Pieces Of Me

National Kitten Day

Miss Poison Life, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing , , , ,
sam_0053
Cat when she was a kitten. Three pounds of energy and attitude.

Today is National Kitten Day! 🙂

You’ve all heard me go on about my love for cats, and have heard me talk about Cat and Kitten. My relationship with cats evolved from childhood into adulthood.

My mother’s cat was rescued out of a rose bush as a kitten. My mother was a dog person, so she was committed to cleaning her up, making her feel safe, giving her all she needed, but she made it clear to my father that he HAD to find her a home. He kept saying he was “looking”, but inevitably, that tiny kitten became a cat and remained the family cat until the end. She never forgot that my Mom was the one to save her, so she was truly HER cat.

She was there before I was born, and she didn’t take kindly to me trying to ride her like a miniature pony, pulling her tail, or her whiskers. She once stood up on her back paws and pushed me down on the floor (My mother was trying not to laugh, because I became hysterical.). In my young child’s eyes, she was far larger than a domestic house cat. I reacted to her gentle shove as if a dinosaur had tried eating me alive. It was that day I learned to respect cats.

Before Cat and Kitten came along, I had a very special cat in my life who will forever mean the world to me. She was 100% my baby. She taught me how to love unconditionally, be a mother, and blessed my life from the moment she chose me to be her person. She passed away with me sleeping beside her, holding one of her paws. It was one of the worst moments in a life full of “worst moments”. However, I know she had a long, amazing, predominantly healthy life with me full of love. My last words to her were that it was okay to leave because I’d be okay, but that she couldn’t hold on for me any more. I assured her we’d be reunited and told her how loved she was. It was the goodbye she deserved, for no one alive or dead had ever been so loyal, faithful, or committed to me, except maybe my mother.

When I adopted Cat ten months later, I didn’t expect to fall in love meeting this beautiful little face at the front door. I did not expect to be so charmed by this sweet, beautiful creature, but every single day she does something affectionate, kind, caring, and reminds me that she loves me. She’s truly one of the sweetest cats on the planet.

I adopted Kitten as a companion for Cat, who truly needed another cat to play with. She was lonely, and she was acting out multiple times a day, biting me, attacking me, etc. I researched her breed and found out they do well with companions, that it helps them thrive, and that their sweet nature will become aggressive if they’re not given companionship of another animal. I wasn’t enough for her, and I had always intended to get her a friend, but so many opportunities that presented themselves did not feel right to me.

Their initial meeting wasn’t a good one, but she quickly fell in love with her, often using her as her very own personal teddy bear (She’d kill me for telling this story.). Kitten is the HAPPIEST CAT I’ve ever met. She’s extremely loving and while a little rough around the edges at times, she and her sister are the reason I’m alive.

Kitten is formally named after my previously aforementioned “special cat”. I translated her name out of several different languages into English, as an homage to a cat that was one of the finest creatures I will ever know in life. Unbeknownst to me, they’re actually a lot alike. It’s not just the fact that the first cat was a Tortoiseshell and I intentionally searched for another Tortie. Kitten is by no means a “replacement cat”. Her coloring and markings are different, she’s a darker Tortie, but she looks like someone painted spots of light on different parts of her body. The first photo I saw of her looked like sunshine had been painted across her face. I knew immediately that I had to take her home. Her shelter name was a close match for my previous cat’s real name. Her foster mother and I also have the same name. We laughed about it, because it was clearly fate.

Driving home that evening with my new little friend in the backseat, I was inspired to give her a special middle name as well. Her response to all the excitement was to fall sound asleep in the cat carrier, completely oblivious to the fact that she’d found her forever home and her forever person.

This little cat with the enormous paws is my best friend (I LOVE Cat, too. However, she prefers others over me. I’m not her whole world.). I’ve lost count how many times she has taken care of me when I’m sick or come running to stay with me the second she knew I was upset about something. Her favorite place is next to me. That’s precisely where she is now. She’s all tucked in like a baby that simply wants to be close to her mother. Safety, warmth, and love are easy to provide. G-d, please don’t ever let me fail either of them.

