Tonight is the New Moon in Pisces, heralding in a powerful new start. Pisces is the last sign of the zodiac. It is the end of the astrological year.
This New Moon is truly a new birth of life, inspiration, and ideas. It is energetically connected to our personal evolution, like a butterfly coming out of its chrysalis. The earth is changing now as it wakes to Spring/ We are also waking up to what we need to do to grow and move on in our lives. The energy of transformation is being seeded within each of us now.
This is the perfect New Moon to work with our dreams and visions, with art and dance, music and writing; to let our creative side take over. Pisces is a water element and water forms a doorway to other realms, a way of being which lets us shapeshift into what we want to be. You may find yourself drifting and caught by distraction, unable to focus. Your psyche is pulling you away from the normal world and into a place of the imagination. This is no time to resist or hold back. Let your mind run wild. This is a time to make wishes and go for what you want.
The New Moon in Pisces makes a bold statement, leaving no stone unturned. It may symbolically or directly point the way to a new path that is yet untraveled and shoot you in a new direction. This New Moon will bring wonderful surprises. There will be twists and turns around every corner. Keep your eyes open for new opportunities that may come out of the blue.
The Pisces New Moon will be a very emotional one. We will be feeling everything deeply, we may even find ourselves happy or crying for no reason. We will find it hard to sleep and we may experience weird or unsettling dreams. This is our minds’ way of dealing with our emotions and releasing them.
During the next few days you may experience feelings of anger or a sense of being misunderstood. You may be feeling frustrated and that you need to get moving in your life, that things are happening too slowly. There may be some anxiety and impatience over where you are and where you want to be. People will be acting more assertive and argumentative (traffic, work, relationships, etc). Your pets may start acting strangely. There will be more spirit or ghost sightings. There will be more intense weather patterns happening, such as storms or thunder. Try to stay calm as these will pass. There is a major shift happening right now and we will physically feel the energy.
This New Moon is all about change, it is a breath of much-needed fresh air. There will be a small uncomfortable time of adjustment as we move into the new, but we will come out of it feeling refreshed and ready to take on the world.
Let the waters of Pisces cleanse and heal you. This is a lucky time, so do things that you felt you couldn’t do in the past, be a bit bolder, a bit louder, ask for what you want from the universe, let your thoughts, and desires manifest into something real.
Have a blessed New Moon & may the Goddess watch over you.
Things I Hate About Being So Sick At Such A Young Age & Not Being Understood
Over the past few months I’ve come to realize I’ve foolishly handled the severity of my illness for years. Over the past fifteen months, I have gotten worse. In turn, people’s expectations of me are way too high. They see me power through things I shouldn’t be powering through, which leads them to believe I’m okay when I am anything but. That’s about to change because I’m ready to admit what I can and cannot do.
I cook at least 5-6 nights a week, sometimes seven. I have to stop doing that. I have to stop pushing myself to have dinner on the table like an obedient housewife, of which I am not, because not only do I feel unappreciated in my efforts at times, but I spend 8-12 hours sick as a fucking dog each day (and every day before it) and I’m still dragging my ass into the kitchen each night like a moron. I’m over-doing it.
There are so many mornings and nights where feeding Cat and Kitten makes me want to die. Bending down to put their plates onto their cute kitty place-mats, picking them up to wash the plates when they finally finish (especially Cat, who is SUPER PICKY about what she’s given from one day to the next.). It’s too much. The pain in my spine, lower back, and legs screams in agonizing protest, and like an idiot, I keep going. 😦 There are far too many mornings I drag myself out of bed solely to feed them, and once I’m up, I feel like I should be doing something, so I force myself to do something, even when I am too sick to be doing anything.
Laundry should be easy enough, but sometimes it takes me a few days to retrieve my clothes from the dryer. It didn’t used to. It kills me, because it feels so incredibly lazy. I used to do 5+ loads a week and not bat an eyelash. Now, anything involving stairs makes me nervous. Especially after my experience of getting locked in the basement and having to PRAY the door would open. I called someone when it happened (I try to make sure I always take my cell phone with me) and got their voice mail. I freaked. I had to calm myself in order to get the door to finally open. Ever since that day, I’ve been extremely cautious.
One morning, in some of the worst pain EVER, I stood in the shower and wondered how badly my legs needed to be washed. I had one of those moments thinking “Can I just pour soap on them and rinse, or do I have to bend down? I CANNOT bend down.” It was the worst feeling in the world, because I was already incredibly shaky from the pain and mindful of the glass doors. I’ve fallen in the tub a few times and, by the Grace of G-d, escaped with only bruises and soreness to show for it. I was having immense trouble bending down. Serious trouble. Then I thought “Where the hell is the back brush? How am I going to reach my back?!” I turned the water off and wanted to cry. I stood there for a few minutes, pretending I was letting the conditioner do its thing, but ultimately, it was scary and upsetting. Then, like an absolute moron, I forced myself to be fully clean; legs, back, and all, and after putting on makeup because, for once, I actually cringed at how pale and sick I looked, trekked to three different grocery stores to get everything on my shopping list. At two stores I rang up the entire order myself, bagged each item, and put everything in the car. I did this with physical pain from Fibromyalgia AND a horrific migraine on top of it. I wanted to be on a morphine drip with someone cooking my meals for me. Alas, that never happens. If I want something done the way I do it, I cannot rely on a single soul except myself. My cannon fodder cousin offered to “make me a meal” (When this sick, what are the odds I’m going to travel thirty minutes away for dinner?). I did not have the heart to tell her it would take roughly fifteen seconds before the knife and spoon are out of her hands and I’m the one doing the actual cooking. I’m a kitchen control freak. Every boyfriend I’ve ever had who has tried cooking for me has ended up standing back with a glass of wine because I do not have the patience for how another person works in the kitchen. It usually takes them an hour to realize I’ve completely taken over the entire meal, and the romantic concept behind it. I’m not a trained chef, but I might as well be once there’s a large, sharp knife in my hand and an idea. Let’s leave the good stuff to the professionals. 😉 I’m a picky bitch, just like Cat.
I have no emergency contact. Outside of my brother, who isn’t extremely reliable where I’m concerned, no one knows my blood type, the extent of my health issues, or my wishes regarding anything life-ending. No one has ever even asked me about these things. My cousin offered to be my emergency contact (after lecturing me about wills, trusts, and things that, quite frankly, nauseate me. She thinks it’s practical. She does not understand that I’ve lost two parents and I’m not interested, at the moment, in her OCD practicality.), but I know full well she will NOT drop everything to answer the phone if contacted, nor will she be physically present in an emergency. She means well, she has a good heart, but she doesn’t understand that this is a big deal. She & I disagree on so much, she’d likely leave me a vegetable if left to her own devices. Everyone else, except my brother and best friends, would pull the plug. Yeah, I feel the love, too. <shaking my head in disgust>
The questions I get asked on a regular basis leave me so fed up, I want to scream.. Oh.My.Fucking.GOD! There is something fundamentally wrong with people. If I’m in pain, it isn’t because I had a sore gym day, it’s because I have an incurable autoimmune disease that haunts my every move. Don’t ask me “Is it from your Fibromyalgia?”, as if you truly are clueless. I often want to say “No, I like walking like a 90 year old woman with osteoporosis. Clearly, I’m FINE.” I don’t feel the need to spell it out for you every single day. It’s painfully obvious, no pun intended. It drives me INSANE. “Is that from your migraines?” Really?! I’m walking around saying how sick I am, throwing up, and you’re asking me questions? Don’t. Stop and think about how it makes me feel. You don’t need to make small talk with me over my suffering and then blow it off like it’s no big deal because it isn’t YOURlife or YOUR pain. G-d help me if I ever behave like that when someone is suffering in my presence! I’d be ashamed.
When I have declared how bad a migraine is, PLEASE do not make enough noise to rival a sixty piece marching band so I can spend time with a pillow over my head and ears (still hearing every fucking sound clearly) wondering whether to kill you and tell G-d it was an accident or to go to the emergency room and beg for medical help. Why do people think they’re quiet when they’re actually noisier than anyone else I’ve ever met?! The excessive noise may not be intentional, but it certainly feels like it is. It’s also incredibly disrespectful. If I don’t want to bother someone with noise from anything, I wear headphones. It’s called manners.
There are days I can walk eight miles and feel good, with maybe sore calves later on in the day or the following day, maybe a charley horse, maybe achy feet, and then there are days I am practically crawling to get to the bathroom. Does that seem normal to you? It isn’t.
There is ZERO happiness, joy, or fun in my life. I mean that. For months I have wanted only to go to the Da Vinci exhibit at the Museum of Science. I asked several people to go with me. No one wants to go, so I was actually told “Why don’t you just go by myself?”, as if that’s an easy thing for me to do these days. I explained that without a second person with me, my health is too unreliable to go into Boston and walk through an entire exhibit solo. It closes tomorrow, and I will likely never get close enough to something like it again. Unlike a movie, where I can rent, borrow, stream, or buy the DVD whenever it’s released, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Not being able to pick up and go like I once did makes me feel utterly worthless, and I’m heartbroken that I’m missing out on things that are important to me. What is the point in living when you cannot do anything that brings you a small measure of happiness? Who in their right mind would want to live like this?! NEVERtell someone that it’s “all in their head”. You truly don’t have a clue how painful this is.
No one, and I do mean NO ONE, ever asks me what I’d like to do, or cares enough to do so. Every single free moment revolves solely around them. I shouldn’t have to spend a minute in a week crying over how badly I am treated, ignored, abandoned, isolated, or hurt by others, but I do.
