Writing

National Suicide Prevention Week

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

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I am quite extreme in my openness and honesty in regard to suicide. The more it bothers someone, the louder my voice will become. This is not a subject to be shy, passive, or hush-hush about. It requires a powerful voice. No one has ever accused me of subtly.

In 1993, I lost someone very dear to me to suicide. To this day, it affects me deeply. His battle altered the course of my life, steering me in directions so that the same mistakes would not be repeated. I couldn’t have done anything to save him, but is there a way to save someone else by being me; by listening with both ears, as well as with my mind, and heart? YES.

Four years ago one of my best friends lost her brother to suicide. I knew something was very wrong as soon as i saw her e-mail. There was something about the lone message sitting in my inbox, a quality to it that shimmered with agony. Having not opened it immediately, I was sick to my stomach the instant I saw it. Reading it and having the realization hit me was mind-blowing. I was, and will forever be, devastated for her and her family. I still see her brother in my mind’s eye as being full of life.

I, myself, struggle with the idea of living every single day. It is not, nor will it ever be, an easy battle. I have very little support to help keep me going or to help bring me back when I am ready to end it all. In fact, I have been told “Just do it already, I’m sick of hearing about it.” I have also been told “No one gives a shit if you live or die.”

There is an exceptionally long list of things you do NOT say to someone who is suicidal, or who you suspect is hurting so deeply that the wrong words might send them in a direction you are not personally ready to be responsible for emotionally. We all have a responsibility to look after one another.

You can claim to care about a person until the cow’s come home, but when you’re truly there for someone, you don’t let them go over the ledge. That’s REAL. That’s CONCERN. That is HUMANITY. The rest? That’s just someone trying to make themselves feel better or make themselves seem like a good person when they aren’t.

Each day, we make a choice as to what type of person we are. Me? I’ll save you from a ledge, EVERY SINGLE TIME. Even if you’re a stranger. And no, I don’t need anyone to think well of me for it. I’m just being me.

copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

“Get Rid Of Your Americanisms”…

Miss Poison Being Real, Friendship, Honesty, Life, Men, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Relationships, Women, Writing , , , , , , , , , , , ,

marc-hackI am a firm believer that no matter where we’re from, it is always a part of who we are. The place where we grow up and spend our formative years is instilled in us, no matter how far away we may move.

As a Native New Yorker, you will never, ever hear me say I am from anywhere else on this planet. “Concrete jungle where dreams are made of…”

I’ve lived in other places over the years and to this day people still stay “You’re not from around here, are you?” I will never get rid of my subtle accent, and I refuse to allow anyone to make me feel self-conscious about it. I didn’t grow up easy, but I’m proud of where I’m from.

A friend of mine, after several years of “marriage” (I have a hard time calling it that), is immigrating to the United Kingdom. Her husband told her she had to “get rid of her Americanisms” because she will be “British”. I was utterly appalled reading her Facebook post, as if this was something cute. “Yes hubby bunny, I’ll get right on that.” I had a thought that went with that bit of submissive nausea, and I totally blame Jodi Ambrose for it. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. 😛 (I’m kidding, slightly. It just goes to show you our minds are both in the gutter, and thank GOD for that! Make sure you read Jodi’s awesome Eulogy post. It is a work of art.)

I was quick to inform her that citizenship, which will take 2-3 years, as she will be there temporarily on a spouse visa, will not make her British-born. She will never stop being a native of the country she was born in. That’s like me dying my hair blonde, moving to Finland, and claiming to be a native. No one would EVER believe me, so why pretend? Why would anyone ask you to change how you speak and how you think in order to make you something you’re never going to be, except on paper? It blows my mind.

She’s not American, but she was raised to speak American English and taught to aim for a better life. I told her she’s being brainwashed, and she is, because she’s willing to let someone a good 20 years older than her tell her how to think, write, spell, what to wear, eat, etc. Five years ago, she may have been single, but she knew how to think for herself. Now she has a “husband” with all of her passwords (If you’re one of “those types”, I strongly question your I.Q.) who is very quick to jump down anyone’s throat for reminding her that she has a mind of her own. I suspect there’s a reason he’s so controlling; and I don’t find anything cute or attractive about it. It’s worrisome, to say the least. Have we been over the fact that if you use the word “hubby” in my presence, I might lose my lunch? He’s British, shouldn’t she just refer to him as her “old man”? It’s what he is, let’s be technical.

