the sads

Scheduled post, by the time you read this, I’ll be in a good mood.

This, now… this is why I need to schedule posts, I have to puke a post and forget the raw intensity of the emotions behind it. If anyone said anything at all to me about it now, I’d slide a little further downhill on my arse. I need to be up in the morning, but I can’t sleep and the pills aren’t working. I’m too revved, every molecule is vibrating and there’s a massive cannonball in my gut. You can call me Melodramah Blah. Melodramblah. Headrushes and RLS and aaaaaaarrrrrrrggggghhhhh fuck fuck fuck…


That was last night and now it’s this afternoon (no wonder I have such a kak relationship with times and dates. Dating Time would be cool though. Where was I? I woke up feeling tons better, went for the routine morning beach walk and so on. Then I went into The Little Smoke for my first consult with a trainee psychiatrist from Uganda. It went really well, I liked her a lot. 23 free sessions to go (yes I’m a jammy bugger etc etc – it’s possible that you need to be British to understand that one idk). Between you and me, I think I like being a PhD case study.


Another gap in writing. Its 02h30 (ffs) and I suppose I’m too strung out for the pills to have worked. It’ll come right tomorrow, beach and sea and sky will sort it. I’m chilled now anyway. The afternoon was good for a while and then I cried and cried and cried till I felt like giving Noah a heads-up for round 2 of the flood. It’s been going on for days. I was exhausted after today’s session. Not surprising at all. So before next week I have to write a list of my problems in order of priority – I wonder what that’ll look like.

Spleen vented; i feel better already.

Walking Around (Pablo Neruda)

It so happens I am sick of being a man.
And it happens that I walk into tailor shops and movie houses
dried up, waterproof, like a swan made of felt
steering my way in a water of wombs and ashes.

The smell of barbershops makes me break into hoarse sobs.
The only thing I want is to lie still like stones or wool.
The only thing I want is to see no more stores, no gardens,
no more goods, no spectacles, no elevators.

It so happens that I am sick of my feet and my nails
and my hair and my shadow.
It so happens I am sick of being a man.

Still it would be marvellous
to terrify a law clerk with a cut lily,
or kill a nun with a blow on the ear.
It would be great
to go through the streets with a green knife
letting out yells until I died of the cold.

I don΄t want to go on being a root in the dark,
insecure, stretched out, shivering with sleep,
going on down, into the moist guts of the earth,
taking in and thinking, eating every day.

I don΄t want so much misery.
I don΄t want to go on as a root and a tomb,
alone under the ground, a warehouse with corpses,
half frozen, dying of grief.

That΄s why Monday, when it sees me coming
with my convict face, blazes up like gasoline,
and it howls on its way like a wounded wheel,
and leaves tracks full of warm blood leading toward the night.

And it pushes me into certain corners, into some moist houses,
into hospitals where the bones fly out the window,
into shoe shops that smell like vinegar,
and certain streets hideous as cracks in the skin.

There are sulphur-coloured birds, and hideous intestines
hanging over the doors of houses that I hate,
and there are false teeth forgotten in a coffeepot,
there are mirrors
that ought to have wept from shame and terror,
there are umbrellas everywhere, and venoms, and umbilical cords.

I stroll along serenely, with my eyes, my shoes,
my rage, forgetting everything,
I walk by, going through office buildings and orthopaedic shops,
and courtyards with washing hanging from the line:
underwear, towels and shirts from which slow
dirty tears are falling.

(I’m kinda having a little Neruda blog festival at the moment.)
(BRB going to terrify a clerk with a cut lily. Wonder if that’s rhyming slang…)


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battlescarred, bright, bewildered, bent, blue & bipolar

48 thoughts on “the sads”

  1. I think I’m traumatized by the false teeth in the coffee pot. I will try to replace that imagery with something else…at least while I’m enjoying my morning ritual of a bigass coffee.
    Strongs amiga mia. Tqm. Cuídate mucho.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. You’re amazing for having the patience and perseverance to push through and “walk through the peanut butter”. Homemade jam’s waiting for you at the other side of the pb.