My OCD is off-the-charts. I’ve alphabetized the herbs and spices in the pantry, dismantled the interior of one cabinet and put everything back in order, and under normal circumstances my books, CDs, and DVDs are all in alphabetical order based on genre. If I start color-coding my clothes, I hope someone stops me before I get out of hand.
Anxiety is part of Fibromyalgia, though not everyone sufferers from anxiety or panic attacks. For me, it began in 2002, though I suppose I’ve always been anxious in one form or another. Back then, when my father’s cancer returned for the fourth time and he was undergoing IV experimental treatment in the hospital, it triggered off something fierce. It took a full year of breakdowns in the shower, so no one would hear me upset, before admitting I needed to fill the prescription from my doctor and take the first pill. I get horrific panic attacks in my sleep and wake up unable to breathe. My body is constantly in fight or flight mode, and it is terrifying.
I’m a former gymnast. I somehow managed to retain nearly all of my flexibility and upper body strength, but I will likely never participate in a sport again. I miss being about to throw my body into the air and do impressive things. I miss the parallel and uneven bars. I miss the balance beam. I miss volleyball. I miss archery. I miss being able to ride a bike. I miss playing football with my male friends. I miss skating; which was the last thing my Grandfather taught me before he passed away. I miss being the strong, athletic girl I once was. It breaks my heart when I see and feel myself struggling to walk, and it kills me each morning as I struggle to get out of bed.
For several months last year, I would be overcome with severe weakness and would not be able to account for 2-6 hours of each day. Over the past few weeks, it’s started happening again. Am I alarmed by this? Yes. I’m even more alarmed by the fact that my application for insurance still hasn’t be processed or approved! Yes, I will likely go ballistic on someone soon because I’ve had enough of their excuses. They’ve had more than enough time to make a decision, especially after lying to me about the first application for six months. “We’re backed up.”, MY ASS. What little patience I may have had is completely gone.
The cost of the only prescription I take jumped from $21 to nearly $60 in a little over a month. I made a few phone calls and got a lot of bullshit excuses about how the cost to the pharmacy probably went up. I had to transfer it to the only pharmacy in the area that will charge me less than $15 for a prescription that is a generic and older than I am. The worst part? My doctor had given me a new prescription with three refills. It’s a controlled substance, so he’ll now have to redo the script with the new pharmacy, and I’ll potentially be out of the medication by the time he gets around to it. The current prescription can remain on file until the pharmacy gets their head out of their asses! It will also make me worry a little less because that’s eight months of coverage medicinally, which will give me time to find a doctor here, who I am almost certain will try to yank me off the medication I need and have taken responsibly, as needed, for over ten years. If I end up in any type of drug rehab, please know that doctors are irresponsibly yanking patients off of controlled substances and giving us no alternative whatsoever. The “war on opioids” is bullshit with nowhere near the amount of deaths being reported. Heroin is the problem, pain patients are NOT.
I am typing this after 2:00 a.m. I cannot, for the love of G-d, sleep properly. Not without taking a larger than normal dose of Melatonin, for me, any way, and going to bed before 9:00 PM, or just slightly later. My brain is so hyperactive and full of thoughts that there is no such thing as “calming down”. Meditation does not work. Breathing exercises do not work. And it doesn’t take long until I lose my patience and go back to writing, or grab the nearest book, even if I’ve read it fifty times.
Life will never go back to “normal” because this is not something that will go away. While there are vaccinations and cures in the pipeline, they may never see the light of day without FDA approval. Experimental treatments and CBD oil might be the only viable options left to me, and that is solely for the Fibromyalgia. I am currently trying to get into a clinical trial for migraines, but there are no guarantees I will be put on the medication they’re testing, and if I am, I’d have to worry about potential side effects of a medication that is basically making me someone’s guinea pig.
I am not okay. I wish, on occasion, people would dial down their level of selfishness and actually pay attention to the fact that I’m so far from okay, I want to scream. I wish someone would actually ask me how I’m doing, and listen to me. I am so fucking tired of biting my tongue or walking around shaking my head in sheer dismay.
I do my best. Every single day there is someone, somewhere, to tell me my best isn’t “good enough”, to talk down to me, or to treat me as though I am beneath them. I would like said people to collectively live in my pain for six months. I’d genuinely like to watch them “get over it”, “stop kvetching” (“To kvetch”, in Yiddish, means “to complain”. They WISH I complained! I fucking walk on eggshells over how much I suffer, and I’m NOT going to do that any more.), or even better “stop having a temper tantrum like a five year old”. When you do thoughtless, disrespectful things and treat me like I’m not a person, you’re inevitably going to push me to the point where you hear about it. I have scars on my tongue where I’ve damn near bitten through it. I refuse to keep holding it all in.
Where is this so-called “human compassion” I keep hearing about? It barely exists. This is such a selfish, self-absorbed world and it is sickening. When was the last time you did something for someone else without gaining anything in return? Because THAT is compassion and kindness to me. Doing something for someone and then throwing it back in their face is NOT compassion, nor is it kindness. Anyone can be a piece of shit. Try not to be one. No one should have to remind you that normal people don’t behave in such a manner, but I’m doing it because I get treated that way and I’m sick of it.
A few days ago someone forgot who they were talking to and insinuated that I am a “people pleaser”. They must have me confused with someone else because I don’t give a damn about pleasing anyone, but I am NOT going to change the core of who I am, as a decent human-being, to make someone else feel better about themselves. You’re a lousy friend to people? That’s fine; I choose not to be.
The halfway decent-looking girl you see, who took the time to put on makeup, who, after way too many months, got a haircut and touched up her roots (being a brunette isn’t all it’s cracked up to be sometimes) is not “vain”, “selfish”, “obsessed with her looks”, “lacking spontaneity”, or any such nonsense. She is me. I’m sick, I’m suffering, and I don’t have to add insult to injury and look like a fucking corpse, lest some rogue mortician thinks he’s lost a body and takes me away!
If you truly care about me, prove it!
Don’t say you love me unless you truly mean it. And don’t think you can treat me one way today and another way tomorrow. I might not say anything about it immediately, usually to give you time to self-correct and/or apologize, but I will wait for the proper time to let you know precisely how I feel about being spoken to like some kind of untrained dog you keep around.
Not every person is who and what they say they are. Not everyone is genuine. I just happen to be hyper-aware of the motives of others.
I am often short-term forgetful. It’s completely unintentional, yet people actually get annoyed that I haven’t done something or can’t remember something that, once it hits my long-term memory, is pretty much good to go until the planet explodes. Being hostile towards me over a short-term glitch is just plain rude. Especially when these very same people would lose their heads if they weren’t attached. I know where mine is.
I have no choice but to plan, and even my plans aren’t set it stone. I cannot, under most circumstances, commit to anything last minute. People get offended by that quickly, so they stop asking you to do things. Or worse; they keep asking. As if you’re magically going to heal and be able to run a marathon.
The other day I noticed precisely how bruised I am. I usually find bruises on my arms and legs, here and there, but this is bad. I had gotten out of the shower and saw something purple on my back when I moved the towel. I turned in the mirror and was utterly mortified. Each morning I usually ask out loud “Was I beaten in my sleep?” My back is covered in black and blue marks that actually DO look like someone beats me. I’m always saying how much my back hurts, but this is a first. I stared at them and noticed a pattern; they’re from wearing a bra. Is it too tight? No, or the bruises would look much worse. The others are in a spider-web pattern across my shoulder blades and there’s another one low on my back that looks as painful as it is.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been heard, understood, or listened to. This disease has robbed me of people treating me like a human-being.
I never know what else it will take from me. There is no pain relief, there is no end in sight, and it’s scary navigating this alone.
I’m sure there are other things I hate, but today, this is all I’ve got.
The Descent Into Hell Is Easy-“Facilis Descensus Averni”
I can accept a lot of things about other people. Damn near anything, but I cannot accept lying, betrayal, stealing, drug addiction, abuse, and/or the acceptance of abuse in a relationship.
As I’ve discussed in the past, I’ve lived through an abusive relationship. It was a roller coaster and the damage done is, on occasion, still present within my mind. It took a long time to fully emerge from the mental and emotional damage the relationship did in terms of screwing with my sense of self. There are some lingering effects that still remain, despite my best efforts. However, I walked away. I did not, and have not, looked back.
I am the product of an abusive home. It took my mother a long time to muster up the strength and courage to leave, but she did something so many people in her position would never do. She knew things were never going to get better, and she (finally) realized she did not have to stay put and witness G-d only knows what else. I was always proud of her for walking away. I never stopped believing that my mother deserved better. Her response was always the same, “My marriage may not have been what I had hoped for, but my children are everything and more.”
When you repeat the same patterns in your relationships (One person is not a pattern. Two is early on-set pattern. Three is a flat-out problem.), there comes a time when you have to take responsibility for errors in judgment. You have to take a look at yourself and own your part in continuing to accept the behavior as “normal”. Perhaps by beginning therapy to work through your issues in order to have healthier relationships moving forward. It’s important to do something constructive to help you put thoughts into action. You should do whatever the hell you have to in order to be rid of the cancerous person that is bringing you down. It might seem drastic and/or cruel, but that’s precisely what it is. Abuse can and will make you sick. No one needs such negativity in their lives.
Good, healthy, solid relationships do not cause you to be afraid, depressed, unhappy, jealous, miserable, suicidal, angry, hurt, and they NEVER cause you to cry. There is an immense difference between happy tears and tears of misery.
