copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Pieces Of Me
As A Child…
“As a child I felt myself to be alone, and I am still, because I know things and must hint at things which others apparently know nothing of, and for the most part do not want to know.” -Carl G. Jung: The Undiscovered Self, Jung on Alchemy
I came across this quote the other day. I felt this way as a child. I feel this way as an adult. I suspect it plays a huge role in why I am such an introverted extrovert. Thankfully I’ve long since stopped listening to other people’s opinions and listen solely to myself. Unfortunately, sometimes nagging fuckers get through and it pisses me off. Mama always said there’d be days like this. 😦
I’m Going To Use…
This about sums it up for me today, people!
I went to bed feeling like this. 😦 I woke up feeling like this. 😦 And as the morning has progressed, I’m trying to talk myself off a ledge. Let it not go without saying that the work two doors down is not yet complete, so there’s a lot of hammering and banging to add to my misery. I could jump off my roof, but who the hell would take the time to notice? Case Study #2 would only notice if I didn’t respond to a few hours worth of phone calls, text messages, and ignored all pleas for food (I’d simply be an evil bitch until he saw the body.). His birthday is approaching, which in his mind somehow means I owe him lottery winnings or something. Perhaps a nice bodily organ. UGH!
I feel utterly paralyzed in my pain. My neck and shoulders hurt so bad, I want to cry. It also turns out that my bruises have given birth to bruises. If you’ve never had a deep bone bruise on the top of your that you cannot explain, all I can say is that it hurts. If it were a series of ugly colors, that would be one thing, but it’s a faint shade of brown. The pain, however, is not faint. I’m almost certain that when I wasn’t looking, someone tried crushing my hand.
All I want to do is go back to bed. I keep wondering if that’s a viable option. Can I call it a Mental Health Day? “A Step Away From A Nervous Breakdown” Day is too long, especially if anyone ever wants to turn it into a t-shirt. Oh leave me alone, I’m weird.
I hope everyone is having a superior Wednesday by comparison. Practice a random act of kindness, even if it’s as simple as paying for a stranger’s cup of coffee tomorrow morning. Go forth and spread positivity, even when you, yourself, don’t always feel so positive.
I’ll be back as soon as I am able.
copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Actions & Words
Last week I was struggling pretty hard and opened up to a friend. Most people run for the hills when you’re blatant in your honesty with them, especially about anything difficult, but this friend showed me that I was not going to be kicked while I was down, that her arms and heart were open for me. Actions speak louder than words. You can say you’ll always be there for me, but actually being there? That’s far more important to me. Words, it turns out, are often meaningless when it truly matters. So, thank you for being there for me, B. I won’t forget that. XO.
When you’ve spent most of your life being abandoned by people, you come to expect that it will continue to cycle, regardless of what you do to try to break the chain. Forgiveness isn’t an option for me in most instances. I will let something go…for me, but I don’t allow the same people back into my life to continue to hurt and harm me. Once I no longer feel anything for you, be it love or respect, I’m emotionally done. I used to think that was odd, but it turns out it’s not. The heart, mind, and soul have boundaries too, and it’s okay to accept and honor that.
I’ve been contemplating for some time now getting in touch with family I haven’t spoken to in several years. Ultimately I have decided not to call until Thanksgiving, because I truly don’t feel as though I’ve ever been part of the family, and there’s only so much effort I can make. In my mind, this is their last chance and I’m not going to make any bones about that. Not everyone you share blood lines with is going to be true family. Thankfully, you can choose your friends, which makes up for everything you find lacking in your family. If you met 99% of mine, you’d never know I was related to them. My best friend Marion suggested a DNA test to make sure they’re actually my relatives. She was appalled by the differences. I spent my entire life thinking there was something wrong with me, but it turns out, it’s not me, it’s them, and she helped me see that.
This morning I learned of a friends’ miscarriage, and it put a lot of things into perspective for me. My heart breaks for the loss of the twins they were expecting. Yes, miscarriages happen every day, but if any two people deserved to be parents, it was them. I know in my heart that the right children will be gifted to them at the right time, and that they need time to fully mourn, but it knocked me down with immense sadness. An absolute stranger could tell me about a miscarriage and I’d feel sad for their loss. It’s called empathy. It never ceases to amaze me how much people are lacking in this department. I have moments where I only need to know the facts and how to fix the situations presented to me, but I’m not self-absorbed. I don’t ignore other people’s pain. Other people may ignore mine, but the humanity in me doesn’t allow me to ignore theirs. I don’t require a pat on the back for paying attention or looking deeply at other people. I’m simply being myself.
