Writing

Pre-Thanksgiving Jitters

Miss Poison Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing , , , , , , , , , , ,

Hello, everyone. It’s been a minute, and the reality is, I’ve been sick for over a month. 😦 I haven’t had any real energy, and I’ve struggled with not getting enough sleep and then getting too much sleep, if too much sleep is actually a real thing. <Sigh> According to my body, it isn’t.

Fighting pain 24/7 is exhausting, let’s be clear about that. I might be the only person I know who can have caffeine in her system, or any stimulant (My normal amount is none, but extended quarantine and curfews have led to MANY changes. I keep saying I’m not myself, and I say it because it’s true. I don’t feel like myself, sound like myself, and I am definitely not behaving like the person I truly am.). and fall asleep fifteen minutes later. Not for a short period of time, either. I can be out for twelve hours straight, or longer. My body cannot seem to get enough rest no matter what I do. Yes, it’s possible I’m burnt out, but I am still concerned.

I am seemingly more allergic this year than ever before, so I’m kind of glad I ordered tissues in bulk a few months ago. If I’m not coughing, I’m sneezing. I only noticed this recently. Apparently, you can still get the mother of all colds without being around too many people. Epic suckage.

I’ll be honest; the last thing on Earth I want to do is partake in any type of traditional Thanksgiving meal. On top of having no appetite, which I will be addressing in another piece soon, I would have been totally cool making homemade pizza or anything less complicated than a turkey, stuffing, etc. So when the turkey arrived, along with other traditional items to accompany it, I was immediately nauseous. Let me be clear: I am by no means ungrateful. I know I am extremely lucky to have a roof over my head and enough food to feed my own hockey team, but I already know how time-consuming and energy consuming this type of cooking is. I felt like I had made this clear, and still, I found myself deeply annoyed, bordering on hostile, and then I settled down and decided I cannot be responsible for that which is not wholly my idea. Period. Others have the right to celebrate, even if I do not feel well enough to do so.

I have not made anything traditional for Thanksgiving in a long time, and not once did anyone complain about this. But now, my head cannot stop going over my stuffing recipe. It is actually easy to make, but thinking about it tires me out. Lots of chopping and nailing down the flavor, toss it together in a huge cooking pan, a short amount of cooking time (under two hours), and then you have enough food for a week or more. It’s my mother’s recipe. I have since tweaked it, and yet, it tastes exactly like hers. But do I want to make it, or any carb heavy dish right now? NO.

The more I factor in the realities of “Thanksgiving”, the less I want to partake in it. The historical inaccuracies to modern day truth is something I struggle with, and I know I am not alone in this.

I spent a large part of my life being told I was white, and there was always a measure of shame added to this because of the, “privilege” it may, or may not, bring with it. I am pretty sure my long form birth certificate states I am a Caucasian female, which is incorrect (and my parents were not asked for any unobvious information, either.). To be clear, I was told at a very young age that we were Russian. Eastern European. Nothing else. Blood tests and cheek swabs would tell a much larger story, and it would explain childhood dreams of countries I had never even heard of (Circa, age two), the things I would say before ever learning anything about world history, and the things I surmised from hearing different languages spoken around me. So as someone who is more rooted in her culture(s) and ancestry, “Thanksgiving” is merely a date on the calendar. And it makes me sigh, in sadness.

Someone mentioned this is the 399th Thanksgiving which will be celebrated on U.S. soil. The history of how European settlers were somehow bestowing kindness upon those who actually showed them kindness, and as a result of their arrival, brought illness and death to the Native American tribes upset me into a headspace of feeling the way I’ve felt for a long time. Un-American. And by using that particular phrase I mean, “Different.” or perhaps, “Other”. That’s the best way to explain it. Usually when someone meets me for the first time, they will describe me as, “Otherworldly”. They don’t mean I’m alien, just different to a degree they vibe with.

