I was checking voice mail messages a little while ago. I find it oddly disturbing that there is a message from 3:09 a.m. No, it was not a booty call. It was actually from my brother, which would make the whole “booty call” thing extremely bizarre, but I’ll leave that one for an episode of Maury. There was noise in the background and him saying “Oh, no problem.” to someone and then he says “Hello? Well, if you get this message can you call me back?” He could have been calling anyone, there was nothing definitive about who he might be talking to. There was no “Hey sis…” or anything normal. Granted, nine out of ten messages I leave for him sound parental and stern. They usually involve the words “Rude”, “Asshole”, “Un-fucking-believable!”, and/or “Call me back immediately!” That’s what happens when you ignore text messages, e-mails, and phone calls for 3-6 hours and were supposed to be here for dinner at 7:00. It could also just mean he’s being a moron.
Message #2 was from a health insurance company. I changed my phone number five months ago and yet, I am constantly getting calls for the family that had the number prior to me. I called my phone company within a few hours of having the number and said “I’m being flooded with calls and haven’t given my number to anyone yet, what the hell?!” I was not happy. Their response was “Give it a week and if it doesn’t stop, we will change the number for you for free.”
I have told this health insurance company no less than four times that “Eric” is not at this number because it is now MINE. They told me each time that they’d “reflect that in the system”, and yet I’ve received two calls in the past 24 hours, for “Eric”. I am determined to tell them to stop calling here the next time I catch them in the act. How often does a health insurance company obsessively try to track you down these days? They’re not calling for any Eric I know, and I can glean that from the last name they used.
That’s just my landline.
I’ve had my cell phone number for seven months. The new number came with the new phone my brother gifted me for Chanukah. Nine out of ten calls that come in are NOT for me.
At least three times a week I get a recorded call letting me know I have won A) a cruise, B) a free vacation, or C) Some material item. I think it was an iPad this week, it’s usually something along those lines. Less than eight seconds into each call, I delete the message.
I’ve “won a free honeymoon” twice. One was back in 2008. Not only am I not engaged, but I never entered any of these contests. One of my old wedding magazine subscriptions enrolled me in a contest I knew nothing about, so when a relationship ended and I “won a free honeymoon” a few months later, I was sorely tempted to grab my nearest male friend and say “Let’s go honey!” I didn’t because fraud is fraud, but I was tempted. Now the idea of going to certain places makes me nauseous. Curacao? Nope. Aruba? Hell no. The Bahamas. No, but by all means, send me a postcard.
The messages that most annoy me aren’t the ridiculous ones though, they’re the ones from friends and family that forget they’re A) Not talking to an answering machine and B) Act as though I have no idea who they are. They often start with “Hi sweetie, it’s so-and-so.” I.know.who.you.are. I promise. My brain is not addled. My Great-Aunt Alice used to call (very rarely) and would always say “Do you know who this is?” She did it when I was little, so to hear it when I was in my 20’s really wasn’t cute. Don’t think for a second I wasn’t tempted to A) Hang up on her or B) Tell her “No, who the hell is this?” I didn’t though because I was raised with manners. Factor in Caller ID and unless it says Unknown or is a number I truly don’t recognize, I know exactly who is calling. No need to be formal; leave a message, I’ll call you back.
A month or two before my Uncle passed away I called to see how he was doing. He answered and after saying “Hi Uncle Bobby, how are you?” he said “Who the hell is this?” Mind you, he had exactly ONE niece, so I didn’t feel the need to follow the hello up with a name to give him assistance, but when we got off the phone I sat and thought “At least when I call my Aunt, she doesn’t need to know who I am.” I once told someone in her office, upon leaving an emergency message, that “She only has one niece, I think she can keep track!” It didn’t sound snippy at the time, but hindsight is 20/20. Most people know my voice, so they don’t need to be told who it is. Plus, they can look at their Caller ID too, it’s not rocket science.
Do you get any weird phone calls or voice mail messages that amuse or annoy you?
