Chained

2016-08-14 Miss Poison Honesty, Life, Musings, Negativity, Pieces Of Me, Questions, Writing Anger, Chained, Fibromyalgia, Honesty, Life, Migraines, Musings, Pain, People, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Struggles, Writing

Part of falling apart means picking up the pieces, even if “the pieces” are, in essence, yourself. It’s not an easy step. In fact, it is being made far worse for me by external forces; all fighting to control me because something is lacking in their lives.

When you are forced to rebuild your life, it simply doesn’t happen overnight. It takes time. Unless you happen to hit Powerball or the Mega Millions, it is a lengthy process. Nothing is immediate, because nothing is handed to you.

You do not intend to diminish in capacity health-wise, but even the healthiest person needs time to fall apart and put themselves back together. You don’t intend for things to wait, and wait, and wait some more, but quite frankly; you’re fucking SICK and you know your limitations. Unless people are willing to be physical participants, they can talk ’til the cows come home, it doesn’t help matters.

No matter how many times I ask for help, compassion, or simply to be treated like a human-being, I am met with questions and excuses. The underlying questions are often unspoken, but I can hear projected thoughts. It’s a rare gift, so don’t direct a thought at me unless you want it heard and/or dissected.

Over the past few months the projected questions have been, “Is she really as sick as she says she is?”, which questions my character and is NOT okay. I’ve never made up an illness in my life. As a child, right into my teens, my mother would take me to the doctor immediately, no matter what. If ever I thought I was trying to get a day off from school, as children often do, I’d always end up in the doctor’s office. Every single time, something was legitimately wrong. Not once did the doctor say “Oh, she’s fine. Maybe she just didn’t want to go to school today.” Nope. It was always “It’s a good thing you brought her in, she has a double ear infection and what looks like strep throat.” or “She’s running a high fever and has bronchitis.” There were other things that were far worse. My body would clearly speak up to be by saying “Today is not your day.” and when you’re young, all you can really say is “I don’t feel good.”, and explain what is physically hurting. As an adult, you can explain things much more clearly, providing someone is listening and gives a damn. I woke up one morning on day two of a killer migraine and wrote “This is not how I typically feel during a migraine. I do not feel like myself. This has never happened before.” I keep notes for each migraine in the migraine app I use, which helps me track my headaches and pain better. I keep notes in my food journal, because it helps me process information about my overall health, and whether something affected me on a dietary level or not.

Another recent projection: “She looks fine, so she must be.” Do I REALLY?

“She did A, B, and C today, why can’t she also do D?” Because there is a grand conspiracy, that’s why. <rolls eyes> It’s important for me to know my limitations on any given day. If I can lift 100 pounds one day and cannot get out of bed for a week, then that is the price I have to pay for lifting 100 pounds. It’s not selective, and no one has the right to judge it.

There are so many things projected at me, but it’s far worse when said behind my back. If you cannot say something to my face, you’re a fucking coward. I don’t care who you think you are, that’s the truth. Two, be careful what you say to my face. I may not respond, but I am cataloging every.fucking.thing until D-Day. You are dealing with a time bomb, and you don’t want to be around when I finally lose my temper. I do a LOT to keep it in check. I try very hard to filter my brain-to-mouth ratio, so as not to offend people who don’t know me very well, but I’ve been biting my tongue for far too long. Someone is going to get hurt when I finally stop biting my tongue and cease holding back, and it’s not going to be me. I often say the pen is mightier than the sword, but my words are my sword and shield. What other people can do with nonsense to dredge up drama, I will do with truth. People tend not to like that, but I prefer to be myself. If you’re looking to commit suicide via words, then step into my office. I’m happy to use everything in my arsenal.

I have learned not to lower myself to the level of others to give in to their desire to be hateful and/or cruel. Once I’ve seen your true face, that’s about as real as it gets. You’ll never be able to hide behind anything ever again, because I’ve seen you. I know what you are. I may keep it to myself, but I usually have a legitimate reason for it.

When you behave a certain way, this is what comes to my mind: “Quod me alit, me extinguit” which means “What feeds me extinguishes me.” Another one that comes to mind is “Quod me nutrit me destruit” which generally gets interpreted as “What motivates can also consume from within.“, though it means “What nourishes me destroys me.”

I used to talk quite openly about being fueled by hatred. It helped me see clearly, helped me be a better person, because I saw how hateful others were and didn’t want to be like them. I saw such ugly behavior all around me, and I refused to become that kind of person. I choose not to be selfish, self-centered, self-absorbed, or a bad person. I’m not perfect and I’ll never win an award for being angelic or congenial, but I know who I am. I’m not going to kiss anyone’s ass, but I’m also not going to attack someone without just cause either.

Being underestimated, especially a woman, is commonplace. I find it downright hilarious when other women underestimate me. Appearances can be deceiving. The woman who looks like the “girl next door” could very well be a serial killer; one never knows. Judge me if you want to be judged in turn, though quite frankly, I can barely be bothered. I’ve got bigger fish to fry.

I spend my days battling an invisible illness that progressively gets worse, and I am judged harshly for it. No more. I see everyone precisely as they are now, and my shields aren’t coming down for anyone ever again.

There are hundreds of symptoms to Fibromyalgia, depending on how long you’ve had it and how it has progressed for you. I know people who have mild versions of it, and are able to live full lives, despite needing a little more self-care than usual. I wish it were that simple for me, but it’s not. For me, it started with chronic migraines. A year later I was going to doctor after doctor demanding that they find out what was wrong with my neck and shoulder. It was blown off for nearly two years as muscle injuries, until an MRI showed otherwise. I have inoperable damage to my cervical spine. There are only seven vertebrae that make up the cervical spine, and four of mine are damaged. There is damage to my lower lumbar spine as well, a section made up of five vertebrae, and 2-3 of mine show damage. My doctor is unsure how I got that, saying that most people probably have it (lower lumbar injuries) without realizing it because we throw our bodies around on our beds, etc., lift things that are too heavy, shovel snow, etc. I’ve never been that fragile physically, I was an athlete growing up, so maybe he’s right, maybe he’s not, but I will never know what caused that additional damage. I am almost certain I know what caused the cervical damage. I am due for a new set of MRI’s next year. I am not looking forward to any new information on it, especially knowing that there is damage to my tailbone that hasn’t healed properly, but a new brain MRI and spinal MRI are standard procedure for me. I have no choice and in truth, it is better to know now, that way I might finally receive proper treatment.

While chronic migraines may indeed be a side effect of Fibromyalgia, I also know many people who do not suffer from them, and have Fibromyalgia. It was the first symptom for me, but it’s not the same for every sufferer. I have, in two months, gone through nearly three bottles of OTC pain reliever for almost daily migraine pain. Here’s hoping new doctors have new answers.

Physically, I fight a battle each day just to get out of bed and be able to move around. Some days, I lose, but it’s not a failing on my part, it’s me having to come to terms with my body. I already have a booking for the beginning of September, which is great news (The pay, on the other hand, is less than half of my normal hourly rate, which offends me, but hey, I’ve got to be able to eat and pay bills. Even if it’s one dollar at a time. 😦 ), and I am hoping more jobs will come in soon, especially since reading, proofing, and editing are about all I can tolerate at the moment. The person who wanted me to edit 100,000 words in 24 hours, with notes, was delusional beyond words. If they had offered me the correct rate, I might have negotiated it into two or three days, but when the pay is shit, you’ve got to know your physical, mental, and tolerance limitations and say no to things (and people) that will not better you. If it won’t pay a bill or help you do the things you need to do, then it’s not worth it.

I do feel broken at the moment physically and emotionally. I am trying to put myself back together and get shit done. My mother used to say “All you can do is your absolute best, and if that isn’t good enough for anyone, fuck them,” She rarely swore, but she’s right. I am doing my BEST. If it isn’t good enough, tough shit. You can judge me when you’re 100% perfect, and not fighting your body each day. If I were completely healthy, no pain, etc., I wouldn’t be having this conversation, but I am. When people try to pressure you, you have to look closely at their motivation. If it is not a gentle nudge with a genuine, loving, caring heart; walk away. Anyone who wishes you harm or detests you, but refuses to communicate it to your face, shouldn’t be allowed to breathe the same air that you do. Quite frankly, quality oxygen for the viciously rude should never be allowed.

It is bad enough being chained to a body FULL of unrelenting pain. I refuse to be chained to other people’s demands or bullshit.

I am in charge of my life. Don’t pretend to care if you don’t, and don’t say you love me if it’s not the absolute truth. I smell liars all around me. There’s nothing like the smell of reptiles to ruin your day/week/month/year.