Quality relationships do not have to be defined via social media. You will see zero presence of my personal life on my social media accounts, and there’s good reason behind my decision. I believe in protecting that piece of my life because once you open the doorway into it, there’s no way to slam it shut. Even just mentioning certain people, at times, has felt like an enormous invasion of my privacy, but I will do it if there’s a reason behind it, especially if someone’s life is hanging in the balance. Ultimately, I feel like shielding someone I love deeply is more important than the vanity of showing off. What else is social media if not a form of showing off to the world? Unless you’re using it to showcase work, talent, creativity, etc., it isn’t very real. It is also one of the top issues couples have between them these days.
Whenever someone tells me their boyfriend or husband is friends with all of his ex-girlfriends on Facebook, I already know they doubt him, because in reality, how many people feel the need to be friends with every single ex they’ve ever had? No one I know.
When someone hesitates to state that they are in a relationship with you, when you have already stated you are publicly, and amongst yourselves, that is called a RED FUCKINGFLAG. Pay attention to it. If you’re anything like me, you’ve already had a thorough background check run on him and everyone he associates with to make sure he is 100% single with no children, and that you’re not his side chick/mistress. No one wants to be with someone who is dishonest AND has Dexter-esque skeletons in his closet, or qualities within his private persona. I’ve known too many people who were leading double, or even triple, lives. I’m not sure how they found the time, because living one life with one person is hard enough.
One aspect of abusive relationships is the push and pull. They want you, and they don’t want you, mainly because they do not like change. It’s NOT because they don’t want anyone else to have you. They fear change, that’s all. They “love you” one minute, and they also have an opposing side that doesn’t truly resemble hatred, it’s simply disingenuous and emotionally detached. Not everyone is capable of genuine love, and this is important to remember. As the abused party, you have to realize this has nothing to do with you and everything to do with the other person. They may come from the absolute best family you’ve ever met; that means very little when they lack the ability to treat you the way you deserve to be treated, or worse, believe they DO treat you properly.
Another result of the long-term abusive relationship is being the recipient of “guilt gifts”, as I have come to call them, especially in relationships which involve cheating. He fucks up and post-fight, you’re “rewarded” with flowers, stuffed animals, jewelry, chocolate, an expensive vacation, amazing restaurants he’s never taken you to before, you get the gist of it. He thinks these “gifts” mean everything is forgotten and forgiven, that you can keep on “as normal”, and that is precisely where he is wrong. I can guarantee something; his behavior isn’t going to change just because he sent you flowers or bought you something to “shut you up”. Make no mistake, that’s what he is doing. I used to know men who only ever bought flowers for their girlfriends or wives when they’d screwed up royally and didn’t want to sleep on the couch, or in the garage. The ones who were cheating spent a fortune on jewelry. Those weren’t “because I love you” gifts. They were GUILT, plain and simple. The gold and diamond industry is, on occasion, built not on love, but on guilt.
There is also guilt and a plethora of bullshit apologies in physically abusive relationships. Now I’ve never personally experienced a physically abusive relationship outside of my childhood, or I’d be in jail, and there’s a reason for that; I will not tolerate it. I WILL fight back. After several warnings regarding sneaking up on me and/or not announcing one’s presence, I broke a guys’ nose and gave him two black eyes with the force of a well-placed elbow. They truly did not believe I’d do it, but I’d spent weeks saying “Don’t come up from behind me without announcing yourself, because I will react. I am instinctively trained to react as though you are a threat.” Again, this person did not believe me. I don’t know that he learned his lesson, but I gave so many warnings and no, I didn’t do it intentionally. Maybe you can sneak up on a girl who doesn’t have city street smarts, I wouldn’t know, but for me, a warning is enough. “Don’t do this…” is the best I can give a person. My Uncle (G-d Rest and Bless His Soul) did not believe in allowing me to be a victim.
Normal men with healthy attitudes towards women, love, and life don’t keep making such enormous, unforgivable mistakes. They keep to their word, will be where they say they will be every single time, and don’t ever have to buy a “guilt gift”, unless they were SO busy at work they forgot your birthday, anniversary, or had to skip a major holiday. If they do come home with their tail between their legs, it’s not because they were epic fuck-ups or intended to hurt you. There’s a difference. They’ll be honest with you.
Deep down, all women know when they are genuinely loved and when they are genuinely being lied to by their significant other. Valentine’s Day shouldn’t be the only time someone shows you their love or the false kind of “love”. It should be a year-round thing. It doesn’t always have to be large displays of affection either, it can be something as simple as making you breakfast when you’re in a rush, bringing you coffee/tea each morning, or taking care of you when you’re sick. It is the little things that build intimacy and show you you’re loved. If someone knows how I take my tea within a few weeks, that’s a sign that they’re on the right track, because they’ve obviously been paying attention to things I do for myself, as well as things I do for them.
To this day, red roses make me queasy. I sold a gold necklace, including the engraved pendant that came with it, and two rings from that horrible relationship. I donated an FAO Schwarz teddy bear to a charity, because I could no longer allow it to be in the same space with me. I felt immensely liberated in those decisions because I was no longer bogged down by the heaviness of emotions left behind. All evidence of the relationship was wiped clean in those moments. I never have to go back and I do not have to choose to re-live it with anyone else, not unless I choose to divulge the information. There are a few photos that remain, and I don’t have to keep them.
Sometimes I am still haunted, slightly, but ultimately, I would rather be with someone normal, someone who understands that loyalty means remaining loyal, than be with someone who can’t tell the truth, and who thinks it’s okay to cheat when it most certainly is not. I refuse to cry over any relationship when I have the intelligence, self-esteem, and common sense to walk away from anything and anyone. I am stronger in my ability to place my self-worth over someone else’s negativity and drama.
Unfortunately, when you’re in an abusive relationship and you continue to stay, after a while, even your family and friends will stop believing you because your false mask, the one you’ve chosen to show while in the relationship, is one you’re choosing to keep in place. It’s quite similar to covering up bruises with makeup and continuing to allow yourself to be beaten. I’m not sure which is worse, but what you’re doing is a HUGE LIE. It’s encouraging the behavior and allowing it to continue in a vicious cycle. For what?! You gain NOTHINGfrom this merry-go-round of hell. In turn, any support you may have had from family and/or friends will be gone, because they will come to believe you’ve been lying about your relationship all along. They will come to believe that maybe, just maybe, you’re an attention-seeker who cannot be honest, not even with herself.
I am one of the most loyal friends in the world, always ride or die, but when I question that in someone, something is very wrong. I dislike people who force me to question my judgment. In fact, it pisses me off. For some reason I find myself unable to sympathize or empathize with people who keep going back for more. I’m strongly considering cutting ties with a friend for this very reason.
While I value the friendship and absolutely adore her,.she obviously lacks the ability to hear what I’ve been saying to her from day one. You can’t agree with me and say you know I’m right, but continue to do the exact opposite of what we’ve discussed. It’s unhealthy, and I won’t perpetrate that unhealthiness back into my own life because it inevitably results in a phone call at 4:00 a.m. where I then have to calm this person down and get them to agree that this is the end of the relationship, that they deserve better, that it’s making them sick, and that they need to focus solely on themselves for now, and that they need to start by making a clean break.
Ultimately this person is an adult and can do as they see fit, but I can’t listen and be there for anyone if they are constantly refusing to follow through on sound advice. That’s a waste of my time and quality oxygen, not to mention it disrupts my sleep cycles. I will give 110% of myself if you’re actually going to listen to what I’m saying and hear me, but I am NOTgoing to waste my time if you keep going back to your abuser. If you truly want out, I will be there for you. I will help and I will listen, but if you’re going to go running back to what’s comfortable, to your version of “normal”, then I’m out until you get your shit together.
Having written this, someone will inevitably read it and call me, feeling betrayed. If you have to call me, please re-evaluate your circumstances before attacking me. I did not name names, nor has anyone’s confidence been betrayed. I could be talking about ANY of my female friends and/or acquaintances, or even myself (Yeah, not likely.), so before attacking, get off your high horse. This isn’t about you, it’s about facts.
I don’t think it’s bitchy to question a friend’s motives on this level. I am happy you trust me enough to come to me, but be honest. If the relationship is SO horrible, why keep going back? Are you that deprived? Is that what you truly believe love is? Call me crazy, but I cannot be with someone who has zero respect for me and makes that clear. I cannot be with a person who tells me he is going to keep cheating, and that I should “learn to accept it”. Those are DEAL-BREAKERS. No sane person stays around for that kind of trash-talk from anyone. I’m more apt to knock a guys’ teeth out for talking to me like that. No truly smart man would EVER say that to my face, either. He might very well hide behind a computer screen or a text message, thinking such things will keep him safe. They will not. My mother didn’t raise a fool. I will hunt his ass down.
The same holds true in reverse, gentlemen (When I use that word, I’m pretty much thinking about Tom Hiddleston. He’s my visual example of a classy gentleman.). If your partner is disrespecting you, cheating on you, lying to you, etc., then I fully expect you to pick your ass up and walk away, even if it is terribly painful. The only issue on this level is if you have children in the picture. If you do, file for joint physical and legal custody immediately. Don’t hold back. Don’t stop fighting for your kids. Even if you’re angry with the other person, do not let your children know that there is a huge issue. They already know, because they can feel the tension and they’re not stupid. Do NOT speak ill of the other person in front of them, even if you are utterly blind with rage, be sure to hold your tongue as much as you are able. That person may be a great parent, and a horrible partner, but you don’t want your children to see you as unwilling to fight for them, or hear you talking trash. Children repeat things and they don’t truly forget.
