Bad Days, Sweet Cats

2016-07-212016-07-23 Miss Poison Emotional Abuse, Emotional Pain, Fibromyalgia, July, Life, Migraines, Musings, Neuropathy, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Allergies, Anger, Cat and Kitten, Emotional Abuse, Fibromyalgia, Humans, July, Life, Migraines, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Relationships, The Human Condition, Thought Process, Thoughts, Writers, Writing

As I will explain in a future post, I’ve been having some incredibly bad days (it’s been many, many months, actually. I am not pointing any fingers in saying that, life is simply unpredictable as hell.). Some of it is health-related, but the rest is not worth repeating twice, so I’ll save it for the other post, which I’ve been working on for the past few days. I’m not quite ready to emotionally complete it.

This morning I was struck with the realization that there aren’t a lot of constants in this life. You can only hope that your true friends and family know who you are, as opposed to pretending they know you, and will love you unconditionally. You learn from the people who place conditions on every aspect of their “love”. God & Goddess, please don’t EVER let me be such a selfish, vindictive person that I use “love” against people. It’s not meant to be used as a weapon, much like a child is not meant to be used as a pawn during divorce proceedings. With each passing day, I feel like some people become uglier on the inside and quite frankly, it makes me sick to my stomach.

I went to bed early last night with a migraine I can’t seem to shake. Inevitably, due to the medication I took for it, I ended up wide awake by 1:30 this morning. I’ve been writing ever since, thinking, and doing a lot of soul-searching.

When I entered my sleep time into the Migraine App this morning (it doesn’t always pick up the exact time if I go to bed earlier than usual), I found a message from my brother that is quite telling. I’ve been explaining a few situations to him for many months now and at times he has been supportive and other times, quite vacant. I understand his anger and frustration. He’s been through crap I wouldn’t wish on a single soul and is still kind, caring, forgiving, and devoted. He tells me to forgive people on a near daily basis and insists that I pray for them instead of being angry. I’m often thinking “Hello? Have we met?!”, because I’m more likely to react than he is, at least these days. I haven’t reached any Zen states, mostly because too many people are taking shots at me. However, his message is a reminder of so many things. “You keep being yourself. Fuck everyone else! You are great as you are, do you understand? Don’t ever change for anybody.”

When you hear negative shit every single day, and you’re told it’s “merely feedback”, you occasionally start wondering if it’s true or if you’re going insane. It is 100% a form of brain-washing. You either shrivel up into a ball and believe the lies you’re told about who and what you are, or you put your hand up and say “Wait one fucking second! I KNOW who I am. You don’t get to define me with your negativity and issues.” Some people are not happy or satisfied unless they are hurting others verbally. Being emotionally abusive is still being abusive, and it’s not okay. I wish people could hear themselves 24/7 because if they could, they’d be apologizing for a lot of the crap that comes out of their mouths when they are tired, stressed out, worried, etc. I will always apologize if I’m wrong, even if I realize it three days later, but never being apologized to is incredibly hurtful to me.

This year is NOT going as I planned. I have gotten a lot of doors slammed in my face, have had a lot of promises made to me broken in ways that are incredibly harmful, not to mention unforgivable, and I don’t know if I’ve ever experienced such severe despair before. Every day, week, month, etc., is a battle of pure survival. I am not happy. I am not enjoying any aspect of my life, and I loathe certain times of each day when I am forced to place every single ounce of who I am into a Tic-Tac sized box and pretend it doesn’t exist. It is nearly as bad as aspects of my childhood. The only difference is, back then I knew one of two things would happen; I would kill the abuser (my father) and spend the rest of my life in jail or my mother would finally gain the strength and courage to leave. Obviously, the latter happened. I don’t know that she ever truly had the strength and courage, but she did have the emotional support, and when she didn’t, she leaned on me. I was her rock.

Sometimes I feel as though the few people who remain in my life forget what I’ve been through, denounce what I am capable of, and try to make me feel guilty for being ill. People underestimate me. But when accusations regarding my character come into play, you’re asking for more trouble than you can handle.

I’ve said it before, but perhaps it bears repeating; I’m not a nice person. I don’t strive to be someone people trifle with and through experience, I have seen what nice brings. I can certainly be nice, I have my moments, but I don’t suggest testing me to see if you can reach the point of no return. Most people will interact with me and find me pleasant and lovely to be around, and that’s because they’ve chosen not to challenge my existence. They’ve chosen to treat me like a human-being. They’ve chosen not to start crap with me. I don’t respond kindly to threats, accusations, or anything negative. I might be looking at you and/or listening to you, but I may also be plotting your untimely demise in my head. That doesn’t mean I’ll act on it, but we’ve all reached a point with someone (or multiple people) and had a thought we might not normally have, leave alone share with others. It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with us. If anything, it means we’re human. If you haven’t contemplated slapping someone, knocking their teeth out, breaking their jaw, or killing them in their sleep and telling G-d it was an accident, then I don’t trust you, because these are common thoughts. I know, because I’ve done a poll.

