It seemed appropriate to start the guest blogging season with a post by the lovely Hannah (she’s linked in the post so not in my introduction) that made me very surprised and happy when she sent it me, and is, naturally, the reason she is now ‘the lovely’ Hannah… you’ll probably guess why when you see the title. And I’d like to quickly point out that I have now talked about David Tennant so many times, people are finding my blog through searches for him. Such glad tidings!

Picture for the day: imagine Suzy being baffled by her relatives as she reaches the extent of her Afrikaans vocabulary and finds that she is not just lost in translation, she is hopelessly marooned there.

Picture for the day: imagine Suzy running very fast away from Pretorian buffaloes which are chasing her down the street because she disturbed their sleep by singing raucous Gwen Stefani songs.

Being rigorously defined as ‘a mental health blog’ isn’t something I anticipated. I mean, evidently with my most used tag being ‘psychosis’ and having ‘hallucination’ up there in my URL, it was going to happen sooner or later – but I just didn’t think about it. I would like to think I am free to write about whatever I like, and I surely am, as this is my blog, but still, when the expectation is towards crazy-related instalments in my life, I get creeped out.

I tried to convince potential guest bloggers that other topics are possible and they listened (yay!), so here I am, kickstarting a cheerful blogging summer holiday (hopefully) with an entirely non-mental health related post. Summer is a family time, right? So, come and meet my family!

Well, this is it. I’m officially out the country. Seeing as how I’m not sharing my physical holiday snapshots with you (unless they’re human-free and especially catchy) you get some written ones, instead. I’ll stick ‘em at the top of my posts in italics and together, they’ll pretty much represent my trip: full of savage animals and dust. Lovely jubbly!

I have my own scheduled posts waiting in the wings, and I have my lovely guest posters’ scheduled posts waiting also, and while I can’t actually access the internet, seeing as I have no computer, I can read my email from my mobile – isn’t Virgin considerate? This means that while I won’t be able to reply to any comments for about a month, I can still read them. Hannah, if you hijack my posts, I’ll beat you senseless with a stick (no, I won’t. We’ve had some cracking comments parties. Plus I don’t know where you live…).

What else? Oh, right. I’ve taken off first-time comment moderation, so please don’t post nasty stuff about me or do the whole ‘borderline borderline hahaha now you’re away you’re defenceless hahaha you are so borderline’ thing, because it’s tired now. Also, if your comment doesn’t turn up, it’s lost in spam. Keep trying!

I feel like Polonius when whatsisname is off to England. Or like a mother whose kid is off to Newquay after GCSEs (oo-er) and isn’t totally sure what they’ll be getting up to there and isn’t totally sure they want to find out (sex n drugs n rock n roll, if my year’s trip is anything to judge by). Or a plain old mother hen. Which is slightly disturbing, considering my young age and lack of children.

I’m going to miss this blog, I think. I like to write for it and I find it mightily therapeutic. And after spending so long in the company of my family, savage animals, and dust, therapy is probably something I’ll be needing. When I get back I’m going to have some catching up on everybody else’s to do, and a lot of comments to be leaving… so consider yourselves warned.

And that, I guess, is just about it. I wish you all the best of summers!

(And the title is because I have Bohemian Rhapsody stuck in my head. Sorry…)

Well, unusually, I can come out of my CAMHS session today saying I have learnt something. In fact, I have learnt several important things and had my mind opened to a host of new ideas. They’ve kept me thinking busily for the last hour or so, since I curtailed my session by being monosyllabic and generally uncooperative, but seriously. Seriously now. I’m genuinely amazed. This is what I have learnt:

My father is going to call the EI woman I’m meant to be meeting tomorrow with the therapist, and he’s going to try to explain tactfully that I hate the therapist’s guts. He will probably say ‘personality clash’, because that’s the phrase he used before. Thing is, he’s not sure how to do it without them turning it into an ‘issue’ of mine. Why do you not like me? What is it about me? What did I say? How did I say it? Are you angry, Suze? Why are you angry? And frankly, I think it’ll be impossible. Tomorrow I will have an hour of being asked why I do not get on with a stupid woman I don’t trust who doesn’t listen to me, by that stupid woman. And another one. Simply saying this is not an ‘issue’ is probably an issue. I’m probably avoiding my problems by denying them. I’m probably in absolute and total denial about everything. I’m probably a boy and they’re trying to figure out why I think I’m a girl. I’m probably one of a number of personalities they’ve seen in sessions but I still think I’m the only one.

Shit, I don’t know. I’m just mad. Both senses of the word.

One day left for you to get in your guest posts - it’s s_may_robinson *at* yahoo.co.uk if you forgot it, but if it arrives with me at midnight of the 8^th it probably won’t find its way into the public domain for a very long while. Please help me out! Full details, of course, are in the page up the top. The one that isn’t called Meet The Robinson. The one that contains the words Pretty Please. So… please?

Here’s a little update from the life of Suzy, who went back to her club today and saw him. He’s nameless. If you really want to know why, you should probably read the linked post, because if I start explaining all that again I’ll probably end up crying on my keyboard. Again.

