I’ve always wondered what the hell is wrong with the majority of the people in this world. For some unknown reason, they believe caffeine, sunshine, fresh air, a glass of water, or a cup of tea will magically solve ALL of your problems. If only it were so simple!
Have you ever felt better when someone says, “You need to calm down?” Of course, not. It’s so rarely said with good intentions. Usually, it is said to stop you from talking, or to shut a situation down. FUCK THAT.
I recently had a panic attack that was so bad, I had to keep telling myself, “Just breathe through it.” repeatedly. For hours. No, I did NOT feel better trying to minimize what I was going through, or why. In fact, I felt stupid for thinking I could mantra my way out of a panic attack which was impeding my ability to breathe.
Someone finally stopped me to chat, and told me I am so heavily triggered right now, that everything is bothering me on a higher frequency. They suggested talking to my doctor about this, in order to get some support. Stupidly, I brought up the issue, only to hear the most insincere, “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” I have family for that comment, I do NOT need it from my support system. I found myself angered, and unable to talk about how painful it was to have to bring it up at all. I speak to him again after the holidays, and I am genuinely torn between speaking up or simply going elsewhere for what I need. The second you feel like your needs aren’t being met somewhere, you should not be inclined to blame yourself. I’d like to normalize talking about this because too often, women do not.
The month of December brings up a lot of pain and heartache for me. I cannot just “breathe through it”. It’s been a while since I’ve acknowledged how bad my Complex PTSD is, but it’s bad. and I feel unable to fully cope. Mostly because, medication usually helps, but this year, it is all just hitting harder than usual. Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot to distract me, so it’s present every minute of the day. It’s beginning to cause insomnia, which worries me, because I’m finally going to bed at a decent hour and often getting decent sleep, but not now. Now I am tormented, and I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.
Alas, I will probably survive. Or maybe I’ll just breathe through it. 🙄
Sometimes, we go through something we cannot talk about. Something deeply private and painful. I want to share what I have been through, but it’s not entirely my story to tell. To some degree, it is entirely mine, but I’m not selfish. Someone else has a vested interest in this pain, and so, I am trying to honor both sides of the coin.
Personally, I need to talk. I need to know I am not alone. I need others to know they are not alone. I need support. I looked at my family, and nixed all of them. We simply don’t have the kind of relationship where I feel comfortable going to anyone and opening up on such a deep level. It’s a very painful subject and I know what I will be met with. Ten minutes after I say anything, my entire family will know my business. It’s a fucking insidious game of telephone which I find toxic, and choose not to support. That means, biological family is off grid.
I then looked hard at my friend group. Only one person knows what I am going through. I wanted to share this agony with a few other people, but since they have their own drama going on right now, I decided to keep my mouth shut. I can’t explain how much it pains me to say nothing, and to suffer silently. The simple fact that I had no one to trust and turn to bothers the hell out of me. I actually sat and thought to myself, “You need new friends.” Talk about a conundrum!
Trust is not something anyone should just hand over. Private things are so difficult to navigate. I pray that in a year from now, I am able to say, “This is what I went through. Here’s my story, here’s my truth. It was scary, it was awful, and my heart shattered. Here’s my joy in overcoming it all. I survived, and so can others.” That’s only part of what I want to say, but I also want the control to tell it when the timing is right for all involved.
Tonight, I try to power through what is haunting me. I don’t know if I am capable of crying because I’m in such shock and denial, but I do know that when the tears come, it will not be the worst day of my life. I’ve survived some of the most awful moments; so my track record is pretty good. It’s coming out whole on the other side that bothers me, because I don’t entirely know if this is possible.
You read the news. You see the headlines. They are everywhere. The voices, however, are so silent, I can hear a pin drop from thirty states away. Sit in your silence. I view it as violence and selective hate.
Antisemitism. It’s beyond systemic. It is dangerously out of control. I’m sick of it, and I am sick of having to address it.
This isn’t about the hate on the UC-Berkeley Campus that is shameful beyond words. Don’t believe me? I have video footage of how a pro-Israel activist and Jewish students were treated while trying to engage with other students and speak the truth.
This isn’t about Kanye West, who deserves to be taken down for his hateful rhetoric, and left beneath the rock from whence he came. Things are pretty bad when Kim Kardashian is standing up for Jews and the Jewish community. Unadulterated, unprovoked hate is NOT in the DSM-5, so please don’t use mental illness as an excuse for all he has said. He got cocky; he thought no one would touch him. Instead, he was systematically dropped from one company after another. Read your MORALS and ETHICS clauses, assholes. It’s in the fine print, which is probably why you’ve all managed to miss it.
This isn’t about Kyrie Irving’s bullshit, for which he will likely come away unscathed in BROOKLYN, NEW YORK, where my family settled upon immigrating to this country. You cannot educate the truly ignorant who, through the NBA, will continue to achieve riches, but will use antisemitic, Black Hebrew Israelite bullshit to make far more than the league minimum of $8.9 million dollars a year. For those who don’t know, BHI is the equivalent of a terror organization. The NBA allows Kyrie to be obscenely wealthy playing a sport, yet he will remain a sick, twisted fool.
Jews do not need to be told by non-Jews what is or isn’t antisemitic or anti-Zionist. We KNOW what is wrong, and so do you. Stop dictating to us when we’ve stood by every minority, but receive none of the same respect.
This isn’t about Dave Chappelle, who hasn’t been funny since the beginning of time. It IS about the danger of what they are spewing. They are trying to normalize hate against Jews, Judaism, the Jewish community at large, and they are spreading falsehoods against the state of Israel. What side of history would YOU like to be on?
I have watched my friends and family stay silent on almost all of this. I am ashamed of each and every one of you. Even the smallest voice can make a ripple. Thank G-d I have both the voice, and the platform, not to pretend to be proud of my faith and hide behind it, but to speak the fuck up and declare it. If you’re offended, then I am doing something right.