While my life was quite different in this respect, I can tell you that my father was physically present when I was growing up, but was never emotionally present. He worked hard, he provided, but there was zero love or warmth whatsoever. I can count on one hand the times he genuinely spent caring about his children. Overall, I feel he viewed his wife and children as nuisances, nothing more. If we were sick, he’d yell about the money being spent on a doctor’s visit and/or medicine. Talk about unrealistic. Kids get sick and accidents happen, that’s life, be it with children or anyone, really. When I fell on a sheet of ice and fractured my elbow, he had a tantrum over the fact that I did it early in the year, before the deductible was met. At the time, I knew NOTHING about such things, I just knew I’d fallen, couldn’t feel my elbow, and that the pain was awful. My Mom took it seriously because she was the responsible parent. Always. I didn’t fall on purpose, but to hear him yelling at her over the phone was downright ridiculous. She cared more about me having a potentially broken elbow, but he cared about the doctor’s visit and the x-rays at the radiologist’s office. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized we were by no means as poor as he implied to my mother, blaming her for years about not working because she just “had to raise HERchildren”. Not even “our children”, always “HER children”, spoken with pure disdain. We were upper middle-class, but my father mismanaged finances in terrible ways. My mother raised her kids and went back to work, and she did that to gain financial freedom from my father, because he controlled finances the same way he tried controlling all of us.
He was the type of person who should have stayed single and never should have had kids. My mother was the type of person who followed the list of pre-set rules placed before her (Get married, have children, live your life even if it’s not perfect, etc.), mainly because she wanted to get married and have children more than anything in the world. Her marriage may have been horrible, but her children were truly her world.
I was raised entirely by my mother & Grandmother. At about age thirteen, I began raising myself (I fully believe this was a smart move because it definitely helped shape who I am today.) and I helped raise my brother. My father never once asked me to spend summers with him or asked me to visit after we were safely away from the abuse. My brother spent every summer with him (I chalk this up to him being younger and Daddy’s boy.), and did not experience anywhere near the level of abuse I did because, for years before we left, I physically put my mother and brother behind me to protect them. I never knew when things would escalate to extreme physical abuse, so I took my role as protector quite seriously. It was not perfect, but I did my best. You can hit me, but I’ll hit you back, and once my father discovered I wasn’t afraid of him, it only made him angrier. It was a physically, mentally, and emotionally abusive environment and this went on for years. No matter what my mother said or did, her words and actions would never have stopped him. Walking away changed things, but the abuse did continue in a different way.
I would spend years hanging up on my father when he’d get abusive with me over the phone. I had to reiterate to him that I was an adult, and over a hundred miles away from his abuse and wasn’t going to take it because I no longer had to. Sometimes he’d wait five minutes and call back, and other times he’d simply call the following day, as though nothing had happened. He’d turn me into the bad guy because I placed boundaries on the relationship.
Thankfully, in my intimate relationships, I do not look for a father figure. I had a couple of good male role models to keep me from going totally off the rails, but I definitely notice red flags in pretty much every relationship I witness, especially people I am close with. I have warned my brother that if I ever witness him treating a woman or children the way we were treated that I will personally remove them from the situation. I would never allow him to become my father. I hope he knows he’s better than that, because he’s likely reading this.
Sometimes my friends will call me, upset that a husband or boyfriend isn’t where he said he’d be. “He’s ignoring my calls. He’s not answering my texts.”, that sort of thing. I 100% know when someone has hit DISMISS or DECLINE on their phone. It’s a total douche move. Unless you’re in a business meeting or you’re performing life-saving brain surgery, there is no need to hit that button. Let it go to voice mail. Don’t be a douche bag..
I will grant someone a low battery excuse here and there (it happens), but how many grown men do you know who turn off their phones completely unless something is up? Not a single guy I know over the age of twenty. They might silence their phone for work purposes, they might put it on vibrate or airplane mode, but ultimately if a guy hasn’t called you in 6-10 hours, you talk regularly each day, and have left multiple messages, he’d better be in a fucking hospital because there’s no quality excuse he can provide.
“I lost track of time.” Mm-hmm. “Uh, my battery died and I lost my charger.” The words are spoken as a blatant lie, not as a statement of fact. Especially when you find a working charger in his glove box or center console. Or when he returns and his battery is at 75%. Dishonesty is dishonesty. The first time a man lies should be the first and only time you accept it. It’s your sign, do you need it to flash in neon and sparkle?!
Men are men and women are women. We’re very different indeed, but smart women are practically trained from birth to smell the lie. If ever the government truly wants ISIS stopped, they need only recruit military teams full of fierce women because once we lose our patience, we’ll take you down with little remorse.
Here’s the difference on my end in a relationship of any kind; I call to say I’ll be late. It’s called RESPECT. Hell, if I was going to be five minutes late to anything, I’d call whomever I was meeting. The same is true for my hair stylist, nail technician, etc. I firmly believe in being polite and respecting people’s time and concern for my well-being. If someone tells me they’ll be here at 6:00 and it’s 7:00, I am going to call and make sure they’re safe. Granted, very few people care about me, but those that do would definitely notice if I didn’t show up at all. In truth, it’s probably 80/20. Most people wouldn’t notice unless I disappeared for over 48 hours. They still wouldn’t be able to tell the police what I look like, what color my hair and eyes are, how tall I am, what I was wearing, my approximate weight, or if I have any identifying marks or tattoos. My height is incorrect on my ID by a good inch or so. You have to LOVE other people’s awareness and attention to detail.
I make sure my phone is fully charged before I leave the house. I keep my ringer on, even when I really want it off. I never know when there will be an emergency and quite frankly, that’s why I have a cell phone. For emergencies, and to communicate with family and friends out-of-state and overseas. Sometimes the best part of a person’s day is getting a text message to let them know you’re thinking of them. It’s a mood-booster.
I always tell my brother “If you don’t feel like talking, text me so I know you got there safely.” I always, always tell him to be safe. I always tell my friends to be safe and to text me when they arrive at destinations, just in case. A few months ago, when a close friend was worried about a trip and how it might turn out, I let her know I’d contact a friend in the same state if she needed to get out of the situation, and I did that without even asking the other friend because I know she’d have done it in a New York Minute. It’s important to check in with people.
My brother will be the first to tell you he KNOWSI care, even when I say otherwise, because no one else would ever send him fifty texts and twenty e-mails for dropping off the grid for six days. He misplaced his phone and the ringer was off, so he and several friends couldn’t find it. They were calling it for days and it kept going straight to voice mail. He knew I’d be pissed. By the time they did find it, one friend saw my last text message on the screen which was something along the lines of “I am calling the cops and having your phone tracked, you KNOW BETTER than to ignore me for six days without expecting me to react.” Poor guy freaked out and ran to my brother to say “I found your phone. HOLY SHIT, your sister does NOT mess around. You’d better call her immediately. She’s scary, but at least you know she loves you.” They were literally ALL apologizing to me at the same time. What can I say? It’s a gift. 😉
My real point is this; if someone is harming you with words, actions, hands, fists, etc., then you do NOT stick around for more. The nursery rhyme “Sticks and stone may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” is absolute BULLSHIT. It’s a terrible lie we tell children, which only sets them up for disappointment because at a certain age, many children become vicious little replicas of their parents. Words and actions, among other things, are the reason most people are in therapy trying to heal parts of their psyche. There is zero shame in that.
One of my rules is that if you hit me, I will 100% hit you back, and you’ll be sorry you pushed me that far. I’ve been told not to be proud of it, but here’s the thing; I was taught to defend myself, not to lay down and allow someone to harm me. I may not beat you to death (unless I see red, and then I make no promises), but I’m not going to allow myself to come to harm if I have the ability to stop it. And if you’re using words, I’m going to walk away. You’d have better luck bringing a knife to a gun fight.
When you see red flags, please pay attention. I’ve known people who didn’t pay attention, and they paid horrible prices for ignoring the signs, and/or their intuition. An old friend was once “engaged” to a prisoner she became pen pals with, and inevitably began visiting several hours away each week while going to school full-time and being a single Mom to a young child. When he finally got out of prison (and it took her quite a while before she admitted the prison part to me), she eventually found out she wasn’t the only person he was “engaged” to, and she called me hysterical, because she now had to wait weeks for the results of an HIV test and was being tested for other STDs as well, and she was really scared. Sometime during that waiting period, she dropped off the face of the earth and I never heard from her again. Suddenly her phones were both disconnected, she stopped answering all correspondence, and as a last resort, I tried contacting her Mom to make sure she was safe. No answer. To this day, I still worry. I’ve searched over the years and have never found her. I never found a missing persons report for her or her son, and she lived with her mother, so I feel like a report would definitely have been available and/or made public to find if something bad had happened. For me, that is quite scary and I often worry about it. Could I have done more, said more? I will probably never know, but I genuinely hope she is alive, happy, healthy, and thriving. She was a good person with poor judgment, but she was also someone who simply wanted to get her degree, raise her child, and enjoy her life. She deserved that, and more.
When a person cheats on you, it has nothing to do with you. There is often something wrong with them, it’s not something you’re doing wrong, or not doing right. I can’t fake a polite hello to someone I hate, but there are people faking entire relationships! I’ve never understood it, and I likely never will. If you experience the sense that you’re being cheated on, you’re probably right, or quite possibly paranoid, you be the judge on that one. Just remember this piece of advice: Your intuition never lies to you. Unfortunately, some people mistake firm belief for intuition and they wrongly accuse people of heinous things, so be careful and do a little research before confronting someone.