For me, this is another year without my Grandparents and parents, and that’s painful no matter how I look at it. It reminds me of all I’ve lost. It is another year separated from my brother, who could not be here even if he wanted to be because traveling is unsafe, and while we knew this ahead of time, we did not know traveling into New York City, even if you did not intend to stop, would require being stopped at bridges and tunnels to ensure you have a negative Covid test in hand. This requires a LOT of on the ground manpower for every out-of-state vehicle. And because of his job, I know he can’t be away for too long because he has so many professional responsibilities. I’ve come to terms with the fact that we won’t see each other for a while. If he was a better communicator, this would not be an issue, but he’s horrendous. I have a texting relationship with the asshole. And he’s likely to read this, which is fine. I do miss him, but I have no patience for him these days. And by, “him”, I mean everyone. 😉

However you are choosing to celebrate this year, I wish you good health and peace. Thank you for being on this journey with me. For that, I am incredibly grateful. 🙂

copyright © 2020 by Lisa Marino & Poison In Lethal Doses, LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Friday the 13th

Miss Poison Friday The 13th, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing , , , , ,

I’m not overly superstitious, but today was a bit much for me. I woke up with an arm injury (I am typing with my left hand. Perhaps it’s a good thing I trained myself to use it in all situations, in case I ever had a stroke.) that is painful. I’m not sure how it happened, either, so I spent the day trying to manage my pain, in between a rescheduled Telehealth appointment, and other crazy happenings. I am praying the weekend is better.

I’m trying to manage a lot at the moment, but I will be back with better material moving forward.

Have a safe weekend, and try to lead with kindness.

Checking In Post-Procedure

Miss Poison November, Reading, Writing , , , , , ,

Hello, everyone. Nothing major to report. I should be okay-ish in about 2-4 weeks. I had a minor in-office procedure done this afternoon and practically ran out of the building screaming because, sick people. If you’re sick, please stay home. Running to a hospital attached medical building might not be the smartest decision. I was there for continuity of care, or I would not have been there at all. I was as careful as humanly possible, but I’m sick of having to be. I am sure you feel this way, too. It’s a LOT.

This week, Peace Talks by Jim Butcher is on my reading list. I included a link in case you want to check out his books (Start with Storm Front, link included). I can’t believe how long I’ve been reading Jim’s books. Fun fact: He and I share the same birthday. The first time I read his work, I immediately knew he was a Scorpio. Jim is a brilliant story teller. If a friend hadn’t recommended his books to me, I never would have found 5-6 other authors, some of whom are friends all these years later. Everything happens for a reason.

I’ll get some writing done, too. After all, it IS my job. 😉

Anyone have interesting plans this week or a book they want to share?

Current Mood > Assumptions

Miss Poison Honesty, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing , , , , , , , , , , ,

I keep asking myself when a day won’t feel, “rough”, “tough”, “heartbreaking”, “emotionally taxing”, “lonely”, or “deeply upsetting”. The fact of the matter is, as someone who rarely cries, I’ve been an emotional tornado. I’ve cried so much over the past few days, and that only angers me.

In the past week I’ve nearly hyperventilated from anxiety (and being overstimulated in a small crowd. Thank you, Anthony for getting me the hell out of there!), felt re-traumatized by photos and memories, and I’ve been going to bed early to try and regulate my sleep schedule (I haven’t even factored in the pain I’m in 24/7.). I’m having weird dreams and Complex PTSD medication can only do so much. Nothing is perfect. The medication is failing and my sleep medication is waking me hours before I should ever see the light of day. I hope a few adjustments with the new medication will make a difference, but nothing is etched in stone. I try, but I don’t have much hope in these things.

The words, “chemically resistant” and “treatment resistant”, are VERY sad words to hear, even if you’ve known them to be a fact from day one. Every day, I do my part to represent the Mental Health Community honestly and openly, with no hidden agenda. I remember EVERY moment and every person who has tried to make me feel ashamed for something outside of my control. If you’ve ever felt that way, you’re NOT alone. Consider how miserable other people must be to criticize you without just cause, talk behind your back, or medication shame you in public. These people lack kindness, compassion, empathy, and basic human decency.

Last week, a suicide prevention organization reached out to me. I was actually offended by what they had to say because prior to hearing from them (An organization which should know better!), two other organizations asked me to become a Mental Health Awareness Ambassador for them. Since this is a non-paid position, I told each of them to contact me directly if they wanted to pursue this (They didn’t.). I am already a card-carrying green ribbon ambassador. If someone wants me to be the face of something, then they need to know my time is worth being paid for. I paid my dues a LONG time ago and will not work for free. I’m not new to this experience, nor am I newly diagnosed. I’ve suffered my way through life and, somehow, probably out of sheer stupidity, I am still here.

To those who’ve been treating me like my friendship, love, loyalty, kindness, and time are expendable; FUCK YOU. You get what you give. I was fine before you ever came along and I will survive without you. Please know this.