I have and will continue to stand for marginalized communities. As a Jewish woman, I represent many communities due to my ancestry and things I support; things I wholeheartedly believe in. I do not waver in my stance. Ever.
I am ashamed people have learned nothing from the genocide of the Holocaust, to the point where they have the audacity to question its validity. How often to six million plus people simply vanish?! Was this a Bermuda Triangle story, or is their fact-based evidence all over Europe that this occurred? I’ll simplify it for you; four members of my family survived on my mother’s side. FOUR. Look at your family. Imagine being the sole survivor. It’s not a good feeling, is it?
I encourage you to educate yourself before believing Neo-Nazi propaganda and any form of supremacist hate speech. All of it is racist. By remaining uneducated, you are letting people know you stand on the side of terrorism. If you’re not sure where to start for factual information, please feel free to comment on this and I will provide a list of reading material at my earliest convenience. In the meantime, get smarter or get off this site.
Poison In Lethal Doses®™ is a registered trademark. Written work by author may not be shared or posted anywhere without express written consent from the author.
The past ten days has been incredibly LIFE CHANGING. I’m SO grateful to have my spark back. 🙏🏻 Whoever the fuck I was, I don’t even remember her anymore. I have NO clue who I left behind, but I’m relieved.
Turns out, I missed ME; the person I truly am. NOT someone else’s presumptuous bullshit about who I am, but MY TRUE SELF.
To everyone who was by my side in different ways during this particular journey: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR KEEPING ME SAFE AND SANE, and hey, no one was killed during this process.😉 Though two of you are aware it came close.
I’m burying the person I’ve been; the one who has been through too much, and was still trying to be nice to people who don’t deserve the kindness or respect. No mas. I’m done with that shit. The real me has returned. Buckle up, because I’M not tolerating ANYTHING anymore from miserable people who are intimidated by true strength, or people pleasers who I have nothing in common with. I’m not obligated to anyone except myself now, and while some will think that’s selfish, those are the same people who don’t know shit about me. Get to know me; I’m exactly as advertised.
To be told I’m the most inspiring and empowering woman to be around was a VERY touching moment between myself and a new friend. I’m NEVER NOT going to let another woman know that she has a voice and a backbone. I’m a girl’s girl to my core, but I’ve also proven I can hang with giants.
I’m walking, talking, and mentally myself again. Everything has changed. Life is about to become EPIC. I’m grateful for those I’m closest to because they are the only one’s who will share in the joy and stick it out with me.
Social media makes people think they have insight. No one does just by exploring a glimpse. Some people are, by proxy, insightful because they know you in real life. They have experienced your honesty, loyalty, friendship, direct nature, laughed with you, cried with or for you, and keep you in their prayers. I’m keeping only what’s real from this moment on.
Please don’t presume anything here. Just fucking ask me directly, like an adult.
There’s so much I want to say, and so much I want to protect. I’ll try to say what I need to, without disrupting the delicate balance between the two.
Have you ever felt divinely guided in one direction, and maybe been afraid to jump? Or let me rephrase and say, were you overly cautious about a huge move? That’s where I am, and it’s scary. If you tend to psychoanalyze your decisions, as I am wont to do (to the Nth degree), then it’s terrifying, all while being amazing and exhilarating at the same time. I don’t jump; I’m careful. Until I’m not.
No matter what I do, all signs point in one direction. It might as well be a fucking headline in glaring red. I can’t go anywhere without reminders, either. If you’re into symbology, you will understand what I mean. The signs are in front of your face constantly. If you’re not into symbols, then maybe you understand synchronicity. I’ve pondered things ad nauseum for over five years, now. Around this time, last year, the symbology shifted and I tried hard to ignore it because I wasn’t ready from a mental perspective. I told myself I was being ridiculous. But now? It’s virtually impossible to ignore. It’s everywhere I turn. It’s the Universe saying, “Remember what you prayed for? I’m giving it to you. Be careful with it, but don’t you dare walk away. I worked too hard to bring this to you. This is YOUR magic, and this is all yours. Hold on tight, because this doesn’t happen for everyone. Don’t run from your destiny.” It leaves you in complete awe.
This keeps me up at night, praying for guidance. Guidance is laughing, because I’m struggling with this, and guidance tells me to listen and take what’s mine and meant for me. If there’s anything I hate, it’s me bringing up something completely unrelated in therapy, and allowing it to eat up 20-40 minutes of the time I am allotted every other week. Unfortunately, it ate up time twice in six weeks. I felt stupid bringing it up in the first place, until my doctor said I was doing the right thing. There’s nothing wrong with being cautious, smart, having difficult discussions, and powering through. Essentially, this is also a form of guidance, as well as self-care. It helps me work things out on my own, which is something I did long before I had anyone in my life to play therapist on any level. There’s a lot to be said for people who are capable of doing the work on their own. Let me be clear; none of this work is easy, but you have to show up for yourself.
Sometimes I can focus solely on the work I choose to do in order to improve myself, and other times I need to express myself in a rush because both of my best friends lost a parent this year (One lost both of her parents.), so they are essentially AWOL at the moment. It hurts me not to be able to share this with them, but I also don’t want to dump my drama on anyone. I would rather say something in a year. They can be mad, but I choose to be respectful of their pain and suffering, as opposed to being selfish, self-centered, and/or self-absorbed. That’s not who I am. I’m not a martyr, but am I sensitive to what my tribe members are going through? Absolutely! If anything, I am more self-aware than most people, and this is one of my better qualities.
I know when things settle down, they will be there for me. These are two of my longest friendships, and I know both of them want what’s best for me, no matter what. The same is true in reverse, and it breaks my heart that I had to walk them though these losses, coming from a place of experience. Maybe that was a gift, in a bizarre sort of way. My parents’ losses are felt deeply, but if I can help someone else by sharing how I navigated it all, then it’s not entirely in vain. Everyone reading this will experience loss at some point in their lives, and I hope my words of encouragement will help even just one person.