One thing I’ve noticed about every ex of mine is that none of them are married or in happy, healthy relationships, so it’s safe to say I wasn’t the problem. Okay, to be fair one ISmarried, to the person he cheated with, and I openly admit I pray for the poor soul that has to put up with his psychotic shit.
Early on in their marriage, I was informed by close, mutual friends that he was cheating on her. She was pregnant with their first child at the time. I felt bad for her, because I’m sure she believed in him. He was, at the time, a VERY good performance artist when it came to lying in a relationship. He could have shit on someone and told them it was raining, and people would have believed him. That’s how good a liar he was. I don’t believe those things ever truly change, but I’m glad it’s not my responsibility to deal with. I pray for her, but I do not owe her anything. She & I only met once, briefly, but I immediately knew something was wrong when she looked me in the eye. I said something incredibly uncharitable to her, and, at the time, completely unlike me. Instead of denying it, she put her head down in shame. She said nothing, because she obviously had no defense. Apparently she didn’t see that as a red flag though, because she’s still with him.
Since he was the abusive relationship, I try not to think about it too much. I’m clueless how he was able to walk away from me and be engaged to her and married almost instantly when a ring was still on my finger. Yes, these things DO happen, and YES, I questioned my sanity for years after the fact. However, I’m also proud of myself. He didn’t take me down with him. Having dignity and self-respect saved me. I don’t have to take care of a narcissistic control freak who refuses to admit his faults. I have zero ties to him, and for that I am eternally grateful. I dodged a bullet. I wish I could say the same for so many others who put themselves through such complete and utter hell because they’re not strong enough to truly put their foot down and walk away.
Be honest with the person in the mirror, because that’s who you have to live with. Knowyour worth. You don’t have to be an adult reliving his or her childhood experiences. I’d rather go to therapy and work on me, than stay in a relationship that gains me nothing but pain. I already suffer enough without some asshole making it worse, so I’m going to keep making the right choices. I’m going to keep good, solid people in my life who would never dream of causing me such heartache. The types of people who are smart enough to realize that I’d cheerfully rip their heart out if they hurt me in such a manner.
The descent into hell IS easy, but you can make better choices. You can choose to ascend. You can choose not to allow someone to break you. Hell does not have to be “normal”. Let’s face it, there’s nothing “normal” about any of it. Be true to yourself, and don’t ever let someone drag you down to their level. You’re better than that.
I’ve always wondered what motivates people to be judgmental about things and/or people they’ve never attempted to understand. Character trait, flaw, or simply their nature? I’m never certain, but it grates on my nerves.
The majority of my family looks down upon me with much disdain because I’m “a writer”. I’ve never understood, nor will I ever, why having an actual talent marks me as “not good enough”, especially considering 99% of them have never read my work or heard me speak in public. If you think reading my work is interesting, it’s an entirely different experience hearing me express myself in a public setting.
Here are some facts about how I arrived here, as “a writer”: After realizing I’d never be an Olympic gymnast because my parents refused to let me move to Colorado Springs and train on my own, I set out to be a police officer. I studied forensic science. My goal was to be an FBI agent at some point. I was then stricken with an illness that started taking small dreams away from me, until it took the larger ones with it, as well.
I’m a trained singer, but never pursued it professionally on any level. I love it, but it’s not my passion. It’s an interest, a talent, but it’s not my life.
My writing, though? It has always stood out, from day one. Anyone can put words on a page, but it takes talent to tell a story and convey emotion. I wouldn’t do it if it didn’t give something back to me.
I don’t judge the person who decides to become an accountant, even though I’d personally die a slow, painful death to use that word in conjunction with my own name, so why does “writer” sound a whole hell of a lot like “street beggar” when it comes out of the mouth of so many people? Why is it so incredibly disrespected?
I never set out to be a reporter or a journalist, but I did study journalism. I took a plethora of creative writing classes, for which I was eventually banned. I refused to adhere to what the professors determined “proper writing”. I wanted to write the truth and I wanted to write what I believed in. I did not want to write nonsensical bullshit I had no interest in or no opinion on. In their minds, I was disrupting the entire program by refusing to conform. It’s hysterical when I think about it now, but at the time, it was incredibly frustrating. There were so many mixed messages everywhere I turned. To this day, there still are.
Last year someone told me I should, and I quote, “Get a real job.” Having been nothing but a writer and editor for so long, no normal 9-5 job will hire me. When you can’t get a job at a grocery store part-time and not a single store in the mall will hire you due to a lack of previous retail experience, it’s downright insulting. When Walmart and fast food places take a pass on you, you almost question yourself. “What have I done? Did I do something wrong? Why aren’t I ENOUGH?!”
It took a few months of unadulterated shock, but I realize now that it simply isn’t my path. It never was, or it would have fallen into place. If that’s a disappointment to someone, then that’s their problem. That anyone would encourage me to be less than who I am is a testament to how they perceive me, as opposed to how I perceive myself.
I’m not perfect. I make an exerted effort to be who I was raised to be; strong, smart, independent, sassy, honest, loyal, and real. I’ve been through a LOT. The past ten years or so have greatly challenged me and greatly harmed me, and while that is no excuse, I do feel it takes some people a little longer to get back on their feet when they’ve walked through hell-fire barefoot. If you’re 100% healthy and able-bodied to do just about anything, that’s great. When you’re throwing up 70% of your week due to excruciating migraine pain, are barely able to complete simple tasks like cleaning and laundry without feeling weak and drained of your life force, and have to fight off taking a nap at 10:00 in the morning, then you might very well be capable of holding down what some people consider to be a “real job” or a “normal job”, whatever that may mean to most people. However, I respectfully disagree that writing is any less a “job” or any less “real”.
Does writing always pay my bills? No. Does editing always pay my bills? No. Do they help me make ends meet and provide me with a strong sense of self? Yes, if I’m careful with every penny. Will I continue to struggle? At times, all good writers have struggled. There are times I will make decent five figures in a year and other times when I’m barely able to eat.
I’m motivated to write because it’s part of who I am. I’m good at it. I try very hard not to judge what other people do to pay their bills, get an education, etc. And yet, I’m judged because being “a writer” is apparently something others deem unworthy of respect. It may not always be glamorous, but at least I have strong command of the English language and know precisely how to hold someone’s attention.
I’m not motivated to hurt others or disrespect their lines of work. I don’t care if you work at a gas station or an insurance company. I don’t care if you’re a lawyer, a nurse, or a locksmith. I do, however, care if being “a writer” is something you believe is beneath you.
It’s so much more important to be a good person, to be honest, real, and loyal to those you love. I believe your health is your true wealth. I believe all of these things are far more important than the number of zeros in your bank account. Life is short, and while money can make you comfortable, it can also make you complacent. If someone had handed me a black American Express card instead of notebooks, pens, and computers, I’d probably be a very selfish, shallow, ignorant, vapid human-being, with no real understanding of the world around me or the immense value of those I hold dear.
So, I have two words to say to those who simply do not understand what it’s like to have genuine talent and follow through on it, regardless of where the path takes them. Yeah, those are the words.
Author’s Note: There is a huge difference between being judgmental and not accepting someone’s bullshit.
For my entire writing career, I’ve had a lot of hard & fast rules. A list of “don’ts”, per se. I’ve stuck to those rules, and I’ll continue to stick to the ones that are genuinely important (Zero plagiarism is Rule #1, obviously.). However, in lieu of my upcoming anniversary this Spring, I’ve decided to throw the majority of those additional rules out a metaphorical moving car window.
There is a time and a place for everything, both in daily life and with the written word, but lately people’s behavior is feeding me such rich material (It usually does.) and I’m tired of letting people slide on things. They don’t know they’re doing it, but they’ve unwittingly become cannon fodder. And so, I want people to know from here on in, if you want to remain on my good side, don’t be an asshole who says stupid, ignorant, foolish shit to me. Treat me the way you want to be treated, so I don’t have to write about it. If you don’t care what you say, how you behave, or you forget who you’re talking to, then you’ve merely proven my point; you’re asking to be cannon fodder, and fodder you shall be.
Two members of my family are expecting a baby this summer, a firstborn son. I immediately got a gift idea in my head and decided to design it myself. I knew they’d love it because it is 100% unique, completely tailored to their interests. I’m pretty crafty when I want to be and have an impeccable eye for detail. She (the person not directly related to me) then makes a comment on Facebook about how what she’s looking for is unavailable everywhere she has looked and that what she’s seen from people who craft is “subpar”. Excuse me?!People who craft are some exceptionally talented folk. I can drool over stuff on Etsy for hours; stuff I cannot for the love of G-d make on my own, and that is some incredibly talented craftsmanship through my varied interests and tastes. In turn, I found that comment immensely disrespectful. I can do it myself, and I guarantee it won’t be “subpar”. $80+ in materials for a custom-design that no sane person would ask for, and she’s got that kind of attitude? That’s not rude or anything. <rolls eyes>
I specifically told her NOT to order an item or purchase one, that the gift was intended to be a surprise for them. I then get a Facebook message from her letting me know how sweet that is, BUT “she wants everything to match the baby’s room”. A room that is obviously not painted, has no furniture in it, and is a completely empty canvas. Call me crazy, but you just bitched to everyone you know, including your mother and mother-in-law, about how you cannot find designs with your fucking dog on it. I am willing to do one that you could literally use for additional children, if you’re so blessed, and you’re being a bitch to me? A person who you haven’t even met. Real classy. <cue the snarkiest eye roll you’ve ever seen>
In the midst of her rudeness, she then asked when she & my cousin could visit me or if I wanted to meet them somewhere. I’m roughly 30 minutes away, depending on traffic. Her sudden interest is bizarre because I’ve been here for over a fucking year. My Hand to G-d, I nearly told her to go fuck herself. I was super-polite, and then short with her and dismissive. She’s too stupid to realize that my tone went from warm and accepting to 100 below zero. She cannot accept a beautiful gift with graciousness, like every other pregnant woman I know (People are telling her they’ll make baby blankets and other items for her, all of which she is completely accepting of, so yes, I have every right to feel that her behavior was completely rude and disrespectful.), so now I’m too tired to spend months making a mobile for the baby’s crib. She can register, like normal first-time mothers do, which I heavily implied she ought to consider doing, and I’ll decide whether or not she’s deserving of a gift or not when the time comes.