Here’s hoping no one has to experience what I have because no one deserve it.

Insomniac City & Other Feelings

2016-08-05 Miss Poison Insomnia, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing August, Cat and Kitten, Depression, Friday, Gymnastics, Hot Days, Insomnia, Life, Loneliness, Music, Musings, Olympics, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Reading, Stress, Summer, Time, Unhappiness, Writing

There is something about summer that causes terrible insomnia for me. It’s not just the blistering heat & humidity of the days (and many nights). Even on cooler nights, I find myself completely and utterly unable to sleep. It’s awful, especially when I’m yawning at 7:30 PM thinking “I can’t wait to be in bed before 9:30.” I typically have to be in the midst of an excruciating migraine, Fibro flare, on allergy meds, or take a hefty dose of Melatonin to be in bed early these days. And let me tell you something; I’m not the least bit entertained by it.

Normally when I cannot sleep, I read or watch something I’ve seen a million times. Eventually I get bored/sleepy and it’s lights out. Sometimes I listen to music and that will help, but other times it makes my brain even more responsive, and that’s not helpful at all. I have tried re-reading some of my favorite books and every time I do, the next thing I know it’s 5:30 a.m. and I’ve got at least one cat crying to be fed or both of them wreaking some kind of havoc that annoys me and lulls me into the belief that if I feed them, they will calm down. Generally, they just walk away from the food and go back for it later on, but much meowing or pawing of the Mommy occurs before the “calming down” process. It irritates the hell out of me. I am NOT a morning person. Hell, I’m not even a day person!

Thursday morning I sat here unable to sleep. Kitten was 100% OUT next to me. She’d been sleeping soundly for about four hours or so while I’d done everything I could think of to put myself to bed. I eventually got about 2 1/2 hours of sleep, but after that, I was a prisoner to the day. I was so sleep-deprived that when I went outside around 3:30 to water the plants and herbs, I kept visualizing myself being found there at some point, ravaged by the neighbor’s dogs. It wasn’t just the heat and the sun’s intensity, it was that delirious state you often reach when you’re so sleep-deprived, you’d kill for 12 hours of solid, uninterrupted rest. Lack of proper rest screws with your body over time. I can’t remember the last time I truly slept well.

Last night, severely determined, I took a dose of Melatonin and was in bed by 9:15. The downside? I was up by 3:30. Not what I had in mind, AT ALL. 😦 Despite suffering pain-wise, I’d prefer not to need a nap by 10;30 in the morning. I’d also prefer to avoid additional encounters where I cannot account for 2-4 hours of my day.

For the next week, the forecast is 80’s and 90’s. Only one day is slated for rain and thunderstorms. Heat and humidity make me viciously cranky and unpleasant. It makes me feel even more like a prisoner than I already do. 😦 I cannot enjoy “the great outdoors” when the heat index dictates that I need to drink a gallon or two of water, especially when I feel like it’s so hot I cannot breathe, or when the heat affects my eyes and makes my contact lenses cloudy and/or gooey. My allergies are awful. Even just typing these words makes me feel like a kvetchy bitch, but I’d rather be honest than pretend. Extreme temperatures are NOT my friend. Insect bites and sunburns are not a badge of honor that you’ve enjoyed the summer. I NEVER enjoy the summer, and I’d like to avoid all things involving damage to the skin.

There are no good suggestions for “things to do” when it’s this hot. Sure, you can walk the mall for no reason whatsoever, you can go to the movies, you can mindlessly walk around the book store, you can hit up a museum, but all of those things require energy I don’t always have. My patience is nil and my ability to make small talk is nonexistent. I don’t want to talk about anything serious either, because I am up to my ears in serious and do not care for or want any additional drama. I’m doing my best, my best is never good enough, and that’s the way the cookie crumbles, apparently. At this point, I’d rather discuss absolute nonsense, and that’s sad, because I am NOT a nonsensical conversationalist.

On one level, I could take the opportunity to hibernate and watch the Olympics, but let’s face it; that’s not going to happen. I will watch what I can of the opening ceremony (I already have it set to record on my DVR. I do not plan on watching it live.), some gymnastics, and the closing ceremony. The problem with watching gymnastics is that, as a former gymnast, I do gymnastics in my sleep. I remember every routine I’ve ever done and my brain works in mysterious ways. I’ve been lucky to retain nearly my flexibility, but NO, stretching does not minimize the pain of Fibromyalgia and things like yoga annoy the shit out of me. I am a physical kind of person, so if I’m going to workout, I need to be punching things or doing something that brings about results. I do pay an immense price for punching things; it kills my arms, back, and muscles I didn’t even know I have or utilize, but it makes me feel better mentally. I have many creative outlets, but so few mental outlets. Clearly, it’s time to search for something new.

The whole library debacle is ongoing. After sending a formal complaint to the Director, the only results I’ve seen was the removal of $50+ in late fees they slapped on to my account because no one ever picked up the 14 items that were sitting here, half of which had been delivered five days after being checked out. I was so annoyed that I didn’t have time to read any of the books (I started one and got about 100 or so pages in, but I really wanted to be able to finish it.) and I still haven’t listened to any of the music I burned. I do hope the issue is resolved soon. On the plus side, I am caught up on The Good Wife after discovering six seasons of it are available on Streampix as part of my cable package. I was able to watch season four, which is apparently when I started watching in the first place. That was precisely what I thought originally, so now I’m over it. I can barely watch an hour of TV most days. I am so focused on getting work done and acquiring more work that it’s easy for my DVR to fill up and for me to miss things for months on end. At one point, I hadn’t turned it the TV on in a few months. It’s new, so it had calculated the energy/electricity saved and how many hours it had been since I’d last had it on. I had one of those moments where I thought “Wow! You have NO life whatsoever.” Of course, I tend to think that daily, but realizing that my new flat screen is basically collecting dust pissed me off. It was a gift, a “sense of normalcy to help me transition” after my move, but nothing is normal, I am not “transitioned”, and I have little time to enjoy the things I normally love. 😦 My life feels like it is dictated to me, as opposed to my choice. That doesn’t make me feel good about myself and I suspect it’s not supposed to.

And so, another day begins. Sun, heat, prepping for an interview for next week, being ignored by Cat (Kitten has already had breakfast and is sleeping peacefully beside me. She talks in her sleep. LOL.), and a zillion thoughts facing through my head. I’d like to go through the next few days without an interrogation, stress, deepening depression, or thoughts of walking in front of moving vehicles. I can’t afford to deal with broken bones (physically) and I really cannot handle dealing with anyone giving me the third, fourth, or tenth degree. I’ve bitten my tongue for far too long. One more push will likely send me over the edge and it won’t be pretty. However, it’ll feel damn good not to hold back the force of my personality any longer. I am only an opponent when someone forces me to be one. I make no promises if you continually push my buttons. In this, I think many of us are the same. We don’t actively go looking for the craziness that comes our way, but we won’t back down if you get in our face, either.

Wishing you all an easy Friday and a wonderful weekend to come! 🙂

Bad Days, Sweet Cats

2016-07-212016-07-23 Miss Poison Emotional Abuse, Emotional Pain, Fibromyalgia, July, Life, Migraines, Musings, Neuropathy, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Allergies, Anger, Cat and Kitten, Emotional Abuse, Fibromyalgia, Humans, July, Life, Migraines, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Relationships, The Human Condition, Thought Process, Thoughts, Writers, Writing

As I will explain in a future post, I’ve been having some incredibly bad days (it’s been many, many months, actually. I am not pointing any fingers in saying that, life is simply unpredictable as hell.). Some of it is health-related, but the rest is not worth repeating twice, so I’ll save it for the other post, which I’ve been working on for the past few days. I’m not quite ready to emotionally complete it.

This morning I was struck with the realization that there aren’t a lot of constants in this life. You can only hope that your true friends and family know who you are, as opposed to pretending they know you, and will love you unconditionally. You learn from the people who place conditions on every aspect of their “love”. God & Goddess, please don’t EVER let me be such a selfish, vindictive person that I use “love” against people. It’s not meant to be used as a weapon, much like a child is not meant to be used as a pawn during divorce proceedings. With each passing day, I feel like some people become uglier on the inside and quite frankly, it makes me sick to my stomach.

I went to bed early last night with a migraine I can’t seem to shake. Inevitably, due to the medication I took for it, I ended up wide awake by 1:30 this morning. I’ve been writing ever since, thinking, and doing a lot of soul-searching.