Navigating the day-to-day aspects of what I am going through right now are harder. I have a lot of late-night discussions and random bursts of laughter. I still spend a lot of sleepless nights writing until the sun comes up. Sometimes I can cut myself off earlier, but this often means taking prescription sleep medication, and I can say this based on my experience with it; it doesn’t always work. It’s never been consistent for me, but there are times it completely knocks me out, and times when it wears off too quickly. No wants a sleep aid to wear off after 2-5 hours. Then you feel like you didn’t sleep at all, and the cycle continues.
I hurt my neck about six or seven weeks ago (which is part of why I am experiencing so much painsomnia.). It initially felt like it was a flare-up from sleeping in a weird position during a rapid weather change, but quickly became me not able to turn my head at all. The pain affected the entire left side of my body. It eased up after a few days and I went to a doctor and had some injections put into my neck. Normally, this settles everything down in a few days, but it’s been a while at this point, and I am suffering terribly, and the injection sites flared up, as well. Any stressful situation or conversation causes my neck to get worse. I don’t even realize how tight my neck is, until I try to move. My doctor told me the entire back of my neck and head are badly affected, so she added some medication to the back of my head, as well. No help.
I touched base with someone recently who is coming off of shoulder surgery due to a pinched nerve which, for ten years, tormented her. She’d finally had enough of the excruciating agony. My doctors decided it was a pinched nerve without running any tests. I’m not kidding; they recommended physical therapy via YouTube and a cervical collar which is SO painful, I am not sure where I threw it one day, but I do know I threw it out of frustration. To make a long story slightly shorter, I now have to deal with a shitty primary care physician in order to get him to go back into my chart when this first started (during the height of Covid), and insist we discuss it, and that tests be run this time around. During the last two flare-ups, they put me on short-term opioids (In May and again in October of 2020), along with long-term muscle relaxers, which made a dent. This time, I don’t even know if they’re strong enough to touch this pain. The muscle relaxers help me temporarily, but I’ve reached my pain threshold and I am worried surgery could end up on the table. There’s clear-cut nerve damage. If there’s something torn, I could be sidelined for 6-9 months. There are parts of my head and face that I don’t feel anymore. My right ear, especially. It seems weird, but I realized it last Winter, and another time when, recently, I was putting a small earring into my myriad piercings. I jammed a sharp earring into a piercing which, for some deeply unknown reason, wants to close up on me. I could understand if I never wore anything in it, but I actually do. Every time I leave the house. I’ve had it since I was about twenty, so I’m baffled by it giving me trouble over the past year or so. I left the house one day with the earring in (along with all of my others, none of which had given me trouble), only to later discover blood trickling down the side of my neck when I reached my destination. I never felt a thing. I cleaned it up with alcohol pads I keep in my purse, but later that night when I took the higher piercings out, it all stemmed from the third cartilage piercing. I disinfected everything and I still wear it, but some days I get fed up and skip it. It’s not worth popping it open, having it swell up, etc. Eventually, I will find out if it’s related to a metal allergy, but honestly, one piercing out of so many seems a bit odd, even to me. Of late, all of them are swelling up, except for one. It’s been an odd, random experience, to say the least.
Obviously, I have a lot of my plate right now. In advance, I would like to thank all of you for sticking with me this year. I have definitely been out of sorts and challenged beyond measure, but I am grateful to walk this website into another year (Which officially starts on the 26th.). I did take a lengthy break from writing over the past while, because I needed it, I was burning out, and my focus needed to be elsewhere. My focus remains where it needs to be. I will revisit what I’ve been working on and forge ahead, but I might focus the next few months on a How-To manual (If you know, you know.). The idea started out as a joke between myself and a mother figure, but I quickly realized I might be on to something. If nothing else, I keep people laughing, and there’s a bonus to that.
If I am not able to write anything more this month, I want you to savor all the good moments. Be it Fall or Spring where you live, enjoy the little things, the big things, and everything in between. You never know when you might be stumbling on something life-changing. I’ve been the dumbest brunette on earth this year (In my bubble of an existence.), but I’m embracing the magic and protecting what, and who, I value beyond measure.
Wishing you all a wonderful remainder to the month of October. 🍁🍂🍃
Despite having a handful of incredibly talented friends who are also writers, I don’t share my process or progress with any of them. It simply doesn’t come up in conversation, and I won’t bring it up, except to maybe say I’m working on something new in passing. Several are maybe privately producing and not talking about it, and others haven’t brought it up to me in eight or nine years, if not longer. I can’t force conversation out of people, so I let it be. If someone wants more support from me, I’m honestly not sure how much more I can give seeing as how I already do all the right thing.
I have supported any and all new projects they have taken on. To the point where it’s almost ridiculous how blindly I have shown my support, plugged projects and novels, but recently someone asked me, “Who supports you? Who cheers you on? You’re not getting what you give to others.” This came from someone who I trust to occasionally push me, but it also made me think deeply about the lack of support I receive in both my personal and professional lives. I paused. I’m not talking about readers, but my family and friends? That’s a whole other ballgame.
My family, for the most part, does not understand anyone who is not an immediate billionaire doing what they love; what they are truly talented at. This is borne out of ignorance, competitiveness, and their own superficial, borderline narcissistic issues. However, it is their issue; not mine. I am not saying all of my family is like this, but the numbers are too high for me to pretend there’s a majority of support when there most certainly is not. I know the truth. I know how they treat me, and the bullshit that is discussed behind my back. Why would I want support from such creatures?!
Other family members cannot wrap their minds around what I do because they consider it a, “hobby” and think it’s something you do in your free time. 🙄 “It must be nice to have that kind of free time to just write.” Yes, this has been said to me several times. The rest choose to ignore what I do so they can build themselves up. After all, no one could possibly be greater than them. 🙄 They can pontificate for hours on how incredibly brilliant they are, yet you’ve heard not a solid, intelligent word spoken the entire time. It’s not dissimilar listening to a drunk person spouting prophecies on the train or at the train station (Anyone who lives in a major city knows what I’m talking about.).