Take a moment during your busy day or week to look a little deeper at someone and a little less at yourself. You might be surprised by what you find.
copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Bright, Blue, and Dark
Despite what the Migraine app claims, I slept horribly (hours don’t count unless it’s quality sleep). Under normal circumstances the fact that I took two Benadryl for my allergies would mean I would have gotten an extra 2-3 hours of sleep. Alas, around 5:00 a.m. I was haunted by Case Study #2. Note To Self: Change locks and murder anyone that wakes you three times in one night for their own selfish reasons. By sometime after 6:00, I was awake, pissed off, and hungry. Thank God for awesome leftovers because that’s all I was craving this morning. When you haven’t made something in several years, having it after so long is like a homecoming. I wanted to celebrate the happiness that was occurring in the kitchen. 🙂 However, I’m not in the mood.
Despite bright blue skies vividly showing off the start to an early Fall, my mood is dark. I would love to say “Oh, it’s just Monday blues.”, but I know that’s not it. I’d love to say “It’s just the holiday bothering me.”, but that isn’t it either. Normally those might have been the lies one would tell themselves to get through a bad day, instead of honoring the fact that some days aren’t good, and that’s okay. We don’t wake up every single day feeling our best, or wanting to cast that cloud on others. I often say my mood first thing in the morning will determine my day, and that’s true. If I wake up on a mission, then I’ll slowly, but surely get things done. If I wake up feeling sick, or in a terribly low mood, then it’s often best to keep my mouth shut and my mood to myself. The last thing I want to do is lose my temper in public.
Because today is a holiday, it is often solemn. I normally read, keep a low profile, maybe talk to someone via phone or e-mail, but basically I keep to myself until the holiday is over. Unfortunately, that’s how most of my days are, minus the minor socialization and reading. I have so much to do and the stress is weighing heavily on me. I know that it will all get done, but man, all I want to do is crawl into a cave today and be left to my own devices.
It is extremely difficult not to feel insignificant in God’s eyes when you are going through difficult things with minimal support. But then you look in the mirror and you realize that ultimately, you support yourself. You look in your eyes and say “No matter what, I’ve got this. We’re going to be okay. We’re going to rise above everything. Hell, we’re going to fly.”
copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
This Is One Of My Lines- Do Not Fucking Cross It
I don’t write about religion often. Usually I mention it in passing, not as core subject matter. I believe that we are all entitled to our personal beliefs, so long as we aren’t hurting anyone. However, when I DO write about religion, it’s because something has pissed me off, which brings me to why I am writing this. There’s a reason.
Nine times out of ten when people meet me, the first words out of their mouth are “What part of Italy are your parents from?” or “What part of Puerto Rico are you from?” (My brother also gets pegged as 100% Italian or Puerto Rican, except he has olive skin and I can totally see it in him, especially when he’s tan.) I stare at them, dumbfounded. For the record, my Italian ancestry is from Rome and Venice and my Spanish ancestry is from Spain and Argentina. To read about additional aspects you can read more here Ancestry, or ask me. Not that I think it is important, it’s not.
For clarity, let me set the stage for you: I am the palest white girl you might ever meet. My natural hair color is a dark brown that I call espresso (It is currently blue-black because I wanted a change.), and my eyes are hazel-green that are predominantly green. They change color depending on what I’m wearing and the mood I’m in. There is not a single thing about me that is distinctively any racial ethnicity over another, but I always get pegged for one of the two, and occasionally people assume I’m Irish (I think it’s my complexion.). I have no problem with any of that, but when I say “Actually, I’m Jewish and my ancestry is blended.”, people audibly gasp as if I just announced I am the reincarnation of Hitler and Stalin and I’m planning on world domination.
There is an awful lot of inter-religion racism that I find deplorable, and I discovered it within my family last year. While we might be related, however closely or distantly, we don’t all have the same facial features, for obvious reasons. I was talking to a cousin and her exact words were “No one thinks you’re Jewish because you don’t have the Jewish nose that walks into the room five minutes before you do, like mine.” My jaw was on the fucking floor at the disgust I heard in her voice. She openly admitted that she thinks it’s ugly, but that she doesn’t believe in spending the money on plastic surgery or she’d do something about it. All I could think was “There are things I don’t like about myself too, but I don’t look at my face that way.” I mentioned it to someone else and they told me “You don’t know what it’s like to go through life as an ugly person.” Again, I was floored. I have NO IDEA what they see that I do not.