When I entered my sleep time into the Migraine App this morning (it doesn’t always pick up the exact time if I go to bed earlier than usual), I found a message from my brother that is quite telling. I’ve been explaining a few situations to him for many months now and at times he has been supportive and other times, quite vacant. I understand his anger and frustration. He’s been through crap I wouldn’t wish on a single soul and is still kind, caring, forgiving, and devoted. He tells me to forgive people on a near daily basis and insists that I pray for them instead of being angry. I’m often thinking “Hello? Have we met?!”, because I’m more likely to react than he is, at least these days. I haven’t reached any Zen states, mostly because too many people are taking shots at me. However, his message is a reminder of so many things. “You keep being yourself. Fuck everyone else! You are great as you are, do you understand? Don’t ever change for anybody.”

When you hear negative shit every single day, and you’re told it’s “merely feedback”, you occasionally start wondering if it’s true or if you’re going insane. It is 100% a form of brain-washing. You either shrivel up into a ball and believe the lies you’re told about who and what you are, or you put your hand up and say “Wait one fucking second! I KNOW who I am. You don’t get to define me with your negativity and issues.” Some people are not happy or satisfied unless they are hurting others verbally. Being emotionally abusive is still being abusive, and it’s not okay. I wish people could hear themselves 24/7 because if they could, they’d be apologizing for a lot of the crap that comes out of their mouths when they are tired, stressed out, worried, etc. I will always apologize if I’m wrong, even if I realize it three days later, but never being apologized to is incredibly hurtful to me.

This year is NOT going as I planned. I have gotten a lot of doors slammed in my face, have had a lot of promises made to me broken in ways that are incredibly harmful, not to mention unforgivable, and I don’t know if I’ve ever experienced such severe despair before. Every day, week, month, etc., is a battle of pure survival. I am not happy. I am not enjoying any aspect of my life, and I loathe certain times of each day when I am forced to place every single ounce of who I am into a Tic-Tac sized box and pretend it doesn’t exist. It is nearly as bad as aspects of my childhood. The only difference is, back then I knew one of two things would happen; I would kill the abuser (my father) and spend the rest of my life in jail or my mother would finally gain the strength and courage to leave. Obviously, the latter happened. I don’t know that she ever truly had the strength and courage, but she did have the emotional support, and when she didn’t, she leaned on me. I was her rock.

Sometimes I feel as though the few people who remain in my life forget what I’ve been through, denounce what I am capable of, and try to make me feel guilty for being ill. People underestimate me. But when accusations regarding my character come into play, you’re asking for more trouble than you can handle.

I’ve said it before, but perhaps it bears repeating; I’m not a nice person. I don’t strive to be someone people trifle with and through experience, I have seen what nice brings. I can certainly be nice, I have my moments, but I don’t suggest testing me to see if you can reach the point of no return. Most people will interact with me and find me pleasant and lovely to be around, and that’s because they’ve chosen not to challenge my existence. They’ve chosen to treat me like a human-being. They’ve chosen not to start crap with me. I don’t respond kindly to threats, accusations, or anything negative. I might be looking at you and/or listening to you, but I may also be plotting your untimely demise in my head. That doesn’t mean I’ll act on it, but we’ve all reached a point with someone (or multiple people) and had a thought we might not normally have, leave alone share with others. It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with us. If anything, it means we’re human. If you haven’t contemplated slapping someone, knocking their teeth out, breaking their jaw, or killing them in their sleep and telling G-d it was an accident, then I don’t trust you, because these are common thoughts. I know, because I’ve done a poll.

Nine times out of ten, it is mere words. “I’ll beat his ass.” or “I’ll slap the rude right out of her.” It’s not what you truly intend to do, it’s not even what you’re going to do when you calm down, it is simply a manifestation of anger in the initial moment. These are total “heat of the moment” reactions, and they are entirely human. Unless you’re a saint, you’ve had these thoughts. Unless you’ve reached some type of Zen Master level that I am not aware exists, you too have had these thoughts at least once in your life. No one is perfect and no one should claim to be. I will not pretend that thoughts haven’t crossed my mind. It makes killing characters off so much easier, because you can take your anger and write it out of your system. Or at least, I can. Sometimes all a person has to do is breathe wrong in my general direction and my first thought is “I’ve figured out fifteen different ways to kill you off in book four. In another minute, that number will go up to sixty.” You’ve managed to react without raising your voice or harming another person physically. In my case, the reward for this is bigger than chocolate, cupcakes, or a shopping spree at Sephora. This is HUGE, it warrants going all out. 😉

Again, this is all human. It does not mean I will be on the ten o’clock news having done something heinous. Will I have thought about it? The probability is quite high, yes. But acting on something and thinking about it are two completely different ends of the spectrum.

I have been battling pretty much the same killer migraine for almost a week now, getting 3-4 hours as a “break” until another one slams into my head. Stress is the number one killer in this country, causing all different types of health issues, and when you suffer from migraines, they are often borne out of stress. Even if you think you lead a relatively stress-free existence, migraines are migraines and they don’t necessarily give you a break when medication doesn’t help.

This week it’s been migraines and my allergies taking me down. I’ve either been completely erratic with my sleep schedule or I’ve been unable to get out of bed, there hasn’t been a lot of middle-ground.

Through all this, Kitten has fiercely become my companion again. Both Cat and Kitten have been distant all these months. Less affectionate, less happy-go-lucky, less relaxed. They’re afraid of hands and they get snippy over the most basic things. They aren’t as open to affection as they once were, but I’ve done my best. They are an immense priority in my life, but you cannot force animals to change their behavior or to spend time with you when they’d prefer not to. So, waking up several times this week with Kitten glued to my side has been a nice change. She has patiently stayed with me while I’ve been ill, has been her normal, loving self, and has insisted on giving me kisses and trying to eat my hair again. This is progress; she is seeking me out for more than just food. Seeing them playing and not being fearful makes me smile. Unfortunately, they scare easily these days. 😦 I pray that one day, they will feel secure again. They are little blessings. I know they were both sent to me, that they’re both gifts of the highest order, so I pray their fear dissipates and their happiness and health surges. All I can do is keep being me, which shows them that while life has changed, Mommy has not. I always tell them that I’m their safe place. Apparently, Kitten is listening and Cat pretends to listen in case the treat bag makes noise. 😉

I ordered their food online because the price was unbeatable and you don’t always see large bags of grain-free food on sale (Occasionally I am able to get a local store to price-match, but this time it simply wasn’t worth the effort.). You’ve never seen two cats happier to see a shipping box. I’m schlepping in a thirty pound box Saturday morning (Thank you FedEx and Chewy.com for saving my butt!) and they both watched and waited to see what had arrived. I opened the box and they both stared at the packaging and each other before they each lifted a paw to swat in sync. I quickly unboxed everything and they stared at each other to see who would get into the box first. Kittens defers to Cat on most things, especially if she’s unsure about something. Cat wasn’t happy with me for breaking the box down so quickly. But give her a purse and she just might go anywhere with you! This is new behavior I’ve never seen before. A lot of their behavior is new. Kitten is now extremely interested in my purse and I keep saying “Get your paws out of that bag.” I caught her trying to take my makeup bag out of my purse and drag it off like prey. It’s cute once, the second time makes you question all that you carry around (I’m like Mary Poppins, with a different accent. LMAO!). I haven’t weighed it, but I’m certain it weighs more than they do, combined. It would explain why my shoulder hurts every time I am out for more than twenty minutes with my bag on my shoulder. Clearly I am a masochist. 😦 Clearly, Kitten is trying to get me to see the error of my ways.

The week ends with the birthday of one of my best friends. She is my soul-sister; beautiful, talented, and as afflicted by Fibromyalgia pain as I am. I am wishing for her a healthier, prosperous, and supremely happier year. If there is good in me it is most reflected in my friendships, which are pure platinum.

Welcome to all the new followers; I appreciate both your readership and comments. 🙂

I will attempt to decompress as much as possible and I wish you all a wonderful weekend to come.

Kinder To Myself

2016-06-16 Miss Poison Honesty, Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Health, Honesty, June, Life, Migraines, Musings, Poison In Lethal Doses, Summer, Temperature Sensitivity, Writing

I hope everyone is having a wonderful week and that you’re all taking brief moments for yourself in order to re-group and center yourselves before the upcoming weekend.