In the words of the great Tom Hardy who I am loosely quoting, “People ask what you do in order to decide how much respect they should pay you.” There’s an additional part of the quote, but he sums it up nicely, and accurately.
I’m a full-time writer. I don’t get off-days; I have to schedule my life around my writing. I don’t get paid vacation time. I have health insurance. I can pay my bills, and I am beyond grateful for all of that. I win awards. I am invited to some amazing events which provide once-in-a-lifetime opportunities. I am not a newbie. Ten years in, or less, and you had to take classes to explain basic principles? Newbie. Those are facts, and yeah, I’m wary of people who try to force themselves into something, and then the way they try to shove themselves down your throat in a competitive fashion. It is NOT a cute look for anyone. You can gain support and community by being a good person who listens, and doesn’t just talk at others. Consider your life relationships for a hot minute, because we all know someone, or many people, who do this to us. The difference is that you might perceive it differently than I do, or have more patience. I received many chips, but the patience chip is reserved almost exclusively for babies, small animals, and my favorite SoCal Maple Tree (If you know, you know.).
No one had to teach me how to be a writer. It’s honesty, ink, and paper. Every ounce of experience I possess is crucial to how I operate and navigate the business side of being a writer, as well as the creative side. Having a background in Public and Fan Relations, understanding so many different business aspects, and knowing how to nail things correctly the first time are probably a few of the best things I can rely on, off the top of my head. You have to be a natural at it; some skill sets really can’t be taught. I’m not saying that to be mean, I’m speaking from personal experience. I cannot teach someone with no imagination how to magically be creative. There are no magic wands here, I’m afraid.
Roughly five or six weeks ago, an extremely close friend was really proud and excited about how much I have accomplished on my current manuscript. I am getting closer to two and a half months in, and I’m almost at one hundred and six thousand words. That’s not easy. I did a quick draft initially, redrafted, and have continued to polish as I go. What has helped me the most is our constant contact during the process. She has allowed me to share regular screenshots of my daily progress and major milestones. With zero jealousy on her part; only pride and excitement. This must be what it’s like to receive completely unselfish support. <Gasp>
There are days I’m writing between three and five thousand words, and days where I’ve forced myself to write a thousand, and I do mean forced. There are also days where a few hundred words is my limit, and I have to make myself go the fuck to bed since I start writing most days by ten a.m. and don’t always stop until after three in the morning. That is, clearly, a lot of time spent on specific subject matter, and character development. Tonight, I allowed myself to take a break so I could watch playoff baseball. Balance is helpful.
Being able to share progress with a friend who is invested in me, as opposed to when she gets to read the finished product, is one of the most helpful things I have experienced. It encouraged another person to check in with me every few days and discuss my progress, as well. Everyone’s schedule is different, but my gratitude for people who truly care about me, and who choose to make themselves available is proving invaluable. They don’t need a daily synopsis, it’s more like a, “How did you do? How is everything coming along? Do you feel good about what you wrote today?” It is true support. When you know the difference, it’s easy to spot someone who is merely trying to compete with you. For me, there is never going to be any competition. I prefer to be a safe space for knowledge and support. That’s my choice, a choice not to be negative or toxic. Regardless of the path you choose, I hope it is something you can live with.
Enjoy what you do, or there’s no point. And if, like me, you are watching baseball for the next month, let me know who you’re cheering for.
Poison In Lethal Doses®™ is a registered trademark. Written work by author may not be shared or posted anywhere without express written consent from the author.
I am functioning on less and less sleep these days, which screws with my day-to-day life, but seems to do wonders for my productivity. Yeah, I don’t understand it either.
My current WIP (work-in-progress) is at eight-four thousand words. I achieved those numbers in slightly over a full month. I put in a lot of hard work, and long hours, which I am proud of. Every day, it gets better.
Obviously, I’ve taken time to sleep so I come back refreshed, but I am looking at this material every single day. Even on days when I say I’ll take a break, I still put a few hours into it, or I do a quick read-through before bed to make sure I like how it flows. I allow myself to cut what doesn’t work.
I’ve written an insane amount of words this year for various manuscripts. People keep telling me how impressive this is, but honestly, it’s a job, like any other job. It’s important to me for anything with my name on it to feel like it’s work readers are familiar with, regardless of the topic at hand. This one in particular is not something I’d considered doing before, so as I write and catch myself enjoying it, I feel that translates to how a reader will catch my sense of humor or my snark within. Both of which would be incredibly hard to miss.
The majority of writers, if they are truly lucky, have a distinctive voice. I am constantly told it’s crystal clear when I’ve written or contributed to something. That is positive reinforcement to keep writing and making contributions. To keep creating. I’m not sure I know how to stop. I don’t like ignoring solid ideas. I don’t like putting things aside to work on what is selling and/or more relevant, but I’m only one person. There are only so many hours in a day, and I’ve been putting in an extraordinary amount of time on every detail. I’ve researched, studied my ass off, and I still do that several hours a day to make sure I’m in the right mind-set. We all need to source inspiration from something, someone, or somewhere. On occasion, all of the above.
What I’m writing is something I have actually lived. That is why I had not written it, until now. I have changed names and switched things around for obvious reasons (To protect the innocent, not the guilty.), but there’s extensive truth on every page.
There are genres I love to pieces, and there are genres which will always sell. That’s something all writers have to factor in. I’ve paid my dues. I’ve been at square one. I’m not starting over. I’m too experienced and too smart to try and diminish myself, and box myself into one aspect of what it means to be a writer. I refuse to go in the opposite direction.
I re-set everything this time around. Brand new playlist. New pre-writing routine. A whole different set of rituals. I want what’s on the page to feel fresh, because it is a story being told in real time. I dated it back a year, but everything else is current, and I like the way it flows from one chapter to the next. When I don’t like something, I go back into earlier portions and write a new chapter, or I build upon something I started, but needed to take a break from. We all have days when the material is never-ending, and days when it lags. I am trying to stay on schedule with the current portions, because some of that material is easier to write. The schedule is my own. I am looking at what I have for October and November, and this should be ready for submission in early to mid-2023, providing I remain on pace. The timetable includes several rounds of editing and rewrites. Right now, the manuscript is pretty clean. Most of mine are.