I don’t possess that level of self-hatred for quirks of nature that make each of us unique. I treasure the fact that I inherited high cheekbones that both of my Grandmothers had, that I am the last of the hazel-green eyed women in my family (for now), and that I got my maternal Grandmother’s and mother’s full lips and widow’s peak. I am an amalgamation of three different generations of women, perhaps more, all with distinctive genetic blends. I don’t see myself as any one thing, but I do see myself as me.
But I digress.
About ten days ago, a friend of a friend sent me a Facebook request. Unlike most people, I do not accept friend requests simply because A knows B. I decided to do a little research. It took less than a minute to learn that the woman who wanted to be my “friend” is a 27-year-old Filipino woman, friends with someone I’ve known for a long time, who is married to a 70+ year old British man who is 100% anti-Semitic. Strike One.
His Facebook wall is full of BDS posts, anti-Israel posts, and all kinds of hate messages against Israel. Apparently every Jew on this planet “needs to be eliminated immediately” because “they’re all terrorists”. WOW! I stared at the screen, utterly speechless. This is who a young, pretty girl is married to?! Surely she can do better. I mean really, she’s stunning and appears to be sane. What is wrong with her?
He posts this crap in England and she’s asking him, in the Philippines, if this stuff is “true”. (That’s right, they don’t live together. Does this sound familiar?) His answer is “YES!”, along with additional colorful hate speech. Strike Two.
Instead of educating herself (There is NO reason anyone in this world should be THAT uneducated so as to believe such vile hatred about a country or a religion. You don’t have to be a Ph.D. candidate, you simply have to have a brain you utilize daily and not be ignorant.), she doesn’t question it. It’s coming from her husband, so she believes it. Strike Three. And get this: He’s a philosophy professor. Any university I know would revoke his tenure and fire him for that shit.
I immediately deleted her “friend request”. It would have resulted in an epic fight and I do not have the time, patience, or the inclination to educate someone who should be shipping off to an old age home sometime soon, as opposed to newly married to someone old enough to be his daughter who is either way too good for him, or maybe way too stupid.
If you want to believe that “Israel is plotting terror.”, do your fucking homework. It’s a tiny democratic country in the Middle East, home to Jews, Christians, and Muslims alike, surrounded by countries that all want to wipe them off the map because Israel is the only country in the world that is Jewish land, given to the Jewish people, so decreed by God.
I messaged my friend and explained the situation. She’s “friends” with both of them and I didn’t want to step on any toes because I didn’t know how close the relationship was or wasn’t. I’d never intentionally disrespect someone else’s friends. She agreed that I did the right thing, that the husband is crazy and that his hate messages bother her too, and she said she doesn’t understand his hate or where it comes from. And yet, her answer to dealing with him is to hide his posts on her Facebook wall, as opposed to outright deleting them OR telling him he’s wrong. That’s way too passive for me.
If someone says something derogatory to me because of my religion (or anything else, really), I call them out on their shit immediately. I have freedom of speech and I know how to use it. If you’re going to hide behind a computer and say stupid shit, I dare you to say it to my face. That’s the thing; these cowards NEVER actually come out from hiding and say a word to your face.
Sadly, the most hatred I have faced in terms of direct anti-Semitism has been from my own people. My own family, and other Jews. I suspect that a lot of that is because I “don’t look Jewish”. I have no idea what that even means, because it is a wholly racist comment. I wouldn’t tell a white woman that she “doesn’t look African”, despite the fact that she just told me that’s where she’s from, so why would I brand anyone else as not looking like an image someone else is putting in one’s mind? That is incredibly ignorant.
Would you tell Behati Prinsloo, wife to Adam Levine, that she doesn’t look like an African woman (She is Namibian. I do my homework.)? No, I didn’t think so. Because not only is she white and a supermodel, but the last time I checked her English is better than most people born in this country.
In my mind, I don’t see color. I see people. Everyone is different, everyone is unique. There are religious differences, yes. The difference in Judaism is that we do not believe in Jesus or that Jesus is the son of God. There are dietary laws and some other historical and biblical differences, but the differences aren’t so enormous that one needs to argue about it. I can argue the two different Bibles with you until the cows come home, but does that really matter? No. To each their own, so long as you aren’t hurting anyone.