I’m not okay. I’ve been clear about this. Maybe this level of brutal honesty will help others.

**If you’re struggling with mental health issues, and you aren’t sure where to go, please message me. I will provide information for your area.**

World Mental Health Day 2020

Miss Poison Mental Health, World Mental Health Day, Writing , , , , , , ,

Today is World Mental Health Day, and as someone who discusses mental health throughout the course of the year, I come up short today. I come up short because I am dealing with my own battles, and they have been cruel to me. Hell, so have the people who are supposed to be “on my side”. Know this; the majority of mental health issues are fought silently, with no support at all.

I’m struggling. I’ve been struggling, and a few people close to me are actually offended/bothered by my speaking out about it. They don’t like the answers I am giving them, so I’ve decided to say nothing. There’s a gigantic, “Fuck you” elephant in the room, and I’m not going to ignore it or accept their bullshit politely. That’s not who I am and it’s not how I roll. If the tables were turned, there’s no reason for me to be a bitch or to be hurtful to anyone who is already hurting enough. I call that empathy and compassion. We aren’t ALL born with these traits.

Some people, by proxy, should have a more sensitive approach to mental health patients, especially those who’ve hit patches which required hospitalization(s), doctors, medication, and/or therapy. You don’t get to act superior to those of us who do not suffer from passing issues, but suffer tremendously with DAILY struggles. And quite frankly, you don’t get to dictate to me. Ever.

Only I truly know how bad I am suffering. I’m the one who asked for medication, adding on another failed drug which made me sick and caused me to need an additional week to get it out of my system. For most people, it leaves in twelve hours. It somehow built up in my system, in less than ten doses, to the point where my doctor and I were stumped by it because it’s not supposed to linger in the system.

I was prescribed something new yesterday, but the pharmacy is out of stock and had to order it. Moreover, my doctor won’t be in the office this coming week, so I will not get to speak to him until later this month. This may not seem like a big deal, but it is when you’re starting new medication and you’re slightly freaked out by it. I have valid concerns when he isn’t available, despite him assuring me that I can have the hospital contact him no matter where he is. I appreciate knowing this, but I feel like it’s only to be used in a dire emergency. I would never use it in any other fashion. Here’s hoping I NEVER have to use it.

Setting aside this one day for, “World Mental Health” is almost insulting. Suicide numbers are up. Prescription numbers for anxiety, depression, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, insomnia, and commonly associated comorbidities are up. You can’t deny the facts.

At the start of my mental health journey, I lost almost every friend I had, including my best friend of twelve years. Many people acted like it wasn’t real, and if they did treat it as something real, they suddenly didn’t want me around them. Let me make something abundantly clear for the uneducated and ignorant; Mental health is NOT a communicable disease. If you will so easily revoke your love and friendship from someone, then you are far more beastly than what mental health does to millions of us solo.

This was a long time ago, but as I’ve been actively working on trauma over the past few years, things of this nature have resurfaced and hurt me all over again. I hesitate to bring too many new people into my life for precisely this reason. Instead of seeing me as a person, people tend to see me as damaged. I am no more damaged than anyone else. Life is not point A to point Z. There are twists, turns, shocks, emotions, pain, and surprises along the way. There are journeys no one but you can participate in. No matter how hard people try to project this false image of life perfection, there’s no such thing. There’s no such thing as the perfect anything. The word itself is both overused and improperly used.

This is what brings me to today’s reality; I genuinely have nothing to offer. Despite being voted “A strong voice for the mental health community”, sometimes I need to be silent. Sometimes I need to put my headphones on and hear nothing, but music. People communicate with me via text and Facebook messenger, and I’d delete both if I could most days. No one ever picks up the phone to see how I’m doing, because people are so wrapped up in themselves these days, and I don’t trust enough people to discuss any of this crap at length.

Last year, when I had to have genetic testing done to see if a medication was safe or not, I mentioned it in passing to another family member. This person didn’t bother to ask if I was all right, but wanted to know what medication it was. I didn’t provide an answer because our ancestry is so different (She does not have any of my maternal ancestry.), despite being related, and because she can figure it out for herself since it’s part of her job. If I hadn’t found the fine print on this particular drug, I never would have been tested. It is a medication for depression which requires a blood test if you have Far East Asian ancestry. I had to factor this in since death was a rare side effect for those carrying two specific Asian genes, but most people will probably never require this test. And really, if I share something deeply personal, I would think any normal person would ask how I’m doing. Alas, I’m trying to come to terms with the fact that few people have good manners. Or common fucking sense.