Nine times out of ten, it is mere words. “I’ll beat his ass.” or “I’ll slap the rude right out of her.” It’s not what you truly intend to do, it’s not even what you’re going to do when you calm down, it is simply a manifestation of anger in the initial moment. These are total “heat of the moment” reactions, and they are entirely human. Unless you’re a saint, you’ve had these thoughts. Unless you’ve reached some type of Zen Master level that I am not aware exists, you too have had these thoughts at least once in your life. No one is perfect and no one should claim to be. I will not pretend that thoughts haven’t crossed my mind. It makes killing characters off so much easier, because you can take your anger and write it out of your system. Or at least, I can. Sometimes all a person has to do is breathe wrong in my general direction and my first thought is “I’ve figured out fifteen different ways to kill you off in book four. In another minute, that number will go up to sixty.” You’ve managed to react without raising your voice or harming another person physically. In my case, the reward for this is bigger than chocolate, cupcakes, or a shopping spree at Sephora. This is HUGE, it warrants going all out. 😉

Again, this is all human. It does not mean I will be on the ten o’clock news having done something heinous. Will I have thought about it? The probability is quite high, yes. But acting on something and thinking about it are two completely different ends of the spectrum.

I have been battling pretty much the same killer migraine for almost a week now, getting 3-4 hours as a “break” until another one slams into my head. Stress is the number one killer in this country, causing all different types of health issues, and when you suffer from migraines, they are often borne out of stress. Even if you think you lead a relatively stress-free existence, migraines are migraines and they don’t necessarily give you a break when medication doesn’t help.

This week it’s been migraines and my allergies taking me down. I’ve either been completely erratic with my sleep schedule or I’ve been unable to get out of bed, there hasn’t been a lot of middle-ground.

Through all this, Kitten has fiercely become my companion again. Both Cat and Kitten have been distant all these months. Less affectionate, less happy-go-lucky, less relaxed. They’re afraid of hands and they get snippy over the most basic things. They aren’t as open to affection as they once were, but I’ve done my best. They are an immense priority in my life, but you cannot force animals to change their behavior or to spend time with you when they’d prefer not to. So, waking up several times this week with Kitten glued to my side has been a nice change. She has patiently stayed with me while I’ve been ill, has been her normal, loving self, and has insisted on giving me kisses and trying to eat my hair again. This is progress; she is seeking me out for more than just food. Seeing them playing and not being fearful makes me smile. Unfortunately, they scare easily these days. 😦 I pray that one day, they will feel secure again. They are little blessings. I know they were both sent to me, that they’re both gifts of the highest order, so I pray their fear dissipates and their happiness and health surges. All I can do is keep being me, which shows them that while life has changed, Mommy has not. I always tell them that I’m their safe place. Apparently, Kitten is listening and Cat pretends to listen in case the treat bag makes noise. 😉

I ordered their food online because the price was unbeatable and you don’t always see large bags of grain-free food on sale (Occasionally I am able to get a local store to price-match, but this time it simply wasn’t worth the effort.). You’ve never seen two cats happier to see a shipping box. I’m schlepping in a thirty pound box Saturday morning (Thank you FedEx and Chewy.com for saving my butt!) and they both watched and waited to see what had arrived. I opened the box and they both stared at the packaging and each other before they each lifted a paw to swat in sync. I quickly unboxed everything and they stared at each other to see who would get into the box first. Kittens defers to Cat on most things, especially if she’s unsure about something. Cat wasn’t happy with me for breaking the box down so quickly. But give her a purse and she just might go anywhere with you! This is new behavior I’ve never seen before. A lot of their behavior is new. Kitten is now extremely interested in my purse and I keep saying “Get your paws out of that bag.” I caught her trying to take my makeup bag out of my purse and drag it off like prey. It’s cute once, the second time makes you question all that you carry around (I’m like Mary Poppins, with a different accent. LMAO!). I haven’t weighed it, but I’m certain it weighs more than they do, combined. It would explain why my shoulder hurts every time I am out for more than twenty minutes with my bag on my shoulder. Clearly I am a masochist. 😦 Clearly, Kitten is trying to get me to see the error of my ways.

The week ends with the birthday of one of my best friends. She is my soul-sister; beautiful, talented, and as afflicted by Fibromyalgia pain as I am. I am wishing for her a healthier, prosperous, and supremely happier year. If there is good in me it is most reflected in my friendships, which are pure platinum.

Welcome to all the new followers; I appreciate both your readership and comments. 🙂

I will attempt to decompress as much as possible and I wish you all a wonderful weekend to come.

When You Fail To Tap Into Your Wellsprings…

Quote 2016-06-28 Miss Poison Inspiration, Quotes Aletheia Luna, Anger, Fear, Pain, Quotes, Unhappiness

“When you fail to tap into your wellsprings of inner strength due to toxic habits, environments or people, you wind up feeling trapped, stranded, and unhappy. You end up in soulless jobs, destructive relationships and empty friendships. Most of all, you find yourself unsatisfied with who you are, and you often become your own worst enemy, perpetuating the cycles of pain, anger, and fear within you – like I did.” ―Aletheia Luna

Anger Is An Acid

Image 2016-06-16 Miss Poison Anger, Images/Photos/Quotes Anger, Images/Photos/Quotes, Mark Twain

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Boiling Point

2016-05-23 Miss Poison Adult Orphans, Anger, Depression, Honesty, Life, Musings, Pain, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Anger, Courage, Depression, Emotional Pain, Honesty, Life, Negativity, Observations, Pain, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Strength, Suffering, Writing

Fact: I am seriously contemplating ending my life. No one knows what’s going on, or cares, but I feel it’s important to talk about.