A genuine benefit of having an editing background is that I see errors in everything. Not only in my own work, but in a brand new novel that just came out, a restaurant menu, a street sign, or a glaring continuity issue in something written for television, etc. I am constantly correcting something, or someone. I am also highly aware I have a terrible habit of correcting people as they’re speaking. Sometimes I do it mentally, but other times, it slips out. It’s an occupational hazard, not an intentional dissection of others. That’s a whole other ball game.
It’s a damn good idea to write what you know, but it’s also important to be realistic about what you don’t, in case you do decide to break out of your comfort zone. The work I have done for the past few years has been, one hundred percent, me coming out of my comfort zone and making myself uncomfortable as hell. I needed a challenge, so I gave myself several. I found a weak spot and I lunged for it like a tiger. There’s nothing wrong with feeling strong enough in your body of work to say, “I can do this.”, and then follow through.
Coming off of a holiday weekend here in the United States, I have been diligent at keeping myself writing. I thought this week, I might miss a few days, so I was tripling my word count for days. For now, I’m okay-ish.
My migraines have reached a critical point where the nausea, dizziness, and vertigo are out of control. A few weeks ago, I called to make an appointment with a specialist who is focused on migraine-related vertigo. I didn’t have to wait very long to get in, which was quite shocking. The first appointment was hearing and vision tests. No hearing issues; I can pretty much hear every pitch imaginable. The vision tests were nauseating, and I have not been the same since hot air was forced into my ears. Initially, there was some dizziness, but I’m less than forty-eight hours out of the tests and have fallen multiple times, injuring myself. The doctor was amazing and very kind and empathetic. We talked about how, if it’s not my ears, then it could be my nose, throat, or a deeper inner ear issue closer to the brain. Clearly, it’s something and not a simple connection. I’ve already been told I will likely be sent an order for a brain MRI. I’ve been begging my headache specialist to order one for far too long, so to have someone run tests and not waste my time is so crucial. I meet the actual specialist at the end of the month, and as long as he has all the tests in front of him, I will potentially start a treatment plan at the end of September, and that’s more than reasonable. I do expect to be sent to a regular ENT specialist, as well, but I am grateful that when I called, there was no real wait time to get started. That’s extremely rare, and coming across someone who specializes in this is equally as rare. I just have to see how it plays out these next few weeks/months, and hope there’s help around the corner. Basically, getting an accurate diagnosis so I don’t end up with broken bones would help tremendously.
What else is going on that I can share? Oh, that’s right; it’s private AF and I might never talk about it. I know some of my friends have caught on, but for the most part; I’m writing. I juggle it differently these days, but I get it done EVERY.SINGLE.DAY. In case no one has mentioned it before, that’s the job.
Let’s roll into Fall, everyone. September 23rd will be here before you know it! Special thanks to all the new readers; I see you. 😉
I’ve been quiet for what seems like forever, and anyone who knows me knows I use my platform to communicate and inform; even if my subject matter isn’t popular.
It’s likely obvious to my regular readers that I am going through some heavy shit. I am. Unfortunately, I am also numb to a lot of the things other people are talking about right now. Not because I lack empathy or compassion; neither is true. I am trying to work through a 747 full of trauma, and through that journey came more trauma, and more, until I reached a breaking point.
Let me be clear: I’m okay. I am on the other side. Mostly, I am angry, in a lot of pain, and trying to be strong. A lot has been going on for me, and it will come out in the pieces I am writing, just not all at once.
I am coming off of a fresh set of nerve blocks and once again, I am sorry I did it. Once I feel better, I get to begin to fight for occipital nerve blocks. My doctor has already heavily documented occipital neuralgia in my chart, but my insurance has refused to pay for these injection sites, claiming they are experimental. They aren’t. She actually told me not to fight for it. Any doctor who would say that to me clearly doesn’t know me very well. I know it’s a covered procedure. The nerve blocks they immediately agreed to pay for are actually far more expensive than the one’s they don’t want to pay for. It makes NO sense, and I’m nothing if not a fighter.
This was my third time getting supraorbital nerve blocks. These hurt like I cannot explain. There are multiple injections, and they go under and into the brow bone on both sides. Because of the dose, it’s not quick. You’ve got a needle jammed into your bone for a good 45 seconds or so. The majority of my facial structure is bone, as so observed by my doctor. For me, I then have to apply pressure because these locations bleed heavily. There are a few which go into the supratrochlear nerve, a series goes into muscles in my shoulders, and she chose to add extra starting at the top of my spine, under my hair, going 3/4’s down the spinal column where I already have arthritis and Lord only knows what else, because my doctors won’t order additional tests if an x-ray will do. If she didn’t give me the medication, she’d have to throw it out. They are paying for an entire vial of medicine, but telling her not to give me a particular set of injections. One day she mentioned, in her frustration, how she is forced to account for every drop of medication she tosses, and how it’s incredibly wasteful for them to only pay for small amounts of these medications, and then ask her to throw it out. My nerve blocks are steroid free and are supposed to last 6-12 weeks. I was asked to give it a year before I say yes and continue, or decide to stop them. I don’t know where I stand on this moving forward. It’s a lot of work suffering from chronic migraines and worse with a spine that’s badly damaged. I’m definitely not having any fun on that level. 🙄
As she was injecting my shoulders and spine, my doctor told me she could feel how tight the muscles are. Mind you, I am also on long-term muscle relaxers for a full body experience. I’m careful with them because too many, “relaxing” medications can cancel each other out. If I don’t take them, I can’t always move, and if I do take them, I don’t always feel them working. 😔 I worry they will be taken away because so many doctors are making pain patients choose between treating our pain and treating our mental health. It is wrong, and I am vehemently against any doctor who tries to pull this on anyone. Mental health IS healthcare, and if doctors ask you to choose, find another doctor. The fear-mongering in medicine has got to stop. I’m sick of it, and I know I am not alone.