So, as World Mental Health Day comes to a close (from where I’m sitting), I’m going to take medication for anxiety, insomnia, and Complex PTSD. I am also going to include a few muscle relaxers because, as my migraine treatment wears off, it puts a heavier load on muscles in my face, head, neck, shoulders, and upper back. And I’m going to try to forge ahead, like most people who suffer and survive. We aren’t quite sure what we’re surviving for most days, but we do it, nonetheless.

copyright © 2020 by Lisa Marino & Poison In Lethal Doses, LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

October

Miss Poison Writing , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

This is my favorite season and favorite time of year, but after an emotional, rage-filled moment yesterday, I am questioning EVERYTHING in my life.

To be fair to myself, I reacted via a triggering comment made to me, and new medication that, without my knowing in advance, causes people to occasionally react in a volatile fashion. I’ve stopped the medication, obviously. I don’t ever want to be the type of person who uses her medication as an excuse not to behave properly. That’s unacceptable to me. It’s going to take a week or so to get it fully out of my system, which isn’t a common issue for others, but apparently, for me, it builds up. For most people, it it out of their system within 12-24 hours. I am feeling is gradually leave, but nowhere near fast enough. 😦

I never ask my doctor about trying new medication unless things are bad. This was “new to me” medication, and I should have done extensive research before taking my first capsule. I openly admit to feeling stupid, but relieved that I quickly found the info and said, “I can’t do this anymore.” I had JUST spoken to him yesterday about the drug and was trying to tough it out past the side effects, but that one moment was one moment too many.

When you’re suffering and working solo on your pain/trauma/harm, anything can resurface and cause you to react. That’s what life has been like for me for the past few years, but I haven’t mentioned it. I’ve tried to cope silently, and in turn, I’ve retraumatized myself in several different ways. It is sad and upsetting, and I wish I had the energy to discuss it at length, but I don’t. I feel empty because this is an exhausting process. It’s made worse by no one asking how you’re doing or reaching out to you out of any kind of genuine concern or love for you, which I find SO insulting.

In times like this, I take a huge step back from people. I stop reaching out to them because, quite frankly, enough is enough. The world doesn’t revolve around others who have zero interest in doing the same for you. At the start of quarantine, I reached out to all of my friends to make sure everyone was doing okay, and I let damn near everyone know I was available if they needed to talk. I was mostly ignored. And then, at the end of July, my cousin passed away from terminal lung cancer. I reached out to two of her children, with whom I have solid relationships with, but I know they will call or text if they are having a rough time. They have their support systems. I do not.

I don’t speak to 96% of my blood relatives, and I have my reasons. If you have to find out that your Aunt passed away by finding her obituary online (after not being able to reach her by phone), that is a testament to how your cousins actually feel about you. My father’s side of the family baffles me. My mother’s side isn’t much better, but at least a few people value me enough to maintain a relationship of some kind. One of my cousins is sending me distantly related cousins via Facebook because she uploaded her DNA onto 23andMe and located people this way. If I wanted to upload my DNA to find family, I would do it myself. The truth is, I have enough distant relatives to last a lifetime and no deep-seeded need to “connect” with people I don’t know at this stage in my life. Especially with people in their 70s, 80s, 90s, etc. Let them live and be well, but I would much prefer a few peers. I don’t want conversations about who died, and when. Hard pass.

So yeah, I am struggling. I am suffering. I’m in a dark place. I am usually on a telehealth appointment once a week with my doctor, and despite writing and doing research for various projects I have in the works, I feel like I am mostly achieving nothing at all.

I am either asleep or not sleeping at all. I am in a lot of pain, so I have extremely limited what I do and where I go. After getting sick last month for a while (and having my symptoms suddenly disappear), I wonder if I need to be tested for Covid. It’s hard to tell if my cough is “just allergies”. I might have a minor cold, but it’s the feverish feeling with no fever and insane chills, that make me worry. Yes, this could be a major Fibromyalgia flare-up, or something valid. Unfortunately, when I did call my doctor’s office about this, they weren’t the least bit concerned. The fact that a persistent cough makes me feel like there’s eucalyptus living inside my chest was of zero concern to them, but they thought they were doing me a favor by letting me know I could go and get tested, and they’d fax a request in wherever I decided to go. Instead, I called a local Urgent Care and they said, “Just come in. We don’t need a note or prescription from your doctor, and it’s covered by your insurance.” There’s also free testing being done in the area, so I’m covered if I do need to go. My insurance has called, texted, and sent letters to let me know any testing or treatment will be 100% covered. If I go, I will verify it over the phone, just to be on the safe side of potentially receiving an astronomical bill.