I walked away from self-harm at least a dozen times last week, maybe more. I have no strong desire to actually carry it out, but we cannot “cure” the thoughts that go through our minds.

It’s not any one thing in particular, it’s a multitude of things, all of which are out of my control. Ultimately, I often feel that lack of control is what makes us feel so out of control. I believe it leads to a lot of rational irrationality.

I’ve never hidden the fact that I come from an abusive background. If asked, I am quite vocal about it. Hell, I’ve written about it many times. My father was the bane of my existence from age six until about 2000 or so, when his health began to rapidly decline, culminating in his death, a 15 year battle with cancer that ended in late 2007. I cannot put a Band-Aid on my upbringing, but I try very hard not to allow it to define me. For the most part, I am successful. I don’t dwell on it. It’s done and it’s in the past, but lately it’s other forms of neglect, abuse, disrespect, & abandonment that have just plain left me in tears. What’s worse? This behavior makes my father, G-d rest his soul, look like a fucking angel by comparison. That’s probably what affects me more than anything else.

Nothing I do is ever “good enough”. I know that’s ridiculous, but when that is what is projected to you constantly, you either walk away or you tell someone to go fuck themselves. For the past 4-5 years, I have worked very hard on my anger issues. I’ve talked about that quite openly. Therefore, so as not to act like my father, I try to curse less and not tell people exactly what I think of them and their behavior, even if they deserve it. I don’t accept or allow it, I just disengage with the crazy. I cannot talk to a psychopath, to people who don’t hear me out thoroughly, or to anyone who believes everything they say is right 100% of the time. It may be right in their mind, but their mind and mine are two completely different places/worlds. That’s true for everyone, or we’d be living in a very bizarre utopia.

No matter how hard I work, it’s not “good enough”. How many times a day does someone need to be insulted, talked down to, and/or disrespected? How many days of the week, month, year, before they snap? The term “going postal” isn’t meant to be cute. It stems from things building and building in the workplace (or in some cases, ones’ home life) until someone finally loses it. The same thing can happen in a person’s daily life, and it doesn’t have to involve murder and mayhem, it might just be a verbal argument. One can hope, any way.

There is an immense difference between constructive criticism and venomous hatred and resentment. I am educated enough to know the difference in how people speak to me, and I am sick and tired of being told that everything I think & feel is wrong. Statistically speaking, it’s impossible for me to be wrong 100% of the time, just as it is impossible for someone else to be right 100% of the time. I don’t aim for perfection, but I will not have anyone question my perception of others. I’ve got two words for that mind-set: FUCK THAT. You can agree to disagree with me, but don’t deign to tell me you’re right and I’m wrong. No. Unacceptable.

Voicing thoughts, feelings, and opinions isn’t wrong, but I am constantly being told I am wrong. After a while, even a person with the highest I.Q. starts to lose their mind. After a while, any sane person is going to get tired of hearing such nonsense.

The only thing that is saving me is the love of Kitten. During the worst of my dark thoughts, when I wasn’t sure if I could bear another second, leave alone a minute, she’d crawl into bed with me, give me kisses, bring me toys, & watch over me with great affection. Cat followed, both of them refusing to let me out of their sight. How is it that two little creatures understand my pain better than actual people? I find that sad and pathetic for the human-race, but a real win for the animals in this world who are superior in terms of compassion, empathy, and love. My cats know more about love than 99% of the people I know, and that is truly saying something. They know me better than most people, and I’ve had them such a short period of time compared to the relationships in my life, yet they know me better, inside and out. People are emotionally harming me, but my cats? They wouldn’t even scratch me intentionally. Again, it speaks accolades for them. Clearly I did something right, and that “something” was adopting and raising them. They love me unconditionally. It is a special relationship, and not something to ever be taken for granted.

Words have power, and sometimes that power is destructive and extremely harmful. Be self-aware. Realize that you sound like a vile human-being and dial it the fuck down.

When someone is visibly suffering, or even silently suffering, they do not need your drama, venom, hatred, or negativity. Don’t pretend you don’t see it or sense it. Put it away. Stash it in another country, because I do not mean shelve it for a week, and focus on showing them that they matter, because eventually, all your shit might push them over the edge and the only person who will be left with grief isn’t them, it’s you.

I know so many people who, after years of far worse than what I deal with and have dealt with, simply took matters into their own hands, leaving people wondering why. People have actually said” Nothing is so horrible that you have to take your life.” Oh, really? Try living my life for a year, I’m pretty sure you’d feel otherwise. In other words, don’t judge what you don’t understand. It is okay to admit you don’t understand the various forms of depression and other forms of mental illness, but it’s not acceptable in 2016 to be ignorant about it.

I’m one of the “privileged few” who inherited it on both sides of my family. My paternal Grandmother suffered from her early teens until the day she died. The things she was put through during her life in terms of “treatment” were truly horrible, and I am not a candidate for certain treatment methods because of that. No doctor would allow me to go through what she did, despite the advancements that have been made I am considered too high a risk factor, and here’s a fact; I wouldn’t sign myself up for it either.