However, any form of hatred hurts us all. Hatred is taught. We are not born knowing hate. I grew up surrounded by other religions and cultures, never once thinking anything of it. As I’ve gotten older, I realize how incredibly sheltered some people are, and that is scary and eye-opening to me.
I don’t often wear a symbol of faith because it feels redundant, but the other day a woman came running up to me to ask about my Triple Goddess pendant. I had it custom-made about five years ago. In between the three phases of the moon that represent Maiden, Mother, and Crone are two Stars of David and a very large gemstone in the center represents the full moon. It was my first time wearing it. That is precisely who and what I am. I believe in duality of God and Goddess (this is represented in Kabbalah, but is represented as male and feminine aspects of God as opposed to duality.), but I am also 100% Jewish. And as a Jewish woman, there is no room in my world, or the world on a whole, for anti-Semitism or hatred. Make an off-color, stupid, or rude remark to or in front of me and we’ll see if you’re sitting and/or eating tomorrow. I am supremely polite, I believe we all have the right to practice whatever we believe in so long as no harm is coming to anyone, but I will never be polite in the face of hatred or ignorance, nor will I tolerate it.
Tonight is the beginning of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. It marks the end of the year 5775 on the Jewish calendar and brings in 5776. It is one of the holiest holidays we celebrate. Many people have told me that this year, their temples have notified them of police presence and/or security for services, partly due to all of the anti-Semitism that has occurred all over the world over the past year. I think it’s smart, but it’s sad.
I, personally, don’t attend temple unless I am invited to something that calls for it. It has nothing to do with anything other than my attention span. Services are long, are almost predominantly in Hebrew or Ladino, and my brain can only listen for a certain amount of time before I space out and/or start to fall asleep, which is rude beyond words, so I prefer to pray throughout the year, light candles on my own, and take time to reflect and work on myself. It is emotionally heavy for me, so I feel it’s crucial to know my boundaries. Part of that is knowing myself. The holidays are tough on me, and going to temple isn’t going to ease that. I don’t have to be among other people to be what I was born, or to be what I believe. That makes sense for some people, but for me, it doesn’t help matters, so I tough it out.
Here’s hoping the new year will be prosperous and sweet. Let there be more understanding, more compassion, more concern for others, more helping people in need, because at the end of the day, there is no room for hate. It benefits nothing and no one.
L’Shana Tovah!
copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Reflecting
This morning is one of immense reflection. Those of us who lived through 9/11 and the aftermath have all lived through a monumental aspect of human history. A friend suggested it was merely American history and I said “It affected everyone, no matter where one may live. You don’t have to be American to empathize.” Try clearing customs at an International airport anywhere in the world and tell me it’s not different now than it was before 9/11, because it is.
I was one of the lucky ones. At the end of the day, I was able to count my family members and friends safe. But I will never forget crossing back into the city, watching truck after truck on the other side of the highway bringing in debris and body parts to be sifted through at a landfill. It was disgusting, creepy, and appalling to see.
The smell in the air was sickening. You could still see smoke, you could still smell smoke, but there was more than that. I cried, I could feel spirits in the air. That might seem crazy to people who aren’t sensitive, but it was like being smacked over and over with torturous cries. The emotional pain was palpable. Getting closer, seeing the destruction of the skyline in person… There are no words.
One Word Trade Center, which was fully completed roughly a year ago, offends my mind. I understand my city wanting to come back and come back strong, but there are better ways to do it. Another skyscraper wasn’t the way to go. It’s like putting a target on the city itself.
But New York was not the only city affected. Washington D.C. took an immense hit, and people often forget about that. There is a memorial garden in the area I currently live in for the plane that crashed in Pennsylvania. They held a candlelight ceremony last night, there was a memorial this morning beginning at 8:30 (which is going on as I type this), and Sunday there will be a 5K. I used to listen to the named each year, but I’ve since stopped doing that. Not because I could ever possibly forget, but because I can no longer listen on an emotional level.