So today, I honor Kitten (and Cat, because she’s used the word “Mutiny” in their communications, and they out-number me.). Thank you for coming into our lives and bestowing us with love and sweetness. You’re a blessing many times over.

copyright © 2016 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

sam_0261
My Mommy worked ALL day editing and pooped me out!

Triggers

Miss Poison Honesty, Life, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Triggers, Writing , , , , , , , , , , , ,
trauma
I don’t fully agree with all of this. It’s a very complex thing and I’d never gloss over it.

December. My new month, chock full of triggers.

I woke up Thursday morning and didn’t know where I was. From the colors around me, to the sounds; I was completely and utterly disoriented. And then, it came crashing down on me in one fell swoop; it’s December 1st.

Last year, my life changed drastically on that very same Thursday morning. I worked hard to make sure the change wouldn’t come, but there are things outside our own power structure and oftentimes, we have to learn to adapt and try not to take painful tragedy personally. However, it was indeed tragic, it will forever remain personal, and it breaks pieces of my soul every day.

At the time I said I’d probably never discuss it, and I’m still not discussing it, not in its entirety. Perhaps, one day, in therapy, I will feel comfortable and safe enough to let chunks of pain out, but for now? No. There are some things that are personal; things you’ll carry with you, because they cut too fucking deep and, a year later, the memories continue to haunt you

478

I cannot tell anyone the last time I was truly happy, if ever there was a time, or even a moment of happiness. My life is very ordinary, and extremely unhappy. Write, edit, cook, clean, wash dishes, do laundry, shop for groceries. Lather, rinse, repeat. I sing when I cook, if I don’t have a migraine and happen to be in the mood for music. I even danced the other night while cooking, because the song was perfect. I couldn’t remember the last time I had danced around a kitchen and dining room. I take care of Cat and Kitten, because they love me unconditionally and would never intentionally harm me in any way. I have been constantly reminded that I’m “not someone’s mother”. In fact, this year I’ve constantly been reminded how little I matter to those in my life, and especially to those around me. Many people have stepped back (some permanently, others I let go of), but others have stepped up and in to my life in larger roles. I am immensely grateful to those who truly stand by me, even when I’m suffering, and don’t push. I am grateful to those who take the time to get to know you, because they genuinely want to know YOU, because they CARE. They show you your value by their words and actions. As I told a friend recently “Friendship is free.”, because it is. However, it is also an immense gift in times of good and bad. And if you’re dealing with horrible shit, you quickly learn who will stand by you and who will not.

I’m happy to say I’ve made some new friends this year, and managed to strengthen my long-term bonds into something richer and deeper than ever before. That makes me proud because I highly value my friendships. It’s nice to receive text messages that make you smile, or items in the mail that mean SO MUCH because it’s truly the thought behind the gesture. It’s nice when friends say “I wish you lived closer.”, because they mean it. I’m almost certain I’d be in jail if all of my friends lived within 1-4 miles of me. Perhaps that’s not such a bad thing, either. I might benefit from being on a first-name basis with more police officers. LOL.

11703107_10153480777918684_8018737011132906695_n
Emotional garbage. Littering is unacceptable.

I am trying hard to turn my triggers into positives by changing my reactions to days of the week, to numbers on the calendar, etc. It’s not easy, it will take time, but I am trying, and I give myself credit for the effort that takes.

So, while this will be a difficult month for me, I look forward to coming out the other side a stronger, smarter person who can look for the silver lining amongst the clouds.

copyright © 2016 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Brain Problems

Miss Poison Autoimmune Disease, Being Real, Fibromyalgia, Health, Honesty, Life, Musings, November, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing , , , , , , , , ,
10501792_1101324749884898_3992262528277158865_n
I have exactly ONE PERSON in my life who has done the research and offered his help. Out of so many who could use their brains, my cousin chose to use his.

No, the title isn’t meant to indicate an actual health issue. Not that I’m aware of. However, Fibromyalgia Brain Fog, also commonly referred to as “Fibro Fog”, has really done a number on me this month. It was slowly progressing, but now I feel dumber than a box of rocks with twelve piles of shit on top. It’s scary, freakish, and makes me feel terrible about myself. Only another sufferer can truly understand how much pain this puts me in.