This past weekend was relatively full, but I didn’t get any time to zone out and do things I truly enjoy. I feel as though I have forgotten a lot of what I do enjoy because my life has been a daily battle for so long. I promise to set aside some time for myself soon where I am able to focus solely on me, and nothing else. I need a break, and preferably this time, I’d prefer it to not be a bone. 😦 My toe is healing really well, thankfully. I spent 4 1/2 days off of it as much as possible, using ice regularly. I was immensely relieved when the swelling went down for good. I was able to walk over the weekend with little to no pain, so I feel incredibly blessed. Unfortunately, everything else hurts. That’s not pleasant in the least, but thank G-d for small favors.

The whole point of doing something for yourself, even if that means taking a few hours to breathe fresh air and commune with your own thoughts in a neutral setting, is crucial so that you don’t remain trapped in your own head, which is quite easily a prison of your own making. 😦 I’m an extremely internalized person, so when I feel trapped in any way, it doesn’t encourage me to communicate with people. But being able to escape means I get to be myself, to engage with others, and remind myself that the negativity thrown at me is untrue. It helps put me back into the correct perspective because the person who knows me best is me, and unfortunately, I take a lot of things to heart when I shouldn’t. I cannot and will not spend my days being insulted by anyone, regardless of who they think they are. There are limits and boundaries to what I will tolerate. I am making big changes in my life and while the end result make shock some people and upset others, I have to do what is right for me. I have to, for the first time in my life, be selfish and prioritize myself. It’s a slow process because it goes against who I am, but I will get there. I will succeed.

It will officially be summer next week and this is generally the time of year when I go into full-out hibernation mode, only leaving the house to quickly run errands in air-conditioned settings and then return. If you’re not photosensitive and don’t suffer from heat sensitivity, consider yourself incredibly lucky. I cannot be outside for long periods of time in any type of heat. Basically, if it’s over 70 degrees and there’s no breeze and the humidity is 50% or higher, I will get sick. It drains my life force, dehydrates me almost instantly, and leaves me weak and ill. I’m not an outdoorsy type by any stretch of the imagination. If it’s not somewhere between 40-68 degrees, I am subjecting myself to all sorts of crazy things that I’ve been dealing with for quite some time. Fibromyalgia has definitely changed how I function and seeing as how I also suffer from migraines, I feel like I have to travel even 20 minutes away with a medicinal arsenal. For me, the sun and the heat and humidity are immensely evil.

As I sit here, I am trying to cope with a migraine I’ve had for three days. It’s never “just a migraine” either. My entire head and neck hurt like hell. The only reason I can type is because my eyes aren’t bothering me at the moment, but I suspect that’s next. I am hoping my most recent dose of pain reliever does SOMETHING to alleviate some of this because while it IS working, it’s only giving me short bursts of relief. I legitimately need it to rain so that I can potentially feel better. As of this moment, it’s not scheduled to rain at all for the next ten days. The last thing I want to do is suffer a full week like this. If it seems as though my migraines have worsened since my move, that would be 100% correct. They have increased by over 60% and based on my research, it is due to my proximity to the ocean. In all fairness, when I lived further inland, they were much more intense pain-wise and they were certainly chronic, that hasn’t changed, but I didn’t begin tracking them until this past September, so it’s not fair to blame location alone. But in all honesty, no one wants to lose so many days to horrific headaches that do not respond to medication or alternative treatments. When you’ve tried everything, you eventually lose your patience. I don’t have a lot of patience to begin with, so whatever I did have in regard to my migraines died a long time ago. I know that’s not the greatest attitude to have, but inside that attitude are tiny shreds of hope that the next treatment, and I already know what it will be, will work. It’s legitimately my last hope unless something else comes up with a higher success rate sometime this year.

Suffering from migraines is unpredictable. People don’t understand why I say “no” to invitations, but it’s usually because I never know if I’ll get slammed with a migraine and be sick. In a room full of 50+ people, it’s bound to happen. I’m wise enough to avoid my major triggers as much as possible, but some days I simply want to live my life as though they don’t exist.

Tomorrow, I am going to attempt to do just that. I hope that it’s enjoyable for me because I’ve spent far too many days, weeks, and weekends locked up, hiding from the sun and all stimuli, because hearing the radio or even just someone’s voice, makes me sick to death. I keep the door cracked for Cat and Kitten because they like to check on me, but even just a crack of noise is too much when I’m this sick. I wish people understood that and were able to be more respectful. C’est la vie. I cannot expect out of others what I grant, but I’m tired of repeating myself.

In case I am silent this weekend, I wish all of my subscribing fathers a Happy Father’s Day. I lost my father almost nine years ago and it’s hard for me to discuss it because in my family, Father’s Day wasn’t as big a deal as Mother’s Day was. However, there are some truly amazing Dad’s out there and they’re deserving of a day all their own. Especially the few I know who are widowed and raising a child or children solo. It’s a tough job, no matter how you look at it.

I’ll be back as soon as I can. Blessed Be.

Off

2016-06-072016-06-07 Miss Poison Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Broken Bones, June, Musings, Physical Pain, Poison In Lethal Doses, Stupidity, Writing

I feel immensely “off” this week, and it’s only Tuesday. 😦 When I’m asleep by 8:30 on any given night, there’s generally a reason. Last night, it was a combination of exhaustion, pushing myself all day to remain awake on little-to-no sleep, being in pain, and it’s possible the heat had something to do with it, though it wasn’t intense, it was quite soul-sucking.

Today, upon waking around 1:45, I found myself feeling like an idiot. A little over five hours of sleep and I’m sitting here just before 6:00 a.m., feeling like a zombie. Going back to sleep isn’t a real option. I have work to do and while much of it is nauseating, boring, and as soul-sucking as the heat, it’s still gotta get done. I wish I had a clone of myself to do it all.

I’m grateful that my broken toe is feeling somewhat better. To make a long story short, I needed to get out of my head and breathe last week and that involved a three mile walk. Despite limping the day before (I have NO idea what I did or when I did it to cause the initial limping to begin. Normally I can say “Oh, I walked into this…” or “I slammed my foot into the staircase.”, but this time I legitimately have NO solid leads as to how I hurt myself.), I was determined to fight past it. I HAD to get out of the house and function like a normal person without negativity in my head. My personal stupidity was telling me “You’ll be outdoors in cool air, you’ll get some exercise, you’ll clear your head.” I did feel reasonably peaceful once I was out and walking, but limping up and down hill isn’t cute, nor is it fun. By the time I got back from my relatively short trek into nature, my right foot and ankle were already beginning to swell. I’d spend the next four and a half days with ice packs wrapped around the worst of it. It hurt SO bad that my left foot was starting to have sympathy pains, right up until the point where, at three a.m. on Monday, I walked right into a table leg with the same toe, to match the one on my right foot. So far, that one hasn’t given me any indication that it’s broken, so we’ll call it a bone bruise, as that’s likely what it is. I still can’t walk properly, but I’m continuing to do my best to get to the first stage of healing.

My “company” this weekend was deeply imbedded in the books I’m reading. I got back into “Bones Never Lie” by Kathy Reichs, a book I’d started when it first came out in 2014 and simply got too busy to read at the time, and her most recent book, “Speaking In Bones”, which I am almost done with. I’ve got a stack of other potentially interesting finds to read next, and when you’re injured or can’t sleep, it’s a perfect way to educate the brain and/or escape into a different world for a while. I was also able to burn six CD’s worth of music to my digital library, which makes me happy. Sometimes, it’s the small things that are huge for you in times of distress and/or pain.

My brother did make it out of the second operation okay, but the road to recovery is long and may result in some permanent nerve damage. If ever you suspect you have any kind of infection, there is an immense difference between 7:00 a.m. and 7:00 PM, and that difference could be your life, so please, don’t be as stubborn or as stupid as he (way too often) is.

I hope everyone has a pleasant day. I am off to edit something confusing. What else is new?

doyoumeantotellme — I think this is only fair, don’t you?

The Not-So-Lost Manuscripts

2016-06-04 Miss Poison Inspiration, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Books, Creativity, Inspiration, Manuscripts, Passion, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing

For the last eight months or so, I had silently convinced myself that I was abandoning the manuscripts for the series of novels I began writing in 2010. Before you scoff and judge that length of time, note that I wasn’t writing “just one thing”. I was writing multiple manuscripts (hence, a “series of novels”) in order to fully develop the story itself, as well as characters I know like the back of my hand.

