Mondays. They are the bane of my existence. I get sick by 8:00 PM nearly every Sunday evening, knowing that Monday is only a few short hours away. I have a sneaking suspicion I should only work Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Perhaps I shall rename the week days altogether. I’m starting to suspect that an insulated cave with WiFi and food delivery is the way to go, something very “off the grid”, so to speak. I’m not entirely sure the world is capable of handling me on any level.
I desperately want quiet. True peace, true silence. I hid in my bathroom while my neighbor did the landscaping on my property and mowed next door. Why? Because it was the only place where I didn’t have to hear the roar of the riding mower and the drill saw sound of the trimmer. By the time he was finished, which wasn’t very long, I thought the migraine was going to send me to the emergency room, begging to be put out of my misery. That was Saturday night. This morning, I don’t feel that much better, though I can say the pain has shifted and is no longer trying to shoot itself out of my skull. Small victories.
I realized a few days ago how utterly disillusioned and unhappy I am with my line of work. If I did realize it beforehand perhaps I never voiced the truth to myself, but I’m doing it now.
Those of us who are highly creative don’t do well when we’re boxed in, and I think I may have accidentally done that to myself over the past few years. I’m done. Within the next 6-8 months, I am going to stop editing for other people. I will still beta and do critiques, I will still be present for those that want/need my knowledge and skill-set or simply want a reliable, experienced person to turn to, but I am going to be doing two things once the time-frame passes.
I will be focusing on my writing, and I will be starting something new that will allow me a great deal of creative freedom. I’d rather juggle the two than be miserable for the rest of my life. Misery is unacceptable, so it is high time for a transitional rebirth. I’m sure I will be met with some negativity here and there, but ultimately I am the one that has to be happy and this is a way for me to achieve that in some small fashion, or perhaps a very large way. I won’t know until I dive in.
I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. Once you’re able to see the full vision of “Why is this happening?”, you’re almost grateful because it lets you know how strong you are and how much you can handle without going utterly batshit crazy. I am counting my blessings, of which there are many, and thanking God for who and what I am today.
I will still be writing, but hopefully the mood will shift. While I will always be open and honest about migraines, Fibromyalgia, depression, suicide, and other things I deem important to discuss, it’s also crucial that I have more time to focus on my fictional work in order to speed up the publishing process.
I am planning a YouTube channel and some other things that some of you may or may not appreciate, but will have access to all the same. So yes, there will be some changes up the road, but I am embracing it all because I’m tired of dulling my shine to make other people feel more at ease.
Many people told me that when I was ready, it would be time to focus on myself exclusively. They assured me it wasn’t selfishness, but about prioritizing my needs over that of being dutiful. I’m ready.
“Sometimes the most powerful person in the room is filled with senseless doubt.” -Lisa M. Marino
Normally I don’t comment on the lunacy of the Full Moon, but this Blue Moon? Good Lord, it’s brought out the crazy!
There are very few people in the past two weeks who have not lost their mind and said something ridiculous beyond words to me, outright started a fight, or got uppity with me. It’s quite interesting how obsessed, self-absorbed, and repressed some people are. It’s even more interesting to me when anyone comes at me with newborn kitten claws and expects me not to have fangs. Cat and kitten are smarter than 99% of the people I know. That’s not my opinion, it’s a proven fact based on the behavioral patterns of the past two weeks.
I live by some very simple rules when it pertains to certain things.
#1- I do not apologize unless I am 100% in the wrong and truly sorry about it. I’m not going to apologize because someone misunderstood me when I was clear and concise and feels “hurt”. Take the whining somewhere else; compassion is not my strong suit. You cannot guilt me into an apology when I did nothing wrong. Victimizing yourself only irritates me.
#2- If you attack me like a child, I will sleep on it. I can be vicious and it is not beneath me to hit back hard, but some people simply aren’t worth the effort.
#3- Temper your words. It’s not always necessary to come out guns blazing. If someone brings a knife to a metaphorical gun fight though, all bets are off.
I, myself, have had a rough week. One bad day became three migraines and a horrible Fibro flare that sent me into a tailspin. And now? The remnants of Migraine #10. That is 10 full-blown migraines in five days. Chronic Migraine is classified as 15 or more headache days per month. I’ve had five days of multiple migraines, because apparently one isn’t enough.
Chronic Migraine is considered “chronic” if you experience 8 migraines in one month, but have 15 headache days that make it unbearable to function. What the hell does a person have to do to get some relief? Being told I “don’t actually have migraines” when I’ve had them since 1997 is an immense slap in the face. Perhaps one might like to explain the ice picks in my head and all the other lovely side effects of a migraine that have gotten worsen as I’ve gotten older. Clean MRI’s means it’s not my imagination, that it is indeed migraines.