As it begins to dip into the 40s and 50s here, my entire body feels like someone poured -30 degree blood into my veins. Even if it’s 70 degrees outside, I am bundled up like it’s about to snow. I can’t seem to shake the chill. And yet, this could just be my new normal. 😦 I will not know until Spring, pretty much.

Here’s hoping some of this lifts for me and I am able to enjoy the Fall version of October. Realistically, I’m not holding my breath.

copyright © 2020 by Lisa Marino & Poison In Lethal Doses, LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Happy Birthday, Brother (S dnem ​​rozhdeniya, brat)

Miss Poison Birthdays, My Brother, Writing , , , , ,

Happy Birthday, M! You’ve been such an amazing brother, especially this past year. I’ve seen how much you’ve grown, and how far you have come as a person. You always try to learn and make changes. You work hard on personal and professional development. I KNOW how hard you try to help others each day, even when they don’t deserve it. I’m proud of you. I miss you. And today, I celebrate the hell out of the awesome human-being you are. Love you, dude.

#LibraSeason♎ #MyOGRideOrDie #ThisIsHowWeGetIntoTrouble #Laughter #SameSenseOfHumor #MyBrother #BestLookingDudeInMyFamily #OverTheSpeedLimit #ListeningToTHATSong #FightHardLoveHonestly #GetHonest #HesGotMyBack

Rosh Hashanah 5781

Miss Poison Judaism, Rosh Hashanah, Writing , , , ,

It’s #RoshHashanah🍎🍏🍯 and we are heading into the year 5781. If you’d like additional information regarding this High Holiday, or #Judaism🔯, I will cheerfully send you a list of must-reads. 📚

🍝 This year, I’m passing some of my centuries old recipes down to a friend who is a bigger #Foodie than even me. I’m also making her swear on a stack of Bibles not to give away recipe secrets until I’m dead.

🍛 If you’re looking for something different to check out online, please visit @thepeckishthinker and allow well-written words and beautiful food photos to entertain and inspire you. I’ll be over here, on the corner of #PoisonInLethalDoses and #HowUncensoredCanYouGet. You can also go directly to PeckishThinker.com

L’Shana Tovah
I planted two at the end of August and look forward to adding 4-6 more to different regions next year. We do this to honor loved ones, to memorialize them, to celebrate, etc. Many were planted in my Grandfather’s name after he passed away, so I always associate this gesture with positive energy. The tree will outlive us all.

Not Quite

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

img_20200812_230311_836

I’m still not doing too great post-treatment. I’m either sleeping too little or too much, and the amount of pain I am in may last another 7-10 days. The plus side of this is that I was approved to start taking Nurtec. I’ll figure this out as I go, but thus far, I haven’t heard a single negative thing about it. Considering all the migraine sufferers in the world and the suddenness of the CGRP drugs being pushed through slightly over two years ago, only hearing positive things is a lot like finding a unicorn. I will know more when the hospital pharmacy delivers it to me in a few days.

Beyond this, I am trying to ease up on myself. As someone who is harder on herself than anyone else could possibly be, I’m trying to take it easy. I am trying to tell myself it’s okay if I can’t do something immediately. I have to tell myself that if I needed to sleep, then that’s what I should be doing. I’m about 20% less stressed since I started this mantra of putting less pressure on myself to get things done, but that doesn’t mean anxiety and stress don’t rear their ugly heads, because THEY DO.