Approximately ten years ago, I was diagnosed with “treatment resistant depression”. It means that while I suffer abysmal highs and lows, my brain chemistry does NOT respond to medication. I’ve tried everything and all they’ve done is make me really sick. Therapy works, if the therapist isn’t a piece of shit, but with Fibromyalgia, there are times I cannot drag myself in on a weekly basis in order to “go deep”. I walk into therapy in a relatively good mood, positive about what may be accomplished by going, and I walk out feeling like the biggest piece of shit on the planet, so it’s important to find someone who knows when and when not to push your last nerve. I’m not shy, I have a voice and I know how to use it. Since moving, I have noticed that I have become ten times more internalized than ever before and not only is that completely unhealthy, it gives you some insight into my environment and how I don’t feel comfortable discussing important things because I don’t feel understood, cared about, loved, and the list goes on. It hurts so deeply to type that, that the tears are pouring down my face. I’m hurting so much and certain things were said to me today that can never be taken back. I can never un-hear them.

Unfortunately, I haven’t been to therapy in three and a half years and after putting myself back on medication last month, it made me too sick to function. If you’re able to take medication, wake up each morning, and go to a normal 9-5 kind of job, well, G-d Bless you. I cannot. I knew very young that I’d never have a “normal job”. Not because it is beneath me, it’s not, but because I don’t play well with others. There is not a single thing about me that says “team player”. I am glad I knew that about myself at such a young age because it propelled me in the right directions as a creative spirit. I’ve never NOT worked (I’ve been working since I was 12, no joke.) and not created something out of nothing, but for months now I have felt sick, weak, dejected, and the absolute opposite of who I truly am. There is nothing keeping me here. Nearly every day is the same; completely monotonous.

My creativity ebbs and flows. It always has. I do nothing on command. I’ve always liked that about myself, but it can be tricky when you are involved with creative projects that need 100% of your commitment, or they’ll fail. But how does one stay “on” when they’re predominantly “off”?

Today I reached my boiling point in reaching out to people I felt I could trust for help. Five times today I got off the phone in hysterical tears because in the grand scheme of life, people don’t care about my struggles or my pain, but they do care about being selfish, hostile, cruel, and hurtful. The final call which I did not want to make was the last straw.

Some things are out of my control, just as they are for many of us, but I’d like to think that if someone called me crying, truly upset by something happening to them, I would do whatever was within my power to help, even if I’d helped them 100 times before, I don’t keep score. In fact, I HAVE done that (helped others) and I will never stop being the person that I am because to not be me is to be lesser, and I refuse to let experiences like this alter the person I am. I refuse to change to suit other people because then they win.

My mother raised me to be a strong, independent woman, but she also told me that sometimes we all need help and not to be afraid to ask for it. However, I was terrified to ask for the help I needed and my fears were warranted because in asking for help, I got hurt. I am sure the other person does not see it as I do. Of course, I didn’t threaten or insult them.

Here’s something important I think some people need to understand: It takes great courage to ask for help. Especially for someone like me because I have a lot of pride, but definitely feel that I have fallen from Grace. 😦 When a person asks for help, and they’re upset and you know things have been bloody awful for them, don’t make it worse with cruel, hateful words. Discuss things with them at a later time, in private, when each of you is calm, and assure them that you do indeed love and care about them. It’s okay to have boundaries and to place limits on things, absolutely, but it’s not okay to be hurtful or say things in anger that cannot be retrieved.

For now, I have no idea what tomorrow brings, but I’m hoping it doesn’t involve me “going dark”. I’m writing this in tears, because the pain is just too much to bear. I am also weighing my options quite heavily because I am too sick to deal with such harsh negativity being directed at me in such an ugly manner.

We all have physical and emotional triggers in life, whether we’re aware of them or not. Certain words and tones will turn me from a caring, kind, loving, helpful person with a genuine heart into someone incredibly inclined to poison your dinner.

Choose your words wisely. Do not make assumptions. Don’t insult loved ones, for they can be gone in the blink of an eye. And absolutely do NOT trigger someone when you KNOW their history. Some people really should know better, but they don’t. Maybe anger is a better place to reside for some? I’ve been there and it’s unhealthy.

Tonight, I am going to try to accept the fact that no one else is like me and the other people cannot be what I need them to be, because it’s simply not in their genetic makeup. My brother recently paid me the finest compliment by saying that no one could spend five minutes with me, or speak to me for five minutes, and not come away realizing how incredibly genuine and unique I am. I damn near cried, because it’s truly the NICEST thing he’s probably ever said to me, and it was such an incredibly astute observation. It almost makes up for the crappy things he’s said to me in the past when he was angry (at himself) and frustrated (with his own bullshit) and took it out on me simply because I am the closest person to him.

I learned a valuable lesson today. I learned that no matter what people say, their actions and words don’t always mesh, and I am wary of people like that. Life isn’t perfect for anyone. Life isn’t always fair, either, but I refuse to kick someone while they’re already bleeding on the ground.

To the people who kicked me today when I was desperately upset by a situation completely out of my control, please don’t ever think I won’t remember the attack. To the few that reached out later on to raise me back up off the ground, I won’t soon forget that either.

Wishing you all a far better day/week/remainder of the month than I just had.