Despite having not bought the materials yet, I let her know I was annoyed, for which she apologized and claimed she was making my cousin and her mother “insane”. Yeah, I weep openly for her mother (Not at all.), but my cousin I truly feel sorry for. He has enough problems without her behaving like a spoiled brat. I don’t appreciate her attitude or disrespect. I’d love to tell him that, because he’s mostly got my back in a lot of ways, we have a very good relationship, but I know he’ll immediately repeat what I say to her, to his mother, etc., and thus, I will become “the bitch”. Not true, but it’s how that side of the family likes to twist things. They all think they’re perfect. That simply isn’t possible. No one on Earth is perfect.
Normally, I might skip the gift altogether because I will play no significant role in this child’s life, but I was invited to the baby’s Bris (six months in advance). I wasn’t particularly fond of the way the Facebook Messenger “invite” was worded, either. What is WRONG with people? Does everything have to be announced and discussed via social media?! Can’t you just mail an invitation like a normal person? Or a potential save-the-date? Seriously?! Yes, with a Bris there is a timing issue, eight days, but you don’t have to message me on Facebook, the land of the impersonal pretending to be personal.
For starters, I was asked to attend, but was also apologized to, “incase ritual circumcision is offensive to me”. I wish you all could have seen me reading the message. Why would ritual circumcision offend me? I’m as Jewish as they are. It might offend someone else, but to me, it is a natural part of having a boy with Jewish parents (Please save your opinions for yourself, I’m not having a discussion about whether or not to have a circumcision on your own son, or for you to go out and have it done as an adult! I’m explaining a situation, not debating religious beliefs.). The next statement was this winner: “I was afraid to tell people we’re having a boy because most people aren’t into the simcha, they just want free food.” What the fuck did you just say to me?!That comment 100% rubbed me the wrong way. I read it five times to make sure I hadn’t hallucinated or had a stroke.
#1- I’ve never gone to an event, be it a family function or otherwise, for the fucking food. Seriously, you cannot impress me on that level. I’ve given five stars restaurants a huge thumbs down.
#2- Unless you’re planning on having me cater the event, you don’t have to worry about people going into a food frenzy <Yes, I’m rolling my eyes, but I also mean it.>.
#3- Perhaps you should only invite your immediate family (of which I am not), close friends (of which I most certainly am not), and loved ones who attended your wedding ten years ago (Despite being family, I wasn’t on the guest list.).
I know if it were me, such ludicrous thoughts would not be in my head. I’d be ecstatic and want to share with loved ones, which is less than 20-25 people, so obviously I don’t have to worry about such psychotic things, like whether or not someone is attending for “free food”. The fact that it was said truly appalls me.
When was the last time I attended a Bris? When my cousin Seth came home from being adopted. Loosely translated: A long fucking time ago. I don’t feel a deep desire to attend this one, not with such attitudes in the air. However, if I am still living in this state, I will try to be present. Try being the operative word. Mostly because it’ll kill his mother to be in the same room with me. 😉
In truth, I will have to go based on how I feel that day. If I’m not feeling it, then I’m not going. I can send a gift with someone else or mail it. Believe me, my absence will not be noticed by anyone attending. I do NOT feel obligated to kill myself for unappreciative, rude people.
When you’re pregnant, there are more important things to be concerned with than baby bedding and preparing a room, especially when you’ve got an over-bearing mother, obscenely over-bearing mother-in-law, and a slew of psychotic relatives who will bend over backwards to help you. If you’re a first-time mother, the best thing to do is make sure you’ve got a portable crib in your room because that’s precisely where the baby will spend the majority of his or her time, especially if you are nursing. In fact, I told her “You have plenty of time.”, in my attempt to give her the chance not to be a bitch and calm her down a bit. However, the entire time I was trying not to say “Hey bitch, accept a gift with a thank you, like a normal person. You’re behaving like a spoiled brat.” How I stifled myself, I do not know.
Instead of asking about the design and maybe using it as the focal point for the room, which I gave her the opportunity to do for well over two weeks, she storm-rolled over me in her desire for “everything to match”. Babies can only see black & white for the first few months, so color is beyond them. I know many people go with shades of white and grey with little black details, and they do this for that very reason before introducing color. Plus, it’s easy to change the room over as they grow. Anyone who is doing color immediately is doing it for themselves. The baby is NOT going to be impressed. On this level, I know she is trying to compete with her sister-in-law, who recently had her second child, and who moved into a enormous mansion last summer. She doesn’t have those things, so she’s obsessing over unattainable “perfection”. I, however, don’t have to tolerate the nonsense.
My Goddaughter’s custom-made mobile was a HUGE hit when she was born in 2011. It still hangs in her room, not because it needs to be there any more (My G-d, she’s almost six!), but because it was a cherished, respected, appreciated gift. It was also an item no one thought to purchase or make out of all the people who did send gifts and visit, so the beautiful piece remains in tact. It plays music and she has always loved it. Score one for Aunt Lisa.
Gift-wise, I could still do the mobile and let her deal with it (Though I personally feel she’s undeserving of such beauty at this stage in the game. Especially since I have to apologize to the person who was making the dogs for me. Dogs based off of photos of their dog. Seriously, it’s a pretty damn thoughtful gift idea for people I’m not even remotely close to.), or I can wait until the baby is born and do something last-minute with zero personality. Normally I hate the last-minute thing, but in this case, maybe she’ll be less bitchy once she realizes that the most important thing in all this is not the perfect, matching nursery, but having a happy, healthy baby and a healthy, safe pregnancy.
Women have babies all over the world every single day. Not all of these babies survive. In turn, I feel she should focus on what’s truly important; delivering a healthy child into this world, as opposed to being an ungrateful bitch. Apparently she’s picking up on some of the uglier traits of her in-laws. That or she’s always been this way, I will never know for sure, and I refuse to allow people to make excuses for her behavior and how she spoke to me.
This is how she turned herself into cannon fodder. She won’t be the first and she certainly won’t be the last. And before you ask, she will likely never read this because her IQ is pretty close to a sock. Bless her heart. Moreover, I would not care if she did read this and cried because quite frankly, her rudeness will not be forgotten. If there’s one thing I don’t care for, it’s rude, attention-seeking little shits. You only get one chance to make a good first impression. Hers resulted in over two thousand words. What does that say about her?
A lot, I’d say.
The title sounds slightly gruesome (I’m a writer who, up until a few weeks ago, was researching serial killers. Leave me alone, okay? LOL.), but it is merely a reference for people who’ve known me my entire career, or at the very least, a good enough chunk of it, and know what to expect from me.
It seems like only yesterday when I was first given the idea to write something immensely simple. After that, it was as if I’d been plugged in to something unique and special, and I certainly was. Back then, I didn’t know what it was precisely, or where it would lead, but the path less traveled has been both good, and not so good, to me.
A lot of people ask themselves “When do I get to call myself a writer?” or “When am I officially a writer?” First and foremost; there are many different types of writers. Some people write music, poetry, movie scripts. Some write books, plays, or simply share their thoughts in a creative way. When you do it and can’t stop doing it because you are driven by a genuine need to share your thoughts and acquire feedback, good or bad, then you, my friend, are a writer.
Don’t get me wrong, though. It’s important not to twist things; plenty of people “write” and aren’t true writers. It’s a fact. Many are published authors who I will not call out by name, but nevertheless, they’ve hit a lucky strike at the end of a rainbow because there is zero talent to what they’re doing. It’s published gibberish that would make any true writer cringe. I spend more days cringing when work is submitted to me for editing than I do enjoying the work of another writer. Sad, but true. Sometimes, no matter how strongly you guide someone, they simply cannot be a gifted storyteller. There’s no shame in that. I believe it is inherently within a person, or not. It is not something I will ever feel is taught.
Some people come at you, as a “writer”, from a different angle. Satire, humor, playfulness, honesty, anger. The list is never-ending. Choose an emotion and/or a genre and I assure you; someone, somewhere, is writing about it.
I’m told we all have our “gifts”, our niche, in life, and that it is through exploration and exploration alone that we stumble upon said gifts. But there are many people who are lucky; achieving a measure of success through connections, as opposed to genuine talent. Then there are those who are born with immense gifts they’re simply waiting to share with the world, gifts they are, too often, not aware of.
If my gift with the written and spoken word had not been encouraged, supported, applauded, then I might be doing something boring at this very moment; something I loathe with every fiber of my being.
I know far too many people who’ve been in the same job for twenty, thirty, or forty years and absolutely HATE what they do. I have my moments. I’ve never hesitated to discuss them openly and honestly, but my gift? No, I don’t regret it; not any of them.
I’ve spent the majority of my life being put down, shunned, laughed at, and/or insulted for being creatively talented, as opposed to a “follow the rules” type. I would rather live an authentic life, as opposed to one chosen for me by others. I would rather pick and choose my wealth of knowledge, as opposed to doing what is “expected”. That is precisely how one masters the art of being gifted with a talent.