Every friend I have that isn’t American born, but has dual-citizenship in this country, is the first to say “I’m Italian.” or “I’m Swedish.” They are proud of where they’re from, they’re proud of their U.S. citizenship, but that doesn’t stop them from also being themselves as people. They haven’t stopped saying “In my country…” no matter how long they’ve lived here. I find nothing wrong with that and I’d NEVER correct them or tell them to “adapt” or to change their method of thinking or their speech patterns. They are who they are, and I respect that. They can lapse into any language they want to speak in front of me, I do not find it offensive, its merely force of habit. They do it in front of husbands, wives, children, etc. It is what it is. But when someone is controlling you, it’s a whole other ballgame and it’s NOT okay. There’s a reason men don’t talk to me like that; it’s because they value their natural teeth and the family jewels.

Maybe submissive women is a thing I’m unaware of. I was not raised to be a passive, submissive, unquestioning, brainless, giggling little fool. If being a wallflower spouse/partner does it for you, well good for you, but it repulses me. Even when a man is super quiet and lets someone run roughshod over him, it’s repulsive to me. When people make their relationship your business by publicly discussing their life via social media, they should expect people to chime in. Her husband attacked me once for being honest with her and I told her if he ever did it again, he’d be sorry for it because her friendships aren’t his business. I’ve been friends with her for over 20 years. I’m not going to blow smoke up her ass. Good friends tell you the truth.

He got her a puppy about ten months ago and she is leaving three animals behind in another country to be taken care of “by family”, with no intent to bring them to England whatsoever. That too, is absolutely disgusting and heartless to me. I suggested re-homing all of them so that they could have good lives and her response was “This will be our vacation home, we’ll be back here when we retire, so we’ll see them when we come back.” I have NO IDEA what dream world she’s living in, but in my world, you don’t leave animals behind. That is cruel and evil. She has no guarantees whatsoever that her “family” is going to take care of her home and animals. I do not want to hear how that ends, but I’m sure I will.

When you truly love someone, you don’t tell them they need to change, unless it’s for health reasons via doctor’s orders. When you truly have someone’s best interests at heart, you realize that they’re uprooting their entire life to live in a foreign country for you and that it’s an immense sacrifice. They’re not “visiting”, though I already know the outcome of this story.

I am not good with “yes people”. It physically makes me ill when women behave like that in relationships, especially when they genuinely mean it. It’s not like the sarcasm of “Yes, dear.” that many American women use. Most of us say it, but we don’t actually mean that we’re going to wash, fold, and iron your underwear for you. If you do wash, fold, and iron someone’s underwear, I hope he’s paying you incredibly well, or he’s your son and you want him to look his best. Whatever floats your boat. <rolls eyes>

Wherever you are from, BE YOU. Don’t ever let anyone, not even a spouse, tell you there’s something wrong with that. My best friends are almost all overseas, and I love them like sisters. I would never tell any of them they have to change their speech, thoughts, views, etc., to be anything more than who they are as people. One of my best friends does hope to achieve American citizenship at some point in the future, which I will support, encourage, and assist with in terms of helping her study American history so she can pass her tests (She’ll probably learn way more than I ever did, or more than I can remember.). I want her to achieve that dream and be able to live out her days with an American passport if that’s what she desires. Why not? In my mind, if a friend has a dream, you help them to the best of your ability if they’re unsure if it is attainable or not. You support and encourage. Moreover, as a life partner, I cannot ever imagine turning to a man and saying “Could you not be Welsh, Spanish, Italian, Russian, Swedish…”, etc. and don’t speak the language in front of me “because you’re AMERICAN NOW!” Not only is that rude beyond words, but it’s disrespectful.

If you’ve been with a person for a while and marry them or live with them, then you pretty much know what you’re getting into. Yes, they’re going to have odd little quirks that will drive you crazy, but if someone is going to be a psycho control-freak, you might want to re-think how you’re treated and have a major discussion about respect and boundaries because being told you’re not good enough unless you do A,B, C, D, and E is utterly unacceptable.