Family First

2015-10-282015-10-28 Miss Poison Anger, Family, Health, Heart, Honesty, Life, October, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Stress, Writing Anger, Family, Friends, Health, Heart Failure, Honesty, Love, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Siblings, Writing

Yesterday morning my brother was admitted into the hospital with what is, as of now, a form of heart failure. The doctors are baffled; stating that they don’t know how this happened because he is far too young. Unfortunately, he is far from being out of the woods. He is scheduled for a serious procedure today, and I am sadly all too familiar with it.

My original post probably won’t go up today because I’m sitting here speechless, sick to my stomach. I have words, there are things I want to say, but I feel the need to keep it inside for now.

I don’t talk about my personal life an awful lot, and there’s a reason for that. Most of you that know me off of this page are my friends in everyday life. You have the ability to call me, e-mail me, text, or visit, etc. But for those that do not personally know me, my heart, or the deeper aspects of my life, I tend to keep those things to myself. There’s plenty of people telling their life stories on blogs, but this is not a blog for me; it is my platform as a writer. I am a writer, I have been for 28 years. I’m not a blogger, at least not here, but perhaps that is just semantics for some people. I, however, stand by those words.

This week, I worry (It’s a Jewish woman thing.). I will try to push past the pit of hell inside my stomach. I pray for healing, for modern medicine to do what it’s supposed to do. I pray that some dietary changes reverse this, as a doctor told him it could/would, with some serious effort on his part, but only if it’s a specific type of heart failure.

The words “Life Vest” were used. That kind of technology did not exist when a doctor wanted to crack open my mother’s chest ten years ago and attach a defibrillator to her heart. Her doctor was over 80 (I wanted to punch this man at least three times, but it would have been disrespectful. I told her if he’d been 60, I’d have knocked his teeth out.), did not care to explain the procedure in a gentle manner, and was so rude that he only managed to turn the issue into a “Hell no!”, as opposed to “Can we discuss this?” Everything is being thoroughly explained to my brother, and for that I am grateful. He’s also smart enough to ask questions that other people might not think of and then discuss his options with me, that way there’s a proactive person involved in his recovery.

I know that many of you will understand if I am silent for a while; that family comes first. Today, and maybe most days, I am my Grandmother’s granddaughter. I do put my family first, but I am not afraid to handle the tough stuff. That’s why during the worst times in my life, I handle what needs to be handled, even if I’m not happy about doing it. Even if it breaks me.

Lack of a family unit has really bothered me these last few years. As I sat here yesterday making calls, I realized that about a dozen people did not need to be called, because they don’t give a fuck on a good day, and I will not give them the satisfaction of lapping up misery. I appreciate the people who offered up prayers, but I very nearly told someone off who made an off-hand comment without knowing precisely what is wrong. I had to take a huge step back, realizing that I’m emotional and snapping when you’re upset is not conducive to quality communication with others.

It would be hard not to be upset, angry (because I have tried for YEARS to take every bad thing out of his hands when I knew it was being over-done.), frustrated, and scared. I wouldn’t be human if I felt nothing. But I do feel, and I pray that this procedure holds answers as to the how and why. I pray to all that is holy that this is merely a bump in the long road of life. I pray that my brother sees the error of his ways, realizes he is being given a second chance, and takes that opportunity instead of squandering his brilliant mind.

I thank the doctors and nurses caring for him and the four different people who stopped him from an attempt to sneak into the parking lot for a cigarette! I’m embarrassed he’d stoop so low. They all yelled at him (His words were “They bitched me out!” I said nothing, because I feel he deserved it.), and he was later given a patch, so I am praying this is the end to me saying “You need to quit smoking before it kills you.” My brother may not be receptive to my direct honesty, but he’s taking it from doctors and nurses and I think that in and of itself is a positive thing.

I hope I’ll be able to say something more definitive in the next few days. In the meantime, I’m packing and trying to do all that I can for my brother. Because no matter how big a pain in the ass he is, and my GOD, I swear I inherited a big baby, he’s still MY brother. No one else alive can say that, and I told him the same thing. “No one else alive can say that I am their sister, so stop acting like no one cares about you.” I yell because I care, so when I stop yelling, he’d better start worrying.

As of now, I do not know with any certainty whether his medical expenses will be completely covered. If they aren’t, I will be posting a link at a later date to a fundraiser where even the smallest donation will help, but I will only do so if there’s a huge issue.

Thank you for listening to my insanity this morning. Have a good Wednesday, everyone. 🙂

No, You’re Not Innocent

2015-07-22 Miss Poison Anger, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Anger, Communication, Friendships, Poison In Lethal Doses, Relationships, Text Messages, Toxic People, Writing

I try very hard not to fly off the handle with people I love/like/respect, but every once in a while someone says something and they take no responsibility for what a comment implies. It’s perfectly okay to say “I don’t have time to talk at the moment, can we talk later?”, but it’s not okay to tell a person that they’ve “wasted their time with you” and blame you for their poor time-management skills. Especially when this is a sudden issue and has never come up before. If I don’t have time for something in the moment, I wait until I do. I don’t place blame on someone else for taking a few minutes out of my day, EVER (Unless it’s my brother, who torments me with irritating shit, but that’s another story.).

