Traumatic Events

“Traumatic events, by definition, overwhelm our ability to cope. When the mind becomes flooded with emotion, a circuit breaker is thrown that allows us to survive the experience fairly intact, that is, without becoming psychotic or frying out one of the brain centers. The cost of this blown circuit is emotion frozen within the body. In other words, we often unconsciously stop feeling our trauma partway into it, like a movie that is still going after the sound has been turned off. We cannot heal until we move fully through that trauma, including all the feelings of the event.” ―Susan Pease Banitt

If It Looks Like A Duck

If there’s one thing I absolutely have no tolerance for, it’s being lied to. To add insult to injury, I hate being lied to and discriminated against all in the same breath. If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it might very well smell like bullshit.

Since long before I moved here, the local library has offered delivery service to anyone who is home-bound. I can safely say that being as sick as I am, unable to get out of bed nine days out of ten, that definitely qualifies as too sick to be there on any type of constant basis. For over a month now, that was fine. No questions, no drama, just deliveries and pickups every 2-3 weeks.

On Friday, the 1st, after nearly a month of battling migraines and Fibromyalgia pain, I felt good enough to drop off my stack of books, CD’s, and DVD’s, and pick up the items on hold. I called in advance to let the administrator know, so she’d be able to move my items off of her desk. She’s the one who delivers and picks up, so I felt it was only respectful to let her know she need not come out prior to a holiday weekend. She has never been anything but lovely to me.

During this seemingly simple process, a woman checking out my items took note of my account status and questioned me. She didn’t ask what was wrong, but she was loud enough that I informed her that my health is a personal matter. She then sends me upstairs to correct a secondary issue, but the new person decided to outright challenge me. Not only did she question me, but I refused to answer her because she was outright rude and violating my privacy by announcing my business to a busy library. I was always taught that you keep your voice down in a library, but she was so loud that people looked up from their laptops. My personal information does not need to be read off of a screen at decibels that can be heard in space. She stared at me and I stared her down. I waited until she looked away and did her job (A DVD set I returned was badly damaged and I could not view the final three episodes on disc six. I was asking that a copy be ordered from a different library and I suggested the returned copy be replaced. You would have thought I had just asked her if she’d married a Martian. The woman was as dumb as a box of rocks with a pile of shit on top, but I tried to patiently walk her through the process by speaking slowly.), but I knew I hadn’t heard the last of things simply by showing up looking like I’m healthy. I knew one or both of them would say something to someone and cause trouble. I had, of course, hoped they’d have compassion and realize that people like me are the reasons they have jobs, but alas, one of them did or said something. They will now be forced to pay for their callous invasion into my privacy. They’re librarians; not medical professionals.

Here’s the thing with invisible illnesses: On a good day, I look damn good. It does not, by any means, make me a liar, or mean that I am somehow “abusing the system”, which is precisely what I was accused of. It means I took 40 minutes or so to even out my skin tone, fill in my eyebrows, and make myself look like a human-being. It’s not a prerequisite for everyone, but it is for me. When you spend your days in agony, it’s good to remind yourself that you’re young, attractive, and clean up really well. I do this for ME, not for anyone else. Unless I pointed it out, most people would not be able to tell you that I had makeup on, unless they were looking at my eyes. For me, it’s similar to getting a haircut, in terms of analogies. We all look and feel better when our hair looks nice, or maybe that’s just 99% of the women I know and most of the men. My brother began going grey young and when he started to realize that I wasn’t joking about his hairline receding, he started shaving his head every 6-8 weeks, if not more often than that. He feels good when he knows he’s not sporting a mop of hair. It makes him look about 10 years younger than he is, so it’s a win-win. Wearing makeup, for me, is a form of art. I’m not masking anything, I’m just showing a little creativity. I didn’t go in wearing false lashes or a full glam look, it was pretty basic, but I was judged for it. You could hear them thinking “What’s wrong with her? She looks perfectly healthy to me.” Yet, I was limping, something that seemed to go unnoticed by these old bats.

On the 6th, I received a phone call from the director of the library. He listed all of the accusations against me and informed me I would receive one more delivery and one more pick up, and that the program was being “temporarily discontinued” and he gave me a list of excuses that simply did not make sense. Each story was different from the last. I asked if it was going to affect everyone in the program or just me. Three times he said “No, JUST YOU.” I made him repeat it so he could hear what he was saying, because it’s blatant discrimination. I wanted him to hear himself. He claimed that the Board of Public Libraries in Boston would be contacted for “guidelines” and spewed some other nonsense. He blew off a lot of questions I asked and was very rude and dismissive, all while trying to seem charming and sincere. You could smell the bullshit from three centimeters away.

