Pieces Of Me

October, You Glorious Friend

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These are important things to keep in mind as well.

It’s not a secret: Fall is my favorite time of year, and October and November are two of my favorite months. October is a birth-pride kind of thing. I don’t care if it’s sunny year-round in California, because to me, that’s hell. Peace is watching the leaves change color. It’s not having one or two “crisp” days and then returning to more sunshine and 70+ degree temperatures. To me, that’s inhuman. I’d die a slow, painful death. Plus, my SPF use would skyrocket just to go to the mailbox. 😉

I am an Atlantic Ocean loving East Coast girl. I could die over the Atlantic and be perfectly okay with it. I’m a Water Sign and there’s something very calm about it to me. Bodies of water make me happy. In a world where not much does, that’s truly saying something.

October is many things for me: Baseball, hockey, autumn leaves, the smell of fresh apples, baked goods galore (I walked into a store last week to pick something up and the overwhelming scent of apples, pumpkin, cinnamon, and nutmeg slapped me in the face when the doors opened. I wanted to take a shower in the sugary scent.), the weather is intoxicating, Halloween/Samhain, and the icing on the proverbial cupcake is always my birthday.

But this year, my birthday means saying goodbye to a specific chapter of my life and all that I held dear about it and saying hello to a new beginning. Much like a Brazilian wax, it’s going to hurt, but the pain is temporary because less than a week later, my life will begin again someplace new, minus the itchy regrowth.

New adventures, new people, new surroundings that are familiar in some respects, but most importantly, I will finally get the opportunity to focus on my health, on my career change, and on achieving things I never thought of doing. It’s important not to stop dreaming, even if you fully believe you’re content with your life. Somewhere along the way, I lost sight of that and I think this is an important reminder to “Dream big, for the dream precedes the goal.” You never know what’s possible unless you try.

I greet October with mixed emotions this year. I know it will take many months for me to be okay with my decision, but that ultimately, I am allowing myself to be guided. I’ve repeatedly asked to be guided in the right direction, and perhaps this is simply the right direction at this particular point in my life.

We might joke about winning the lottery being the key to happiness, but ultimately I think many of us want the same things: Good health, happiness, security, and loved ones by our side. Material things don’t matter if you’re all alone and it means even less if you’re sick and can’t help yourself.

I pray that wherever this road takes me, it leads me to the things I most desire in life. Only God truly knows what those things are.

copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

youcametothis

I Hope To See A Cure

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I’m sitting here plagued by a migraine I wouldn’t wish on a soul, except maybe Hitler, and he was probably soulless, so that puts that concept to rest. Please don’t tell me he was “good to his dogs”. I’ve known some horrible people who were good to a cat or good to their dogs; do NOT use that as a measuring stick by which to judge people as “good” or “bad: It’s inaccurate.

This migraine has been going on for nearly 24 hours and two rounds of medication. Every time I thought it would get better, it managed to get worse. The problem with this type of migraine is that it’s difficult to keep it hydrated, because you know you won’t be able to keep fluids down for long. The pain isn’t just in your head any more either, you can feel it in your entire body. Not because it’s a different type of migraine, but because you’ve been afraid to move around too much since it started. The pain is so sickening, you’d rip your head off your own shoulders to make it stop. You learn from experience that as you go through the process of a lengthy migraine, the less you do, the better off you will be. The fact that it has eaten up nearly a day and a half of my life is not making me happy though. 😦 It plagued me before it even began.

Someone asked me yesterday if I’d go to the emergency room with a headache like this. I’d love to say “I’m going to take a quick shower and go now.”, because it’s THAT bad and I know I need an abortive, but I also know I will sit in a brightly lit ER for 3-6 hours, if not longer, in sunglasses, and that it’s far from quiet there. From the time I go into triage until they discharge me, my blood pressure will go from normal to “If you don’t medicate me right this minute, I will strange you to death with a cord.” That seems dramatic, but if you multiply the worst pain you’ve ever been in times 1000, you’ll be experiencing this particular migraine.

It is hospital policy to check your BP every hour, and when I’m in pain, like many of us, mine shoots up because being around low IQ’s and stupid questions pisses me off. The last two times I had to go to the ER for non-migraine related issues, I was given blood pressure medication and made to sit there until my blood pressure normalized. If the doctor hadn’t agitated me with a false diagnosis before she ran a single test, blood pressure meds wouldn’t have been necessary. I don’t have high blood pressure, thank God, but I do have incredibly low tolerance for bullshit.