Like most people, I don’t like being accused of things I haven’t done and would never do. No one wants to be accused of heinous shit and then be called “sweetie”, “dear”, etc. It’s passive-aggressive and it pisses me off.

When a comment implies that you’re A) A drug dealer, B) a prostitute, or C) a white-collar criminal, all within the confines of the words “This is how you acquire legal income.”, you either re-read the words to make sure you haven’t hallucinated or had a stroke, or you say WHAT.THE.FUCK?! That comment is directly insinuating that my income is somehow illegal. There’s no getting around that, it’s a loaded comment. When you know you’re the absolute OPPOSITE of those things, tell me you wouldn’t flip out on the person saying the idiotic crap. If you’d let it slide, please exit stage door left. I don’t like, appreciate, or respect doormats.

My immediate response was nearly “Go fuck yourself.”, which I decided not to use as my actual reply. However, I did put the other person in their place and turn my phone off. I decided it was best to take a nap and try to let it go because there are some things you simply do not say to me, not if you like living.

I don’t want to hear ANYTHING this person has to say because I cannot unhear or unsee what was said, and there was a lot said. There are some things in life that you cannot apologize for, and I am not a “sweep it under the rug” kind of chick. I’ve made it clear in all of my relationships that if you cross certain lines with me, there’s no going back. This was a HUGE fucking line.

Insinuating things that aren’t true implies some pretty negative views against who I am as a person, especially when I’ve never been anything but good to them. I will not stand for that kind of disrespect.

Somehow, this magically became all about them and not about what THEY said. It was more along the lines of “How dare you speak up for yourself. I feel SO disrespected!” Excuse me?! I’m not the one insinuating negative crap. God No, you’re not selfish or self-absorbed AT ALL…despite the fact that you turn every single thing ever said into the ‘You Show’.

When you say something wrong, you apologize. You don’t turn it around on the other person and make yourself into the victim. If ever I am in the wrong, I have no trouble admitting it. Sometimes we don’t see that we’re potentially in the wrong, sometimes it takes a few days to realize the impact it may have had on the other person, but in this particular instance, I know that I am right.

I immediately replied “Are you implying that I am somehow illegally acquiring income? Because if you are, that is low.” I said it yesterday morning and turned the phone off before I said something truly awful. I have a temper, it’s not a secret. The same fiery passion and loyalty that will defend you to the death can turn against you if you cross a line with me. I make no apologies for it because I am honest about it upfront. I’ve never downplayed that side of who I am. When someone pushes on every last nerve I’ve got, I am going to push back, but believe me when I say, the person in question didn’t even get a bug bite compared to what I can actually achieve through words and actions. If I truly want to hurt you, I have the power to do so, but I use my power wisely because viciousness isn’t a daily requirement. Taking the nap was for me, and for the other person’s overall safety, but I was under no circumstances going to let that comment fly.

Last evening, the text messages started flowing in over my incredibly benign “clarify yourself” question. For over a fucking hour. I nearly laughed at the manic ridiculousness of it all. If you want to start a fight with me, you will not win. I have a skill-set and it is not one-dimensional.

Sadly, the person sending the messages has exactly one skill-set. They will get defensive and say all kinds of ridiculous crap, and later back down because they “don’t want to fight”. Well, then shut the fuck up and don’t start shit. It’s really quite simple. Communicate like an adult or don’t bother. I know four year olds with better texting and communication skills!

If you’re guilty of spelling words via text message improperly, you had better have some kind of bizarre character limit on your texting plan or an I.Q. that matches your shoe size because there’s no way I will accept it unless you’re between the ages of 10 and 16. I will absolutely NOT accept it if you’re over 30. “Ur, “U”, “2”, and “B” will drive me bonkers over time. I have a swiping app on my phone for texting. It’s free, so anyone can use it. It means my ability to go to 400+ characters is nearly as fast as I type on my laptop, and I don’t shorten words, not even the word “okay”. Auto-correct is a bitch at times, but I’ve definitely expanded its’ horizons over the past seven months.

I decided to ignore most of the texts between 5:00 and 7:00 PM. I replied a few times to say “This is inappropriate for texting, I will discuss this with you when you’re able to communicate with me properly.” The accusations kept flowing. Using my words against me, which was done by re-typing my text back to me, was one of the most comical things I’ve seen this week. My response was “That’s your big defense? I’m not even going to engage you on that.” Why? Because it is childish and ridiculous. I know what I said and when I say “I nearly told you off because of what you said, but I held back.” and the other person gets pissy about it, I don’t need a never-ending soliloquy about how difficult your life is…all of a sudden. At that point, I become completely immune to your drama. Once again I responded by saying “I will discuss this with you at a later date.” I turned my phone off and that, for me, was it. I figured the conversation could continue by phone this weekend, or via e-mail, or really, not at all. I am pissed and I don’t currently have it in me to be nice.

When I woke up this morning there were two new messages. It started off with “I don’t want to fight with you.” I’d said in one message that their anger was misplaced and I wasn’t going to take responsibility for this person being angry at someone else. That’s only fair. However, if you don’t want to fight with me, don’t start a fight.