I was asked to take a meeting today. Despite the fact that it will delay my life for about a week, I said no. I tried rescheduling and could not get through to anyone; I couldn’t even leave a message. In my mind, today is not the day for meetings, it is a day to show respect, to be introspective, and to remember. It’s a day to be grateful for life, and a day not to take anything, or anyone, for granted.
copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
National Suicide Prevention Week
I am quite extreme in my openness and honesty in regard to suicide. The more it bothers someone, the louder my voice will become. This is not a subject to be shy, passive, or hush-hush about. It requires a powerful voice. No one has ever accused me of subtly.
In 1993, I lost someone very dear to me to suicide. To this day, it affects me deeply. His battle altered the course of my life, steering me in directions so that the same mistakes would not be repeated. I couldn’t have done anything to save him, but is there a way to save someone else by being me; by listening with both ears, as well as with my mind, and heart? YES.
Four years ago one of my best friends lost her brother to suicide. I knew something was very wrong as soon as i saw her e-mail. There was something about the lone message sitting in my inbox, a quality to it that shimmered with agony. Having not opened it immediately, I was sick to my stomach the instant I saw it. Reading it and having the realization hit me was mind-blowing. I was, and will forever be, devastated for her and her family. I still see her brother in my mind’s eye as being full of life.
I, myself, struggle with the idea of living every single day. It is not, nor will it ever be, an easy battle. I have very little support to help keep me going or to help bring me back when I am ready to end it all. In fact, I have been told “Just do it already, I’m sick of hearing about it.” I have also been told “No one gives a shit if you live or die.”
There is an exceptionally long list of things you do NOT say to someone who is suicidal, or who you suspect is hurting so deeply that the wrong words might send them in a direction you are not personally ready to be responsible for emotionally. We all have a responsibility to look after one another.
You can claim to care about a person until the cow’s come home, but when you’re truly there for someone, you don’t let them go over the ledge. That’s REAL. That’s CONCERN. That is HUMANITY. The rest? That’s just someone trying to make themselves feel better or make themselves seem like a good person when they aren’t.
Each day, we make a choice as to what type of person we are. Me? I’ll save you from a ledge, EVERY SINGLE TIME. Even if you’re a stranger. And no, I don’t need anyone to think well of me for it. I’m just being me.
copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
“Get Rid Of Your Americanisms”…
I am a firm believer that no matter where we’re from, it is always a part of who we are. The place where we grow up and spend our formative years is instilled in us, no matter how far away we may move.
As a Native New Yorker, you will never, ever hear me say I am from anywhere else on this planet. “Concrete jungle where dreams are made of…”
I’ve lived in other places over the years and to this day people still stay “You’re not from around here, are you?” I will never get rid of my subtle accent, and I refuse to allow anyone to make me feel self-conscious about it. I didn’t grow up easy, but I’m proud of where I’m from.
A friend of mine, after several years of “marriage” (I have a hard time calling it that), is immigrating to the United Kingdom. Her husband told her she had to “get rid of her Americanisms” because she will be “British”. I was utterly appalled reading her Facebook post, as if this was something cute. “Yes hubby bunny, I’ll get right on that.” I had a thought that went with that bit of submissive nausea, and I totally blame Jodi Ambrose for it. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. 😛 (I’m kidding, slightly. It just goes to show you our minds are both in the gutter, and thank GOD for that! Make sure you read Jodi’s awesome Eulogy post. It is a work of art.)
I was quick to inform her that citizenship, which will take 2-3 years, as she will be there temporarily on a spouse visa, will not make her British-born. She will never stop being a native of the country she was born in. That’s like me dying my hair blonde, moving to Finland, and claiming to be a native. No one would EVER believe me, so why pretend? Why would anyone ask you to change how you speak and how you think in order to make you something you’re never going to be, except on paper? It blows my mind.
She’s not American, but she was raised to speak American English and taught to aim for a better life. I told her she’s being brainwashed, and she is, because she’s willing to let someone a good 20 years older than her tell her how to think, write, spell, what to wear, eat, etc. Five years ago, she may have been single, but she knew how to think for herself. Now she has a “husband” with all of her passwords (If you’re one of “those types”, I strongly question your I.Q.) who is very quick to jump down anyone’s throat for reminding her that she has a mind of her own. I suspect there’s a reason he’s so controlling; and I don’t find anything cute or attractive about it. It’s worrisome, to say the least. Have we been over the fact that if you use the word “hubby” in my presence, I might lose my lunch? He’s British, shouldn’t she just refer to him as her “old man”? It’s what he is, let’s be technical.