The first time I went in this “doctor” ran up a nearly $6800 bill, most of which was for lab work that I’m not even 100% certain I had. The only major thing she did was a chest x-ray. And despite the fact that I could not stop coughing my brains out, she actually hesitated when I asked her to give me something for that cough, as if she wanted to suggest Robitussin. I know people who walk in with coughs far less severe than mine and they’re given cough syrup that helps them fall asleep and suppresses the cough, etc. I was given a prescription for cough perles which I suspect are the equivalent of something slightly stronger than a Ricola. She acted like she was doing me an immense favor. That attitude, when I have a migraine, is not conducive to my getting proper treatment. I do have the choice to go to a different hospital, but it’s five times larger and I shudder to think what that experience may or may not be like. I’m too sick to put myself through it.

Unless an emergency room is trained to handle migraines, you’re not going to be taken seriously. An ER that is prepared has a dark, quiet room that is secluded and they will make sure to follow your doctor’s instructions to the letter. I went in with one years ago. My neurologist specifically stated that he wanted them to give me a shot of Demerol and send me home to rest, that I’d already had a migraine for three days. He’s an on-staff physician there and he spoke with them himself, he verified my treatment plan, one I’d never had to use. Three nurses and a “doctor” were whispering off in a corner that they wouldn’t do it because I was “probably just a junkie looking for a fix”. I was there for genuine medical care and to be treated like that outraged me, thus making the migraine worse. I left without any treatment at all, and I never went back because I felt that what they did was irresponsible.

But back to this migraine: I hope that at some point in my lifetime, I live to see a cure. People love to talk about what works for them, but we’re all individuals and what works for you may not work for me, and vice versa. I’d never denounce a migraine because I know what it’s like to live with them.

Last week someone mentioned Pink Himalayan Salt as a treatment method. They said they put 2-3 granules under their tongue three times a day and have been migraine free because of that. They said that if they felt a migraine coming on, they used a little more salt and drank a full glass of water, but that it “cured” them of the need for preventive medicine and abortive medicine. I found this an extremely odd “treatment method”, but apparently it is a complete salt, full of minerals, elements, and electrolytes. Using it for migraine treatment requires two teaspoons in a glass of water along with half a cup of freshly squeezed lemon juice. This is supposed to stop the migraine in its tracks within ten minutes. I completely forgot to grab this particular item when I shopped last week, but apparently the higher quality the salt, the better the results.

I am going to try it and see if it holds dishwater. In the meantime, I am taking my third round of medication and praying that tomorrow is a healthy, pain-free, productive day. Not just for myself, but for anyone that suffers from an invisible illness and has been mistreated because of it.

P.S. How do I type through a migraine this bad? Slowly. In the dark. In complete silence. The fact that it has rained and will continue to rain helps. There’s a method to my madness.

copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

When You Face Difficult Times

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I keep telling myself this as I battle multiple issues, including the idea of taking my life (an extremely serious issue, which is not open for discussion. I’ve learned during this year that very few people care, and I have no use for false friends or people who enjoy the pain of others solely because it makes them feel better about themselves.).

Every single day is a battle. It always feels like destruction and turmoil. Sometimes the strongest person you know is fighting the worst battle in the world, so it’s important for me not to judge people based on the surface, which happens to me all the time.

Here’s hoping we all find strength, and that we are all able to be honest about our issues, however difficult they may be. Tell someone you love them today.

There’s A Difference

Miss Poison Advice, Being Real, Honesty, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Social Media, Words, Writing , , , , , , , ,

imallergic

Of late, I’ve noticed people feel incredibly safe behind their computer-based bubbles, but I often wonder how real people are being. Sometimes, stories don’t add up (You can’t bullshit me, I have common sense.), and other times, it takes about two seconds for someone to get offended by the simplest thing. What is that you may ask? Honesty.

Here are the facts: Not everyone is the world’s greatest writer, try though they might. Not everyone is talented, funny, or smart. However, there is seemingly a niche for everyone. To each their own. Everyone is entitled to be themselves, but please, be authentic.

When I say something, it’s not for shits and giggles, unless I’ve managed to make you laugh (I don’t go out of my way to be funny, but I know when I’m being a goofball. In print, not everyone’s sense of humor translates because you can’t hear the tone they’re saying something in). I come from a place of genuineness, and I think that resonates in my work and my words.

I’m not here as a “blogger”. I am here as an experienced writer and editor who, as of next year, will no longer be editing other people’s work. I am moving on to another creative endeavor, something I should have done ten years ago. I will continue to write, as I have an unfinished series of novels to complete for publishing, but I am tired of the bullshit, the drama, and the never-ending attempt to outdo one another, because no one wants to see you do better than them, no matter what they might say. Instead of people being happy for one another, people will go behind a person’s back and tear them apart, as if we’re all trapped in high school. That is not, and has never been, acceptable to me.