First he claimed that I had “too many holds” and they were getting into trouble with the other libraries over it. At the time, I had over 20 holds. I now have 7. Then he claimed that the program was “half-baked” and that guidelines had never been implemented as to how many items a person could have at one time, etc. The stories became more and more ridiculous. Ultimately, he made me sound like the scourge of all readers. I ended up returning a stack of books and DVD’s I never had the time to read or watch, but because he was such an asshole I made sure I got ahead of him. One thing you do NOT do is mess with THIS writer. I’m well-known for being an incredible public speaker; the second he deigned to call me he started a fight he will not win.

After I got off the phone with him I called the Board of Public Libraries myself. When they returned my call, they were absolutely APPALLED by how I was treated. I spent over 40 minutes on the phone with the person handling this, and she could not have been kinder or more respectful. She told me that the individual library establishes the guidelines for this “wonderful program” and that she understood how much I suffer because she has three family members with Fibromyalgia or other invisible illnesses. Her exact words were “On a good day, you look and feel great and on a bad day, you can’t walk.” YES, she 100% understood. I felt vindicated. She immediately put in a call to their “director” and suggested I follow-up by writing a letter and CCing the Board of Trustees. She said “I think you’re the perfect person to show them that not everyone fits into the mold of what “sick” looks like. You legally have the same rights as if you came into the library in a wheelchair and they have to accommodate you.” She told me she’d been a library director for 15 years prior to moving on to a different job and had NEVER treated someone in such a manner, and that the last thing any director wants is for things to escalate to the Board of Trustees because that means they can lose their funding and be closed down permanently. She agreed that I have every right to read the books I want to read, watch the DVD’s I want to see, and borrow the music I want to hear. She said “The other libraries know this program exists. If it’s such a big deal, the larger ones can order extra copies if it’s in their budget or the other person on the wait list can wait an additional week. It’s not the end of the world.” I felt like I’d just spoken to my spirit animal. 🙂

My nearly two thousand word letter will be going to the “director” and I’ve CC’d both Boards on purpose. This asshole screwed with the wrong chick with one phone call, but make no mistake, he will either work with me or I’ll have his job. I do not mess around when it comes to discrimination in regard to invisible illness. If he did this to me, he will inevitably attempt to do it to someone else, someone who isn’t as smart or as strong as I am, someone who lacks my voice and character. That’s unacceptable to me, so not only am I putting my foot down, I’m ready to discuss this with every local media outlet known to man. I’m sure the Board Of Trustees would have a field day with that, so I gave him the option of working with me to set guidelines into place and I instructed him to teach his staff about respect and discretion as the better part of valor, lest it get them into trouble, especially if I lay eyes on either of those poor saps again. Either they’re stupid, senile, or a combination thereof, and if that’s the case, then neither of them should be allowed to work with the public in such a fashion.

Have you been discriminated against as a sufferer of an invisible illness? If so, let me know about it in the comments.

KNOW YOUR RIGHTS!

copyright © 2016 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Get Up!

“Get up…dust off the negativity and complaints of life. Bust through the hard times. Run like a sprinter through the difficult times, run with endurance and hope for your future through the painful times. Pound each step with power through each of your troubles. You ain’t no lazy sucker that’s gonna let life beat you up! You’re a champion and you need to charge through life with the fury that nothing and no one is gonna stop you. Not negativity, problems, people, heartache, setbacks, depression, sadness…. You decide now: you’re choosing to be positive! You’re gonna make today great, you’re gonna find good things to talk and think about. Big things and hopes and dreams to focus on! Quit listening to negative people and negative things…. Your mind is what you feed it. Negativity and hopelessness, or positivity, hope, and love. You choose with each word, thought, and comment. Start busting through the negative junk and people in the world. Run so fast and powerful with your positivity that nothing can stick or stay with you. You don’t have time to listen or think about it. GO, go live with joy, power, and strength….run hard through the troubles! You’ve got big things waiting for you.” -Kandee Johnson

Some People

A year ago, I probably would not have believed that my life would be what it is in this moment. It was unfathomable, and it is incredibly difficult for me transitioning into this “new life”.

Recently someone made the grave mistake of telling me that I “choose not to be happy”. Forgive me, but that’s not only rude, it’s insulting.

I find happiness itself difficult. I’ve struggled with the definition since I was about six. After all, what is happiness without your loved ones close by? I am not the “gone and forgotten” type of person that people might wish I was, and I am grateful that my memory allows me to have significant substance as a human-being, as opposed to being careless, thoughtless, rude, forgetful, selfish, and hurtful to others. I am the person that will always apologize if she’s over-stepped her boundaries or gone too far. I like that about myself. I see it as a great strength, not as a weakness.