 

OK, so I didn’t see him to speak to. I was hanging round the junior section for most of the day, with all my younger buddies (who, incidentally, said the place hadn’t been the same since I left and apparently still talk about me regularly – as in, remember when Suze did this? Do you remember when Suze and Jaz did that? Ha, Suze used to do that! and oh, but it was heartbreaking to hear). Anyway, I’m not down today. I’m very very up. I saw him from a way away, from behind, and I stared at him for ages. I sound like a stalker but I haven’t seen him since January, so I had six months worth of seeing him nearly every day to make up for in just a few hours.

 

I’m away for a while over summer, and while I can post-date as many posts as I can write, and while I am surely capable of a prodigious output if I try and set my mind to it, I’d rather not. So I have posts, but not a usual number. And I was wondering how to keep my blog busy, and stop everybody completely losing interest, and quench the appetites of all those three voracious DBAH readers I have – and I happened to find a post by sulz which I missed at the time she posted it.  

 

She says:

 “I thought YOU could do a GUEST POST on bloggerdygook! YOU, yes, YOU! You who has a blog, You who doesn’t have a blog, You! Well, not just any You, but at least the You I know. As long as I know who you are, you’re good to do a guest post here for any day for the month of July!”

And I guess that pretty much sums it up! She’s had a lot of response and I don’t know if I’ll get any at all, but if you feel like helping me out here then it’s a wonderful chance to promote your blog (wonderful? Well, OK, it’s a good chance, then – I have about 300 hits a day) and if you have no blog, well, then it’s a wonderful chance to show the world just what a sweet person you really are! Also, I will be indebted to you. Don’t you want me indebted to you? And I’m surely worthy. Aren’t I? You know I am… ahem. OK. I’ll get on with it.

 

If my charming pitch has convinced you (I feel like I’m on Dragons’ Den) then you’re free to write about pretty much anything. If it’s vaguely mental health-related, so much the better, but if it’s about your dreams and ambitions, or reasons England should become a republic, or why you love me and my blog so much (yes, my mood is still floating in the clouds, and currently I am mightily optimistic) – so long as it’s somewhere between four hundred and a thousand words long, you’re good to go. And, er… the catch is the deadline, and the deadline is the 8th July. I go away the next day…

 

But I have full confidence that any of my wonderful readers who choose to assist me and take up the gauntlet I have now thrown down will be entirely capable of writing a small quantity by then! (Cue charming grin from Suzy and shaking heads from everybody who knows that she talks like this all too often in real life.)

 

s_may_robinson *at* yahoo.co.uk is the place to go.

I guess it can’t be a lot of fun reading a blog where the blogger is in a perfect and shiny state of mind. I mean, after I love you I love me I love what I write I love what I think I love who I am and how I look and I love Chemistry and Physics and I love Emma and Louis and Rhiannon and Danny and this is my life and I love it – after all that, you just run out of things to say. Although my English teacher in Year 7 told me that there are an infinite number of nouns, so I suppose I could have a go at loving and listing all those… but the point in infinity is that there isn’t an ‘all’ to list. Oh, well.

 

Some day soon I’m gonna try making myself a nice new blogroll page, because although when I find I’m on someone’s blogroll I’ll go and read their blog, and if I like it, I’ll link it – although this, sometimes I never check back on it. So I thought I’d better make a page for my real favourite blogs, the ones I read whenever there’s a post and the ones whose archives I have thoroughly studied and enjoyed.

 

Today’s been one of those days where it’s all an effort. I think I’m losing my voice and I just feel steam-rollered; speaking is a physical and mental challenge. I went out with my mother and I just wanted to sit and stare blankly out the windshield. She wouldn’t let me so I was monosyllabic. People shouldn’t put up with me but they do, and I don’t know what I’d do if they didn’t. I don’t feel stepped out but I just feel distant. Maybe I’m just tired from Duke of Edinburgh this weekend past. I’m staying up till midnight to fetch the Czech friend from the airport so tomorrow I will be even worse company. By the prom I will be comatose. That empty space inside of me is yawning wider and I don’t have much energy left to hang onto the edges. Soon it will be bye-bye, world, I’m off to the realms of the drastically depersonalised.

 

The sky is blue and the sun is shining and it hasn’t rained since Friday, when I was murdering my feet on hills and rocks, but I feel so down. And over at simpleharmonicmuddle, Chouette is feeling down; and over at colouredmind, Hannah is feeling down; and over at eccedentesiast, Em is feeling down. And whether that’s because they all get depression in various forms or whether it’s because someone somewhere has put something in our water, or whether it’s the weather (God I’m funny), it’s not just me. That seems to be as good a reason as any to blog. It’s not just me anymore.

 

Ten thousand hits.

I feel unworthy but mightily chuffed, all the same. Thank you to everybody who has ever read this, for your support in the weird times and the bad times and the hyper times, and all your lovely comments and your own equally lovely blogs. I couldnae have done it without you!