One aspect of my brusque honesty is that people often mistake it for me being “mean” or “having a bad day”. For starters, I tend to reserve meanness for people who deserve it and two, I keep my bad days/moods to myself because that’s rude in my eyes, so understand that if I say something, it is meant to be helpful, not cruel. Why would I take my valuable time to comment and be mean to someone I don’t know personally? That makes no sense. While I realize there are people who would jump on that and do precisely that to as many people as possible, because starting fights with strangers is what keeps their days and nights “interesting”, I have absolutely no need to be less than who I am. If you lack the communication skills to deal with my honesty, I have to wonder how you will handle the inevitable criticism you are bound to receive on your work up the road.

Every writer has been criticized. I am not immune to that, but I have risen above it. I have been told a handful of insulting things over the course of 28 years as a writer, but you know what resonated most with me? All the genuine, positive feedback from absolute strangers who had no vested interest whatsoever in my success. If a person said “Take that out.” or “That’s not funny.” or “What did you mean by that?”, then I answered them. A huge part of writing is being able to properly communicate with your readers. Anyone who knows me knows I don’t just flip people the bird and tell them to have a nice day. If you ask me a question, I will give you an answer. You may or may not like it, but at least it will be genuine. Also, if I have something personal to say to you, I will say it directly to you, I will not embarrass you on a public platform (if you’re the shy type), nor will I be mean for the sake of being mean. That’s not how I roll.

I am not everyone’s cup of tea, nor is everyone my cup of tea. We don’t have to be. I’d rather have mutual respect as opposed to catty bitchiness behind my back, but the fact of the matter is, I cannot control other people’s reactions or behavior. I, however, can control mine.

If you have something to say to me, by all means, say it to me. There’s no need to be fake about it or passive-aggressive (two things I loathe with every breath I take). Try being real.

There is real criticism in this world. It is vindictive, hateful, and mean-spirited; it is meant to dissuade you from your goal(s). And then there is constructive criticism that is meant to help you and make you better. If you don’t know the difference between the two, precisely who is responsible for that? You are. One should roll off of you, you should know in your heart who you are. The other is to be positively absorbed in order to help you grow. If you decide to turn that into something more than what it is, so be it, but it just goes to show the intelligent speaker that you’re immature and not prepared for what’s to come.

And this is one of the reasons I do not want to edit for fledglings any more. If you cannot handle my honesty, which is meant to help and guide, then what the hell do you think you’re going to do when bad reviews pop up on every book web-site from here to eternity? Amazon, Goodreads, and a plethora of other sites will not delete bad reviews. As a reader, I’ve seen a million of them and many times, they have saved me money. Other times, there was one bad review, but 500 reviews explaining why you should read/buy the book in question. Bad reviews are going to happen, but they will not make or break you. Just like constructive criticism will not break you, but it WILL make you better. Take that to mean whatever you like. I speak from experience.

copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

sethgodin
But for the sake of all that is Holy, know where to put commas and periods in your work. Every time you don’t, an editor bleeds to death. Do you really want that on your conscience?

Misery Wants Company; But Misery Can Kiss My Ass

Miss Poison Birthdays, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing , , , , , , , , , , ,

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I’m starting this the night before (Friday @ 8:30 PM EDT) because I don’t know how much writing I’ll be able to do tomorrow, mostly because migraines and lack of sleep have plagued my existence the majority of this week.

Tomorrow is Case Study #2’s birthday. I gave him three potential options for a really nice birthday dinner based solely on his past & current tastes, and things he has mentioned “really wanting” over the past month. Let the record state that NO ONE in history, be it family or friend, has ever cooked a birthday dinner for me, not unless it was a restaurant chef. At the last second, the plan that had been agreed upon became a huge fight. I think we can all safely agree that no man should ever piss off the woman who prepares 70% of his food. I decided to pretend he had a brain fart/age issue and wasn’t truly stupid enough to talk to me the way he did. So, off I went to the store this afternoon to procure the ingredients for said birthday dinner. By the time I got everything on my list, went through the self-checkout, because, believe it or not, the line was non-existent, and put it all in the car, I was ready to fall on the floor of the parking lot.