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 try very hard not to fly off the handle with people I love/like/respect, but every once in a while someone says something and they take no responsibility for what a comment implies. It’s perfectly okay to say “I don’t have time to talk at the moment, can we talk later?”, but it’s not okay to tell a person that they’ve “wasted their time with you” and blame you for their poor time-management skills. Especially when this is a sudden issue and has never come up before. If I don’t have time for something in the moment, I wait until I do. I don’t place blame on someone else for taking a few minutes out of my day, EVER (Unless it’s my brother, who torments me with irritating shit, but that’s another story.).
Like most people, I don’t like being accused of things I haven’t done and would never do. No one wants to be accused of heinous shit and then be called “sweetie”, “dear”, etc. It’s passive-aggressive and it pisses me off.
When a comment implies that you’re A) A drug dealer, B) a prostitute, or C) a white-collar criminal, all within the confines of the words “This is how you acquire legal income.”, you either re-read the words to make sure you haven’t hallucinated or had a stroke, or you say WHAT.THE.FUCK?! That comment is directly insinuating that my income is somehow illegal. There’s no getting around that, it’s a loaded comment. When you know you’re the absolute OPPOSITE of those things, tell me you wouldn’t flip out on the person saying the idiotic crap. If you’d let it slide, please exit stage door left. I don’t like, appreciate, or respect doormats.
My immediate response was nearly “Go fuck yourself.”, which I decided not to use as my actual reply. However, I did put the other person in their place and turn my phone off. I decided it was best to take a nap and try to let it go because there are some things you simply do not say to me, not if you like living.
I don’t want to hear ANYTHING this person has to say because I cannot unhear or unsee what was said, and there was a lot said. There are some things in life that you cannot apologize for, and I am not a “sweep it under the rug” kind of chick. I’ve made it clear in all of my relationships that if you cross certain lines with me, there’s no going back. This was a HUGE fucking line.
Insinuating things that aren’t true implies some pretty negative views against who I am as a person, especially when I’ve never been anything but good to them. I will not stand for that kind of disrespect.
Somehow, this magically became all about them and not about what THEY said. It was more along the lines of “How dare you speak up for yourself. I feel SO disrespected!” Excuse me?! I’m not the one insinuating negative crap. GodNo, you’re not selfish or self-absorbed AT ALL…despite the fact that you turn every single thing ever said into the ‘You Show’.
When you say something wrong, you apologize. You don’t turn it around on the other person and make yourself into the victim. If ever I am in the wrong, I have no trouble admitting it. Sometimes we don’t see that we’re potentially in the wrong, sometimes it takes a few days to realize the impact it may have had on the other person, but in this particular instance, I know that I am right.
I immediately replied “Are you implying that I am somehow illegally acquiring income? Because if you are, that is low.” I said it yesterday morning and turned the phone off before I said something truly awful. I have a temper, it’s not a secret. The same fiery passion and loyalty that will defend you to the death can turn against you if you cross a line with me. I make no apologies for it because I am honest about it upfront. I’ve never downplayed that side of who I am. When someone pushes on every last nerve I’ve got, I am going to push back, but believe me when I say, the person in question didn’t even get a bug bite compared to what I can actually achieve through words and actions. If I truly want to hurt you, I have the power to do so, but I use my power wisely because viciousness isn’t a daily requirement. Taking the nap was for me, and for the other person’s overall safety, but I was under no circumstances going to let that comment fly.
Last evening, the text messages started flowing in over my incredibly benign “clarify yourself” question. For over a fucking hour. I nearly laughed at the manic ridiculousness of it all. If you want to start a fight with me, you will not win. I have a skill-set and it is not one-dimensional.
Sadly, the person sending the messages has exactly one skill-set. They will get defensive and say all kinds of ridiculous crap, and later back down because they “don’t want to fight”. Well, then shut the fuck up and don’t start shit. It’s really quite simple. Communicate like an adult or don’t bother. I know four year olds with better texting and communication skills!
If you’re guilty of spelling words via text message improperly, you had better have some kind of bizarre character limit on your texting plan or an I.Q. that matches your shoe size because there’s no way I will accept it unless you’re between the ages of 10 and 16. I will absolutely NOT accept it if you’re over 30. “Ur, “U”, “2”, and “B” will drive me bonkers over time. I have a swiping app on my phone for texting. It’s free, so anyone can use it. It means my ability to go to 400+ characters is nearly as fast as I type on my laptop, and I don’t shorten words, not even the word “okay”. Auto-correct is a bitch at times, but I’ve definitely expanded its’ horizons over the past seven months.