My intense desire was solely to walk away from editing because it is so bloody thankless and is barely paying pennies. My inquiries look a lot like this: “Hi, I’d like you to edit 96,000 words in 24 hours and I am willing to pay $10.” Now while I politely decline these jobs, my first thought is “I’m not working 24 hours straight for $10, and I don’t know anyone with an ounce of talent who’d agree to that. Dunkin’ Donuts doesn’t even pay $10 an hour, who are you playing with?” I don’t say it, but damn, it’s unbelievably insulting. For the record, my hourly rate is $40, unless it’s a first edit, and it’s by no means an unreasonable rate. I know people who charge double and not necessarily out of talent, but because they’ve chosen to put a higher price tag on their time, but not without a mind-fuck of a “reason”. I didn’t go to an Ivy League school to be able to apply said price tag to my work (that’s THEIR reasoning), but it’s still in the top ten. I also didn’t major in things that make me want to gag, like English Lit, Journalism, etc. I’m more interesting than that, and I have more experience. I also try to give people a fixed rate payment plan, that way they’re paying every 2-4 weeks, the work is being done, and they’re not shelling out a large chunk they don’t have all at once. While many people want to be writers, and I don’t knock that, they aren’t quite prepared to pay and deal with a real editor. It’s time-consuming work and as someone who goes over a manuscript twice, I don’t think pennies are acceptable to be tossed in my hard-working direction.

Somewhere along the line though of feeling used & abused by something I’ve done for so long, I realized I had also abandoned a lot of my hard work. I may not want to edit other people’s “work” (I use that term quite loosely. Some people have no idea what it takes to truly write something that doesn’t stink to high heaven.), but my work should be an entirely different story. You don’t write as long as I have and say “Okay.” to leaving solid work on a hard drive, thumb drive, etc. Sometimes you will have a legitimate reason for leaving a body of work behind (You don’t forget it, but you do shelve it for a later date, perhaps.), but I have no solid reason, and so, it was time to delve back into MY work.

The other day I decided to re-visit the first manuscript in the series. My first impression was “Holy crap, look at that word count! I remember when I couldn’t break 11,000 words.” But as far as the actual written work is concerned; I was completely spellbound. There is nothing like getting completely wrapped up in a story. I read several chapters, became immersed in the minds of each character, and then I had a moment when I realized that I was the one who had created this from scratch. At first my internal dialogue was this, almost verbatim: “This writer is GOOD. So talented. So creative and smart. I wonder what else they will create, because this is EPIC. I’d BUY this. Hell, I’d pre-order it!” It took about fifteen minutes before I realized I am the writer I was having internal dialogue about. It doesn’t always sink in. You will have fans and you will have detractors. In my life, I predominantly have detractors (mostly in my personal life), and so, hearing anything positive is so foreign to my ears and equally as foreign to my eyes. I’d rather be told I’m a talented writer than have someone think I’m pretty. I’d rather be told I am funny and/or smart than have someone dwell on the superficial. And when it comes to my work, I am immensely private with the work-in-progress itself, the ideas, the characters, all the little nuances, and the actual manuscript. Having had someone steal my work in the past and try passing it off as her own, I’ve learned that you can never be too careful with brilliant ideas. It may not be brilliant to every single person that reads it, so ultimately I have to be impressed and surprised that I’m the one who wrote it. I have to continue to impress myself, because I’m the first set of eyes on this work and I believe in my ability to tell a story.

So, despite my deep passion for the new, creative journey I am on, one in which I feel is positive and will break me out of the shell I’ve been in without realizing it, I have decided to continue polishing up the first manuscript before submitting it. The story deserves to be told.

I can create on two completely different levels. One does not interfere with the other. I feel blessed to have come to this conclusion on my own and I look forward to discussing the progress in the future.

I hope you all have a wonderful weekend where you, quite possibly, have some self-discovery of your own. 😀

Head Meet Sink

2016-05-27 Miss Poison Honesty, Life, Musings, Pain, People, Poison In Lethal Doses, Uncategorized, Writing Emotional Support, Friendship, Health, Honesty, Life, Loyalty, Mental Health, Migraines, Mood Disorders, Musings, Observations, Pain, Personality Disorders, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing

I detest going from graceful human-being to absolute klutz. Try explaining cuts, burns, bumps, and bruises to people without looking like a battered woman. It’s damn near impossible.

A few months ago my right wrist was covered in scratches of varying lengths. To the average passerby, it would have looked like I’d tried to harm myself. All of them were merely superficial idiocy, except for the cat scratches. The unhealed scar is, thankfully, far from any veins or tendons, so if someone was looking, hopefully they wouldn’t be thinking anything untoward.

However, explaining the stupidity of hitting my head not once, but twice in a day, is much more complicated. In attempting to organize something in the powder room the other day, I didn’t realize how close my head was to the sink and whack! It was a stupid accident, with me somehow thinking I had a lot more space than I did. The second was pure stupidity minutes later when I turned to move a rug (Because hey, I already had my head down. Don’t be disgusting, I was straightening something.) and my forehead smacked into a metal toilet paper holder. Not the kind attached to the wall, the kind that sits in a bathroom and is both a method of storage and “in use”. Believe it or not, that hurt far worse than the sink. 😦 Perhaps it was the angle. I debated going to the ER for an MRI or a cat scan, but it’s too soon to know with any certainty if I have a concussion. I don’t want to ask someone to go with me for very personal reasons. Yes, I could have called 911, but it’s not a true emergency. However, as I sit here writing with a headache I cannot get rid of and a spot on my forehead that hurts pretty bad, to the point where I hope it bruises, I am concerned. I’m trying not to be though, because focusing on it too much will only result in stressing myself out. The headache is bad enough without additional stress, and Lord knows this has been an eye-opening week. 😦

I’m in the process of making an appointment to apply for insurance in this state. I’ve already waited over 72 hours for the person who handles this to get back to me. I am hoping she is on vacation and/or extremely busy because I hate having to call anyone twice to make an appointment for something that is supposed to take “about an hour”. Call me crazy, but returning a phone call with dates and times of your availability and writing one down isn’t THAT difficult. It’s less than five minutes of your time. My previous insurance is not accepted here, so I have to begin the application process from scratch. I’ve never dealt with a more asinine online system in my life, and that’s saying something. I tried, I really did. My patience level went below 100 and that was the end of it. Unless you have the patience of a saint, getting the forms filled out online is going to make you throw things, curse, etc. Here’s hoping it only takes a few months because I am still paying off a medical bill from last year when I didn’t have insurance.

For anyone to say to me “But that was last year…”, as if they know how much the bill was and/or what was done is courting disaster. If you actually care, ask me what happened. Have you ever looked at what doctors charge people without insurance? It’s astronomical, because they don’t make enough via insurance companies per patient and they absolutely pass that down to the uninsured by making us suffer in a myriad of ways. It was more than one visit and more involved than I’d like to discuss. I will need to find a new dermatologist as soon as I have insurance because other issues have come to the surface and I have every reason in the world to be concerned. The whole “discuss this with your primary care physician” crap gets old when you need referrals for everything. I’ve never been a fan of the referral system. I feel we should be able to see the participating providers we want to see within a reasonable time-frame. When you say something is serious, you don’t want to be told they have an appointment for you in January of next year. It’s reached a point where doctors are overbooked and completely full of themselves. Especially the ones that are always “on vacation”. Monthly?! Perhaps you’d like to adopt me.

People who have relatively decent health, and those who go to the doctor for every wrong turn, do not understand the trials and tribulations of those of us who are suffering, especially those of us who suffer chronically. They might temporarily empathize and/or sympathize, but I can tell you from personal experience that being aggressive with me about anything will get you absolutely nowhere. Unless I’ve asked for your medical opinion, I’m perfectly capable of figuring shit out on my own. Always have, always will. I’m many things, but I am NOT a moron. And if you don’t truly care about me, I don’t need your “medical opinions” on health issues you don’t personally have.

A migraine sufferer would prefer to discuss migraines with another migraine sufferer. A Fibromyalgia sufferer would prefer to speak to someone with an autoimmune disease than someone who openly debates why you are “always sick” or “always in pain”. Seriously? No, I’m not truly in agony. I just like to say that I am for shits and giggles, especially when it keeps me in bed for days at a time! 😦 Pain is pain. I’d appreciate mine not being denounced by anyone who hasn’t experienced it for themselves. Mind you, I would not wish this on anyone, but I do wish people remained compassionate instead of having an expiration date on their feelings. I don’t roll like that. My loyalty is everlasting, and it’s something I am proud of. I would rather hold someone’s hand and weather the storm together than pretend the storm does not exist and walk past them multiple times a day, as though nothing is wrong. I cannot be fake like that, and I won’t be. My tolerance for false behavior is nil.