Every friend I have that isn’t American born, but has dual-citizenship in this country, is the first to say “I’m Italian.” or “I’m Swedish.” They are proud of where they’re from, they’re proud of their U.S. citizenship, but that doesn’t stop them from also being themselves as people. They haven’t stopped saying “In my country…” no matter how long they’ve lived here. I find nothing wrong with that and I’d NEVER correct them or tell them to “adapt” or to change their method of thinking or their speech patterns. They are who they are, and I respect that. They can lapse into any language they want to speak in front of me, I do not find it offensive, its merely force of habit. They do it in front of husbands, wives, children, etc. It is what it is. But when someone is controlling you, it’s a whole other ballgame and it’s NOT okay. There’s a reason men don’t talk to me like that; it’s because they value their natural teeth and the family jewels.
Maybe submissive women is a thing I’m unaware of. I was not raised to be a passive, submissive, unquestioning, brainless, giggling little fool. If being a wallflower spouse/partner does it for you, well good for you, but it repulses me. Even when a man is super quiet and lets someone run roughshod over him, it’s repulsive to me. When people make their relationship your business by publicly discussing their life via social media, they should expect people to chime in. Her husband attacked me once for being honest with her and I told her if he ever did it again, he’d be sorry for it because her friendships aren’t his business. I’ve been friends with her for over 20 years. I’m not going to blow smoke up her ass. Good friends tell you the truth.
He got her a puppy about ten months ago and she is leaving three animals behind in another country to be taken care of “by family”, with no intent to bring them to England whatsoever. That too, is absolutely disgusting and heartless to me. I suggested re-homing all of them so that they could have good lives and her response was “This will be our vacation home, we’ll be back here when we retire, so we’ll see them when we come back.” I have NO IDEA what dream world she’s living in, but in my world, you don’t leave animals behind. That is cruel and evil. She has no guarantees whatsoever that her “family” is going to take care of her home and animals. I do not want to hear how that ends, but I’m sure I will.
When you truly love someone, you don’t tell them they need to change, unless it’s for health reasons via doctor’s orders. When you truly have someone’s best interests at heart, you realize that they’re uprooting their entire life to live in a foreign country for you and that it’s an immense sacrifice. They’re not “visiting”, though I already know the outcome of this story.
I am not good with “yes people”. It physically makes me ill when women behave like that in relationships, especially when they genuinely mean it. It’s not like the sarcasm of “Yes, dear.” that many American women use. Most of us say it, but we don’t actually mean that we’re going to wash, fold, and iron your underwear for you. If you do wash, fold, and iron someone’s underwear, I hope he’s paying you incredibly well, or he’s your son and you want him to look his best. Whatever floats your boat. <rolls eyes>
Wherever you are from, BE YOU. Don’t ever let anyone, not even a spouse, tell you there’s something wrong with that. My best friends are almost all overseas, and I love them like sisters. I would never tell any of them they have to change their speech, thoughts, views, etc., to be anything more than who they are as people. One of my best friends does hope to achieve American citizenship at some point in the future, which I will support, encourage, and assist with in terms of helping her study American history so she can pass her tests (She’ll probably learn way more than I ever did, or more than I can remember.). I want her to achieve that dream and be able to live out her days with an American passport if that’s what she desires. Why not? In my mind, if a friend has a dream, you help them to the best of your ability if they’re unsure if it is attainable or not. You support and encourage. Moreover, as a life partner, I cannot ever imagine turning to a man and saying “Could you not be Welsh, Spanish, Italian, Russian, Swedish…”, etc. and don’t speak the language in front of me “because you’re AMERICAN NOW!” Not only is that rude beyond words, but it’s disrespectful.
If you’ve been with a person for a while and marry them or live with them, then you pretty much know what you’re getting into. Yes, they’re going to have odd little quirks that will drive you crazy, but if someone is going to be a psycho control-freak, you might want to re-think how you’re treated and have a major discussion about respect and boundaries because being told you’re not good enough unless you do A,B, C, D, and E is utterly unacceptable.
When I hear crap like this and a woman accepts it like that’s what you do in a marriage, either to avoid conflict or to be a submissive dumbass, it 100% makes me want to say “FUCK NO!” the next time someone asks me to marry them.
No matter where I go in life, no matter where I live, no matter who I’m in a relationship with, I intend to continue being a badass bitch. Take it or leave it, gents.
copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.