I decided to ignore most of the texts between 5:00 and 7:00 PM. I replied a few times to say “This is inappropriate for texting, I will discuss this with you when you’re able to communicate with me properly.” The accusations kept flowing. Using my words against me, which was done by re-typing my text back to me, was one of the most comical things I’ve seen this week. My response was “That’s your big defense? I’m not even going to engage you on that.” Why? Because it is childish and ridiculous. I know what I said and when I say “I nearly told you off because of what you said, but I held back.” and the other person gets pissy about it, I don’t need a never-ending soliloquy about how difficult your life is…all of a sudden. At that point, I become completely immune to your drama. Once again I responded by saying “I will discuss this with you at a later date.” I turned my phone off and that, for me, was it. I figured the conversation could continue by phone this weekend, or via e-mail, or really, not at all. I am pissed and I don’t currently have it in me to be nice.
When I woke up this morning there were two new messages. It started off with “I don’t want to fight with you.” I’d said in one message that their anger was misplaced and I wasn’t going to take responsibility for this person being angry at someone else. That’s only fair. However, if you don’t want to fight with me, don’t start a fight.
If you’ve known me for a year, two years, ten years, or twenty years, then you KNOW that pushing my buttons is going to unleash the beast. At this point, you know full well that snotty comments, insipid questions, being nosey, telling me what to do, how and when to do it, and/or talking down to me is going to have an effect. You can’t temper rude comments with “honey”, “sweetie”, “baby”, “dear”, or “I love you.” I am not receptive to that. It’s absolute bullshit to me, plain and simple.
I didn’t respond to the new texts because I want some space before I get into it again, despite the fact that I shouldn’t have to rehash it. Alas, I get an e-mail with the contents of the two text messages “Just in case I didn’t check my phone…” Are you kidding me with this shit?!
The nicest thing I could say this morning is “I read the texts when I woke up this morning. There’s a reason I didn’t respond. I need some time before I say anything, and I hope you can understand that.”
I am not going to waste an entire day on the phone this weekend discussing this crap. I am not going to respond to any additional text messages. Until I calm down and this person’s incessant mania stops, they are persona non grata. I have enough going on in my life, I don’t need additional drama on top of it.
Just in case some people need a reminder about this.
For an incredibly communicative person, I don’t always want to talk. As a creative-type, I spend a lot of time inside my head. As a writer, it’s my job to state the facts, and when writing fiction, it’s my job to create a world that is relatable and draws you in. I feel blessed to be able to do those things, but sometimes, it feels really good to communicate with others in some tangible way.
As many people who suffer from a form of chronic pain, I have become accustomed to “my cage”. I’m good as long as I have my laptop, music (when I can tolerate sound), cat and kitten (’cause they’re soft and sweet…most of the time), movies, books/Kindle, and my DVR. Occasionally, throw some food at me. You might want to feed the writer regularly though, I’m told she tends to get “hangry”.
I caught myself over the last few days with both my landline phone and cell phone sitting next to each other while I was writing, as if I am just SO important that the calls in my life are non-stop. They aren’t. I’d get rid of the landline completely if it didn’t utterly freak me out to not have a phone at home when my cell is acting up, or in an emergency. I spend more time e-mailing and texting people than I do talking to them, though a lot depends on the other person and where they live.
I’ve received Skype messages on my phone from my brother when he was five minutes away, because apparently I need to watch him try on sunglasses and “approve” what looks good on him and what doesn’t. (Did you just roll your eyes? I sure did!) I receive goodnight Skype messages from my Goddaughter because she wants to make sure I’m not in pain. Alas, I cannot and will not lie to a four year old.
E-mail probably wasn’t created to replace letter writing, but it took over almost completely. I’m a little surprised when someone sends me something handwritten. A card when it isn’t a holiday or my birthday is downright celebratory. You should see how I act when packages arrive, because I know full well I didn’t order anything.