I find it unsettling that many people don’t understand the difference between someone being real and a person being some sort of manipulative mastermind. Since this has been implied to me, I have to question the sanity of anyone who knows me and could think such a thing. One, I don’t have the time to mastermind anything that isn’t intelligent, creative, and going to benefit my life and future happiness, and two, I pride myself on being real. Being a manipulative bitch takes up time and effort I don’t have in my daily life. It is also a sheer waste of energy.

Whenever I have an issue with someone or something, I go directly to the source. I don’t act like a child and behave like a psycho when it is far easier and more mature to sit down with the other person and discuss the problem once cooler heads have prevailed. I expect that kind of behavior from a teenager, but when an adult does it, it’s a turn-off. Be they male or female, it’s ugly, and not something I can respect. If you have an issue with me, please come and talk to me about it. Things can always be discussed without resorting to nastiness. However, if nastiness keeps you focused and content, by all means, stew in it. I genuinely want to see where it gets you.

After being treated so viciously this week, I made sure a close friend knew that I’m here for her no matter what, 24/7. I would rather listen to you and support you through the good and the bad, as opposed to pretending all is right in the world. When my friends and family suffer, so to do I, but as someone reminded me this week, it is important to cut negativity out of your life for good. By proxy, I am a realist. I can be negative to and about myself, I have moments of pessimism and optimism, but I am not walking around with a negative attitude to direct at the world. If I did, people would not respond to me the way they do. I wouldn’t receive messages of encouragement, people would simply say nothing or discuss me solely behind my back. I am certain the latter does occur, I simply don’t care. To each their own. If that brings you genuine comfort, so mote it be.

My life has changed drastically in the past year, and in truth, the past nine years haven’t been a fucking picnic. I have been through absolute HELL, and therefore I have compassion for those who have also suffered. Those who know that about me, but continue to hurt me by spewing venom, hatred, lies, and twisting the truth to make themselves feel better are only hurting themselves. I find myself embarrassed for you. Simply by existing, you are not superior to me, just as I am not superior to you. You can work with me or you can beat a bloody horse for all I care (that’s literal, I am not promoting the abuse of animals), but I won’t accept emotional and verbal abuse in a polite manner.

I have found that when people attack you, it’s mainly because the issues lie with them. They refuse to look at their own shortcomings in the mirror and face facts, so they lash out at those closest to them. Someone ought to study people like that. I can’t decide if they’re fascinating to watch (kind of like a psychological thriller) or if they’re simply psychotic beyond words. I don’t find mental health a laughing matter, but I do wish people who can take medication and feel better by doing so would stay on the damn stuff. When they don’t, I feel like they blink red within my life. “Danger! Stay away!” But then you see them talking to someone else as if they’re perfectly normal and you question sociopathic behavior much more closely. When a person shows no capacity for love, that’s a sure sign for me.

My doctor once explained to me that we ALL display traits of personality disorders (Personally, I was mortified.), but it doesn’t mean that we indeed have one. I test at 5% or under for all major personality disorders, so I feel confident that while I am reactive, and not the first person to join and/or play well with others, that there is a reason behind my methods, and being hurt is at the top of that list.

As I stated previously, my tolerance for false behavior is nil. I know when someone isn’t being 100% honest with me and while I will occasionally allow that to slide if it’s unimportant, I will absolutely call someone out on the big things. I may not do so right away, as everyone responds differently to your approach, but I am done being hurt and lied to. It is an unfortunate inevitability that it will happen again between now and the end of my life, because life is still life, but much like this bump on my head, I don’t have to accept it.

I promise to be more careful with my head if other people promise to drain the endless negativity within themselves in the God damn sink.

Wishing my American cohorts a pleasant holiday weekend, as we celebrate Memorial Day. For all my other readers, make sure you enjoy your weekend, too. Don’t drink and drive and wear plenty of sunscreen.

therapist — I highly doubt it. No one knows all about me.

Boiling Point

2016-05-23 Miss Poison Adult Orphans, Anger, Depression, Honesty, Life, Musings, Pain, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Anger, Courage, Depression, Emotional Pain, Honesty, Life, Negativity, Observations, Pain, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Strength, Suffering, Writing

Fact: I am seriously contemplating ending my life. No one knows what’s going on, or cares, but I feel it’s important to talk about.

I walked away from self-harm at least a dozen times last week, maybe more. I have no strong desire to actually carry it out, but we cannot “cure” the thoughts that go through our minds.

It’s not any one thing in particular, it’s a multitude of things, all of which are out of my control. Ultimately, I often feel that lack of control is what makes us feel so out of control. I believe it leads to a lot of rational irrationality.

I’ve never hidden the fact that I come from an abusive background. If asked, I am quite vocal about it. Hell, I’ve written about it many times. My father was the bane of my existence from age six until about 2000 or so, when his health began to rapidly decline, culminating in his death, a 15 year battle with cancer that ended in late 2007. I cannot put a Band-Aid on my upbringing, but I try very hard not to allow it to define me. For the most part, I am successful. I don’t dwell on it. It’s done and it’s in the past, but lately it’s other forms of neglect, abuse, disrespect, & abandonment that have just plain left me in tears. What’s worse? This behavior makes my father, G-d rest his soul, look like a fucking angel by comparison. That’s probably what affects me more than anything else.

Nothing I do is ever “good enough”. I know that’s ridiculous, but when that is what is projected to you constantly, you either walk away or you tell someone to go fuck themselves. For the past 4-5 years, I have worked very hard on my anger issues. I’ve talked about that quite openly. Therefore, so as not to act like my father, I try to curse less and not tell people exactly what I think of them and their behavior, even if they deserve it. I don’t accept or allow it, I just disengage with the crazy. I cannot talk to a psychopath, to people who don’t hear me out thoroughly, or to anyone who believes everything they say is right 100% of the time. It may be right in their mind, but their mind and mine are two completely different places/worlds. That’s true for everyone, or we’d be living in a very bizarre utopia.

No matter how hard I work, it’s not “good enough”. How many times a day does someone need to be insulted, talked down to, and/or disrespected? How many days of the week, month, year, before they snap? The term “going postal” isn’t meant to be cute. It stems from things building and building in the workplace (or in some cases, ones’ home life) until someone finally loses it. The same thing can happen in a person’s daily life, and it doesn’t have to involve murder and mayhem, it might just be a verbal argument. One can hope, any way.

There is an immense difference between constructive criticism and venomous hatred and resentment. I am educated enough to know the difference in how people speak to me, and I am sick and tired of being told that everything I think & feel is wrong. Statistically speaking, it’s impossible for me to be wrong 100% of the time, just as it is impossible for someone else to be right 100% of the time. I don’t aim for perfection, but I will not have anyone question my perception of others. I’ve got two words for that mind-set: FUCK THAT. You can agree to disagree with me, but don’t deign to tell me you’re right and I’m wrong. No. Unacceptable.

Voicing thoughts, feelings, and opinions isn’t wrong, but I am constantly being told I am wrong. After a while, even a person with the highest I.Q. starts to lose their mind. After a while, any sane person is going to get tired of hearing such nonsense.

The only thing that is saving me is the love of Kitten. During the worst of my dark thoughts, when I wasn’t sure if I could bear another second, leave alone a minute, she’d crawl into bed with me, give me kisses, bring me toys, & watch over me with great affection. Cat followed, both of them refusing to let me out of their sight. How is it that two little creatures understand my pain better than actual people? I find that sad and pathetic for the human-race, but a real win for the animals in this world who are superior in terms of compassion, empathy, and love. My cats know more about love than 99% of the people I know, and that is truly saying something. They know me better than most people, and I’ve had them such a short period of time compared to the relationships in my life, yet they know me better, inside and out. People are emotionally harming me, but my cats? They wouldn’t even scratch me intentionally. Again, it speaks accolades for them. Clearly I did something right, and that “something” was adopting and raising them. They love me unconditionally. It is a special relationship, and not something to ever be taken for granted.

Words have power, and sometimes that power is destructive and extremely harmful. Be self-aware. Realize that you sound like a vile human-being and dial it the fuck down.

When someone is visibly suffering, or even silently suffering, they do not need your drama, venom, hatred, or negativity. Don’t pretend you don’t see it or sense it. Put it away. Stash it in another country, because I do not mean shelve it for a week, and focus on showing them that they matter, because eventually, all your shit might push them over the edge and the only person who will be left with grief isn’t them, it’s you.