I know these are common daily occurrences for a lot of people who struggle with Fibromyalgia and other auto-immune diseases, but my incidents have been sporadic and easily managed, up until now. This weekend has pretty much brought me to my knees on the memory front. 😦

If you ask me about something from when I was two or three years old, I have complete recall of the entire moment. If you ask me why I tried putting black pepper in the freezer, I’ve got nothing. If I didn’t set the timer on the stove, I’d walk away from preparing meals and never go back (I ALWAYS set the timer, even if it’s just ten minutes, it’s loud enough to bring me back in order to focus.). I have to be 100% in whatever it is I am doing, otherwise I am going to end up cutting myself, burning myself, or forgetting what the hell I’m doing to begin with. There is nothing normal or acceptable about this.

To add insult to injury, I put notes on my phone as reminders for pretty much everything. I take this phone with me wherever I go, and yet, I still forget what the hell I’m reading and end up deleting at least 50% of the note before I’ve left most stores. It’s utterly pathetic. It’s also sad, because I’m tired of searching cabinets and the refrigerator/freezer for things I forgot to buy. I then add the missing items to next week’s list, only so the cycle can continue on in an ugly manner. I have to start each list with cat food and cat litter, otherwise it’s entirely possible I will forget one, the other, or both. This past weekend, I forgot the litter. The plus side, there’s 20 pounds of it sitting near the litter box from the weekend prior, so all I have to do is change the damn thing. The fact that I can even lift 20 pounds these days is miraculous to me. 😦

I think I would be better able to cope with this lack of brain function if I were over 75 and had achieved all of the things I set out to do with my life. I’d be able to say “Hey, I’ve lived longer than my parents. I’ve accomplished all of this. I’m simply getting older and forgetting things. It’s not the end of the world.” However, I’m nowhere near 75, not even close, and yet, my brain is suddenly turning to mush. I tried refrigerating herbs when I was cooking earlier (obviously, that’s not where they belong). As soon as I realized what I was doing, I nearly dropped all of them on the floor and burst into tears.

These incidents are made worse by the criticism of others. “Do you even have a fucking brain?”, I was asked earlier this month. “You really DO live in your own world.”, I was told the other day. These are things I’d never say out loud to someone I know is sick, leave alone healthy.

If you have someone in your life with an autoimmune disease/disorder that affects their brain function, I would like you to walk a hundred thousand miles in their shoes. I want you to spend 365 days in their body before making a single derogatory remark in their direction. Our ears are fine; we can fucking hear your offensive, rude negativity. However, if you don’t understand the illness itself, shut the fuck up. You’re not making the situation better, and how you treat someone is just as important as how you speak to them. Unfortunately, we live in a world where everyone wants respect, simply for existing, but they don’t realize their behavior is what garners respect. Moreover, we all express our feelings differently. I prefer to say a lot of things to people privately, eschewing public professions. Some people seem to have a deep-seated need for the public professions though, and it baffles me. Just because we live in a selfie-filled world doesn’t mean every single thing we want to say ought to be made public.

You can argue that by writing it, I’ve made it public, but here’s the thing; I didn’t name names. I rarely, if ever, do. I talk in code with my friends, we have our own private language, and I write in code a lot of the time, too. You get the gist of it, obviously, you just don’t have faces and names to attach to what I’m saying. It’s like reading a book. You get descriptions of characters, but you are left to your own devices as to what they might truly look like if you met them on the street.

So, even with my “brain problems”, I don’t have “writer problems”. Thank G-d and Goddess for that!

copyright © 2016 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

fogbank

Nobody Knows The Real Me

Image Miss Poison Emotions, Honesty, Images/Photos/Quotes, Pain, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses , , , , , , , , ,
nobodyknowstherealme
I’ve been going through some seriously heavy stuff for well over a year now. I may have posted this before, but today, this rings immensely true for me. I pray for strength to get me through, but some days, even the strongest person has a meltdown in the shower, so no one can see or hear. Some days; the strongest person you know can’t bear the thought of any more yelling, abuse, or internal pain. Some days are fucking HARD. Way harder than they should be.

