In Life's Defense.
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Schizophrenia has turned my gaze inward. I write like a twat on a semi- daily basis. It provides a sense of control, a way to reshape my circumstances on my own terms and in my own words. This isn’t where I come to hide, it’s where I come to find myself, and in doing so I get to share my writing!
Chasey Delaney! Free Newsletter.
TUESDAY: 11 August 2026
MIXTAPE ‘No Nostalgia’ by Chasey Delaney (2022)
Dear Chasers!
IN LIFE’S DEFENSE
“No Change”
Last night I rushed to send an incomplete letter because my partner insists on a midnight bedtime curfew. I am complicit in my own downfall for not getting my ‘work/writing’ finished on time.
I went to bed seething about sending it out as a text document without the additional aesthetics which, in my opinion, bring my words to life. I was unnecessarily unhappy with my efforts even though I hadn’t let anyone but myself down. I’d sent the letter out on time.
My words were all there and accounted for and available to read. I’d over-exceeded my regular word count of around 1400 approx. with a staggering 3000 approx. words of which I was somewhat proud of.
I lay on my pillow pissed off and raging on the inside. I felt hard-done by because I hadn’t been ‘allowed’ more time. Wrapped in the strong arms of my beloved ‘bossy-bastard’ as I called him upon wishing him a ‘goodnight’ before he dozed off - I couldn’t help but notice how fortunate I really was.
In a limbo of being thankful for his presence, his warmth, his love, his arms around me, his hot breath blowing the hair on the back of my head into my face, the lingering stench of his final fart before the snores, still I reluctantly fought back thoughts of ‘fucking hell’.
‘I’m a grown 43 year old adult and now I can’t even do what I want, when I want’. I admit it was a heavy internal conflict. Nothing I couldn’t manage. I kept my rage to a few huffs and puffs, and a lot of fidgeting inside the blankets.
I have a fear or phobia of being bitten by insects, spiders, touched by moths, making me itch. My current suspicion is that we must have bed bugs because, once I have a little itch, I just can’t stop. The more I’m thinking of it or them, the more I need to scratch everywhere. I know its probably psychological more than anything.
Who hasn’t heard of a schizophrenic that thinks there’s bugs in everything. According to my ‘husband’ its a common trait for mental cases to believe in bed bugs. That doesn’t prove we haven’t got them though! I can’t prove we have either but even so, just because my illness has psychotic symptoms doesn’t mean we’re immune to fucked up situations.
A broken clock tells the correct time twice a day for fucks sake!
I am a fucking responsible adult! I own a sofa, I pay most of my bills directly from my Velcro fucking wallet, I have acquired some fantastic debt, and only watch cartoons when I’m alone, yet here I am in bed, wide awake, because I’ve been told to go.
“When life tries to butt fuck you all you can do is grab your ankles and smile!“ said a poet called Matt Wall.
In the end, I snuggled into my best friend and sent myself off to sleep remembering when that’s all we were. Almost friends. I’d spend the days with him and his friends, longing for the days to end. Looking forward to the nights when it was just me and him.
My favourite hours were those where it was dark, the lights, music, TV, were switched off. The silent streets, the moon was out and the rest of the world was fucking gone. How can I complain about anything when I’ve got exactly what I want?
I consider my words to be quite strong in their sentiment, but my woes, my feelings, my moans and emotions are flimsy and fleeting. I write to relieve my mind, to document my time and to share my life. I like my life, and now I find myself coming here tonight in order to defend it.
Some kind creative decided to find a way to provide what I can only call ‘constructive criticism’ and ‘unsolicited advice’ by way of public commenting within the NOTES area on my news feed. Here is what was said and my initial reply:
I don’t understand why he chose to reach out that way. He could have tried to contact me privately in my DMs which would have been a bit more respectable considering what he had to say and how he said it.
This is what had provoked a response from that writer (I can’t say ‘reader’ because I’ve never heard of him before and have no idea how much or little of my stuff he has read – if any!). He is new to me. What a way to introduce himself. I hope he is well and that everything is alright for him at home.