I left the store with a dull headache that slowly progressed into a migraine. My 23rd migraine, since the 5th of this month. I’m starting to lose my patience with Topamax. The side effects are ones I am used to, but they’ve been rough on me. I’ve been on 50 mgs successfully for a while now, so tonight I will increase it to 75. That means I already took 25 mgs and that I will soon take 50 mgs before bed. It’s not a great hardship, but remembering is half the battle. If there’s one thing I hate about Fibromyalgia, killer migraines, and stress, it is walking around mentally confused. I have yet to say “What day is it?”, but I do have days where I say “Not today. I need to rest my body.”

I have been sleeping like a jet-lagged monkey. Three hours here. Two hours there. Nothing consistent. This will continue until we turn the clocks back in November, which is woefully late considering it is already getting darker earlier each evening, and that is a huge part of what tells my body that it’s time to go to sleep. Darker mornings also mean that my body says “It’s still dark outside, we need to stay asleep.” Unfortunately, the mind does not always shut off when everything gets dark and quiet. Therein lies a huge problem.

26 September 2015~2:23 a.m. EDT

I slept for just under three and a half hours, waking up with an overactive brain. That quickly turned into post-migraine symptoms, which, if you’ve ever had a migraine, you KNOW is not a fun experience. I then found myself staring at Cat and Kitten who were quizzically inquiring as to my state of “If you’re not asleep, perhaps you’d like to feed us? Look how cute we are…” I honestly just want to go the fuck back to bed for eight hours and not be bothered by anything or anyone, but since I’m awake, I might as well accomplish something.

Laundry and pre-prepping Case Study #2’s birthday dinner are my first two orders of business. I can multitask like a boss.  😉 It will also give me time to decide what I want to say in his birthday card without resorting to “I’m sorry we’re related. I hope you never need a bodily organ.”

When it comes to certain family members, I believe they each have different roles they play in your life. We all have a family member we’d prefer not to acknowledge, or one we’re almost certain we might kill one day, if only by “accident”. I often say “I will kill you and tell God it was an accident.” The only problem is, I mean what I say.

In every family there is the peacekeeper, the overachiever/hero/prodigal child, the scapegoat, the outcast/black sheep/lost soul, and the mascot, etc. There are additional roles within the sibling hierarchy, but basically, this sums it up nicely and will have you looking at your own family if you’ve got more than a few siblings to speak of.

Not all families are like this, of course. In my family, the grandchildren were always compared to one another, as if our achievements defined us as individuals. I am the oldest on my mother’s side of the family, but I’d be introduced by my Grandmother long after she introduced my brother and his accomplishments. “This is my Grandson… He’s done this, this, this, this, this, speaks French, has an I.Q. of…oh, and this is his sister.” I would stare at her whenever she did it, because I didn’t see a need for such nonsense, and I let it slide. There was no need to argue with her or point out my own accomplishments, talents, or achievements. She didn’t understand them, so they didn’t matter to her. It didn’t mean she didn’t love me, she simply came from a different generation. I didn’t care about squeezing into the mold to suit people’s needs then, and I’m certainly not going to change now.

Where am I going with this? Case Study #2 is miserable to his core. Apparently turning another year older, turning profusely more grey by the day, looking more like Mr. Clean (He’d kill me if he saw this.), and looking forward to another year where he mistakenly gets taken for my father (Which cracks me up every.single.time.) somehow requires him to be a vicious animal. He is rude, offensive, disrespectful, unappreciative, and I am not having any part of it.

I’m having a difficult year and a few weeks ago his birthday gift “request” was somewhere in the ballpark of $750 before taxes, which in my mind, is a month worth of bills. I just stared at him, because there was no other normal reaction to have. Not once in my entire life have I ever gone so far as to demand (it truly wasn’t a “request”) such an expensive birthday gift from anyone. I am happy to receive books, CD’s, t-shirts, gift cards to my favorite stores that I never get to shop at because I spend my entire year working, etc. I have definitely received some amazing gifts over the years from generous family members, friends, and ex-boyfriends, but there are also years I went out and bought gifts for myself. I’ve never turned to a soul and said “I want THIS. You owe it to me.” NEVER. I’d like a navy blue Lexus for my birthday, but is it the most prudent gift in the world? No. I’d be happy with a nice pair of gloves and a matching scarf to get me through the coming Winter, or a really nice wallet. Something I actually need, and you can add up all of those things and they don’t even range anywhere within his “request” because I live in reality. No one owes me anything, people who give you gifts do so because they want to and because they can, not because you demand it of them.