There are aspects of this highly digital age that annoy the crap out of me (You will read about it in another post.), and there are amazing breakthroughs in technology that people dreamed about being a possibility “in the future”, but that was 20 years ago, or longer, and most of them aren’t here to see their vision realized. My Grandfather would have been incredibly intrigued by a lot of this. I cannot picture him taking selfies though.
Ultimately, it’s okay to be an introvert and not feel a deep desire to be “amongst the people” every single day of your life. It’s okay to pick and choose your friends, who and what you devote your time to, and it’s even more okay to be yourself, without apologies.
Nothing and no one in life is perfect, but when you have the essentials, say a prayer each night for them. They’re worth more than you know.
“Speaker Of Powerful Words” was recently added to my professional bio. It makes me laugh because I don’t always realize how much power I put into the words I use. If you heard how I say things in my everyday life, you’d quickly learn it’s not any different from how I apply my voice to the written word.
One of the things I like about myself the most is that I don’t have dual-personalities. The way I write is the same way I speak in every format possible. Be it e-mail, letters, text messages, phone calls; I remain the same. It’s one of the things my closest friends have pointed out to me, and it’s one of the things they most love and respect about me.
Not everyone can handle unadulterated honesty or unfiltered realness. I, occasionally, struggle with the things people say to me when they are said with malice, disrespect, or a severe lack of clarity. 95% of the time, I wouldn’t say something with malicious intent to someone I care about. The tiny back-end percentage would be higher, but you haven’t met my extended family. I’d believe I was adopted if I didn’t know with absolute certainty that I wasn’t. I used to dream of being rescued by my “real parents” for many years, but now I know that the only person who can rescue me is…me.
Words do have incredible power. It’s important to use your words wisely, even if, on occasion, it turns you into a hypocrite. No one is perfect and there are often moments in life where we don’t always practice what we preach, or follow the path we’ve personally suggested.
People often come to me with problems. They require advice and they need a trusted ear. I almost always find that they’re struggling between logic and intuition. As someone who lives an intuitive based life, I struggle with their issues because no matter what I say, they desperately want to see the good in the behavior of others, even when they’re being hurt and disrespected, or worse. I don’t care what other people may think: Good does not reside in the heart and soul of every single person in this world. Hell, jails are full of rapists, murderers, and all sorts of living proof, but it clearly bears repeating. Not everyone is good, not everyone has good intentions, and not everyone is 100% genuine. It’s sad, but it’s a fact.
In life, I take everything and everyone on a case-by-case basis. I can be a really nice person (No, I’m not kidding. Get to know me.), but if I’m shown the ugliest side of someone, the niceness goes away in 0.1 seconds. If you throw the “bitch card’ at me, you’re showing me an ugly side that isn’t something I respect. If you break it out once and I never see it again, I move on, the relationship continues in whatever form it resides in, but I will NEVER forget that I saw it. There’s a reason Scorpio is attached to my on-line profile, it’s not just my astrological sign; I can and will see through your bullshit. I have the power to sting, and I’m incredibly self-aware. I cannot unhear or unsee red flags, whatever they may be. I attribute that to being intuitive and living my life based on sensory perception.
I don’t understand people who will spit on you and tell you it’s raining. I don’t understand passive-aggressive people who turn the tiniest comment into the issue of the century. Far too many people struggle with difference of opinion. It’s their way or the highway. Unfortunately, they don’t understand that life is full of grey area. I’m a person of extremes, but I spend a lot of time in the grey, so I understand it maybe too well. I am baffled by people who refuse to expand their own minds and learn. How else do you grow? The stagnant life is pitiful indeed.
Whenever I see “Speaker Of Powerful Words” on my bio, I feel as though it comes with immense responsibility. People talk a lot about athletes being role models for our children, but WEshould be role models for our children and our children’s children. We should be the teachers who inspire them with words and actions to be better people. There is an exceptionally long list of ways to go about that.
I believe it’s important not to treat children like babies and talk to them like they’re morons. By all means, allow them to have their childhood, but do not be afraid to tackle the tough stuff. Uninformed children, or children that spend their entire lives being lied to by their parents, become insecure and completely unsure of themselves with age. They lack much-needed self-confidence. I have seen this carry over into adulthood, so please, avoid the bullshit and be real.
