little griefkeepers

On the offchance that you haven’t seen this yet: Teletubbies dancing to Joy Division. It’s the ultimate in ironic emo; I love it.

Okay, if you watched that, you’re probably in the right frame of mind to put up with me mopping up tears and blowing my nose on my blog again. Stupid android app won’t let me embed the video, so here is an unsatisfactory gif.

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The miserable bit is after the cut.

A farewell, a reminder, an act of kindness, a song – those were today’s gatekeepers of grief. They’re only causal in a butterfly effect sort of way; they are temporary triggers, perhaps – if you have any interest in adding even more triggers to your basket (nooooooo).

The farewell … sore, but absolutely and utterly worth it. The others, bittersweet and on their slow and careful way to becoming more sweet than bitter.

(If you feel like some soothing and comforting, this might do it.)

They’re innocent, those little guardians of grief, with their numerous and alliterative appellations, even though they frequently sneak in silently and overthrow your composure. My composure – let me avoid speaking for anybody but myself. Songs are the universal visceral reminders. I was about halfway home when the first wave hit. I turned it up louder than I have ever turned anything up (sober) before and I sang my broken heart out. A few songs later, another one arrived. It was the last bit of the main road and I had it loud and was singing (bellowing) along. I turned off and got a bit further down the road and those weird and silent tears swelled in my ribcage and that was that. It was a good and healing howl, but so so so so fucking incredibly very sore. Obviously. Grief wouldn’t be grief if it felt and tasted like clouds of cotton candy.

Amazingly, when I got back, there was a friend to hug me. Astonishing and lovely.

Home … swallow lamotrigine and ritalin and grapefruit juice. Slam tomato and olive chips down my throat. Dole out the incredibly expensive pills into the pill caddy, checking them like some kind of rite –
Wellbutrin
Ritalin
Lamotrigine
Chlorpromazine
Serdep
Even my fecking medication is sliding towards clang association. Ohhhh did you see what I did (unintentionally) there. Dole out their little friends too –
Zinc & Magnesium
Vitamin C
Probiotics
I know people whose daily pill intake hits double figures, my quantities are modest.

… distraction like that helps me sidle past any further tearstorms (a storm in a tearcup?), and I can plod through the rest of the day. Sensible food, exercise, routine, lather, rinse, repeat.

I scuppered myself briefly by answering an email from my alcoholic aunt. She asks things and then studiously replies to every single thing I say, except anything bipolar related. Whaaatever.

Grief is infinite, but life can curve safely around it. Aching ribs and raw eyeballs are finite. Chocolate helps a little. Clean and clear tear ducts are fabulous … eh, fuck all this positivity.

Everything is okay, even though it will never be okay again. Some of you will understand that already and the others will too, eventually.

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Published by

blahpolar

battlescarred, bright, bewildered, bent, blue & bipolar

16 thoughts on “little griefkeepers”

  1. Love this: “Grief is infinite, but life can curve safely around it”. I love all of it.I don’t love that you’re hurting, but that you’ve tasted a bit of acquiescence in its braver forms. It’s very powerful. Your words and the meaning and experiences behind them are very powerful. Thank you for sharing xx

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Everything is okay, even though it will never be okay again. Some of you will understand that already and the others will too, eventually. <—————— Oh so well Sweet Pea…

    Liked by 2 people

  3. I”m not understanding about the teletubbies video, would it be more helpful for me to just listen to the song? or am I missing something? And the teletubbies ARE gay, you know. ;) (wink placed so that people know I am kidding).

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Grief wouldn’t be grief if it felt and tasted like clouds of cotton candy. No it certainly wouldn’t. I think we need the taste of the bitter to really enjoy the tastes of the sweeter times of life. Love to you Lovey <3

    Liked by 2 people

  5. In the right – or wrong? point of view – mood, some songs can have me in floods of tears. Sometimes, I deliberately listen to something, knowing it will do this. Because damned up tears are even worse than flowing ones. At least, they are for me.

    I am sorry you are in pain. I am glad your friend was there to hug you. ((hugs)) from over the waters, and far away.

    Liked by 1 person

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