When I hear crap like this and a woman accepts it like that’s what you do in a marriage, either to avoid conflict or to be a submissive dumbass, it 100% makes me want to say “FUCK NO!” the next time someone asks me to marry them.

No matter where I go in life, no matter where I live, no matter who I’m in a relationship with, I intend to continue being a badass bitch. Take it or leave it, gents.

copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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Are There Words?

Miss Poison Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Words, Writing , , , , ,

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Are there words? Yes, there are always words. Even in silence, there are words.

The last few days have felt like a complete and utter mind-fuck. I am championing through it. I deserve a medal, but will settle for a cupcake.

There are so many subjects I plan on writing about, but if I did it now, this would be a gigantic mess of “What the hell just happened here?”, despite the fact that every point I would be making would be valid. I’d hit a point of “What do I say? What do I write?” and then things started happening and it was definitely the universe answering my questions. You do not need anyone to give you a writing prompt when life is FULL of them. I wish people were smarter in their dealings with me, but since they aren’t, you will all benefit from the methods that are my madness.

I hope everyone is enjoying their weekend in some capacity. Mine has been a blur thus far. I’m on my second migraine of the weekend. I found an awesome migraine app that allows you to track your headaches, all the areas in which you’re experiencing pain, the side effects, what medication(s) you took or have taken, alternative forms of treatment used, and it tracks the entire duration of the headache in terms of length. It also tracks your sleep. At the end of the month, you get an e-mailed report so you can keep track of your sleep patterns and migraine patterns. I wish I’d had it months ago. If anyone wants to know what it is, please let me know. It was created by neurologists and so far, I am impressed.

Enjoy your Sunday everyone! I am off in search of sleep.

copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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The Long Slow March Towards…More

Miss Poison Being Real, Change, Family, Growth, Happiness, Hope, Life, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing , , , , , , , , ,

nobodycanreplaceit

Someday in the not-too-distant future, holiday weekends such as this one will have more meaning for me. They won’t just be about the “official end of summer” or hoisting the flag in a show of patriotism. No one should need a holiday to be proud of where they’re from. Unless, of course, Barack Obama is your President, is systematically destroying this country, and we’re heading into an election year, but I digress. Weekends like this will eventually be about family.

I wish I’d known ten years ago how fiercely I wanted the things I want today. I wish I’d known then that it was okay to pursue those dreams and goals, without fear. By fear I don’t mean fear in the traditional sense, more in the “How the hell am I going to do THIS?” sense. No matter how much faith and confidence you have, we all have moments of self-doubt. It’s normal. You can do every single thing in your life the “traditional way” and it can still go to shit before your eyes. I think people become consumed with honoring other people’s wishes, hopes, and dreams, and lose sight of their own.

When I said that I was going to make a career change, that in no way entailed the end of me putting ink to paper. It meant “I need more.”

I have a family member who is incredibly content to fill her home with rescued animals. And by fill, I truly mean FILL.

I was told, no joke, that I should feel “immense guilt” for not choosing to personally save more lives. I had to flat-out say that while admirable, I want my life to have more to it than that. Animals are wonderful, anyone who has spent five minutes reading my work knows that I love cat and kitten, but is that all I ever want to come home to until the day that I die? No. I respect her choice, but she cannot comprehend mine because she made her decision years ago. I find it simple: We want different things. That’s okay. It doesn’t make one person better and the other worse, it means we have different ideas for our lives, and she should be able to accept it and let it go. My life is not an animal sanctuary. Anyone who cannot understand that probably shouldn’t be a part of my life in any capacity.

Each of us wants different things in life. Some people might want the traditional life of a husband/wife, 2.5 kids (or no children), a dog/cat (or no pets), and the white picket fence. And others…we want more. It has nothing to do with material things and everything to do with depth. That’s precisely what I seek; Depth. Material things aren’t always yours “forever”, but the miracle of your own flesh & blood…that’s eternal.