I guarantee that a month from now, I won’t get so much as a card. Last year, he wished me a happy birthday and patted me on the head as if I was a dog. A few years ago I went away for my birthday so he wouldn’t ruin it. I didn’t get so much as a phone call. He, miserable bastard that he is, gets a beautifully cooked meal (I don’t keep rat poison on hand.) and one of his favorite desserts. I even got candles. I am a complete and utter moron. 😦

Misery may want company, but this year and from here on in, misery can kiss my ass.

copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

wereallbeing

Let’s Give This A Try

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I didn’t get to celebrate the first anniversary of ‘Poison In Lethal Doses’ being here because, for some unknown reason, WordPress did not see fit to notify me as they normally do. In light of that, I thought a good way to celebrate would be an AMA (Ask Me Anything) next month. So, from now until October 12th at midnight PDT, you can submit your questions (e-mail address to follow) and they will be chosen at random and answered around the end of October into November, depending on how many questions are submitted.

Anything I’ve already talked about at length will not be chosen (unless the question is exceptional), but everything else is fair game.

I think this is a really interesting opportunity to connect with each other and explore something different.

All questions can be submitted to: poisoninlethaldoses@gmail.com

Have fun coming up with questions. There is no limit to how many questions any one person can submit. Enjoy! 🙂

copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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Critters

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I love Cat and Kitten, but sometimes, I have no energy for their antics. Okay, most days I don’t have the energy, but I digress.

This morning, the antics began early, and I had about as much patience for it as I do for a KKK rally. I decided to put a little food in their bowls to try to entice them away from my general direction so I could lock them out of my bedroom in the hopes that I’d be able to get a few more hours of sleep. It was an epic fail.

I came back to discover that Cat was sound asleep in my bed and it was Kitten making all the noise, running around like there were ten of her. I can’t decide if she has too much energy or if we feed her too much. 😛 She zipped past me after I’d already put food in both bowls, and tried hiding under the bed. There is no sense in trying to pull a spry cat out from underneath a bed, no matter what time of day it is. I already have two healing scratches and I don’t need fresh ones.

My brain was foggy with sleep, so at the time, I couldn’t tell who was who and I didn’t care, so long as the behavior stopped. I got back into bed and thought I saw Cat at the foot of the bed. I put out a hand and immediately knew who it was by texture. She feels like silk. That’s when I thought “What a little shit!” Thirty seconds later, she was opening the door and flying down the stairs like a monkey on crack. The insane behavior didn’t stop until well after I was awake. She tormented me until I fed her two hours in advance, as if she’s ever starved a day in her life with me. It’s a little scary how ravenous she is, but I suppose many cats (and dogs) are hungry when they’re on a schedule. They probably have internal timers we are completely unaware of. They don’t greet us at the door out of love, they greet us at the door because we control the food. If they had thumbs, we’d be obsolete. They’d start adopting themselves. I’m pretty sure there are animals who could bag my groceries better than most humans, but that’s a story for another day (I mean really: Who the hell puts two huge cans of crushed tomatoes on top of a loaf of bread?! Think about that for a second before answering.).

On the plus side, I love it when they’re sweet, sleepy, affectionate, and cuddly. While I was working yesterday afternoon Kitten walked over to Cat, who was sleeping, and proceeded to kiss her head. Affection ensued. Then, they wrapped their paws around each other and snuggled to sleep. This went on for three hours before they got nasty with each other and one of them took off, but it was nice to see because as they get older, there will be more fighting, as opposed to play-fighting, and less affection. That’s how it is with female cats, even if they’re litter-mates or siblings. I’ve seen it before, I’ve lived it, and I am not anticipating miracles here. Coexistence, but not miracles.

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This is how we assist Mommy. Did you know that cuddling is good for your health?

Cat and Kitten are many things, but they’re not mean, selfish assholes. I thank God/Goddess every day that they’re not people-people, because then I’d probably find them rude and/or annoying. Thankfully, animals bring unconditional love with them. They’ll spend time with you if you’re sick or sad, they’ll check in on you, bring you toys (Maybe that’s just my two?), and give you kisses. They don’t care what you look like because they don’t have human vision. They don’t care if you have perfume or cologne on (Cat and Kitten both smell like spicy maple syrup. I have no idea how this is achieved.), so long as your skin smells like Mommy/Daddy and is consistently familiar. There is no superficiality to the life of critters. These two could care less if I have a full face of makeup on or if I’m in my PJ’s, they still love me. I swear, it’s the food thing. LOL. In all seriousness, I find comfort in that. I can be myself without fear of persecution or demands I cannot meet. In this selfie obsessed world, they are two of the reasons I am alive. I could not be more grateful.

copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

iwillrise
This should be a theme for me.