      Liked by 1 person

    2. Amazing how he conveys stuff using words you’d never think of for it. That section is so eloquent about negative stuff without once resorting to the usual clichés. Yuk tho :) btw Google says cuidate is beware? What of/of what? mu

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Haha, Google sucks ass sometimes. It means “take care”, cuídate mucho = take good care. And yes, I love unclichés. That’s one of my goals in life actually – to live unclichély and write unclichély. Beware of clichés tho because haste makes waste when you’re looking at the writing on the wall and you can’t fucking read between the lines because it’s raining cats and dogs and the dogs are running around with their tails between their legs and the cats – well – the cats got the dogs’ tongues and the clouds – they all have a silver lining in which all that glitters is actually silver and not gold – but no worries because even if those fucking clichés are up your ass – if all else fails, play dead, because what goes around comes around and when life hands you lemons, well you just gotta make some lemonade; because time heals all wounds. :p

        Liked by 2 people

      1. Well you are actually, short of change because Canadians, we got rid of pennies. That’s a lot of cents missing – just like this sentence has a lot of sense missing ;)

        Liked by 1 person

          1. Yes, third day in a row with headache, but I’m currently digesting pizza and chocolate cake and Tetley tea. So, could be worse :)


  2. It is amazing how similar we are it’s almost scary, lol. Love your honesty and brilliance. Music fits it perfectly. How long have you had RLS? Meds?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Seroquel started the RLS off about 5yrs back; had it again on Seroquel last year, this re end but wasn’t caused by anything identifiable. Thanks lots for the comment and compliments.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. I have a soul? *faints* well maybe just a little damned one… It’s for sale though. I hear Canadian souls taste like maple syrup? Wonder how long I’ll get away with the stereotypes before one of you cracks xD

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Big giant hugs unless you are super sick of them and then I just might give you one anyway. I hate those days/ nights and it is great you know that your routine will help it – I don’t really have that. The routine or the good habit. Altho today and yest. was a lot more physically active and it feels so good. Why I don’t do that all the time I don’t know. ANYway this is about you not me lol. xo

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks lots. The routine has taken a long time to get to, I’ve always been chaotic about it till the last few years. And exercise… I live in a paradise with an energetic dog. The conditions are ideal to get even my lazy ass into gear :D

      Liked by 1 person

  4. I’m going through Seroquel withdrawal as I write this.
    I’m hoping that you’re in a good mood as you predicted and that the sads have been flattened out!

    Today marks day #8 off Snoozeoquel – I’m exhausted and uber-blah.
    At least I didn’t have RLS from it (ugh – so sorry you suffered with that)
    I needed to see if I could live without the stuff, even if it was “just” a low dose of 25 mg. I think I can keep off it. Fingers are crossed.

    Sending you hugs. Miss Lucy barks her best wishes to you – as a matter of fact, the volume of that girl’s bark is so loud, you might be able to catch hearing it on a breeze. ;) Xo

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Ja I’m good thanks :) hope the sluroquel doesn’t cause you too much zombie hell. The worst side effect I had from it was really bad breathlessness when I lay down; at that point I refused to ever try it again. It’s a rare side effect, though I know CC gets it too. Thanks for the hugs and barks, haha those two things would also work if you were talking to a tree :D

      Liked by 2 people

      1. I’m just really tired (weird, because it has been outta my system for over a week, or has it? How long does that stuff stay in your body? Forever?) and irritable but those two “justs” really mess me up. I know you get it! ;) At least I didn’t have that awful breathlessness you had – ugh ugh ugh.

        Liked by 1 person

        1. Okay pottybrain, I googled and you’re gonna love the details:

          Mainly via hepatic metabolism; less than 1% excreted as unchanged drug. Approximately 73% of dose recovered in urine and 20% in feces. The mean terminal half-life for immediate-release is , for ER is, and for N-desalkyl quetiapine is 12 h.

          Liked by 1 person

          1. You spoil me with your Google love! Between that info., your thoughtfulness, and a stunning photo of a certain hound frolicking in the sunset, I’m feeling a tad better now. Slept better last night too, which was a bloody miracle! Today marks the 14th day sans Seroquel – this is nothing short of a miracle. :) Xo

            Liked by 1 person

      1. Thanks honey. No one fucking understands what it’s like to go through withdrawal (or suffer with med side effects) around here – except the women in my support group and lovely souls like YOU! And maybe Lucy…. ;) XOXOXOX

        Liked by 2 people

  5. Best of luck with sessions with trainee pdoc from Uganda. Hope she is worth the free sessions. At the very least, she will learn from you. Hope you are now better than you felt when you wrote this post.

    Liked by 3 people

  6. Great post & images as always. I can see why you love Pablo: a “felt swan”! Where does/did he get these images, and the guts to put them on paper?

    I hope the sessions with the trainee psych go well. I have been seeing a counsellor since last year, it has been worth it, but emotionally messy at times. Going for counselling for anger, and getting even angrier: yeah, that was fun.

    I’m guessing “RLS” doesn’t = Robert Louis Stevenson? Is it “Raging Laughing Sadness”? That kind of sums me up, though more often sequentially, rather than at the same time.

    Liked by 1 person

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