I thought my very first migraine was the absolute worst. It went on for a week, it was probably the most horrific thing I had physically experienced up to that point, and that doesn’t even include the injuries I acquired in sports, so by my calculations, that means it was off-the-charts BAD.
I would never take migraine medication if I was merely experiencing the occasional headache. There is an immense difference between migraines, tension headaches, sinus headaches, and regular headaches. None of these things are “normal”, but I would never denounce someone else’s pain and dismiss it. When people tell others that “pain is weakness leaving the body” or other such anecdotes, I would like them to experience the suffering many of us experience daily for a few hours. They would come away singing a whole other tune, that much I’m sure of. No one who suffers from any form of chronic pain needs to be told there’s nothing wrong with them or that it’s “all in their head”. It’s disrespectful.
I hope everyone is having a healthy, positive, pain-free weekend. I’m simply taking things hourly. I can’t function on a grander scale at the moment.
Me: It requires more lip liner than five people have ever tried using in the 90’s.
Him: Is this a friend I haven’t met?
Me: No. Why?
Him: Well, there’s nothing wrong with your lips, so I don’t understand why you’re still drawing… What the hell did you do to them?
Me: I just told you: Kylie Jenner, lip liner. See?
Him: You don’t need lip liner, you have full lips.
Me: Excuse me?
Him: That’s a good thing- for a woman. You know, ’cause they thin with age.
Me: Learn that in a textbook, did you? (wipes off liner and lip balm)
Him: How did this go so badly so quickly?
Me: Don’t ask me why I’m doing something weird at 2:00 in the morning when I can’t sleep.
Him: Okay. How was your day?
Me: I do not recall, but whatever happened I am sure it led to the insanity of people believing that lip liner and lip injections could ever be similar.
Him: You’ve completely lost me…
Me: You heard me.
Him: You did NOT get lip injections. Tell me you didn’t do something so stupid.
Me: No, I did not get lip injections or they’d be visibly swollen, but thanks ever so much for letting me know that somewhere in my future is thin lips. At least something will be perfectly thin.
Him: I think I have a headache. Why are writers so difficult?
1) You’re a woman without any real female friends.
Despite claims that “women are dramatic” or “every woman is a bitch” or “Men are so much easier to get along with.”, it just goes to show me that there is something fundamentally wrong with you.
Yes, women can be lots of negative things: Catty, bitchy, back-stabbing, fake, unpleasant, miserable, disrespectful, fat-shamers… The list goes on. Ultimately they can also be incredibly FABULOUS, LOYAL, GENUINE, LOVING, NURTURING,SUPPORTIVE, and empowering to have in your life.
I love a good man, I appreciate and respect the few that exist, but I’m not going to drop the incredible, inspirational women in my life simply because men exist. Good friends don’t grow on trees. Don’t throw away a quality friend or you might never get another one again in your entire life.
2) You’re an iPhone user…mainly because you follow trends.
Only one person is excused from this statement, and that’s because I love him (and I’ll pretend to ignore the other Mac products that cause me to roll my eyes on the daily). I will also excuse some of my friends from this statement because they’re my friends and I’d take a bullet for them. However…
The majority of iPhone users simply do not know how to put the fucking phone down. Yes, some Android users are just as bad, but I’ve done a head count over the last five years and it’s predominantly iPhone users that are unbelievably obsessed with their phones.
If you happen to be one of these people, take a good, long look at your phone habits. If the phone is constantly in your hand and you cannot live without it (i.e. It’s the first thing you reach for when you wake up in the morning.), try turning it off for a week. Throw that fucker in a drawer and lock it. Quiet, isn’t it? It’s amazing how nice life is without a phone for a week, or longer. You might actually find yourself doing something productive, like calling a person and hearing their voice instead of texting them.
Also, please stop taking calls at the nail salon, hair salon, and/or spa. No one (and by no one I mean me) wants to hear about your STD’s (Yes, this happened. The woman was sitting in a pedicure chair. I actually watched the nail tech put on a second pair of gloves, an absolute FIRST.) or any other private matter. It can wait. And please, DO NOT TEXT AND DRIVE.
3) Your stories don’t add up.
Sometimes people tell me stories, but over time, the story changes and changes and becomes nothing like the original story. Eventually, my sixth sense starts to tingle that even the original story is nothing but bullshit, and that’s providing you somehow got past it to begin with.
4) You lack the ability of keeping your word on the most basic of things.
Does this really need an explanation?