Much of the time, I factor in how long I’ve suffered from migraines. It will be twenty-five years in December. That’s a long time to suffer from anything, but imagine daily migraines. I was given my diagnosis at my very first appointment, a diagnosis most people wait 1-5 years to get. I tried all the usual suspects medication-wise, and they failed me. Each time a new symptom surfaces, I hesitate to bring it up with my doctor. I asked about a medication I had never heard of and she shifted her tone and behavior immediately, because the medication in question is a narcotic abortive nasal spray. I’m glad she decided she, “Won’t be prescribing THAT,”, but I wanted to say, “What if it REALLY helps me? What if that drug is the only medication to stop my suffering?” She was so dismissive, she wouldn’t even look at me. I immediately felt less trusting, overall.
Most doctors require a reminder of the Hippocratic Oath when they make such bold refusals. “Do no harm.” They absolutely, be it intentionally or unintentionally, ARE harming their patients. I have seen things in my medical record that make me want to scream. So, many doctors are harming their patients, en masse. As is the government, which needs to get the fuck out of my health care, as well as the insurance companies. Our pain is a political business to them, nothing more. All they care about is money, and if you don’t believe me, look into how much the government paid for your Covid vaccinations. They don’t come cheap. Doctors at hospitals are on salary and insurance, along with the government, dictates what they can and cannot prescribe. That is NOT okay. Pretty soon, they will be regulating alcohol and killing off millions of dependent alcoholics. Just like with pain patients, the only people who care will be those who get left behind. And the brands who depend on the business. It could all come crashing down.
I am frustrated as hell living with multiple diagnoses of pain disorders and only having a tiny percentage being looked after. Something I take, as needed, might be causing serotonin syndrome. I have to stop taking it, and this is something that costs a fortune out-of-pocket, until I speak with my doctor, who will almost certainly run lab work to make sure I’m not in the rare danger-zone. My symptoms indicate I might be, and that’s scary as hell.
The more I deal with medical professionals, the more I am marginalized and traumatized. It’s a system that is irreparably broken. It is rife with systemic racism and people who never should have gone to medical school in the first place because they have mind-blowingly limited knowledge in their chosen field. If you can’t do a little bit of everything and truly care about your work and how you are perceived by your patients, then please go the world an epic favor by going into a different line of work. We don’t need anymore crappy doctors. You’re embarrassing the few good doctors we’ve got!
With all of this going on, I am also working on two manuscripts. I wanted to make them a Spring/Summer project to see which one would be near completion by the end of October. They both have enormous potential, but I’ve written double the word count on one, whereas the other is about seventy thousand words. If either starts to get on my nerves, I’ll work on the dark urban fantasy material, instead. Because I’ve been in such crippling pain, I have written and read a lot less this year, but I am trying to get my shit together on that. Even if it’s just to challenge myself to get two thousand words written a day, that’s reasonable. Others would say to start at a page, but I am experienced enough to know I can accomplish the higher word/page count. There will be days when I double, triple, or quadruple on this, and days when a page will be enough. Know yourself, know your limits. It’s not dissimilar to the days when I’ve walked eight miles and it takes me a week to recover. There was a time when I wouldn’t stop until after dark, but those days are long-gone. Coming to terms with that, with the loss of complete health… It’s not easy. For people to insinuate that anyone enjoys suffering is just plain sad. For them. For the warped mind who dares to go against every doctor you’ve had to struggle through, for every diagnosis you’ve fought for. There’s a special place in hell for people of that nature.
And on that cheerful note, I’m on my way for now. I’ll be back as soon as possible.
The precise word I’ve used to describe the hell I’ve been going through is, “Sinking.” I say this to my doctor at least twice a month; “I’m sinking.” He gets a confused/torn look on his face and tries to distract me with questions. I’m thisclose to losing my patience. 🙄 I worry that one day, I will not employ a filter and will say, “You went to medical school to give me that face? I hate to inform you how ripped off you were.” Alas, I try not to be rude to the one person who, medically, has my back. I respect the fact that he doesn’t humor me, roll his eyes, or try to dismiss what I’m saying, but sometimes, I think we’ve collectively met a frustration moment because nothing is helping me.
Am I sinking right this second? Yes. I had a mental plan in my head for how today would go. I woke up early. Much earlier than I planned, so I shut off my alarm and started my day. I cooked a real breakfast, which seems like nothing special, but I am not always afforded the time and space to do this. Today, I was, and I feel healthier for starting the day without having my eating disorder screaming at me. I took care of Cat and Kitten (mostly because Kitten came looking for me a little before 5:00 a.m., but also because she was staring at me. Hard,). I responded to some business e-mails and found out a package will arrive today, one which was not expected to arrive until the 16th. Not bad. Then I started hearing potential construction. I figured maybe a neighbor was having gas or oil delivered, but when I checked and found all these trucks and equipment, I nearly lost my temper. My next door neighbor is having her driveway ripped up and expanded. Okay, great, but did they have to start working before 7:00 a.m.? 😡 They are also incredibly close to the property line, so I keep waiting for them to do something stupid, knock something out, or damage something. At this point, nothing would shock me. There are chunks of concrete just piled up on the street. I don’t want to assume they will remove it properly. I can’t be the only person agitated by this. They are taking up half the damn neighborhood.
Ultimately, this incident messed with my mindset. I had a panic attack from the noise, and now my adrenaline is dropping. Turns out, adrenaline crash is serious business. It made me realize I didn’t get enough sleep to do what I’d planned for today, and whenever I can’t do something, I feel worse than anyone could possibly imagine. I am going to give myself some time, and if I can do it, great. If not, I will add an additional hour to my prep time and do it tomorrow morning. Not ideal, but at least it will get done, and I can see how I feel when I leave the hospital.