I immediately subscribed to him and shared his most recent post. I am not too upset with his approach but yes it has triggered (that’s too strong a word) it has inspired this letter in (my) reproach.
Something about this letter ‘OVER-CONSUMPTION’ screamed “WOW” to him.
Over Consumption
“If you like your newsletters without politics or preconceptions or seeking a break from the norm you may have just found your new hangout”
I’m really pleased that he felt so touched that he concerned himself with the crusade of ‘saving Chasey’ because he assumed? that I might be unaware of my own circumstances. I appreciate him not letting the ‘closed comments’ clue, that I prefer no interaction, get in the way of him charging toward me to publically defend my cause. I am sure he didn’t intentionally mean any harm. He saw me for what I present myself to be of course. A damsel in distress? LOL doubt it.
After he sent a lovely little ‘heads up’ to warn me that ‘something in (my) life needs to CHANGE’ He suggests I try vibrant Mondays! I was left with a no choice but to spread the word and do as he advised. Respectively, I did decide to ‘change my life’ (at least for one night). I put my plans, to write about my stagnant life tonight, aside, and have diverted my mind to write.
With the underlying knowledge that I feel DIFFERENT about shit too. It’s a weird bit of knowledge, this feeling of the tip of the iceberg being broken. Is this my first ‘TROLL’ online? Doubt it. It’s the first on Substack. Yay! My cherry has been popped, or my head has! Haha! I might have taken this to heart but it’s taken my mind off otherwise rubbish things tonight.
I know he was being completely sarcastic but harmless enough, I had my claws out prematurely. I too, mean no harm either. I just couldn’t help but play on this, besides, I’ve been picked on at home all day.
Well, since he returned home early this afternoon, completely sober and angry because of it. He accused me of being on OnlyFans because he was snooping at my locked phone and saw a notification flash across the screen. I reminded him of who I was and how dull my life is then sent him this screenshot to put his prickly mind at ease. Fucking Only Fire — that’s hardcore enough for me! As far as vibrant goes it does the trick for me. I love a good Fireplace Sesh. It’s pure gold, rock’N’roll, for me and my tiny writing life. Sorry, I’m not as radiant as you and me both might ‘like’ oops.
I’m so tired of tackling my homelife. I think now I will get all shouty at the nice man who wanted to tell me my life is not right! I hope you take the following information with a pinch of salt which is ‘thinner than sand and thicker than dust’. It’s the best I can suggest for (him) and everyone else who is reading this nonsense.
I’m tired. I’m just gonna write this then fuck off to bed, early. Happy to be with the man I love, in the house I adore, in the town I was born in, in the country I belong in, under the stars that are mine, and the moon that shines above me. It’s the best!!!.
You and I both see the moon at the same time. We therefore have one thing in common. My intentions are innocent. I am defending my right to reply, my right to write, in life’s defense –it’s fallible and knowing nothing about it is strictly malleable. I don’t care if you and the entire world think something needs to change in my life. I’ll take it as it comes, in its own time. I trust my fate enough not to fuck with it anymore.
If you dislike the life I am living and feel the need to write to me advising how something needs changing in it, then i find your comments disrespectful but don’t mind the behaviour towards me.
I really don’t know, or care for your motives, thank you for this inspiration, without you this letter may have been completely different. What a lovely change, your amazing, what this has done for me, has proven that my self-love/hate journey is real and winning in these streets.
I’ve got to the point in life where I don’t care who’s mad, why they’re mad, and who they are trying to recruit to be mad with them. It may be toxic, volatile, incomprehensible but my life is alright. I’m peaceful over here.
“The thrust is no longer for ‘change’ or ‘progress’ or ‘revolution,’ but merely to escape, to live on the far perimeter of a world that might have been.” -Hunter S. Thompson, The Great Shark Hunt [1979]
I didn’t think that I needed anyone to save me. I appreciate you trying to do so through unsolicited observations disguised as advice and although I really don’t mind what you think about my life, its kind of endearing knowing that people like you who are reading my words are not always comfortable watching me suffer.