5) You have no sense of humor and do not laugh or smile at anything, ever.
If you don’t get MY sense of humor, you’d best move along before you hurt yourself. If you can’t laugh, be it at yourself, crazy situations, a cute baby, or the puppy down the street doing tricks, then you either need a good cry or a good kick in the ass. Life is difficult without laughter.
6) You make every situation solely about you.
The world does not revolve around you. Use something other than the words “Me, Myself, and I”. When someone is suffering, it ISN’T about you. It’s about helping the other person.
7) Nothing about you is real, and it shows.
Some people fake everything: Laughter, orgasms, happiness, accomplishments. The list is endless, really. I don’t care if you have breast implants, or if you’ve had a nose job, just don’t be a fake person. Yes, it’s that simple. I can accept you if you accept yourself and you’re genuine, even if you’ve been getting Botox for non-existent wrinkles since you were 20.
8) You’re bothered by the success of others.
It is NOT beneath me to tell my friends and loved ones when I am proud of them. If someone tells me about a book being published, an article being published, a radio interview, a new job, cutting out negativity from their life, etc., then I am one of the first people to say “I am SO happy for you.” or “I’m proud of you.” And I mean it, genuinely. What I say to your face is precisely what I say to others, which means you don’t ever have to question my role in your life, however little or much. Ask my friends if you don’t believe me.
9) You’re blatantly selfish.
It’s an unattractive trait. It doesn’t matter if you’re male or female, it’s ugly.
10) You’re a know-it-all.
There is nothing wrong with being intelligent and knowing your shit, but no one is right all of the time. Get over yourself.
11) You’re an epic douchebag.
Some people are assholes. I’m not talking about your average, every day asshole. I am talking about the kind that can shit out a watermelon with ease (Justified Writers, I do not appreciate the lack of royalties for using my line during the series finale. Cut me a check!). Please, DON’T be an asshole and even more, don’t be an epic douchebag. Only an idiot thinks it’s acceptable. I find it reprehensible when a woman behaves as badly as a man, or worse.
12) You’ll cut someone off just to sit at the same red light as everyone else.
Honestly, I’m amazed you haven’t been beaten to death with a tire iron. That is fucking DANGEROUS. It’s easier, not to mention safer, to change lanes and go behind a person, as opposed to behaving as though life is a NASCAR race.
13) You openly claim to “hate” an animal.
We’re not all born animal lovers. That’s okay. However, saying that you “hate dogs” is a very strong statement, especially since I’ve discovered that most people are simply afraid of the animals they claim to “hate”.
I’m not a dog person, but I don’t hate them. I do, however, find some of them noisy and invasive, and I am not walking any animal at 3:00 a.m. in single digit temperatures.
I’m a cat person, but I don’t love every single cat I meet, or I wouldn’t be able to see a thing in my home except litter boxes and fur. I’m not a fan of snakes, but unless it’s venomous or about to harm someone, I’m probably going to 1) Remove it or 2) Leave it be.
I don’t want to be stung by a bee, but I’m not going to kill one unless it poses a threat to someone who could go into shock by being stung, or my cats start jumping the walls to chase it (This only happened once and the person on the other side of the door WOULD have gone into shock if she’d known I was on a ladder killing it to protect her because she was deathly allergic.).
One of my next door neighbors loudly declared that she “hates cats” (The very same neighbor who I haven’t spoken to in over a year because of the crap she pulled with me.). Her husband told me that she’s terrified of them. Well, that explains why she’s a bitch and pets every puppy and dog that comes across her path. It also explains her behavior towards her husband. However, I’m not responsible for every outdoor cat that comes around and terrifies her. I would, however, like to walk a hungry leopard down the street, just to show her the difference between a wild animal and a domesticated cat. I would have said tiger or lion, but in all fairness, she’s prey and leopards aren’t complete savages.
14) Manners elude you, and some of you think your manners are exemplary.
How hard is it to be polite? Hold a fucking door for the person behind you, say “Good Morning”, let someone ahead of you on-line at a store, and unless I am visibly 90 years old, don’t ever call me “Ma’am”. This is not the deep South.
15) You can’t cook (This doesn’t apply to people I know really well.).
I understand if no one ever taught you. I also understand if you have absolutely no interest whatsoever, or no time to do so. BUT, let me know in advance and try to pay attention to the little things I do because you’ll learn something and be able to throw together a really nice meal if ever someone suggests you “cook for them” OR you ever decide to make something nice just for yourself.
It’s okay to cook a nice meal for yourself and enjoy it. For the record, no one has EVER complained at my table. They’ve asked for seconds, or thirds, but they’ve never complained (possibly for fear of their life).