In life, we all deserve the chance to find the things that make us feel whole, whatever that may be. Wherever you find your happiness, may it be the ‘more’, the depth, and the eternal truth that we all seek, whether we admit it or not.

copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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Zombie Lisa

Miss Poison Fibromyalgia, Men, Migraines, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing , , , , , , , , , , ,

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I had something great planned, and then insomnia bit and there’s no way I will be able to put the finishing touches on it this morning. Perhaps later or tomorrow. At the moment, I am in desperate need of serious sleep. I am so tired, I’m shaking. 😦

I’ve had four migraines and a couple of minor headaches since going back on Topamax. I increased the dose to 50 mgs a few days ago accidentally. I went to have breakfast one morning and I was running late. I misplaced the pill I’d set aside, and ended up taking two without realizing it. However, once I’d done it I decided it was probably safe to keep doing, though I’m afraid to move to 75 mgs any time soon. I am not 1000% certain it’s the medication because this has never happened to me before. It could be any number of things, but I highly suspect this medication is turning me into a crazy bitch. I don’t say this lightly and if anyone else ever said it I’d knock their teeth out because there’s nothing funny about it. (I have since added three different apps to my phone because these pills are tiny and you never know when you’re going to need a reminder. It takes a split second to drop one and think you’ve taken it.)

It could be stress, hormones, not sleeping well, a combination of all three, or it could be a side effect of the medication. It DOES make me really sick if I go past 125 mgs, so I just asked Case Study One if I’ve been crazier/bitchier than usual. I’m pretty sure he told me to wash my face, brush my teeth, and go the fuck to bed. Truth is, I know he was avoiding answering the question. I’m not sure why men think valid health questions are “tricks”.

The physical pain is still a constant. I have my good days and my bad days. This will always be true. I spent several hours researching some new pain treatments yesterday and I will be going over them with the next doctor I see, which will hopefully be soon. When I actually look forward to seeing a doctor, it’s safe to say that hell has frozen over and become a ski resort. Take blood, run tests, and write me out all the necessary prescriptions. All I care about is feeling better.

All bets are off if the doctor says one insulting, mean-spirited, unnecessary word. I have Fibromyalgia, I’m not in your office for heroin.

copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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Pass The Hammer

Miss Poison Musings, Noise, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing , , , , , , , ,

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In the suburbs, it seems that people are always trying to “top” one another by adding on to their homes. In this particular area we all have about the same amount of physical land, but the houses range in size ever so slightly. Most of the homes are pretty standard 1-3 bedrooms with one bathroom, some also have a half bath. Those that have been remodeled within the last 1-15 years are larger internally and/or externally, depending on who did the design.

For several years I had to listen to the racket of two neighbors having work done on their homes. If their contractors were on a deadline, there never appeared to be one based on the daily influx of noise that made me want to hurl hammers at the workers up on the roof. It didn’t matter what the temperature was outside, they were always making noise the second there was a glimmer of light in the sky.

A month or so ago, a house a few doors down began an add-on. I honestly thought it was on the opposite street behind me because the noise felt THAT close to my head. Every morning the banging, drilling, etc., would begin and it doesn’t seem to cease until about 4:00 PM, sometimes later. There are days they’re done at 2:00 and those are the days I praise God for the silence because sometimes, a woman needs to think in peace, ya know?

Last week I noticed that this add-on is seemingly an entirely new wing to the house. I hadn’t noticed before because I don’t go up that side of the street often enough. I have NO IDEA how they intend to actually achieve this before I murder someone.

This morning, on a viciously cloudy day, I had hoped the weather might keep them away. Nope. At 7:15, the nail guns and hammers started. I wasn’t asleep, but it is taking every last ounce of self-control to not go two houses down and tell them to get the fuck down before I go up there myself and thrown them down.

The noise drove me utterly insane yesterday. I was in so much pain that I did what I promised myself I would not do after working until after 9:00 a.m.; go back to bed. However, it took about three hours for the Aleve and the herbs to kick in to the point where I was able to fall asleep comfortably (I took them before I stopped working because, again, the pain was brutal.). When I woke up, they’d stopped working and I was THRILLED. I also prayed they weren’t screwing with me and didn’t plan on returning to work until it got dark. With some people, you never know.