Like many other people in this world, I was raised to trust my family & friends. I was raised that “family comes first”. My Grandmother instilled a “Family First” mentality into us, but I decided to redefine her terms, unbeknownst to her.

At around age 13, when I lost my ability to be nice as well as the ability to care what people thought of me, and learned precisely how evil and duplicitous other people are, I started taking a closer look at those around me. For a time, I had something other people wanted and that resulted in the end of many friendships as the years would come and go. Quite sadly, what those other people coveted wasn’t worth a damn thing. It was as fair-weather as they were; but no one should have to learn that their friendships are false and that their family is equally as bad.

Growing up in an abusive, nuclear family; I am completely intolerant of abuse in my life now. While I hate using the OCD comparison, because some people suffer greatly with it, other people use it as a means of control because they feel something in their life is out of control, or perhaps many things. In turn, the person displaying these OCD traits becomes abusive and accusatory. The truly attentive person notices everything from day one. The OCD abuser notices it seemingly out of the blue, and they use it to blame you for things you don’t think, leave alone do. It builds and builds until you reach your boiling point. I reached mine a long time ago, but I was lulled into a false sense of security that this person was, somehow, stable and getting their shit together. They haven’t, and eventually they’re going to realize my escape plan is a drastic one.

I’ve never not discussed the abuse I’ve been through openly and honestly. I’m not ashamed of it. One- It was never my fault, and Two- I survived. Unfortunately what bothers me most about certain types of abuse is that is starts off subtly. It can actually look like love and concern, until it doesn’t. Please pay attention to the signs and know when to walk away. I don’t care who the person is or thinks they are, you are worth more than that. Far too many abusers disguise themselves as friends and family, which sometimes makes it hard to distinguish precisely what it is you’re experiencing. My feeling on that is “abuse is abuse”, and it’s unacceptable, regardless of the packaging it comes in.

SAM_1166
My pretty little jungle friend, staking out prime real estate.

Some people astound me, in the open-mouthed, “Are you fucking kidding me?” kind of way.

I have “family” coming into town this weekend. I use the word so loosely they should be able to hang themselves with it. It wasn’t until Wednesday evening that I was informed that I was invited to this “family gathering”. For the record, I like 6-8 weeks notice on the arrival of family members I don’t care for and a week for those I give a damn about, which is an increasingly small list.

I find it interesting that I was “invited” to this gathering, seeing as how their children, my younger cousins, both got married, one of whom had a baby less than a year ago, but I somehow wasn’t good enough to be invited to either wedding (Those are family events, last time I checked.), yet my presence gets a half-assed “Do you think she’d like to join us?” at the last minute?! That blows my mind. No, I wouldn’t like to join you. I find you both repugnant, and that’s putting it mildly.

I have not seen these two “family members” since my mother’s funeral. Not only have they treated me horribly and disrespectfully for the majority of my life, but a year after the funeral, in which they blatantly disrespected both my brother & I to our faces, when I notified family & friends about my parents’ unveiling (The Jewish tradition of unveiling the headstone.), none of them showed up. Not an e-mail, a phone call, or a fucking smoke signal. Only one had a solid excuse; her daughter was graduating college here in Boston. I sent her a note at the time letting her know that I knew she wouldn’t be able to make it, but that I wanted her to have my updated address and phone number and if she needed anything, I would be there for her. I congratulated her on my cousin’s graduation. No response. That was IT for me, especially after they lost their parents and I received third-party e-mails to inform me about funerals I could not attend at the last minute seeing as how I had a huge trip to make and was unable to drop everything. They all live close to where my parents funerals were held, so there was no excuse in terms of travel or anything like that for them. I intentionally gave everyone travel time instead of burying my parents within 24 hours, which is our tradition. Everyone had advance notice, so none of them had an excuse not to show up at my father’s funeral or my mother’s.

“I’d love to hear more about this, but I’m on my way to Spin Class.”, said the second cousin to a relative who was relaying the message because I had my own phone calls to make. Does that sound like genuine concern over a relative passing away? Not a single one showed even the slightest amount of class by picking up a phone, or bothering to send my grieving mother, brother, and I so much as a card. When you’re a narcissist and come to me eight years later (indirectly, mind you) with false claims as to how I treated you at my own mother’s funeral, asking to be in my presence after all this time; you’re either on some incredibly powerful drug, or you’re an asshole. I’ve chosen to go with both.

They have issues with how I treated them at the funeral. It is the most laughable accusation I have EVER heard in my family dynamic. I didn’t know whether to howl with laughter or cry at the stupidity of how self-involved they are. And I am perfectly willing to discuss it with them, via phone or e-mail. Hell, they can be my new “Facebook friends”. But being in my direct presence is a privilege and an honor, and neither of them make the cut.