I was not taught how to cook, but I watched my mother when I was little. She showed me all the safety measures, but always told me that if there was no “tam” (That means ‘taste’) to what I made, then I would be useless in the kitchen. Turns out, I inherited my Great-Grandmother’s cooking genes. Every time I close the kitchen for the night you will hear me say “Damn, I’m a good cook!” It’s not ego, it’s the ability to impress ones’ self.
I have made plenty of things for others that I was personally dubious about. In turn, I waited for their reaction because I refused to so much as taste the final product. The first time I made Tortilla Soup, it got rave reviews.
My best friend Stefanie thinks it’s sexy when a woman has knife skills in the kitchen. 🙂
16) You get offended that someone doesn’t “love” your favorite color.
How old are you?!
17) You actually had the audacity to name your newborn the same thing your best friend/sister/cousin has had picked out for her child/children, or the name they’ve already used.
This is a big one folks! I have seen families get into epic battles over this. I have seen people never speak to their best friend again for this sort of slight.
Selecting a name for a new life is a big decision, though if you look at most names in Hollywood, you’d think someone just vomited the name out, which is the only reason some of those horrific things get put on a newborn’s birth certificate. That or the parents are on something, and I’m not talking about a “kale high”.
I have a list. If you screw with it (and I will say that an ex took three of the names on my list that he was well aware of and named his children those exact names. I was LIVID. Yes, all three names have since vanished from “the list”.), don’t speak to me ever again.
When considering a name for a baby, make a list in advance. If that baby is born with your mDNA, give the kid a fighting chance and don’t break out anything that will torment your child as he or she gets older.
18) You “hate America”, but you’re more than happy to make your money off of Americans.
I’m talking to you, Ariana Grande. I’m also talking to people who aren’t American, but make a damn good living here. If you don’t like our culture, our patriotism, our food, or our people (liking our President is not mandatory. Hell, I don’t fucking like him!) then I strongly suggest you shut the fuck up, get on a plane, and not return.
19) People who drive with the sticker price still attached to their car. A car they’ve been driving for more than an hour, which let’s everyone know it’s not an error in judgment.
Really? Are you aware how infantile that is? There is not a single car on the road that is not an over-priced hunk of paint. I mean that from the bottom of my foreign car loving heart. You need not worry about impressing me with a vehicle. Impress me with who you are and how you treat me. That Audi…okay, the Audi can stay in my driveway. 😉 Please God, do NOT let it have a vanity plate.
20) You’re a writer who doesn’t read.
I don’t think that requires an explanation, do you?
I think it’s admirable when people say “Keep Fighting”, but in actuality, they do not know what you are battling, they do not know your mind, they do not know your heart, and they do not know your breaking point.
We all have lines that, once crossed, send us into different modes of survival. It is perfectly normal to freak out, panic, cry, scream, be incredibly angry, etc. It’s also okay to want to curl up into a ball and not emerge from that position for a while. It is okay to think your feelings through, in your own time and in your own way. When you’re going through something rough, something most people will never have to face, no one wants or needs to be yelled at like a dog that just shit on a persian rug.
I am going through something tremendous at the moment. It is terrifying, heartbreaking, cruel, evil, wrong, and a plethora of other things that I will refrain from saying. Maybe in a year from now, I will feel comfortable sharing the story without feeling as though I am being judged.
There may reach a time when I am not able to be present here on a daily basis. I might be able to check in once a week for a few months, if that. I hope that you can all be patient and stick by me through this, but I will also understand if you don’t. I’m not going to take it personally, but I do feel it is better to be honest in advance, as opposed to simply disappearing for a while without any explanation. I do not intend to abandon what I have.
I LOVE what I do here. It brings me an immense sense of peace and contentment. It is a daily reminder that I’m not just “some person who writes” or “likes to write”, but an actual writer. There’s a difference between the three, but I don’t have to explain it. A great many of you “get it”.
For now, I will remain as present as possible. I will let you know through my work when the insanity is going to start and hopefully have a “I’m going to be back full-time” date as well. Please know I am doing the best I can, trying to remain sane, and trying very hard not to cash in my “life chips”. I am reminding myself this morning that I have survived all of the worst days of my life up until this point. That’s a 100% success rate, and now I just have to keep moving forward, despite wanting to shut down and lose my temper.
In the meantime, I really want and need several solid weeks of uninterrupted sleep each night. My allergies have decided to become a full-on pain in the ass out of nowhere, so I took half a Benadryl last night before going to bed (Because that’s all I had left, or I would have taken two.). My eyes and parts of my face are still itching and burning with no logical reason whatsoever, except that I am stressed and already have eye allergies. Even my eye drops are utterly useless, providing absolutely no relief. Stress, it turns out, manifests in a myriad of ways.