I have to stop beating myself up when unplanned things trip up my anxiety or add to my stress levels. I’m not good with external noise. It’s reached trauma-level for me. I used to think I was being unfair with that, until a friend admitted she feels the exact same way and talked about how it affects her. I suddenly realized I’d been gaslit into thinking I was the problem. Mind you, I’m not outside attacking anyone or screaming. I’m just suffering in silence, and that’s unhealthy.
Over the past few days, I’ve received some texts and lengthy messages thanking me for various small gestures. That was nice (Wait, I’ll get there.), but having to turn down a standing invitation nearly made me tell one of these people that I will never, ever spend a holiday with them.
Let me preface this by saying that this person is a repeat offender and I’ve got no patience left to deal with the rudeness. A deeply disrespectful comment was made to me about a year or so ago by this person’s partner. Instead of putting this person in their place for how disrespectful they were to me, I moved into a place of, “This isn’t going to work out if I can’t be honest.” I’m tired of having to protect the other person from their spouse. I chose to say nothing, because sometimes silence is the only answer someone deserves. It’s not about being mean or manipulative, or even hurtful. Those thoughts don’t cross my mind because I know who I am and where I am coming from when I stop speaking to someone. The silence is more about someone crossing your boundaries and you deciding what’s best for your well-being. I decided it was best for me to back away even further, because I don’t need anyone’s toxic opinions or bullshit directed towards me. That’s not welcoming, that is behavior which instantly pisses me off and let’s me know that I will not be able to remain civil moving forward. Like I said, I know where I’m coming from. This person has no clue how I think/feel, and they don’t care. It’s not worth me turning it into an argument because there’s no peace to be had. I know this.
If I am, for example, having a horrible day (Usually pain related, but it can be other things affecting me, as well. I’m human,), it doesn’t give me the right to go out and be toxic towards others. It doesn’t give me the right to be a disrespectful bitch, either. It’s actually when I most need to withdraw from society, write, listen to music, cry, whatever I need in that particular moment, on that particular day. I give myself the space to honor me. I say nothing. I speak to very few people. Believe it or not, about ninety-eight percent of people don’t care about your feelings or what you’re going through. They care that they aren’t the one going through it if it’s bad, though, so it’s important to surround yourself with the two percent who actually give a damn about you, good or bad, no matter what. For me, that’s under ten people. I am okay with those numbers, because it’s honest. I see these people clearly, and their support and love comes from a genuine place.
One message I received sent me right back into a state of pure silence with a specific individual, after I rolled my eyes in disgust. It was a lengthy, “all about me and my life” kind of message, with a few lines asking about how I am doing. Three in total. If my phone wasn’t expensive (I feel like they ALL are, especially these days.), I would have thrown it across the damn room. I came away angered, irritated, and physically ill. This person is so fucking toxic, and my body responds negatively to interactions with them. I tend to keep them to the bare minimum, and I’ve actually ceased most communication. I’d sent a polite holiday card and received verbal diarrhea as my, “reward”. I have to make the decision to cease communications permanently. I have to put my health above their stupidity.
Sometimes, there are clear signs you need to cut a relationship off. You might try to hold off on this for days, weeks, months, or in this case, YEARS, but inevitably, you cannot continue on. Ten plus years and I am still trying to give this person chances. It is okay to acknowledge this and the fact that I can no longer do it.
It doesn’t necessarily matter who the person is, because if you feel sick after dealing with them in person, or you get physically ill after reading a message from them, then your body is keeping the score. Your vibration is rejecting their stupidity, selfishness, ego, attitude, or something else that you inherently CANNOT work with. It is completely fair to honor this about yourself.
I am moving in a different direction. I wish people well, but I can’t stay on their level. I have grown and I have leveled up. I can’t take myself down to their level whenever it suits them to deign to say something to me, and then be sick from giving them the benefit of the doubt or another chance. I’m not going to shrink myself to make anyone else feel better ever again. I deserve better, and they deserve to have people in their lives who vibrate on their lower level. It isn’t my responsibility to take care of everyone. I tried. I even asked someone if I was being fair and they said, “Lisa, you’ve been fair for twelve years. This is out of fucking control.”
I am many things, but I’m not a people-pleaser. I’m not going to gossip about anyone. I am not going to engage after you disrespect me or mine; that’s a line you don’t want to cross with me. I am not going to play into anyone’s victimization of self. I’m not going to constantly give someone chances to hurt, minimize, or disrespect me. I feel like that’s been a running theme lately, and I refuse to engage with it. I’m not going to permit ANYONE to re-traumatize me. I’m going to be stronger, smarter, and meaner. I’m going to be exceedingly discerning as to who I let get close to me on ALL levels. The door to my life is not open for newcomers. A spot at my table is a spot which must be earned. My time is valuable, and I won’t waste it on anyone who doesn’t understand that relationships are two people giving one hundred percent. Yes, there are times when you cannot do that, but you admit it instead of pretending.
I won’t be responding to anything or anyone while I focus on myself. I’m truly done giving out extra chances and opportunities. If people fall to the wayside as a result, that’s fine. I know who I am and what I bring to the table. This isn’t about being cruel or hurtful to anyone, as they have consistently chosen to be unacceptably rude to me, but it is about taking my power back. It’s redefining the term, “No.”, and sticking to it because these interactions affect my sanity. I deserve to let, “No.” be what it is. A complete sentence.
We’re currently in Aries Season♈, which is the first sign of the zodiac. For me, one means ‘New Beginnings’. I also look at the Hebrew aleph bet in a similar way. Aleph is the first letter and represents the number one in Kabbalah. One means starting from scratch, if you must, and rebuilding things in YOUR true vision. It’s the beginning of the zodiac wheel, and I take it seriously.
As the eighth sign of the zodiac, I am the embodiment of life, death, and rebirth. I might fall, but I’ll come back stronger. The actual symbol for this is tattooed on the top of my spine. You’ll sometimes hear people say we have four phases as Scorpion, Serpent, Eagle, and Phoenix, where others will omit the Serpent completely. I’m moving towards my phoenix phase. I can feel it. Others can see it in me. People have commented about my new energy or my good energy, usually people I don’t expect it from. That, in and of itself, is a positive thing.