Today was an epic fail. Initially, I couldn’t fall sleep, so I took medication my doctor prescribed, at a higher dose that we’ve talked about over the past month or so. It doesn’t always hit me hard (or at all), but this time, it put me down for the count. I was awake just long enough to drink a lot of water and ended up back in bed for seven hours. This was after getting roughly eight hours of sleep, so clearly, this dose is too high for me right now. I will cut the dose down and see where that takes me, but I’ve already discussed the fact that I detest relying on it every single night. In most cases, it’s a temporary prescription, but I’ve been on and off of it for the better part of eight months. I haven’t taken it consistently because I don’t want to be dependent on any medication. It is frustrating because there doesn’t seem to be an exact science to the dosing (for me). The goal was for me to be sleeping at night and have better days, but I can’t have better days if the medicine is still in my system and putting me back to sleep. In hindsight, I do think I needed that extra rest. The downside? I am worried about when I will, inevitably, fall asleep and wake up. I don’t have to be anywhere, but I do have a considerable amount of work to get done. I know it WILL get done, but for this week, at least, I have to ease up on stressing myself out and making my anxiety worse. It’s so much easier said, than done.

There’s no crystal ball to tell me how the next few weeks will pan out, but I am hoping, and praying, for better days. I’m not quite there, yet.

 

Yesterday

Miss Poison Honesty, Mental Health, Writing , , , , , , , ,

img_20200806_223053_298

Yesterday was one of the most jolting experiences I’ve ever personally witnessed. It might rank up in my top five. My body is still in fight or flight mode, and I don’t feel it ending any time soon. 😦 I have tried to take my anger out of the equation, but that has left me with intellectualized emotions and truthfully, a different level of anger. Make no mistake, I am traumatized by what I witnessed (I will be writing about it. I got about eleven hundred words written before I crashed from lack of sleep and the intensity of everything I was feeling.), appalled by the way the incident was handled, and I am angry. Beyond angry. Angry for the mental health community, which I am a part of. Angrier at the hateful, racist, power-hungry, assholes hiding behind a device, and those who thought, and believe, that aggressive actions were justified. They weren’t. I feel nothing for those who acted inappropriately yesterday. But I do feel they all need to be publicly punished and re-trained.

Yesterday, my cousin, brother, and a dear friend helped keep me calm-ish, sane, and unknowingly let me know they are concerned for my overall well-being, safety, mind, heart, and soul. I kept expressing my gratitude to them. 2020 has shown me a lot about who cares about me, and who will drop everything to help me in a crisis. I’m content with the lower numbers because it helps me prioritize and eliminate. Clearly being able to see people as they are is an important ability to have.

It’ll be a while before I feel I can finish writing about what happened. I did not expect to be so triggered, so angry, and so concerned for others. My response wasn’t for me; it was a response based solely on extreme concern. It was a response that will be a guiding force as I embark on a new path. It is a response I cannot hide because no one was telling the truth. It is a response, and a catalyst, to get louder about speaking the truth.

Witnessing someone experience something heinous, something you know was likely their worst nightmare, puts you in an uncomfortable position. I was attacked for my honesty. People who immediately attack honesty are well aware they are lying and covering up bad actions. Not on my watch, and this will potentially put my safety at risk. I have considered this for over twenty-four hours. I cannot sit back and remain silent when I encourage others, every single day, to stand up for their rights. How can I tell thousands of people each day to use their voice if I sit back in silence and refuse to do the same? I am many things: imperfect is high on the list, but I’m NOT a fucking silent coward, nor am I a hypocrite. No one raised me to be a punk ass bitch. If you don’t like my phraseology, take a walk.

This week my life roles were discussed. They were discussed less than a day before this incident occurred. We all have roles in life, different hats we wear, so to speak, but I’ve always been the strong protector. It’s not just a role, it is who I am. Injustice and abuse are two things that will set me off like a spaceship, and I highly recommend people step back because an honest person speaking about injustice and abuse is a dangerous person.

I honestly come here and talk about mental health and my own personal diagnoses. I don’t do it for myself; I do it so others know they are not alone and they, too, can seek help. Yesterday was the second time I’ve ever wished I was a lawyer and could properly defend someone. I don’t ever want to be put in that position again.

We all have things we believe in strongly. Each of us has a personal, “Don’t go there.” zone, whether we discuss it or not. For some, it is their family. For many, it’s their children, or their pets, or both. For me, it’s many things, but the line was definitely crossed and I can’t unsee a moment of it. I had to take medicine last night to ward off potential nightmares, but in the waking hours, I can’t hide what I think or feel, nor do I want to.

During many times in my writing career I’ve heard people say, “Wow, that took balls.” They have no idea. I’m currently in another “balls to the wall” moment, and I don’t intend to lie about it or pretend it was justified. I have to do what I encourage others to do. I have to use my voice and push for change. Wish me luck.

© 2020 by Lisa Marino and Poison In Lethal Doses, LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.