Stay healthy and safe everyone. I’ll be around until I say otherwise.
Once upon a time, in an extremely bizarre reality, I was in a relationship I should not have been in. The warning signs were there, but some people burn so brightly that you don’t seem to notice you’re going up in flames and turning to ash. Immensely large red flares of danger were being sent up so I wouldn’t get burned. Did that stop anything? Not so much.
He was the quintessential “bad boy”, complete with motorcycles, fancy sports cars, tattoos, multiple drug addictions, and a boatload of issues. Maybe the maternal, nurturing aspect of me wanted to fix or heal him. I don’t know, but whatever it is, I’m thankful every single day that it is no longer a part of my life.
Initially there was no reaction or emotion from me towards him. He was just a guy, a guy all kinds of women fell for, but I prided myself on not adding myself to the throng of fools. Until one day, when I was seemingly drawn in like a moth to a flame. Except I wasn’t a moth, I was a butterfly, and yet, I suddenly had to have him. The pull was intense. He was crazy about me; The only person who challenged him, who questioned everything, and who was not impressed by anything. The problems though, they were simmering under the surface, just waiting to come out, one by one.
They started relatively early. I had never been told I was “too skinny” before. Even as a former gymnast that had experienced bouts of bulimia on & off for about two years after realizing that I’d never be an Olympic anything. I did not consider myself “too skinny” or “too” anything, really. I had the mouth of a Marine on leave, a writing career that had taken off in an amazing way, and a guy who told me he loved me, but to this day probably doesn’t know the meaning of the word. You’ll find him in the dictionary, somewhere between the words “Douchebag”, “Hypocrite”, and “Liar”, providing you’ve opted for a Webster’s upgrade.
His career allowed me the independence and space that I like in a relationship. I can’t have someone in my face 24/7, nagging, or standing over my shoulder like a watch dog. It drives me insane. He respected that, until the possessive behavior became more than just one or two phone calls a day. At first it seemed like he was going out of his way to surprise me and brighten aspects of my life, but that wasn’t it. Not at all.
The man could spit out promises just as quickly as he broke them, I just didn’t know he was trying to break me in the process.
The criticism I endured throughout the course of this relationship was harsher than what I dealt with from my family, and even though I had a comeback for everything he said, the words still haunt me…
I went from being vibrant, smart, confident, & 100% in control to depressed, unhappy, paranoid, angry, & jealous. I was reduced to questioning why I was somehow not good enough for him. It was irrational and insane. There was always an inner voice telling me “He’s not good enough for you. What are you doing? This man is poison. Tell him to go to hell and walk away.”
I remember crying one night to my best friend at the time, after a particularly shitty thing he’d lied about. Here I was, the strongest, toughest, most direct chick people knew, asking “Why would he lie to me like that? Why would he lie about something so important? Why am I not good enough for him?” I was devastated by the pathological way in which he’d lie.
My best friend consoled me quietly, basically saying she didn’t know why he had lied or why he would, but months later she told me I was “Too smart, too pretty, and all aroundway too good for the likes of him!” She was furious that he would hurt me in such a manner and then behave as if all was right in the world, and her anger continued to fuel when he showed up at a work event we all attended with a married woman on his arm. “A friend”, he’d called her. More like a drug supplier he’d hooked up with. He was spiraling and wanted to take me with him, but I would not allow that.
For the record, I was already ass deep in alligators when I realized how big an issue the drugs actually were because they weren’t an issue at the onset. It went from being an old football injury to being an all-consuming, problem-inducing, complete lack of grip on reality. It started out small, as many addictions do, and escalated until it had to be confronted. I did not condone it in any way and refused to support the habit. I was not going to be in a relationship with an addict, period. I was the catalyst to get him into rehab, explaining in list formation all that he would lose if he did not get clean. But as most people can tell you, 30 days in rehab will detox you, it might even get you to talk about why you got into it in the first place, but it’s every single day after leaving a protected environment that matters most. If you have people who love & support you, you have a greater chance at remaining sober. You might slip up, recovery is going to be a constant for the rest of your life, but the effort you put forth is SO important. However, if you immediately return to the same lifestyle and friends you had during the height of your illness, it will revert you right back into it at some point, especially if you have no real desire to be clean, no willpower, and no real desire to live. It’s a way of committing suicide slowly, secretly hoping that one day it’ll all be over and you don’t personally have to do the heavy lifting, or deal with the aftermath.