Thankful, Grateful, Yet Pissed Off

Miss Poison Honesty, Life, Musings, My Brother, November, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Thanksgiving, Writing , , , , , , , , , , , ,
plymouth-rock-sign
My ancestors didn’t come to this country until the late 1800’s or 1920ish, if not later than that.

Thursday is Thanksgiving here in the United States. There is much history behind this holiday (I currently live in Massachusetts and you can’t escape people talking about spending the holiday in Plymouth. I’ve never spent Thanksgiving at a restaurant; I’ve always participated among family, cooked it myself, etc.), but for me, especially this year, this is the first Thanksgiving where I’ll be completely without my brother.

He was just released from the hospital once again. He’s SO sick, and while I am thankful and grateful that he is alive, I am exceptionally upset that he isn’t in a good situation and is so far away. It makes me ill. The fact that the medicine he needs for his heart and lungs is more expensive than I can handle is also too much for me emotionally. I want to help him, to fix the situation and the problems, but I can’t fix every problem he presents me with. It kills me. You are only given so many people in a life and I have been given one living brother. Not helping when he asks (or doesn’t ask) is to be a lower life form. I can’t be like that. I stand up as much as humanly possible.

I have much to be thankful for this year. I am thankful for what little in my life is mine. I’m grateful for the roof over my head, clothes, food, Cat and Kitten, my friends, and family. However, I’m also pissed off.

This has been an extremely painful year for me. I don’t know when it gets easier, or if it ever does, but I hope and pray that the coming year (and years) won’t wreck me like the previous dozen, or so, have. I’m a human-being, I’m imperfect, my feelings are real, and valid, and in 2017, I’d like to break out of this horrible shell I am in and be reborn in some way.

For the past six months or so, I’ve been experiencing bouts of Fibro Fog that are terrifying. I’ve done so many bizarre things that I’d never normally do if I was at 100% capacity (like trying to put black pepper in the freezer). For over seven months, I’ve been experiencing blackouts where I cannot account for my time. I’m not passing out and waking up on the side of the road or anything, and I’m lucky that they are no longer happening daily, but there are far too many days where I look at the clock and it’s 9:00 a.m. and the next thing I know, it’s 4:00 PM and I couldn’t tell you where my day went if you paid me a million dollars. These are not normal things for anyone, leave alone me. I stopped talking about these episodes with friends and family because no one seemed that interested or concerned, but I’m walking around on auto-pilot and I have no idea how I get from point A to point B most days. It’s scary and it’s completely unlike me.

plymouth1

This year, Thanksgiving will lack all forms of tradition. The only “tradition” I’ll be bringing to the table is a 40+ year old recipe for stuffing. In my entire life, I’ve only eaten one other type of stuffing and it paled in comparison to my Mom’s. However, to highlight my Fibro Fog I have to say I’m embarrassed and mortified that I remembered all of the ingredients for the stuffing, but once I hit store #3 on Sunday, I realized I never purchased the actual stuffing, herbs, or a turkey pan for it. I tend to make stuffing the night before, that way it’s perfect Thanksgiving Day (and only takes a little while to heat up). It also helps me pace myself because making it involves a lot of vegetable chopping and ingredient play. However, I am happy to make it and enjoy that piece of my Mom that she passed on to me; the ability to cook and cook well (In fairness, I did inherit other things from her, for which I am also eternally grateful.).

So yeah, lots of sadness at the moment. I’m praying I will somehow be able to come through for my brother, and as it has been nearly a year since I’ve seen him (Unheard of!), I am hoping & praying I will be able to see him next month. I have learned this year that the person who knows me best is my brother (only regarding certain things, not all things). Part of me finds that exceptionally sad, and the other part thinks it’s extremely fitting.

Wishing everyone, in advance, a wonderful start to the holiday season. You don’t have to be American to appreciate that sentiment.

cute-thanksgiving-turkeys-04

Be safe, everyone!

copyright © 2016 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Silent Nausea

Miss Poison Honesty, Life, Pain, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I’ve felt the need to be silent this past two weeks. There are millions of thoughts in my head, things I’ve love to put into a cohesive pattern, but I honestly cannot bring myself to do so. I’m physically, mentally, and emotionally too drained. I am sure many people feel the same way.