I speak the way I write. I live the way I write. It’s one of the reasons people like and respect me. It’s one of the reasons I get feedback that doesn’t require anyone kissing my ass telling me how great I am. I don’t walk around trying to be anything I am not. In turn, I feel it helps the words be more clear for others. Because it’s honest; it’s easy to relate. I’ve had many people tell me when they could not relate to something I wrote or said, but they still respected the hell out of me for putting my thoughts out into the universe so boldly. I never looked at it the way they did, not until receiving that level of feedback. I was simply writing, and they were reading with their senses fully engaged. I call that mutual respect.
Several years ago I started shutting down certain aspects of myself that I was told were “wrong” or “needed work”. It turns out the people whispering lies in my ears were wrong. Very wrong. The only time I need to work on something is when I choose to work on it, and only then. I am fully entitled to my feelings, thoughts, unique point of view, and even more entitled to live my truth. It is more important to me to tell the true stories than it is for me to pretend.
Whispering lies to someone is a form of manipulative abuse. It’s a way of telling someone they’re not good enough in YOUR eyes, usually because YOU don’t like certain attributes they possess. Often because it makes you uncomfortable, or because you’re jealous you don’t possess the same level of strength. I’ve had people tell me they could NEVER be the kind of friend I am to others, and then turn around and tell me my friends wouldn’t love me if they had to live with me. That came from a former best friend, and it came from a place of jealousy because she couldn’t even be a solid best friend to ONE person, leave alone multiple people. She did not understand how crucial being a good friend is to the core of who I am, and so, a friendship I thought would always be present is a friendship no longer. Her choice. Her immense loss.
Most people don’t think I’m funny, which is perfectly okay. My friends and my brother find me HILARIOUS, and that’s because they get me. I don’t care if other people lack the ability to grasp my humor, because those that do are invaluable to me. Criticizing my sense of humor is only going to make me laugh at you, it isn’t going to poison my mind against my wacky, twisted humor. I have to live with me. I have to look in the mirror and be able to face that person day in and day out.
I wasn’t raised to worry about being liked or loved by others. I’m secure enough in myself to not need the approval of everyone around me. Sure, at least once a day it would be nice to not be insulted or told I’m wrong, or be accused of things I’ve never even thought of, leave alone committed, but that’s not MY issue and I’m not going to carry it with me any longer. I do, however, have to be true to myself.
So, Lethal Poison is back in business. This Scorpion may glow, but she’s not afraid to sting, either. You decide which side you’d like to be on. I’ll keep speaking the truth.
Vi veri universum vivus vic~ “By the power of truth, I, while living, have conquered the universe.”
Today is Imbolc, pronounced ‘im’olk. This is the first of eight Pagan holidays throughout the year called Sabbats. Imbolc is a time to acknowledge the First Spark of Spring, the embedded energies that have been sleeping over the winter.
The seeds that are underground acknowledge the returning energy and will begin to convert it to life deep within. Underground and unseen by man, they will start to make their way to the surface and break through the soil and begin to bud. Even though it is still the dead of winter and feels like winter in most places, the Sun’s energy has been returning ever since the Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year, Yule.
On Imbolc we celebrate the first days of Spring. Snowdrops and crocuses begin to appear, things become very spring-like with daffodils, daisies, and hyacinths coming early. Animals begin to wake from their winter hibernation. Nights get shorter and days will get longer. It will start to get warmer as winter snow and frost begin to thaw.
We celebrate the rebirth of the Goddess on Imbolc after she sacrificed herself on Yule to give birth to the Sun God. Both the God and Goddess are young. The Triple Goddess is in her maiden form and gains strength from the earth, while the Sun God will grow in strength over the coming months.
Imbolc is a Celtic fire festival, where in ancient times most towns and villages would build a ceremonial bonfire. The Goddess Brigid, the Goddess of fire, healing, and fertility is worshipped on this day. The lighting of fires celebrated the increasing power of the Sun.
Brigid was so much loved by the Celts that when the Christians were converting Pagans, they could not change the holiday of Imbolc, so the holiday was reformed and renamed to ‘Candlemas’ when candles are lit to remember the purification of the Virgin Mary, and they changed the Goddess Brigid into Saint Brigid.
Imbolc is the end of Winter and the beginning of Spring. To celebrate Imbolc light a fire. It may only be a very small one, and make wishes for the coming year into the flames. Burn any leftover evergreens that were decorating your home at Yule. Clean your home of clutter that gathered over Yuletide and get rid of the old and bring in the new.
Plant seeds for them to bloom in the Spring and Summer. Use a sage smudge stick to cleanse your home of stale or unwanted negative energies.
It was customary to make a Corn Dolly on Imbolc, this represents the Goddess, who will watch over you and your home throughout Spring and Summer. It is also traditional to make a Brigid Cross or Sun Cross on Imbolc, this is a cross woven traditionally from reeds, but can be made with anything such as wheat, straw, or paper and put around your home to bring luck and protection for the coming year. Fill your altar with lit candles and leave them to carefully burn through the day. Add any blooming flowers, such as daffodils or daisies, and anything yellow, orange, gold, or silver to honor the Sun God.
Imbolc is a time of contemplation, to think about the year that has past and the mistakes or successes we have had, and what we have learned from them to help us achieve our goals, dreams, and ambitions for the coming year. As well as planting seeds to grow in the earth, one should also plant seeds and ideas in your mind to grow and blossom over the coming months.
On the 26th of January, newly inaugurated “President Trump” (Which will remain in quotes because I cannot say it with a straight face.), gave a speech from Philadelphia. Living a handful of miles outside of Boston proper, this was “Breaking News”. I’m sure it was “Breaking News” all across this country, really.
I listened, but in truth, I felt like I was listening to someone’s lackluster phone conversation. You know, the kind you DO NOT want to hear while on line at the grocery store, but can’t help it because one person is yelling (usually because the owner of the phone has the sound up really high) and the other person is talking over them. It’s pure noise. Blah, blah, blah, blah. He talks for the sake of talking, because he likes the sound of his own voice.
My reaction to this was: “What in the hell did I just listen to?!” Yammering on and on about everything, but mostly nothing. Bragging about “winning Pennsylvania”, and winning in general. False claims, opinions, and ZERO facts. This from the current “Leader Of The Free World”. Oy gevalt!
Maybe you voted for him (Bless your heart.). Maybe you like him (You poor, deluded fool. Bless your heart.). Maybe you require your head to be examined or your dosage increased (I’m betting on both. G-d Bless you.). After all, you’re reading this and we don’t know each other. However, the man, and I use the term so loosely he should be able to hang himself with the rope I’ve given him, gives me a migraine. No wonder Melania wants to live in New York. Poor thing needs a break!
The next moment of “Breaking News” was one of the New England Patriots defensive captains, Dont’a Hightower, I believe, being interviewed in preparation for the Super Bowl on February 5th. Intelligent, poised, calm, well-spoken, educated, and eloquent young man. At that exact moment I said “Ladies & gentlemen; the NFL has their shit together and our “President” does not. What a buffoon! I’m not sure whether to emigrate out or put on my New England Patriots jacket!” (Which I’ve owned for over six years. The Patriots were always the second football team in my house growing up.)
Any representative of the United States should be poised, calm, and ready to speak with some semblance of intelligence, or at the very least, a damn good speech in hand. Stick to the facts, stick to the topic(s) at hand. Do not veer off course like you’re Hulk Hogan or The Rock. (Let’s face it, that analogy isn’t far off.)
People still make fun of George W. Bush for not being the best public speaker we’ve ever had as a President (He openly admits to this.), but post 9/11, the man had his shit together and was a rock for this country. He made me proud to be an American (I’m a registered Independent.). My brother & I drove around with “God Bless The U.S.A.” blaring from the car speakers for weeks (I will likely never listen to Lee Greenwood again, not intentionally, any way.). We were proud of how he handled a difficult time in this nation’s history. Say what you will about him; he did his best.
I didn’t care for Barack Obama, and it had nothing to do with race or anything petty. It was simply me not caring for another person, President or not. I didn’t wish horrible things on him, but I did feel he was too green to take on the role of President at the time. I simply let the eight years of him in office “float”, so to speak. I didn’t agree with a lot of his choices or decisions, and I don’t particularly like his wife either, but when push comes to shove, I feel he did his best. I feel they both did, despite disagreeing with a lot of their thoughts and beliefs, which is my right to do.
This Cheeto-colored buffoon, who is shades of Hitler, is an absolute embarrassment to us as a nation. I do not know how long his “Presidency” will last. I don’t foresee “President Pence” anytime soon, either. If he can screw up the entire state of Indiana, how could we allow him to step forward and screw up America more than Donald Trump plans to?!
So I sit here struck with the fact, and clear knowledge, that my current local professional football team has more class and poise than the “President”. Shouldn’t it be the other way around?
The New England Patriots represent Boston, but technically, they represent all of New England within the National Football League. I applaud them for holding a press conference in which no bragging occurred, respect for all involved was evident, responses given to questions were polite, well thought out, and ego was taken out of the equation. I was thoroughly impressed, and that’s saying something.
We are a country born of immigrants (On my Dad’s side, I am second generation American.), and now there is a ban on Muslims entering the United States from a select list of countries, yet none of the countries Trump has business dealings with are on that list. This has nothing to do with terrorism, and everything to do with Hitleresque behavior. Who will this psycho come after next? We should all be concerned.