No one ever spoke “baby talk” to me, so when I started speaking, I spoke in full sentences. That was one of the ways I knew that adults took me seriously. I wasn’t encouraged to be the “next President of the United States” (who the hell would want that job?! No one sane!), but all of my talents were fostered.
My athletic ability was not ignored. I spent a huge chunk of my life as a gymnast, starting at age 4. Later on when my voice teacher called my mother and told her that I could sing, really sing, and that she wanted to tutor me privately, I got voice lessons. To this day, I still sing.
When my writing ability became my voice, it was not ignored. I was enrolled in a performing arts school at the time because of my singing, but every English, History, and Science teacher was completely blown away by me. I have incredibly fond memories of them and how encouraging they were of me. They all wanted me to move on and shine.
When I moved on to major in journalism and creative writing, that’s when I came upon my first real critic. When a professor tells you you’re “ruining the class” because of what you write and tells you he will continue to fail you until you drop the class, you can either keep going or you can laugh. I did both. He’d belittle me three times a week and I’d go home laughing because I was being published for thinking outside the box. In a room full of roughly 30 of the best writers in that part of New York City at the time, he singled me out constantly. Nothing I wrote was ever “good enough”. It only made me better. It gave me incredible vision for the future.
The years have come and gone and I have yet to meet someone who agrees with him. And if I did…I’d laugh.
I may not be everyone’s cup of coffee or tea, and that is perfectly acceptable to me, but at the end of each day, I am a speaker of powerful words. I salute you for reading my work and clicking LIKE.
Enjoy the updated bio and by all means, feel free to follow me on Twitter. Anyone that would also like to connect with me on Facebook can message me.
Thank you to #ChiropracticDaily for featuring my second article on migraines. It is most appreciated.
If you’re any kind of freelancer, you know, all too well, what the “low bid” means. In today’s market, it is something I find utterly distasteful. You cannot put a price on creativity, but apparently many people are going around claiming they cannot afford it. Okay, then don’t ask for it for free, and don’t disrespect those of us who work our asses off doing what you are incapable of.
A few years ago, I had a long-term client leave me for $100 less PER YEAR so she could go to another editor. It was a big contract. Instead of talking to me, she waited until the final month of the contract and while we were in negotiations to renew, she told me she had found someone willing to charge $100 a year less than her current contract, which was paid out in monthly installments. It wasn’t $100 a month less, it was $100 total. That’s less than $10 a month in “savings”.
If she had told me ahead of time that there was an issue, I would have dropped the yearly price in order to keep the job, but overall, it wasn’t worth the argument once she’d drawn the line in the sand. If you have no loyalty to me, I will have absolutely none to you in kind. My NDA’s with this client have expired, but I have never publicly or professionally told anyone what she did, and I’ve never called her out, despite the fact that I find it deplorable. If you’ve been a client for more than a month, I tend to be pretty loyal and helpful, but this was the epitome of insulting and disrespectful. It also showed me the level of this person’s character. “I wish you well, but you’re on my shit list.”
We are all working with budgets these days, and that is a result of daily life, the job and housing market, and the economy. It is not uncommon to see people with calculators at the grocery store, myself included, or a bag full of coupons. It doesn’t phase me at all for someone to ask me to work within their budget, but when you try to cheapen my, or someone else’s hard work, that’s when it pisses me off.
I have people who come to me with jobs, thinking that a penny is worth 1000-5000 words of editing. In most cases, that is several pages worth of work, and it could very well be more than an hour of my time. So, not only is the answer no, it’s HELL NO. Yes, they can hire someone in a different country to do it, someone whose first language isn’t English, but I am a firm believer that you get what you pay for, in all things. Unless an article of clothing is actually on sale, I suspect that the lower price means it will need to be replaced in 3-12 months. I liken it to buying a bra at Walmart. It might be $10, or less, and who doesn’t want to save money? But it won’t last as long as the $80 bra I got on sale for $25 that is well made, and is something I wear often, something that I’ve had in perfect condition for 6 years. That’s a simple fact. You DO get what you pay for.