What I was not aware of in this scenario is that they’ve had a middleman all these years, someone who has listened to their false claims of phone calls and showing love and care to my mother for many years. It happened ONCE, and ONLY ONCE, let’s not exaggerate it into the greatest relationship to ever live. I have repeatedly asked this person NOT to discuss me with them in any capacity. Said person agreed. I don’t know why that has somehow changed and yeah, it pisses me off. It’s breach of promise. It’s such a simple thing “Please don’t discuss me with these people, they are not my family.” It’s direct, to the point, and is precisely what I want. Not to be discussed. I don’t need their negativity directed at me.

Here’s one of my main rules in life: If you cannot be my family every single day, then you don’t get to choose to be family when it suits you, as in, whenever you happen to pop into town. Again, I am happy to discuss their issues, via phone or e-mail, and that is pure kindness on my part, a kindness I don’t feel they genuinely deserve.

They are cowards to talk about me behind my back, as opposed to coming directly to me, so I have two words for them and since I lack the ability to be “fake polite”, I definitely cannot play the game of falsity by spending an entire day with them, or even thirty seconds.

I legitimately have nothing to say to these people. I don’t think about them and I don’t talk about them. I even went over the conversation with my brother to verify everything and he agreed that their behavior at the funeral was appalling (They wouldn’t even stand near us, and not a single one of them said “I am sorry for your loss.”), but that mine was not; I was in mourning and about as polite as I could be after having lost both of my parents and giving the eulogy. He said “We never talk about these people and we don’t think about them; they’re not a part of our lives. We could be dead, they wouldn’t care, leave alone notice.” THANK YOU! That’s first-person validation, not that I needed it, I just wanted to clarify the events because I know how I behaved and I occasionally like to hear his perspective on things we’ve been through together. He’s 100% right. I don’t owe them anything.

I would rather read a good book, see a movie, take a walk, willingly walk someone’s dog, etc., than be forced to spend a moment in their presence. That would be smothering everything I stand for, and I’d be sullying the memory of my mother by allowing them to creep into my life in any fashion. I’d have to run to Salem and get every practicing witch I could find to smudge me with sage. I’m not exaggerating. Their negativity is sickening. The narcissism alone kills me. They think they’re perfect and cannot fathom all the superiority they’ve pulled on my family my entire life, because they can’t see past the end of their own noses. When people behave in such a manner, there’s really no talking to them. They desperately want to be right and they believe they are right, so I’m not going to waste the oxygen. I’m too good a person, too smart, and far too sharp to be lured into such nonsense. If it had gone unmentioned to me, I certainly wouldn’t be writing about it so honestly or passionately, but since it became an issue via negative words said to and about me, the truth is, I’ve never liked these people. Just because we’re related does not mean we have to have a relationship. They’ve had their opportunities and you only get so many chances with me. When I’m done, I’m truly done. I don’t wish any ill on them, I just want to live my life without them discussing me behind my back. Is that unfair? Honestly, I don’t care if it is.

At the beginning and end of each day, I would prefer to be known as my Grandparent’s ONLY Granddaughter, my parents’ ONLY daughter, my brother’s ONLY sister, and my Aunt’s ONLY niece. I am many things, but my Grandparents and parents live deeply within me and I try to honor them by being the person I was raised to be. None of them were perfect, but they taught me things that are immensely valuable. Manners, decency, common sense, and never being afraid to use my voice, for it is a deadly, powerful instrument.

Every time I am stressed or working too hard, I hear my Grandmother say “Sit up straight. Posture is everything.” I have perfect posture because she never allowed me to slouch. When I look in the mirror at my back, I think of her as the backbone of the family, because even though she was passive and kind, she helped raise me and deserves that acknowledgment. I was my Grandfather’s everything. Losing him shaped a lot of my world, but I will never forget a moment we spent together or the things he taught me. He lived each day to the fullest. I wish I had the ability to do the same, but maybe having Fibromyalgia is a mixed blessing in disguise. My parents were polar opposites who would have been better off as friends, but I am their daughter and I will not allow them to be disrespected in death as they were in life. If you disrespect them and you also disrespect me, you can basically kiss your ass goodbye. I don’t have the time, patience, or inclination to hold a grudge, but once I’ve made a decision, that’s it. Forgiveness isn’t always an option.

I often think my family dynamic is outrageously offensive, and then I hear other people’s stories and I find out how tame mine is in comparison, which is actually a scary thought.

Here’s hoping none of you ever have to deal with narcissistic family members who think YOU’RE some kind of she-devil because you lack the ability to be fake. No one needs that kind of drama!

copyright © 2016 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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My Mom’s favorite flower. Unfortunately, they’re no longer in bloom, but they smelled so nice when they were.