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“… girls need clothes and food and tender happiness and frills, a pan, a comb, perhaps a cat.” L Ron Hubbard

Getting through things doesn’t necessarily get you to a shiny happy place, sometimes it’s a hard, flat, desolate place, with an ill wind blowing. You blink and you’re numb and you’re as lonely as a dead tree. Know what I mean? Bi-fucking-polar disorder is exhausting. The intense moods are exhausting, the attempts to moderate the moods are exhausting and the bruising is invisible and inevitable, but no less painful for it. Actually I’d compare the wounds it inflicts to a scar right across my face, or a broken bone – jagged and screaming through flesh and skin.

Putting on a brave face is exhausting, but necessary, or I’d spend most of my life seeing people flinch at the rawness of it all. Even the nearest and dearest can’t cope with it all the time. Well hello there shame and loathing…

And by all of that, what I mean is – hello. I missed you guys.

it is in my heart…

That solemnly handing you a paper boat would make everything alright.
It is in my mind
I am alone and sometimes lonely, but very wary of new people and very nervous about more people.
It is in my brain
Books were the things that kept me enthralled, awake for whole nights. Books and I, we’ve betrayed each other now. I can’t make sense of words for too long and they exact gentle vengeance by sending me sleep and sadness.
It is in my eyes
My eyesight is deteriorating, there are times when I see things that are not real and sometimes when I am sad and my eyes untrustworthy, they feel hooded and old and tired as a vulture’s.
It is in my bones
If marrow can ache, mine does.
It is in my nature
To laugh at my own pretentiousness. It’s a saving sort of a grace.

The other day was a happy one though and here is why.. Elephant, black rhino, lion, buffalo, eland, kudu, red hartebeest, ostrich, burchell’s zebra. Totally worth the 3hr drive there and the same back, and a day’s driving in between.

it is in my mind…

When I was a lass lad kid, I read as much as possible about ancient and Romano-Britain. In many of the stories, ancient Britons of various tribes would preface thoughtful words with, “it is in my mind…” and you could feel the weight of it. I loved those stories, still do actually. I use those words mentally sometimes, because it’d sound very pretentious aloud and some of the things I use it for stay there, in my mind. Sometimes I think, “it is in my heart…”, which sounds even worse aloud – unless you’re in Braveheart or Highlander or something.

I love this quote, I love Camus.

The solidarity of bodies, unity at the center of the mortal and suffering flesh. This is what we are and nothing else. We are this plus human genius in all its forms, from the child to Einstein.

No, … it is not humiliating to be unhappy. Physical suffering is sometimes humiliating, but the suffering of being cannot be, it is life. … What you must do now is nothing more than live like everybody else. You deserve, by what you are, a happiness, a fullness that few people know. Yet today this fullness is not dead, it is a part of life and, to its credit, it reigns over you whether you want it to or not. But in the coming days you must live alone, with this hole, this painful memory. This lifelessness that we all carry inside of us — by us, I mean to say those who are not taken to the height of happiness, and who painfully remember another kind of happiness that goes beyond the memory.

Albert Camus

*chirpy voice and laser pointer* And in my mind today, scattered thundershowers are moving towards this *point* low and… eh, idk. I’m tired and probably over stimulated by good people and their voices.

Thank you for your beautiful words in response to the post about my mother’s birthday, I was and am too tearful to reply. I’ll visit your blogs when I get time and space. I miss you. I miss me too, I wonder where I am.


It’s my mother’s birthday and I started to feel miserable and fragmented and jagged yesterday. I’m having some solitude, which is possible because I have two guests till Tuesday. I’d be lousy company anyway and there’s every chance I’d feel agitated and trapped and turn into a (more) grouchy asshole. It feels as though every molecule is vibrating. There are tears queueing up to punch their way out, but I’d rather that happened later if I can stave it off. Hollow gut, faint feeling of RLS, nausea – I feel so lost. Every time I get teased (and it’s truly kindly meant) I have to walk away with a fake smile so that I don’t snap or howl.

Douchebag neighbour is away (hallefreakinglujah) and her daughter and family are house sitting, which is lovely. I get on really well with her and I escaped there for coffee earlier today. I’ll probably talk to nextofkin later if we’re able to speak. I get very silent when I’m feeling very fucked. Don’t know whether I’ve already told you, but ol’ douchebag popped in one day; she said that her homophobe had sent his regards and that she had said well why not do it yourself? I said, with a saccharine smile, “I haven’t invited him here and he isn’t welcome.” She did what she does, which is to look like a rabbit in headlights and scuttle off like a gecko. (I can’t begin to tell you how fond I am of mixed metaphors.)

I had blood drawn yesterday for white blood cell levels and something else I can’t remember. Then I’ll be on clozapine and apparently off chlorpromazine. Tomorrow I’ll take my two guests to an arty and old village. Tonight I’ll read blogs until I pass out.

Tell me how you are?

the situation is…

The agitation that rules my mixed episodes will kill me if anything does. Yesterday I put it down to the hellish and hell-tempered wind, which always turns me into a replica of itself. Bastard. Today the air is calm, the weather is sunny and perhaps I can blame it on having to do (shudder) housework. If this allegedly situational mood thing continues, tomorrow I’ll be kicked into mania, because a close friend is arriving to stay for a month. And then at some point I’ll turn situationally into a grouchy social fuckwit, because I’m a loner. My friend laughs and makes space for me when I’m peevish and so then I’ll be situationally relieved and revert gradually into situationally hostly pleasantness. Other situational mood forecasts will be me manic (actually that one is a dead cert) in Addo Elephant Park, tension when a mutual friend joins us for five days (FIVE days with TWO people in my little house!), fist clenching irritation if anybody eats audibly, fear of my solar power and geyser buckling under the strain, some more mania during especially awesome conversations… und so weiter. Afterwards, I’ll be situationally sad about my friend leaving, as well as situationally relieved to reclaim my solitude. It’ll be situationally exhausting, but very situationally good and worthwhile and so despite my situational housework terror, I’m actually very situationally pleased.

But if one more person asks me why my baseline is pretty deep depression and why I’m such a sad soul, There Will Be Consequences. Hand me one of those idiots who makes I hate bipolar it’s awesome memes, I’m feeling situationally homicidal.