If you’ve known me for a year, two years, ten years, or twenty years, then you KNOW that pushing my buttons is going to unleash the beast. At this point, you know full well that snotty comments, insipid questions, being nosey, telling me what to do, how and when to do it, and/or talking down to me is going to have an effect. You can’t temper rude comments with “honey”, “sweetie”, “baby”, “dear”, or “I love you.” I am not receptive to that. It’s absolute bullshit to me, plain and simple.

I didn’t respond to the new texts because I want some space before I get into it again, despite the fact that I shouldn’t have to rehash it. Alas, I get an e-mail with the contents of the two text messages “Just in case I didn’t check my phone…” Are you kidding me with this shit?!

The nicest thing I could say this morning is “I read the texts when I woke up this morning. There’s a reason I didn’t respond. I need some time before I say anything, and I hope you can understand that.”

I am not going to waste an entire day on the phone this weekend discussing this crap. I am not going to respond to any additional text messages. Until I calm down and this person’s incessant mania stops, they are persona non grata. I have enough going on in my life, I don’t need additional drama on top of it.

Strength Comes From The Good Things

2015-07-142015-07-14 Miss Poison Images/Photos/Quotes, Strength Anger, Family, Friends, Honesty, Images/Photos/Quotes, Sadness, Strength

Moody Musings

2015-06-262015-06-29 Miss Poison Chronic Pain, Depression, Happiness, Honesty, Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Social Media, Things That Enrage Me, Thought-Provoking, Thoughts, Writing Anger, Cat/Kitten, Depression, Exhaustion, Fibromyalgia Pain, Honesty, Life, Moods, Musings, Pain, Partial Paralysis, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Police, Stress, Writing

I’m in an ugly mood. I think I went to bed that way, to some extent, which only partially explains my nasty mood this morning. I (almost) never lock my cats out of my bedroom, but when they started their petition to shove me out of bed around 5:00, I silently got up, put grain free food in their bowls, and as they both moved to their respective bowls, I shut my door. About an hour and a half later the little one started screeching like the world was ending. I let her back in to abate the crying and then ended up locking her out because she was trying to claw her way through me. When I haven’t slept well, there is no amount of annoying behavior that will push me out of bed. I also don’t want to yell at them because they don’t understand it and it’s traumatic for them. I simply cannot bend, touch my toes, or turn my head/neck at the moment. It’s upsetting to be in this much pain and not be able to take care of basic things, including myself.

Injustice and abuse of power infuriate me. Alas, I don’t look good in orange, so going after a power-hungry cop, fresh out of the academy, who thinks his dick is as tall as he is, is probably NOT a good idea. With all the police issues in this country, I figure the asshole will eventually say the wrong thing to the wrong person. I have to believe there’s some kind of karmic justice at play here, and that I have to just take care of me and mine. However, factoring in that I cannot physically move and that I’m in excruciating pain, I feel like there’s some kind of evil joke at play here.

Several weeks ago, a church was firebombed in my area by someone who got early release after kidnapping two minors back in 2008. Tax dollars hard at work. <rolls eyes> Emergency responders were already in the area and able to handle the situation quickly, but $50,000 worth of damage was still done.

At the moment, there is a huge carnival going on at a different church. It usually lasts for about a week or two. Ever since it started, there have been break-ins ranging from small to large, even if people are already home and asleep. Whoever is doing it doesn’t give a shit if there are cars in the driveway, they’re still going to risk their lives for “stuff”. This is occurring not even two minutes from my neighborhood. It’s within walking distance. A woman walked into her house yesterday to find a man going through her things. She, in her infinite stupidity, asked who he was and what he was doing there! He hit her in the face and took off, but now it’s clear that it isn’t just one person. The various local police departments decided to let people know about all of this via social media. Every single person that responded said “I have dogs and guns, go for it.” I do not currently possess the strength to utilize a shotgun properly, so, God forbid, my only option would be something smaller. I highly recommend no one sneak up on me for a while.

Are naturally perky people drinking too much coffee, on a drug I’m not aware of, or are they born that chipper? Are they simply “bright side of everything” types? I truly don’t know because I cannot relate.

95% of the time I wake up like a sleeping dragon. Unless I am able to go back to sleep or take a nap, I’m pretty unpleasant in the mornings. For quite some time I was up at 4:00 a.m. every single day. I was in bed early each night, it worked out well for me. But now I cannot seem to fall asleep and stay asleep. Being woken every morning at 5:00 a.m. is tiresome, to say the least. You’d think they were being starved, but the opposite is true. They like routine, but they were also thundering up and down the stairs after midnight. Where do they get the energy?!

Studies claim that people who wear lots of grey and blue are depressed, and people who wear bold colors are happy. Don’t we all get depressed at times? Who the hell lives the absolute perfect, trouble-free life? Even Fortune 500 CEO’s have problems, but everything is covered up beneath the shiny veneer. FYI: I wear a lot of grey and blue because they’re two of my favorite colors. I hate red, but that’s not exactly a well-kept secret.

In simple terms, I feel moody as hell today. I’m pretty sure it’s a 50/50 toss-up between life and…life. I am trying to pull myself together to run errands and not commit any murders today. As an introverted extrovert, this means headphones are going to be my best friend today.

I hope everyone has a calm, pleasant weekend to look forward to. Keep cool, don’t get too much sun, and remember to reapply sunscreen every 80 minutes, even if it’s cloudy out and you haven’t been sweating. Sun damage and sunburn(s) are things no one wants to deal with.