I felt like you were a bit cruel to me, so I did something nice for myself. This is how I reinforced my worth after you felt the urge to express you WOW about how ‘something NEEDS to change in my life’ just because you refused to acknowledge it, how everybody lives their own way, differences included, your views were incredibly powerful in encouraging me to act on my self-love.
While you may think my life is a bit too dim for your liking, after reading your writing which you are so passionate about, I am still wondering what exactly is your idea of vibrant? What happened? When did you burn your heart out. When you sold your dreams did you lose something? Your soul perhaps?
I’m sorry if this isn’t as vibrant as you had in mind. It’s not Monday either but we can dismiss the details and concentrate on the facts of the matter. You need to know that you can’t advise someone to change, to live up to standards other than their own, change something they don’t think is broken, tell people that their world is not good enough, and saying something isn’t right (as you implied).
If people don’t show up for you, don’t take it out on anyone else, look closer to home. I can’t help or advise you, I don’t want to, I wouldn’t, I won’t but you can heal the part of you that keeps waiting for something more vibrant of your own.
Your opinions I can forgive but your methods of getting that information to me, I won’t rock with. If you catch me tripping, it’s over principles, morals, manners and dodgy flip-flops; not from unwelcome feedback, shitty opinions, failed entrepreneurs, or bitchy dickheads.
“Creativity is not the possession of some special talent. It is about the willingness to play”. –JOHN CLEESE
Some people, me– I’m talking about myself, might really thrive from their own life, their level of difficulty is probably different to yours, what’s dull to you might shine bright for them, your vibrancy might be their washed out yesterdays. I’m ok, honestly fine with my life.
I call it hardship, conflict, shitty circumstances, comfort.. Whatever the fuck.. It’s mine. I like it. I want it. I’m keeping it this time. You wouldn’t realise how many times I’ve changed just to get to where I am today. Change is over-rated. I changed to get here. This is my place. Now fuck off! — only joking, but you can scroll on if you want.
I might even enjoy the suffering, the struggle, because going through things laid out in front of me, may or may not, at times give me every reason to, every excuse to fail, to fall –the fact that I still show up here and write it all, or at all, shows that I am doing just fine.
Change isn’t the answer. It’s so much easier to look for change, or strive for it. I prefer to look for life, get to it and go straight through it. I have every reason to fail, to fall and still, through it all, I choose to stand. I think that says it all.
You must be the kind of guy who sees someone in a coma and says something stupid like ‘your chin hairs need plucking. Have you tried Veet lately?’ hahah! Joking. This is so funny though because that’s exactly the way I would take it, as an insult!
Maybe your own life isn’t vibrant? might be because every time your garden grows, you cut the flowers, just to prove to yourself that you’re a gardener. Real growth requires quiet consistency.
I do have to agree with you that CHANGE could be the mechanism that drives it. Whilst I don’t want to change my life in the slightest. I expect change to come organically. I prefer to cultivate my ground, mature what’s already here and eventually I might decide to ‘upgrade’ my expression of it.
My contentment levels with life are always changing so my life itself doesn’t have to. I’ll take your words onboard, but know this, I’m in my ‘absolutely fucking not’ era. I had to change a lot to get to this point. Please don’t try to fuck it up for me. My head. My era.
“For the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel peaceful. Not happy. Not sad. Not anxious. Not horny. Just all the higher parts of my brain closing up shop…. I’m simplifying myself.”–Chuck Palahniuk
If you care to explain this vibrant Monday thing, please do so. You’re invited to my DM’s and if not you just do what you want like the first time. I don’t mind.
I won’t judge you for using healthy coping skills to stay alive, so don’t judge me for the sickness of mine. If you were me mate you would have fucking folded by now so next time you feel like ‘putting me down in public’ just ‘leave it out our kid’.
Love from Chasey! ..x
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