I know so many people who, after years of far worse than what I deal with and have dealt with, simply took matters into their own hands, leaving people wondering why. People have actually said” Nothing is so horrible that you have to take your life.” Oh, really? Try living my life for a year, I’m pretty sure you’d feel otherwise. In other words, don’t judge what you don’t understand. It is okay to admit you don’t understand the various forms of depression and other forms of mental illness, but it’s not acceptable in 2016 to be ignorant about it.

I’m one of the “privileged few” who inherited it on both sides of my family. My paternal Grandmother suffered from her early teens until the day she died. The things she was put through during her life in terms of “treatment” were truly horrible, and I am not a candidate for certain treatment methods because of that. No doctor would allow me to go through what she did, despite the advancements that have been made I am considered too high a risk factor, and here’s a fact; I wouldn’t sign myself up for it either.

Approximately ten years ago, I was diagnosed with “treatment resistant depression”. It means that while I suffer abysmal highs and lows, my brain chemistry does NOT respond to medication. I’ve tried everything and all they’ve done is make me really sick. Therapy works, if the therapist isn’t a piece of shit, but with Fibromyalgia, there are times I cannot drag myself in on a weekly basis in order to “go deep”. I walk into therapy in a relatively good mood, positive about what may be accomplished by going, and I walk out feeling like the biggest piece of shit on the planet, so it’s important to find someone who knows when and when not to push your last nerve. I’m not shy, I have a voice and I know how to use it. Since moving, I have noticed that I have become ten times more internalized than ever before and not only is that completely unhealthy, it gives you some insight into my environment and how I don’t feel comfortable discussing important things because I don’t feel understood, cared about, loved, and the list goes on. It hurts so deeply to type that, that the tears are pouring down my face. I’m hurting so much and certain things were said to me today that can never be taken back. I can never un-hear them.

Unfortunately, I haven’t been to therapy in three and a half years and after putting myself back on medication last month, it made me too sick to function. If you’re able to take medication, wake up each morning, and go to a normal 9-5 kind of job, well, G-d Bless you. I cannot. I knew very young that I’d never have a “normal job”. Not because it is beneath me, it’s not, but because I don’t play well with others. There is not a single thing about me that says “team player”. I am glad I knew that about myself at such a young age because it propelled me in the right directions as a creative spirit. I’ve never NOT worked (I’ve been working since I was 12, no joke.) and not created something out of nothing, but for months now I have felt sick, weak, dejected, and the absolute opposite of who I truly am. There is nothing keeping me here. Nearly every day is the same; completely monotonous.

My creativity ebbs and flows. It always has. I do nothing on command. I’ve always liked that about myself, but it can be tricky when you are involved with creative projects that need 100% of your commitment, or they’ll fail. But how does one stay “on” when they’re predominantly “off”?

Today I reached my boiling point in reaching out to people I felt I could trust for help. Five times today I got off the phone in hysterical tears because in the grand scheme of life, people don’t care about my struggles or my pain, but they do care about being selfish, hostile, cruel, and hurtful. The final call which I did not want to make was the last straw.

Some things are out of my control, just as they are for many of us, but I’d like to think that if someone called me crying, truly upset by something happening to them, I would do whatever was within my power to help, even if I’d helped them 100 times before, I don’t keep score. In fact, I HAVE done that (helped others) and I will never stop being the person that I am because to not be me is to be lesser, and I refuse to let experiences like this alter the person I am. I refuse to change to suit other people because then they win.

My mother raised me to be a strong, independent woman, but she also told me that sometimes we all need help and not to be afraid to ask for it. However, I was terrified to ask for the help I needed and my fears were warranted because in asking for help, I got hurt. I am sure the other person does not see it as I do. Of course, I didn’t threaten or insult them.

Here’s something important I think some people need to understand: It takes great courage to ask for help. Especially for someone like me because I have a lot of pride, but definitely feel that I have fallen from Grace. 😦 When a person asks for help, and they’re upset and you know things have been bloody awful for them, don’t make it worse with cruel, hateful words. Discuss things with them at a later time, in private, when each of you is calm, and assure them that you do indeed love and care about them. It’s okay to have boundaries and to place limits on things, absolutely, but it’s not okay to be hurtful or say things in anger that cannot be retrieved.

For now, I have no idea what tomorrow brings, but I’m hoping it doesn’t involve me “going dark”. I’m writing this in tears, because the pain is just too much to bear. I am also weighing my options quite heavily because I am too sick to deal with such harsh negativity being directed at me in such an ugly manner.

We all have physical and emotional triggers in life, whether we’re aware of them or not. Certain words and tones will turn me from a caring, kind, loving, helpful person with a genuine heart into someone incredibly inclined to poison your dinner.

Choose your words wisely. Do not make assumptions. Don’t insult loved ones, for they can be gone in the blink of an eye. And absolutely do NOT trigger someone when you KNOW their history. Some people really should know better, but they don’t. Maybe anger is a better place to reside for some? I’ve been there and it’s unhealthy.

Tonight, I am going to try to accept the fact that no one else is like me and the other people cannot be what I need them to be, because it’s simply not in their genetic makeup. My brother recently paid me the finest compliment by saying that no one could spend five minutes with me, or speak to me for five minutes, and not come away realizing how incredibly genuine and unique I am. I damn near cried, because it’s truly the NICEST thing he’s probably ever said to me, and it was such an incredibly astute observation. It almost makes up for the crappy things he’s said to me in the past when he was angry (at himself) and frustrated (with his own bullshit) and took it out on me simply because I am the closest person to him.

I learned a valuable lesson today. I learned that no matter what people say, their actions and words don’t always mesh, and I am wary of people like that. Life isn’t perfect for anyone. Life isn’t always fair, either, but I refuse to kick someone while they’re already bleeding on the ground.

To the people who kicked me today when I was desperately upset by a situation completely out of my control, please don’t ever think I won’t remember the attack. To the few that reached out later on to raise me back up off the ground, I won’t soon forget that either.

Wishing you all a far better day/week/remainder of the month than I just had.

Feeling Sour

2016-05-142016-05-16 Miss Poison Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Bad Moods, Beach Days, Chronic Pain, Depression, Feelings, Fibromyalgia, Libraries, Life, Loneliness, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Sadness, Writing

Maybe its lack of sleep, the weather, circumstances being what they are (I will explain at some point.), etc., but whatever it is, the combination has made me utterly unpleasant and sour. Two feelings that I can never seem to shake entirely. 😦

I forced myself to go to bed early last night, which was an utterly useless idea considering I have been battling migraines all week long (two separate, extremely painful migraines. One on Monday that carried over into the following day and the other that began Tuesday and has yet to part ways.) and have more caffeine in my system than the average Starbucks consumer. Earlier on, I realized could still be “on time” today if I got 4-5 hours of sleep, so I forced myself into it and not only was I on time, but I managed to have a relatively decent day.

My first stop was the library. As a writer, I’m a big fan of libraries on a whole. They’re a great way to support writers by reading their work, and many of them have extensive collections you can read on your tablet or computer with a simple tap. You may not be able to fork over $30 for that first edition hardcover (or $10 for a paperback. Let’s face it, book prices aren’t getting any lower, unless you’re buying Kindle versions where there are often deals and decent prices at times, especially if you pre-order. I cannot speak for Nook prices.), but if you borrow the book, you’re still supporting a writer and you’re supporting your local library. Win-win.

By proxy, some libraries are better than others. My “new to me” library isn’t as good as the one I frequented in Pennsylvania, which was a Comcast supported library and, interestingly enough, was the BEST in the county. This one has fewer computers for people not bringing their own, 60% fewer books overall, 80% less DVD’s and Blu-Rays, and 70% less space, but it’s nice and quiet, is on two floors, has separate rooms for things some people deem “popular” and “interesting”, and I could probably spend an entire day there without being disturbed, unless they had some kind of event going on. There’s also a pizza place next door, so if you got hungry at any point after 11:00 a.m., there’s pretty good pizza within walking distance. Not too shabby. I scored a book that I’d placed on hold earlier in the morning before deciding I could attempt sleep (talk about fast service on a hold!), and a pile of CD’s that aren’t due back until June. Trust me, it won’t take me long to copy the music and drop the CD’s off next weekend, and since almost all of it is brand new, I was pretty impressed by that alone. They have a nice section called “New Music”. If you wanted anything new at my previous library, it had to be ordered and it could take anywhere from two weeks to six months, if not longer. Here, they order books and music directly from Amazon, so I learned. That’s quick service.