Fucked Up Parents

2015-06-162015-06-16 Miss Poison Anger, Birthdays, Children, Honesty, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Anger, Birthday Parties, Bullying, Children, Parents, Things That Enrage Me

An acquaintance of mine mentioned the other day that she threw a birthday party for her eight year old daughter. That part of the story started off innocent enough. After all, it’s a child’s birthday party, not a caviar tasting.

She planned the party and sent out invites, ten in total. When her daughter’s birthday rolled around this past weekend; her daughter sat, all dressed up, waiting for her “friends” to arrive. Not a single child came.

There is something seriously wrong with an exceptionally large group of parents and it makes me sick.

Children are innocent. There is no eight year old on this planet that should know that kind of rejection by peers or general treatment from adults. Especially not on their birthday. The more I think about it, the angrier I get.

Manners, decency, common courtesy, and respect are things we are all taught. I am supremely polite and chock full of manners…until you piss me off. This incident pisses me off. I realize this is becoming a common trend. It is disgusting and it has to stop.

I vividly remember a childhood birthday party that was somewhere between age eight and ten. I still have the crown my mother carefully made somewhere, but I’m certain on the age bracket. It was a surprise party. I knew something was up because everyone was acting really weird and telling me blatant lies. Somehow no one was available to do something the day of my birthday. One parent actually said she was taking her child Christmas shopping. In October. That could have gone very wrong, very fast, but it didn’t. I read the lie and thought it incredibly bizarre. And when my mother claimed we had to stop at a place we never went the afternoon of my birthday, I thought nothing of walking in, until I saw the crowd of friends and family waiting to surprise me. I openly admit, I was NOT happy about it. I had a bit of a tantrum because I didn’t approve of what she’d done. The fact that she had to leave the party to go on a job interview was even more heartbreaking to me, but I will never forget that she went out of her way to do something special for me. The people who wanted to be there were there, and the party still stands out in my mind to this day.

The fact that people now RSVP to children’s birthday parties (or in some cases, ignore the invite altogether), but no longer bring their children to the parties they have committed to attending is disgusting. Why would you not show up with your child in tow? What do you gain out of that level of cruelty aimed at a child? It’s not normal. In fact, it is quite sick. I don’t really care how fucked up parents treat each other, but I DO care about how children are treated, and this birthday party crap is an absolute NO.

Her mother has basically said “No more parties. I’m not going to subject my child to this crap ever again.” That saddens me because if you’d seen this little girl’s face, you’d be sad too. I was proud of her for putting all of the parents on blast via social media, letting them know that her daughter, who always attended all of their children’s parties and brought a great gift with her, along with her fantastic personality, would no longer be attending any of the parties she normally went to. She finished the statement by saying she’d better not see any of them in public. Again, we’re talking about the parents of eight year olds. It’s not uncommon if one or two people can’t make it on the day you’ve scheduled the party, and it’s always a possibility that a child is sick and cannot attend, but as a PARENT, you make a fucking phone call to let the other parent(s) know in advance AND, if you’ve got any real class, you drop off the gift so that the other child doesn’t have to feel like she’s unimportant, cast out, and that her birthday is no longer “special”. Yes, there’s always the chance a few people won’t be there, but all ten? That’s not a coincidence.

I’ve never been an immense social butterfly, but I feel that children shouldn’t be subjected to this kind of crap. Usually this level of shit is reserved for junior high and high school, but now it’s occurring in elementary school and it’s a terrible message to be sending our children. There is nothing normal about this behavior. In fact, it is parents openly encouraging the early stages of bullying. What kind of human-beings are they going to raise with that kind of attitude?! Is this world going to get worse based on this generation of rampant bullying?

I was taught crucial things as a child, and bullying wasn’t on the list. #1- Not everyone is going to like you and you’re not going to like everyone, but you do have to co-exist. In life, in business, in social situations. #2- Treat people the way you want to be treated. #3- Don’t say you’re going to attend anything unless you’re truly going to show up. The only reason not to go is illness you don’t want other people/children to get (I was kept home from several parties due to strep throat, which was absolutely the right call.). #4- Always say please and thank you. Obviously, there were many other things, but that’s the short list for this situation and it all holds true today.

I don’t know what to take away from this scenario other than the fact that far too many parents do not practice what they preach and it scares me to write this from an emotional standpoint, wondering how many of them are lurking behind false smiles. So for all the parents reading this, please don’t spread your douchebaggery to your kids. They might get your DNA, but they do not need poor social skills, nor do they need to be bullies that grow into passive-aggressive adults who attack civilized human-beings in the professional world.

If you’re a parent that has ever pulled this kind of crap, there is a proverbial kick in the ass waiting for you. Harming a child in any capacity is a direct line to some form of hell and quite frankly, if you perpetuate this kind of behavior, you deserve it.

To the little girl affected by this: I promise you that not all children and parents are alike. You will learn this as you get older. Happy Belated Birthday, little one. One bad birthday doesn’t mean they’re all going to be like this. Shake it off, show no fear, do not be ashamed, and grow up to be strong and determined. In 20 years, you’ll be more accomplished than all of these twits.