The noise made me want to die during that horrible migraine period, every second of it is like a train going through your skull, but now with less headaches, I am still auditorily sensitive. The noise physically makes me ill. My body is still in “migraine mode”, ready to protect my head at the first sign of attack. I still expect bright lights and loud noises to cause me pain. And at any given moment, they can. I still have to be careful and aware of my triggers.

Call me crazy, but I find it rude to take over the entire neighborhood with noise and not say a word to anyone about the fact that all of this is going to occur. Let people know in advance. It’s called common decency!

Do you want to listen to a drill-saw at 10:00 a.m. when you’ve got a screaming newborn and haven’t had any sleep yourself? No. Do you want to listen to this shit all day long when you worked the entire night and have to sleep during the day so you can get up and go back to work each night? No fucking way. I find this type of behavior unbelievably rude and inconsiderate. It shows me, once again, how many people have their heads up their own ass.

I once had neighbors who would make noise 24 hours a day. Their TV’s were always on, blasting. Between video games in one room, music in another, and movies in a third, I was half a step away from committing murder. No matter how many times I asked them to take it down a notch or lower it all, that would only last a day or so before they’d go back to their usual behavior. They were never NOT at home, so I never got a reprieve from the noise.

No one should have to willingly leave their domicile for silence unless the work is being done inside their own home, and won’t take months. If something needed to be done, I’d respectfully let my neighbors know exactly how long it would take and I’d apologize for any inconvenience in advance, because I was raised with manners and decency. I’m not perfect, but I know how to be respectful.

Yes, I could be at Starbucks (how obnoxiously cliche’), the library, or a plethora of alternative places with free WiFi, but that would require an entirely different wardrobe than what I had in mind for today. It would also require patience, which I do not have, and dealing with people, which isn’t on my agenda on a good day, leave alone today.

It seems like every other person is “writing a book” and quite frankly, I’m sick of hearing about it. When you write in public, you leave yourself wide open to criticism. The few times I do write in public, it’s in a private room at the library where no one can see the screen and no one can ask me insipid questions.

At Starbucks, where every other person has a laptop open to their ‘book’, the idiots are also present. “So, you’re writing a book, eh?” “What’s that you’re working on there?” Every other question feels like the cast of the Pirates of the Caribbean have walked in and are nosing in everyone’s business. And naturally, I have no desire to sit there for eight hours listening to this shit and even less interest listening to people ramble on and on about “their novel”. You’re not eavesdropping, people are just that loud when it comes to bragging. Which, in turn, makes me want to scream: “Come to me when it’s finished, because then it’s “written”. Come back when it’s completely edited, cohesive in the storytelling, error-free, and sold, then it’s more than a pipe-dream. Until then, shush.” That’s not a slap or a jab at anyone, it’s simply how I feel.

I have three portfolios that are larger than you are tall and they are full of my work. I get to call myself a writer because I have systematically completed more work than I’ve started . There are many different types of writers. Not everyone writes a book, some people choose to, but I think it’s crucial to write and complete something before bragging yourself to death.

But hey, what do I know?

copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

beinghonest

Pull The Covers Up And Leave Me Alone

Miss Poison Being Real, Depression, Emotional Pain, Exhaustion, Honesty, Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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I’m a pretty dark person. I have a wicked sense of humor and I’ll say anything goofy to make someone laugh, but when it’s my life, there isn’t a lot I perceive as humorous. I’m not the kind of person who laughs at someone else’s pain or who enjoys hearing about someone’s breakups, divorces, illnesses, a death, etc. Laughing at other people’s pain is evil, in my eyes. When someone mentioned losing their Mom last week, I sat on my couch and cried. I’d already endured a rough week and hearing the words “My Mom passed away, but she’s at peace.” made me ill. I felt SO bad for this person. I was relieved that they had support from a spouse, friends, and family. That made me feel better for them, despite the fact that losing a parent at any age is one of the worst things one can go through. I should know; I’ve already lost both of mine. I’d give a lot to have even just one of them back. I spend every day of my life feeling like an absolute orphan.