After that, I spent a few hours at the beach. Yes, I know. Beach and Lisa are two words you don’t normally find in a sentence. Yes, I was properly sun protected, as I would later discover in front of a lit-up mirror exactly how pale I am when I’m under different lighting (Holy crap!). It was nice being at the beach when it wasn’t chock-full of people, was low-tide, and I was able to take photos and find a few shells that spoke to me. Plus, it allowed me a good mile plus of walking. Yay! 😀

I then had lunch at a restaurant that had previously been an absolute favorite. I was saddened to find that they’d changed their menu entirely, and that the quality of food, service, and even more than that, were seriously lacking. If I never see a server bringing a drink into a huge party, only to hear a waitress call out “She specifically said ‘no lime’.”, only to watch him fork the lime OUT of the drink, it will be too soon. If you’re in the food-service industry, we all know you’re supposed to pour that drink out and start over, not fork out the lime. There’s a reason people get specific with food and drink orders and nine times out of ten, it is due to an allergy, especially in this day and age. If someone handed me a drink where I tasted lime after specifically saying “no lime”, heads would roll. Not because I’m a bitch, but because you don’t go into a fancy restaurant of any kind and expect such poor service. You cannot charge nearly $30 or more for most lunch items (I’m not exaggerating.) and do shit like that. It is completely unacceptable. I wasn’t the only person who was utterly shocked to see that, a couple sitting at another table was also mortified. That place is now crossed off my list of favorites. Every time I find a fabulous restaurant, it doesn’t remain fabulous. 😦 This is one of the reasons I’m hooked on my cooking. At least then, I know what to expect and can only blame myself if something isn’t to my exacting specifications, which is incredibly rare.

The remainder of the day was pretty calm/relaxing, though I did come home in some serious “I walked way too much for one afternoon” pain. Such is the life of a sufferer of any form of Chronic Pain. I openly admit I pushed myself hard to do what I did, but it’s important to do that at times, because it helps you achieve something out of your day. Being at home 5-6 days a week, completely isolated, hurting, with just Cat and Kitten to keep me company and (partially) listen to me, is grating on my last nerve. Sometimes, I need to be around people and be reminded that I’m still young and that I need to break out of my shell on occasion. Otherwise, life is pointless.

One of the ways in which I will be breaking out of my shell is via YouTube. It’s completely outside my comfort zone and goes against a lot of my feelings and beliefs, but you do what you have to do when you have to do it, for your own reasons. As long as your choices are on your terms, it is okay. No one is perfect. It’s more important to me to be a decent person as opposed to aiming for the impossible.

So now, I return to a book and hope that everyone has a fantastic weekend and week ahead. I’ll be around, in one form or another. That alone is a soberingly depressing thought. 😦

Blessed Be.

Invitations

2016-04-222016-07-21 Miss Poison Honesty, Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Cat and Kitten, Family, Friends, Full Moon, Life, Loss, Love, Musings, OGK, Passover, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing

Hello everyone. 😀 I’d like to welcome all the new readers. For those who have been on this journey with me from day one; thank you for sticking with me.

This has been an incredibly stressful month for me. A friend of 20 years passed away this week, which saddens me because she was such a special person. My migraines and Fibro flares have been completely out of control, which is why I haven’t written much of anything. To add insult to injury, I got hit in the mouth with the pet gate this week (Bottom teeth, right in the front.). I don’t have any bruising, but MAN, it fucking HURTS. I can handle a lot of pain, but my hands, mouth, and feet are three of my “NO” spots for anything lasting more than ten minutes. Here’s hoping it passes soon.

I hadn’t realized it had been so long since I’d written a real post. I cannot convey how nice it is to check in and see messages from some of you simply inquiring as to how I am doing, as a person. Very few people treat me like a real person, so for those of you that have and do, I cannot begin to convey how much that means to me.

Happy Full Moon to all my fellow Wiccans! )O(

Tonight is the first night of Passover (Yes, I’m Jewish AND Wiccan. I don’t hide that.). I got a surprising message last night from my cousin, who lives about 30 minutes away, asking if I’d like to join him and his wife for a Seder. He knew it was super-last minute and that I might already have plans, so he was apologizing while asking. I was SO unbelievably touched by the gesture, truly. It is legitimately one of the nicest things an extended family member has done for me in more years than I care to count.

I make no bones about how I feel about the family dynamics in my life. Please do not misconstrue my honesty as being “bitter”. I’m not, but I am honest and sometimes that may seem harsh, but you don’t know these people. Roughly 85% of my biological and extended family members could be on fire in front of me in the next thirty seconds and I wouldn’t get them so much as a glass of water, but the other 15% I actually care about, like, and/or love quite fiercely. If a person isn’t related to me and I consider them family, that is the highest praise I can give you because to me, family SHOULD be everything and they SHOULD be prioritized over bullshit, but that’s me. Not everyone is living life with my ethos.

I am touched by the invite, but I did have to decline. I’ve had a migraine for two weeks, and the Fibro flares intermittently. The last thing I want to do is ruin a holiday for someone else. Some people enjoy Passover. I’m still scarred from the last Seder I had to sit through. It is probably my least favorite holiday, and while I respect the traditions and the meaning behind it all, I choose not to take part when I am sick and need to prioritize my health above all else.

I also have an invite to a feminist Seder Saturday night. I don’t know if I’m going or not just yet. I do worry about this migraine getting worse and being someplace I’ve never been before, especially as I sit here unable to sleep. As other migraineurs know, it is often better to be sick at home, even if you’re miserable about it, then to be sick somewhere else and not have everything you need within reach. Imagine showing up to a stranger’s house with ice packs, a heating pad, essential oils, pillows, medication, etc., demanding that they all be quiet because you have a migraine and cannot tolerate noise on a good day, leave alone during a full-blown migraine. I do NOT want to explain that to people I don’t know, and I really don’t care to explain it to people I do know, but lately I keep getting asked the same questions over and over. Ultimately I’m going to say this: I don’t ever use my migraines as an excuse NOT to do something if I am well enough to do it, so if anyone insinuates that, they deserve a good smack upside the head. I’ve never used Fibromyalgia as an excuse either. If I am too sick, I simply make that known. If a person cannot see how badly I am struggling and suffering each day, then I refuse to explain it as if they’re deaf, dumb, blind, and mute.

I openly admit I’m sick of spending my days with the cats. On top of being allergic (I’ve been allergic even to my own cats for probably ten years, if not longer), it makes me feel like I have no time for myself. Cat and Kitten are such Mama’s Girls. They are almost fully integrated into the house. This week has been one of great progress. Whenever I’ve been working, researching, reading, or resting, I will check on them and find one in the picture window baking in the sun, another might be hanging out with me or asleep in her own bed, and OGK is either sound asleep in his bed or sprawled on the living room rug, also baking in a sun beam. But as the day progresses and his blood sugar drops, he loses patience for them and will sometimes get a little nasty and/or aggressive. It’s only happened a few times this week, but his medication appears to be helping him and that’s a good sign. He’s gained some weight, he’s smacking me less, is being sweet at times, but he still insists on waking me nightly. He stands next to the bed and screeches as loudly as possible, and like an idiot, I get up and do whatever he wants, regardless of how much sleep I have or have not gotten.

I’m pre-programmed to respond to three things in the middle of the night: An intruder that needs to be taught a lesson, a baby crying, and a cat crying. Some cats mimic the cry of a baby and as a woman, I’m biologically programmed to respond to that. I’m the woman in pretty much any store (Walmart, Target, any mall I happen to be in…) shushing crying babies while their mothers ignore them and keep on shopping. It drives me insane and makes me want to call CPS on them. If your child is screaming, there’s a reason, so respond. <End of rant>

OGK is willing to auction me off to the highest bidder. His demands include two large ocean-caught salmon, filleted and deboned, and five cooked chicken breasts, cut into tiny pieces. I’m pretty sure there’s a sign on the front door for the cats of the neighborhood that says “Trained Human For Sale”. Every day he looks at me with these gorgeous green eyes (You will legitimately NEVER see green eyes like this on a human-being unless they’re colored contacts and even then, they’ll look fake.), huffs out a sigh, and thinks “Ugh, she’s STILL here. How do I get rid of her?” If there was a kitty Craigslist, which I highly believe would be called Morris’ List, I’d be sold to the highest bidder in a New York Minute. He’s sick of me, until he’s hungry or thirsty and then he can’t wait to find this wonderfully trained human who’s at his beck and call. That’s me: The Beck & Call Girl. Feel free to let people know that. LOL. (Sorry Mom, Dad, Grandma, and Grandpa, but it’s a rich line and I can’t afford not to use it.).

So my lovelies, this is me checking in with all of you. More to come soon. I hope you all have an amazing weekend.