Part of what saddens me about the relationship itself is that I defended, protected, and shielded this man. I was the epitome of devoted and loyal to the Nth degree. My love was genuine, and yet I was constantly criticized, going as far as to be told that I wasn’t good enough to be introduced to his parents, who for years, he told me were dead. I’d later find out he only wished they were. Our differing religions was the reason given when I questioned why I was somehow “not good enough” to meet his parents. Who the hell were these people? England’s Monarchy?! How isolated and ignorant were they to think their religion was the only one that existed in this world?! This was not the first time someone had taken issue with my religion and tried to make me feel guilty for it. I was considered “not Jewish enough” by one guy’s family, and now I was being made to feel like I was somehow inappropriate and shameful. And the worst part? He wasn’t religious, AT ALL.
Suddenly, after years of knowing our religions were different, it became this big issue, and we fought about it a lot. Would I be willing to convert to Roman Catholicism? HELL NO. Would I sign a pre-nup? Whoa, where the hell did THAT come from?! You want to marry me. You’ve asked, I’ve accepted, but now you’re afraid I suddenly want to be with you for financial gain? Are you serious?! Anyone who knows me knows that I’ve always taken care of myself. He knew that. I don’t expect a man to pay for my lifestyle. I’m fully capable of making my own money, buying my own clothes, jewelry, etc. I think you should want to take care of your partner and be a provider, but relationships are give and take. I did not expect to sit on my ass and be given anything, so I waffled back and forth on that little tidbit. It is a deal breaker if it’s not a document protecting both of us.
The ever-present “Would you please eat?!” grated on my nerves. He’d bring me food for several years of our relationship, but not in a loving, caring, concerned way (I do like it when I’m sick and a guy has the sense to bring me soup or Italian food. There’s something very nurturing about that.), but in an extremely controlling manner. As soon as I gained about 15 pounds from this constant influx of food, I was suddenly told the exact opposite. Now I wasn’t thin enough, I was becoming the woman who he didn’t want anyone else looking at. What was so shameful about being curvy? He’d have a fit whenever we’d be somewhere and someone else would check me out. I was not the one doing the looking, yet he was suddenly paranoid that anyone who checked me out was somehow going to end up in my bed. It was eye-rollingly ridiculous.
He’d do something shitty, and I’d be “rewarded” with jewelry or flowers, sometimes both, depending on the situation. It got to a point where I began to loathe the pink & purple roses I loved so much. To this day if someone sends me roses, I cringe inside. He would promise to be somewhere I needed him to be, but was almost always off feeding his drug habit, or as I would later find out through a friend, a habit for other women.
It was demanded upon me that I be 100% faithful. That was not an issue because I’d never cheated on someone and wasn’t about to start, but because he was the one doing all the cheating, he started having people follow me to find out what I was doing every time I left the house. Stalker much?! It was sick. It was also an excuse.
I’d had enough after confronting someone he often had tail me, and I put my foot down. I’m not big on ultimatums, but he needed to hear what his behavior was doing, that it was unhealthy and damaging, and completely unwarranted and unacceptable. It came down to this: He needed to return to rehab, fully commit to it, and he then needed to be clean & sober for a year before I would agree to marriage. It was time for him to prove that he was worthy of me, not the other way around.
He went to rehab for a few months, coming back apologetic, and for a while things were simply tense. We talked, but clearly he was refusing to hear me. He was about to do something he’d probably been considering for quite some time, and simply hadn’t been man enough to say to my face. With marriage promised, it probably made me believe a slew of lies I was too smart to actually buy into in the first place, but there was something slightly blinding & intoxicating about it. But the truth of the matter is, it was just plain toxic.
The problem with relationships slowly turning abusive is that, initially, we think we’re in the right relationship with the right person, until suddenly, we’re not.
For years after this relationship ended I’d hear “Oh, LET IT GO!” whenever I mentioned how hurt, angry, or betrayed I felt; as if emotions could be turned on and off like a faucet. How could I not feel all of those things?! Saying “I love you” is not a cure-all. Actions speak louder than words. His actions were atrocious.
With a ring solidly on my finger, he married someone else, just weeks after saying we were good and moving in the right direction, that he was trying. I had to find out via an announcement his new wife was sending to friends & family. She was pregnant before they even said “I do.” He would go on to have several children with her, each time choosing names we had decided on for our future offspring. That was the icing on the cake. I seriously worried about my ability to be around him in any capacity after that, so I disengaged. I made sure that whenever he’d be around, I would not be present. Hurting someone you claim to love in such a manner is vile, but to then go on living your life as if said loved one never existed is even worse. I started to think I was losing my mind. If it had not been for the fact that I knew the relationship had occurred, and exactly what I had endured, I’d have felt like I was being erased, or replaced.