I am good at listening to others and giving exceptional advice, but I’m not very good at listening to myself in an advisory capacity. The last thing I want to hear is the sound of my own voice. I spend a lot of time trying to shut the inside of my head up. I don’t do drugs, so that means I pull the covers around me (usually because I’m cold) and close my eyes. After a few minutes, kitten comes to check on me and she’ll cuddle in, which always makes me feel cared for. She’ll look at me with such loving green eyes and I know that she is conveying her concern for me. “Why are you sad, Mama? Don’t worry, I’ll stay with you. ” And she doesn’t leave my side until I leave the room. She is the epitome of loyal, and it is gratifying to see so much love from such a little person.

Cat also checks on me. These last few weeks she has been very observant of my unhappiness and has spent a lot of time watching me, cuddling with me, sitting on my lap at times, and looking for me. If I leave a room, she’ll trot after me to make sure I’m okay. She stares at me with her deeply knowing little face. I can almost hear her thinking “Mommy’s not okay. I always hear her say ‘I’m not okay.’, why doesn’t anyone listen to her?” I don’t know.

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I’ve been so miserable that I’ve struggled emotionally in deep, dark places. Very few people have noticed and even fewer have shown me that they care. That’s okay, because it only proves what I already know; Most people live on their own fucking planet and aren’t aware that other people exist. Good for them, but please, stay the hell out of my lane or I will mow you down for shits and giggles. I have absolutely no tolerance for anyone who has their head that far up their own ass, though I am slightly impressed with their ability to physically aim so high. Since their heads never come out, there is no need to stock up on Listerine for the “great hose down of 2015”. I’ve decided to ignore assholes, douchebags, and vicious souls for the foreseeable future. I don’t care who the person is any more, I don’t need the stupidity and heartlessness.

Oftentimes people forget that all forms of depression can strike them down at any given moment. They can be the happiest person in the happiest place, and suddenly feel as though there are no words for their internal pain. Lying about it, pretending it does not exist, and blowing off the pain of others to make yourself seem stronger doesn’t make you better, it makes you afraid of being stigmatized. It’s 2015. Get the antiquated thinking out of your head and stop being an asshole to yourself, and others. It takes strength to treat a chemical imbalance. It takes strength to talk about it. You should be ashamed if you’re lying about it and hiding it. You should be even more ashamed if you’ve hurt friends that suffer because you can’t handle the fact that they’re stronger than you are. Yelling at someone who is suffering is not helpful. Screaming at them is even less helpful. You either want to help someone because you genuinely love and care about them or you scream because you lack proper communication skills.

I will yell when I’m frustrated, I will tell someone to back off or leave me alone when I am frustrated and need space, but the only person I abuse is myself.

I never know with any certainty if I will emerge from these dark places. Medication isn’t an option for me. I wait for new drugs to be released every few years to see if something new will be the answer. And by new, I mean NEW, I do not mean reformulated with a new name, which is what most pharmaceutical companies do when a major money-making drug is about to go generic. They will re-release it under a new name, having slightly tweaked it. If you’re not proactive in researching these drugs, you will spend years taking the same fucking crap, experiencing the same horrible side effects, wondering why you never feel better.

I am the exception, not the rule. Many people do find medication that works after some trial and error, even if only for short periods of time. I am chemically sensitive and I have been written off as “treatment-resistant”, which means that my brain doesn’t respond to all sorts of crazy chemical cocktails. No drug has ever worked for me on a long-term basis. Every time I “go dark”, it is up to me, and me alone, to try to pull myself out of the deep, dark hole before things get worse. I’m really tired of everyone’s opinions in regard to that. When you’re hurting, you want to be understood. You don’t want to hear hypocrisy or “That’s a permanent solution to a temporary problem.” Um, NO. I will have this for the rest of my life. That my friends, is fucking permanent.

I will never be a perfect, blooming flower for anyone. I wish people understood that depression does not diminish who I am, it does not detract from what I bring to the table. It does not make me less talented, less intelligent, or less anything. If anything, it makes me the more interesting person in the room with a little more vibrancy at times because I hold a lot back daily. I don’t shine all of the time, but when I do, I highly suggest wearing sunglasses.

Here’s hoping I will soon shine again.

copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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