of the things I’d had to cancel when she was around – chats over coffee, girls’ nights out, even going to a wedding. It had become easier to say sorry for breaking plans rather than risk taking her along and end up having to apologise for her.

“She doesn’t scare me. I’ll still come and see you,” Richard said. “Give her an alias if you don’t want to say her name. Just text and say ‘Priscilla is here’ or something,” he suggested, somewhat obviously for an Aussie that prefers boys. I liked his idea though. Deciding that his choice sounded too gay, in the happy sense, we opted for Katrina. Like the hurricane. Another destruction-causing female.

I’d hoped that she’d got the hint she wasn’t wanted last time she’d come over. I’d made lots of plans for the following few weeks so I’d have no free time available for her. I even booked a last-minute holiday. Drastic, but it worked, I’d seen no sign of her.

Until now. She’d turned up unannounced. Unwanted.

I was different when she was around. Moody and anxious. Constantly tired as she’d keep me up all night with her incessant chatter. I’d feel unattractive and unintelligent, hopeless and helpless. She even had this knack of making me paranoid that my friends didn’t actually like me.  I hated her. And I don’t hate anyone.

This visit was the worst. She was here with a vengeance and I had no energy to fight her anymore. I was just going to have to accept that she’d always be in my life.

Then I suddenly remembered where I could go to get away from her. Where I could get some help to stand up to her.

I walked there slowly.  I could sense her following me. I arrived and rang the bell. A woman with a kind face answered.

“I’m Jean. Come on in dear,” she said. I felt better already.

I closed the door of the Samaritans behind me and left my black dog outside in the cold.

I’m a bitch
I’m a bitch
Oh the bitch is back
Elton John – The Bitch is Back

Hey you lot, hope you are all well. I’m busy with another writing project for the next few days, so in case I don’t have time to blog I decided to post this story I wrote a couple of years ago.

Also wanted to take the chance to thank you for continuing to read. Means a lot. Especially as I know that I have a lot of readers that don’t suffer from depression (lucky buggers!) and it’s the ultimate compliment that you still come on here. Please do pass it on to people that you know, or just suspect, may have been bitten by the dog because one of the worst things about it is how isolated you feel and I can’t express how much it helps to know that others are in the same boat. Ask them to register to receive an email when I’ve posted or send them to my Facebook page where I put up inspirational quotes.

Please do comment, even anonymously, if you can relate to anything I write about. I get a bit tired of my own voice. Though my therapist would probably argue that it doesn’t seem that way.

Lastly, I’m finally getting around to doing the ‘stuff’ page. If you can suggest any links to sites, books you’ve read, tips for getting well, etc, etc that you think would be useful for others then let me know on Facebook or on

You are all wonderful and don’t you forget it!

Stacey x