I will put everyone at ease; I don’t want to discuss politics. I hate every single election year. I’m sick of hearing a multitude of opinions on the radio, reading them online where horrific fights have broken out and people have ended friendships over differing opinions (or where families are fighting over who voted for this one or that one), hearing about it on TV, etc. I’m upset that children are terrified and scared about what all of this means for them, and that families feel as they do. I don’t care who anyone voted for, because that’s truly none of my business. I realize that roughly 46% of Americans may not have voted in this election. To each their own. It’s your right, your choice. I’m not going to judge it/you or discuss it. I’ve genuinely had enough of the subject. I’d like to be woken in four years. Subject closed.

earlybird
I’m sitting here functioning on some bizarre form of auto-pilot. It even took me on a four mile walk today. I truly have no idea how I got home! 

Currently, my focus is on my health. I’m rarely afraid for myself, but something horrible is happening and there is seemingly no way for me to save myself this time. I’ve spent days crying and breaking down, and no one has noticed or said a word to me. It truly makes me feel invisible. Sometimes people get upset when they hear me say I’m “useless”, “worthless”, “invisible”, “barely existing”, and/or “a failure”. They don’t ask why I feel that way, they simply tell me I’m none of those things. They don’t get it, and that hurts.

I don’t have a lot of people to talk to about this sort of thing honestly and openly. Very few people want to hear what I have to say, and on the off-chance they do; they cannot relate to this level of anguish. I’m not very trusting, so I wouldn’t go to just anyone with my problems, either. People are extremely happy for me to listen to them, but it’s so rare to be listened to in kind. My own brother told me to “stop talking” earlier this week, because he couldn’t process what I was saying. That or he doesn’t believe me; I’m not entirely sure which it is. Clearly, we are ALL fighting our own battles. Some are worse than others. Compared to a lot of things I hear; my life isn’t that difficult. Many people have it far worse than I do. But my emotions? They’re so violently painful that there’s no way to wrap your head around that much hurt. It’s killing me silently, and no one sees it.

My stomach has been horribly painful for about a week now. I thought some tea would help a few days ago, but because I’m so wrapped up in the pain, I probably should not have been grating ginger. I nearly took a finger with me. 😦

When I feel like this I am often accused of “hiding”. What people don’t seem to realize is; I am so filled with pain that it’s for their protection, as well as mine. Instead of accusing someone who is hurting of “hiding”, I would think the healthier alternative would be to encourage them to be around people, or to at least not be locked up in a room as if they’re in a jail cell. 😦

Where the fuck do you meet “new people”?! A close friend and I have been debating this over and over because we’re both utterly clueless regarding this matter. We both agree that we like and prefer depth, not superficial bullshit, and drama-free individuals to spend our time with is a must; because neither of us has time for drama. It’s incredibly difficult to find people who are on the same wavelength as I am. Almost all of my close friends/best friends are people I met because of my work/writing. Every single one of them lives far away. I’ve been incredibly blessed to make life-long friends simply by doing whatever my job is at the time, and finding people through my work who respect and appreciate my ability to be real, without apology.

Genuine friendship is rare. Being able to trust another person is crucial. In the beginning of any friendship, trust is built. However, I’m starting to realize I have immense trust issues because I’ve been hurt & betrayed in the past. I try hard not to look at new people as potential betrayers. I’m simply hyper-aware of them. The one person I met this year that I instantly disliked ended up hurting someone I care about. The other person may eventually forgive, forget, and move forward, but I feel as though listening to my intuition is one of the most important things I can do in all situations. No matter how wonderful and fabulous someone is telling you another person is, take a thirty-second pause to really look at them and allow yourself to sense the truth. You’d be amazed at how important those thirty seconds are.

I’d rather have five solid friends than a dozen tarnished pennies. So, while not a social butterfly, I am 100% ride or die for my friends. However, when they made me they broke the mold. Rumor has it they also beat the hell out of the mold-maker, so don’t expect every person to be a dazzling creature such as myself. 😉 Use your intuition. I find it helps keep the nausea at bay.

I hope you all have a lovely weekend. I’ll be back soon.

copyright © 2016 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.