Low bidding an editor who spends months on your work or a graphic designer who you’re asking to make miracles happen is disgustingly disrespectful to me. You want sixteen different things done, but you expect it done for pennies.
I have a graphic designer I refer work to because she has the experience, work ethic, and talent. I don’t care if it’s a brand logo, a t-shirt design, or a book cover. If you lowball her, I am going to hunt you down. If you’re going to disrespect her, I am going to find you and make your life extremely unpleasant. If you’re selling a product, I am going to personally make sure no one I know buys the product. With a book, I say “live and let live”, but I will never forget the rudeness or the disrespect. I have a LONGmemory and if you’ve made my shit list, walk very carefully through life. I am not afraid to speak up or speak out.
I am open to working with people who get it, who realize that fairness and decency go a long way. But today, and from here on out, I am unwilling to work with ignorant assholes who will go behind my back, or the back of those they are referred to, and expect us to demean ourselves for a buck.
I am not a whore for my line of work. What you choose to make out of that is your issue, not mine.
When I first started writing, the advice that has stayed with me for 28 years is this: Write what you think, write what you feel, and write what you know. It doesn’t matter if someone doesn’t like it.
There may have been some profanity thrown into the mix, but that was the gist of it. I’ve been writing ever since.
I was a quiet, shy, observant child. Painfully so. Writing became this exemplary form of communication for me. It is through writing that I discovered my voice, the strength in that voice, and it allowed me to become incredibly comfortable speaking in public. I used to avoid eye contact and concentrate on the words I’d written, but now I make a point of making eye contact with people as I speak and memorizing several lines in advance to avoid looking down at what I’ve prepared. I’ve found that this alternative form of being even more direct than usual actually makes people uncomfortable. They look away, but they don’t stop listening.
To this day, I am still quiet and observant. I’m not the type of person that pushes herself upon anyone in terms of friendship, or even conversation. I don’t walk up to strangers and have conversations with them for no reason. I tend to keep to myself and my circle of friends, a circle that I am drawing tighter each day.
In my core group of friends, I am the only writer. I’m also the one who communicates differently than everyone else, probably because I do write and putting my thoughts down, in any form, is generally how I keep from killing others, but it’s also how I fight for the things that are most important to me.
Of late I’ve been reading a lot of different statements about writing from people on different levels of the spectrum, and I either find myself inspired or irritated.
I’ve said it before, but it bears saying again: Proverbial puking words onto a page does not make you a writer. Cohesiveness in storytelling might not even make you a writer. Sad, but true. We are all different. The people who drive me insane are the ones who have, quite literally, been writing for 15 minutes and expect fame and fortune.
Getting published traditionally and being successful to the point where you can quit your day job is a longshot. You might very well have a greater shot at winning Powerball or Mega Millions. A writer I love talks about that a lot, but apparently no one is listening to him. However, I’ve read all of his books since about 2003, so I don’t perceive my work as “perfect”, “fantastic”, or “superior” because I see greatness in so many people’s work. It might be someone on the New York Times Best Sellers’ List, but it might also be a little-known blogger or an Indie author. So many people have great stories to tell, and many more do not.
Several years ago I was in Barnes & Noble with my Aunt. They were remodeling that particular store and the genre I write in had been moved around. There were probably several thousand books, all one genre, all potential “competition”. I could have had an outright panic attack looking closely at them, but I didn’t. I decided that there was room left on the shelf for me. I did have a moment of serious doubt, but it quickly passed. The fact that people have told me they love my characters and would buy my books, based solely on reading a few chapters, is special to me.
This platform is where I come to be myself. There can be a plethora of emotion here, and I do not judge myself, or others, for any of it. In my professional work as an editor, I am supremely honest and direct, just as I am in every other aspect of my life. And when I’m dealing with my fiction material, it’s not that different. It’s still my voice, harsh honesty, and intensely strong characters that you will either like, love, or love-to-hate. I like, respect, and appreciate the honesty within the fiction because that’s what helps breathe life into it.
In the future, I hope to be able to share it all with you. For now, I’ll be here… Writing what I think, feel, and know. I don’t care if it’s liked or not.
Written by LISA MARINO-Molchanova 