Up until a few years ago, he & I continued to have mutual friends. I finally got tired of hearing the lies and cut everyone off. “He asked about you.”, “He hopes you’re all right. He just wants you to be happy.”, “He cares about you.” PLEASE! He never cared in the first place, it was a fucking game to him. No matter how many times I would ask these friends not to relay anything he said about me, it would come up in conversation, until I finally changed my phone number and said “No more.”
Not one to eat bullshit politely with a knife and fork, I have gone out of my way to avoid him since all of this went down. I have nothing to be embarrassed about. I didn’t do anything wrong, except believe in a person I shouldn’t have given the time of day to, but hey, we all make mistakes. Avoiding him is my way of remaining a healthy, non-toxic human-being.
I know eventually, at some point, we will run into one another, and I pray that I am not carrying a loaded weapon that day or wearing particularly high heels because even though people tell me I’m not a damaging, harmful person to be around, and that I’d never willingly hurt someone, I cannot promise the desire to harm him won’t be there. Some of the rage goes away with time, but any time the relationship is mentioned or I come across something from that time period, I am flooded with everything I thought I’d already moved past. For me, that lets me know the damage runs deep. It does not, nor will it ever, mean that I care about him. I don’t. I wouldn’t spit on this man if he was on fire.
Once I no longer love/respect someone, my emotions will often turn to pity, anger (at myself & the other person involved), & my anger is a burning rage that can simmer and bubble for years until it is truly out of my system. If the anger is unjustified, it eventually dwindles and the flames put out, but if it IS justified, stay the hell out of my way. I can go from zero to bitch in about half a second.
Unfortunately, there are so many different kinds of abuse in the world, that it’s sometimes hard to pinpoint if you are the abused or the abuser. Sometimes you are simultaneously both, even if you don’t intend to be.
Writing this makes me feel a bit like I’m back in Psych class, but I’ve been revisiting certain things lately, which is why I am writing about such a personal, private matter. If what I’m saying helps even one person get out of a toxic relationship, then that’s important and necessary.
If you’re in any kind of relationship where your words and feelings are being defined in an incorrect manner, where you are constantly insulted and berated, it is time to take a closer look at this relationship. Thinking this person is “the best you can do”, having low, little, or no self-esteem, or coming from a “people pleasing” type of family are all potential signs you’ve probably overlooked. Most people do. When you’ve been taught that everything around you is “normal” and a part of your daily life, you stop questioning things. You begin to lose your inner voice. Once you lose your inner voice, you start to become everything the abuser has defined you as. Your thoughts, feelings, actions, everything is now completely defined by someone else. Moreover, you question yourself and promise yourself you’ll be better for them, that you will do everything right, not realizing that your life is your own, and it is not owned by someone else.
I am a product of abuse. Not just from the relationship I am talking about, but from my childhood. I am very forthcoming about that fact when approached, but generally I keep such things to myself. However, when a person comes to me and needs help, I am the first person to listen, and the first to say something.
For many, many years I handled the abuse (verbal, emotional, and physical) by throwing myself into my writing and my singing. One day I snapped; I’d had enough. I was 100% committed in the fact that I’d kill the other person and spend my life in jail, but I believed in my cause because I was protecting two other people. I took the brunt of everything so they wouldn’t have to. To this day, one of those people denies that 99% of the abuse ever occurred. It must be nice living in such a warped bubble of false memories, but I know what I lived, I know what I saw, and it is sad for me to see this person deny the abuse and become the abuser themselves. If you correct this person, or disagree with them, they will say YOU are abusing THEM. It’s a vicious cycle, however, I know that by standing up and saying ENOUGH, and being committed to putting a stop to it, that I did the right thing. If I hadn’t, I’d be in jail now. Or worse.
People are often shocked to learn that I’ve been through such things. I don’t deny being strong and confident, and I don’t deny that I will say something is wrong when it is wrong, regardless of who is saying it. I will admit to being wrong on the rare occasion that I am. But I will not allow myself to live a life of abuse. I won’t allow someone to define me, to disrespect me, to use me, to tell me what I think, to tell me where to go, or tell me what I am allowed to do. When someone behaves that way around me, I am very happy to show them the door. I know I deserve better.