Here’s a fact; none of us are safe. I know people who can’t come and go from Canada now simply because of their faith and the origin of their passport. People who are here legally as students are being punished by a tyrant. Why do you think they go to school here? To escape tyranny in their birth countries and aim for a better life here, which is a dream for so many people from all over the world. Universities will be adversely affected by visiting professors and lecturers not being permitted into this country, people who pose NO THREAT to us, or they’d all be on watch lists!
At this moment, American values and basic respect have been tossed out the window. However, we do not have to be silent. We, as a country, do not have to become animals. We do not have to allow a “President” to make us fear for our lives.
I didn’t live in fear post 9/11, and I’m certainly not going to let this asshole make me fearful either. Yes, it’s easy for me to say that. I am not his current target, but I could be. We all could. So please, contact your local representatives and demand that they put their foot down on every political level known to man. Follow them on social media and let them know how you feel.
We can either band together, regardless of our political stances, or we can watch a nation be destroyed. Truly, it is up to us what happens, what we allow. I can neither confirm nor deny what I’d like to happen, but I will say that this country deserves better.
What kind of world will our children wake up to a week from now, or a year, with a reality television personality/businessman as “President”? What next? The Real Housewives franchise is going to take over Congressional hearings?! It’s ridiculous and silly, and I openly admit I watch a few of those shows. Are we going to have the Kardashians wrestle in Jello for his entertainment? I’d honestly like to know.
Ultimately, I think one needs to be completely sane in order to run the country. He has already proven himself unfit and deranged, not to mention dangerous. Is this who we want preaching “Make American Great Again”? I’d rather give the job to a well-trained monkey.
Someone please take away his unsecured phone (After his accusations against Hillary Clinton, he should be using a government-issued BlackBerry.) and block him from Twitter. No self-respecting President spends that much time tweeting like a thirteen year old girl! And for G-d’s sake, please hire a speech writer (and get him on medication for his obvious ADD.)!
Good luck to the New England Patriots and the Atlanta Falcons at Super Bowl LI. I have no doubt you’re going to give people their money’s worth, respectfully.
Tonight is the first New Moon of the year. A new moon, a new year, and a new you. This is the time to cast off 2016 once and for all and start our journey into 2017.
The January New Moon is one of the significant starting energies to the year ahead, and is going to help blow away the cobwebs of 2016.
As you have probably heard by now, 2016 was a year of endings, which means that 2017 is a year of new beginnings. This death and rebirth cycle is playing out in all of our lives in some way or another, and perhaps in the coming weeks you are going to start feeling the “rebirth” occurring. This rebirth energy won’t fully shift into gear until the Spring Equinox, however the January New Moon in Aquarius is definitely going to start setting the wheels in motion.
A new cycle is beginning for you. The Aquarius New Moon can empower you to move in a bold direction. You may break free from bad habits and relationships. You are no longer distracted by fear and doubt. You are ready to be who you were born to be. This is a time of great luck, so go out and try new things. Use this lucky time to grow businesses, start new jobs, go to interviews, find a new love. Often when things don’t feel good in our lives, we want to change everything all at once, but take small steps, just change one small thing at a time.
Our emotions will be high and confusing for the next few days, we may be feeling happy and overjoyed one minute, then sad and crying the next. You may have problems sleeping and you may have weird, vivid dreams. Our nerves may be on edge, and arguments and misunderstandings could flare up. But don’t worry, as this will pass soon. This is our body, mind, and spirit aligning.
If you start to see your challenges from a different perspective, you will see your challenges as opportunities for growth, they keep your life fresh and lively. Your life can be much freer than you may have realized. New opportunities will emerge. Believe in your dreams coming true. Believe when you wish upon a star. A star is probably shining on you right now. The New Moon is opening up a new pathway for you. Perhaps it was there all along and now your eyes are fully open.
This New Moon will strengthen the impact for change. It is setting the tone for the New Year. Don’t allow anything to hold back your dreams and desires. Listen to your intuition. We know intuition is your inner knowledge, so allow your Higher Self to guide you to new relationships and goals. Sudden unexpected opportunities can come to you from out of the blue at this time, seize them and make the most of any opportunity that comes your way.
There are new perspectives to be enjoyed now and this reminds us that no matter how far we may have strayed from where we want to be, we can always get back there as long as there is hope and the will to move and grow.
Aquarius is ruled by the element of Air, use the energy of this New Moon to allow the winds of change to come. 2017 is going to be an amazing and lucky year, so take this moment to enjoy the new vibration and the fresh start that this New Moon offers.
Have a Blessed New Moon and may the Goddess watch over you.
I’d like to thank the two people who reached out to me with messages of encouragement, respect, and kindness after my last post about how horrible I am feeling (My feelings have only worsened.). Steven & Tasha; your words genuinely helped me and, from the bottom of my heart, they meant the world to me. Thank you both SO much. I don’t even have the words for how touched I am.
As for the rest of the world; I’m not really feeling people too much these days. Granted, I am not a people person on a good day, but it would certainly be nice if some people were more aware of their words, behavior, and attitudes towards me. I’m sick of being told how I am speaking, how I sound, how I’m behaving, etc., because I’m well-aware of my intent when I’m being human. If you don’t know my tones, then you don’t know how I’m speaking, how I sound, or precisely how I am behaving. I’m not two, and I don’t require psycho-analysis by people who really ought to save that for those who need it. You’ll only piss me off, and at the moment, I’d shy away from that if at all possible.
I believe that life, and people, has/have highs and lows, but what do you do when you’re stuck on LOW and don’t know how to rise, and cannot find a reason why you should? I’m hardwired to get up each morning, feed Cat and Kitten, sometimes feed myself, but of late, I’m so physically, mentally, and emotionally drained that I don’t know how to do it any more. “It” being “anything”.
I adopted Cat and Kitten to help keep myself alive. Cat was a foster from a kill shelter, so I felt like by rescuing her, I was saving my life, along with hers. Win-win. Kitten is from a no-kill shelter; and I love to support no-kill shelters because they’re crucial to the survival of so many animal’s lives. Unlike Cat, who has divided love/loyalties (I’d like to say she has a big heart, but I’m genuinely not sure she even likes me most of the time.), Kitten is my faithful companion. Even when I move her off of my blanket at three in the morning so I can get comfortable or grab a few hours of sleep, she forgives me in minutes. Cat holds a grudge if I move her or rearrange her on the bed. In fact, as I am typing this Kitten is making little sounds in her sleep and giving me her belly, instinctively knowing that I am by her side. She is named in honor of my original Tortoiseshell. I’ve noticed over the past two years that she is basically a gift from her; a true companion sent to go through life with me. She’s not a “replacement cat”, she’s a piece of my original cat that I know in my heart was sent to me. But lately, caring for both of them each day has been physically and emotionally taxing.
I have reached out to organizations to try to get emergency help in order to feel better, but after applying for insurance MONTHSago (which should be underlined ten times), I still haven’t been approved, nor have I received anything in writing from them, which they’ve repeatedly promised each time I’ve called. The answer I’ve gotten is “You’re in the system. You should hear from us in approximately 2-3 weeks by mail.”, before I’ve been hung up on! There’s a reason they call them Massholes, and it’s NOT because they’re all perfectly well-mannered (a small percentage, yes. The rest? Not so much.). I believe they had roughly 30-45 days to approve or deny me from day one, and that I’d then have a period of time to appeal, if denied, but at this moment I feel like I’m stuck at square one. In turn, after giving them one final call this coming week, I am reapplying. I’m utterly tired of the bullshit, because this is clearly a runaround, so I am going to fill out the application they deigned to send me (I have my original documents from last year, all I have to do is insert the same answers), attach copies proving that I’m a legal citizen with a bank account, and fax it instead of mailing it. That way, I’ve confirmed receipt of the documents and won’t feel jerked around, as I have clearly been for all these months. I’m sick of paying for medication out-of-pocket when that $20-$35 (it ranges based on the discounts I’m able to find) could feed me, or my cats. Overall, I’m sick of the struggle of trying to live, and failing miserably. I need to be able to see doctors without cringing over out-of-pocket costs that frankly, I can’t do.
Everyone’s definition of “failure” is different. Not being able to take care of what is most important in my life; that is true failure to me. Not being able to protect my loved ones and keep them safe; that is failure. Thankfully, I care, I am emotionally present, and I’m not a vile human-being, so on that front, I am NOT a failure. I’d hate to be a heartless, cruel individual who only cared about herself. Thankfully, I was raised by two wonderful women (My mother and Grandmother) and selfishness wasn’t a part of their make-up, so it isn’t a part of mine. I miss them both more than words can say. Everything feels like yesterday in terms of loss; at least for me.
This evening I merely want to survive the mind-numbing migraine that exploded on me this afternoon in the grocery store, to the point where I had to run to the ladies room to be sick. 😦 That has never happened to me in public before (except after having blood work done, and that was one time), but after that I quickly made my way to the register and went outside for some fresh air, despite the fact that it was indeed freezing and took over forty-five minutes before I could feel my ears again. The smells inside the store were making me violently ill and the noise wasn’t much better. This afternoon I indulged in silence, darkness, and a nap, but it only made the migraine that much worse. At the moment, I am praying that three ibuprofen will kick in, along with caffeinated tea I’ve been nursing since three o’clock this afternoon. Some people need coffee to feel human; I need strong Earl Grey with real sugar.
This week and this weekend, I am definitely out of sorts, but don’t worry… I’ll be back soon with something I’ve been dying to write, but have kept under wraps for years. No more. The Beast Is Back.