Some people can see/read auras and some people simply pick up on a vibe from others. I saw auras more as a child, and I still see them around babies/infants and animals. Most animals are gold or silver, which to me, represents their pure natures. Babies might come up in lighter shades of purity, too. If I close my eyes, I can feel my aura is indigo and blue. Sometimes I can see the colors out of the corner of my eye. I don’t come across a lot of people who have these colors intensely attached to them. Sometimes I know there’s purple or yellow around me, or even grey or red. Not all colors are permanent aspects of one’s aura. Sometimes we will temporarily have an inauthentic color attached to our aura due to life circumstances, stress, illness, etc. The issues will pass and the color will leave. Anyone who talks about auras and their colors will see things differently and read color differently. I know someone who constantly talks about how rare pink auras are, but then declares every other woman pink. They will also say not all people are empaths, but will then declare every other person they read as an empath. That’s inaccurate, so I give myself space from people who don’t practice what they preach.
I’m moving towards physical, mental, and emotional betterment. I don’t have time for anyone who isn’t on the same frequency. I have to release all the negative energy which others have placed upon me in their journey towards whatever… A true empath knows it’s not his or her energy to own, but the ugly energy others have given out. It can cling to us like soap scum. Not only am I wearing sage perfume from here on in, but I’m done being the emotional dumping ground for people who cannot return my energy. I know my worth.
In life, sometimes silence and walking away is the healthiest choice you can make before officially cutting people off. Today, I’ve made my choice. I say goodbye to the energy and happiness vultures, for which there are many. I wish them growth and healing, just NOT with me in their lives. My journey no longer involves their presence.
I thought I had finally gotten a handle on my sleep, until Saturday night. I tossed and turned for three hours. I was then furious at the wasted time, so I got up and occupied my mind until I finally knew I would fall asleep. It was freezing, so Kitten was with me, trying to stay warm and still be close by. She was pacing in agitation, because she knows I’m not okay, and she tries to make sure she’s with me as much as possible, but to own a cat is to know that they will choose where they’re going to lie down and they will also choose who they will be with. Unfortunately, I don’t have the option of my current sleep cycle this week. I have four doctor’s appointments beginning tomorrow, one of which is an emergency appointment to rule out surgery. Only one is a video this week, which means I can stay home that day, so I am trying not to have a complete and total meltdown knowing I am dealing with so much. It brings a lot of anxiety to the surface, unfortunately. If you are lucky enough not to experience such feelings, that’s all well and good, but for those who do suffer from anxiety, we aren’t harming anyone. We’re struggling.
Two appointments this week are for in-office procedures. One hurts like hell, but isn’t a huge issue. I have experienced far worse pain, but it’s something done without anesthesia, and my doctor is exceptionally blasé about telling you how it will feel and how it will or won’t heal. She has repeatedly failed to provide information to me which she puts in my medical chart, which genuinely angers me. I only found out when her partner informed me during a Telehealth appointment, and he was very helpful and descriptive. I followed his instructions and was pleased that he got me in three months earlier than originally planned. I will likely say something about her lack of information this time because I’ve had enough. The other procedure requires at least two solid weeks of physical rest. It means adhering to little to no activity, except for walking (You live, you learn. When I rest, I don’t suffer constantly. If I don’t rest, I suffer terribly.). That’s if I get the okay from the orthopedic surgeon to walk on my injuries. I have no idea what he will or won’t say.
A little over two years ago, I fell and injured my right knee, foot, and ankle. I had fractured bones in my foot and there were some tears in various tendons in all areas. The doctor saw me about two weeks after I fell. He wanted me to make big changes to my footwear (I have.). He also wanted me to stay off of my right leg whenever possible, while still being realistic that even in pain, I have to move around. He was hopeful that it would heal on its own and I wouldn’t require surgery, but he was honest and made no promises. At the follow-up appointment, I was lectured that if I didn’t stay off of it more, I’d almost certainly require surgery. Inevitably, I left the office incredibly frustrated because I had truly stayed off of it to the best of my ability. Then Covid put us all into lockdown and my June follow-up was canceled. Without calling me, his office proceeded to cancel appointments for July, September, and then they didn’t bother to get back to me at all when they reopened. He was backed up with surgical patients, post-op appointments, etc. I let it go because I wasn’t in constant pain, but a few months ago, I felt things get bad again. I thought I’d sprained my ankle, but no, it was the whole knee, ankle, foot combination all over again. I have since done something to my left knee, as well. I was granted an appointment via their cancellation list, mostly because they saw that they’d canceled on me multiple times without an official notification of any kind. Mind you, I hurt myself in January of 2020. I don’t know what he’s going to say this time. He had initially prescribed high strength Aleve, and I still have most of the bottle. It simply isn’t strong enough. I’m not going to argue with him about it, but if surgery is involved, I am getting it in writing that my pain will be fully managed before, during, and after the fact. I am not playing the, “You need six months of physical therapy.” bullshit with him, or anyone else. I can’t even say how often I am using Magnesium Spray or topical lidocaine patches for temporary pain relief. I’ve barely made a dent in the bottle, but it feels like I use it way too often. On the plus side, it is fast-acting, as opposed to taking a daily supplement. It’s drying on the skin, but nothing a little extra moisturizer won’t fix. There are days when it is my saving grace. I try to use homeopathic remedies so long as they work, even though they aren’t covered by my insurance.
Having a week with a bunch of appointments squeezed together over the course of three days isn’t common for me. This happened and I had to give myself time to agree to it. I’ll feel a lot better when it’s over and I know more. At least I hope I will. A girl can still pray for good news and quality medical care.
So, that’s where I’m at this week. One hour at a time. I’ll be back, as I pray for a complete reduction of pain from head to toe.
Written by LISA MARINO-Molchanova 