I look for different things in people now, and I always pay attention to my intuition. It is an immense part of who I am. If someone or something seems too good to be true, then it probably is. If something feels innately wrong, re-evaluate it and follow your instincts. Intuition will never lie to you, but the heart will. If your relationship involves young children, get out NOW. You do not want your child/children to be affected by the abuse inflicted upon their mother in front of them. I know people who have stayed in these relationships because they believed that taking their children out of the home during the formative years was the worst possible thing they could do. It’s not. The worst thing you can do is stay and allow them to think that what they’re hearing, seeing, and living is normal. If you get out early enough, you will save yourself and your child/children a fortune in therapy bills.
Once upon a time, I was a moron. It won’t happen again, because I am firmly committed to not allowing it. No one defines me, except me.
Do not be afraid to search the Internet or the Yellow Pages for additional resources available to you in your area/country. If your abuser uses the same computer, always be sure to delete your browsing history to protect yourself from additional harm, or go to the library if available and search for information there.*
Mondays bring forth a lot of stress and anxiety. Fridays? Not so much. In fact, I feel calm that the week has come to an official end. I’m looking forward to putting up a load of laundry, eating dinner, and eliminating an hour or two off my DVR.
I spent a huge portion of my week battling migraines. I was unsure if the cycle would continue, but I can say that after an exceptionally long day yesterday and going to bed early, I have mostly felt good today. Sore and achy, a little moody at times, but nothing I can’t handle. The downside of going through so much pain is that your body is pre-programmed to take the brunt of what it normally handles each day. It took me almost a full 12 hours to realize I wasn’t in agony. Unfortunately, I have no way of knowing what tomorrow brings in terms of the physical side of things. 😦
I’ve struggled with some work-related things this week. I’ve had some personal breakthroughs with ideas for my work, I’ve made some career-related decisions for new creative outlets, but I am still being tormented by that manuscript. It requires so much time, it frustrates the hell out of me, so I’ve decided I will never edit for someone ever again without doing a read-through first. I refuse to price myself into a position that makes me feel used or abused.
I should be charging between $1000-$5000 per job, or more for additional development. I have tried to be incredibly fair to people, I even offer a payment plan, but the end result is that I am being unfair to myself, my time, my vision, and my skills.
When someone says “I’d like to pay you a penny per sentence and there are 10,000 sentences to go over.”, I shake my head. That’s a grave insult. Even worse, I bid on the job and didn’t get it. Yeah, that didn’t help my attitude one bit this week. Anyone that approaches with a disrespectful budget and the claim “It should only take an hour or so.” should Google the cost of minimum wage for an experienced freelance editor. I have exactly one client who I work for on an hourly basis and he thinks my hourly rate is “really reasonable”. Others are fearful of the hourly rate and even more fearful of the quote. I have an answer to that: Don’t write 100,000+ words and expect for it to be edited in a professional manner in a week for “$50 or less”. Be fair, be realistic, and don’t be disrespectful if you truly want to do business with someone.
What else occurred this week? Injury from cat’s back claws. I have absolutely NO idea why she’d think climbing over my scalp was a good idea. I tried to detach her from ripping me apart and she wouldn’t budge, so I have a long tear on the right side of my scalp under my hair down the side of my temple. The facial part isn’t even noticeable because she dug deeper into my scalp, which, thanks to my new hair color, isn’t visible. It hurt for a few days, but should be healed completely in about a week.
Yes, I said “new hair color”. When I get bored, I get dangerous. Last month I cut off a ton of hair. It was way more than I’d anticipated, far shorter than what I walked in asking for. I am still adjusting to having to put product into my hair as opposed to using Argan Oil and being able to work with my natural texture or straighten it. “Short Hair Don’t Care”? Bullshit. Shorter hair requires some finesse in order to look good. I’ve been every natural color a person can be. Blonde, a wide array of varying degrees of red and brunette, but this is my first time truly on “the dark side”. It’s only a few days old, but it is truly blue-black. My stylist refused to do it for me because my skin is on the fairer side of fair. I asked if it was “too dark” or “too Goth” and she said “Too dark.” I think she was trying to be diplomatic. Guess what? It is dark, and it’s a little Goth, but it looks fucking awesome. Ultimately, the only person who has to like it is the person that has to live with it and look at it day in and day out. Every time I look in the mirror I think “Man, this looks AWESOME. It’s so much better than I thought it would be.” Let’s hear it for listening to your inner voice and not the odd judgment of others. Everyone else is going lighter for summer, I’m going darker. Typical. Now all I need are sharper fangs to get my point across. 😉
I realized a few days ago how utterly disillusioned and unhappy I am with my line of work. If I did realize it beforehand perhaps I never voiced the truth to myself, but I’m doing it now. 
Written by LISA MARINO-Molchanova 