And yet, some people forget this, including “mental health professionals”.
Depression
Boiling Point
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.
copyright © 2016 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Feeling Sour
Maybe its lack of sleep, the weather, circumstances being what they are (I will explain at some point.), etc., but whatever it is, the combination has made me utterly unpleasant and sour. Two feelings that I can never seem to shake entirely. 😦
I forced myself to go to bed early last night, which was an utterly useless idea considering I have been battling migraines all week long (two separate, extremely painful migraines. One on Monday that carried over into the following day and the other that began Tuesday and has yet to part ways.) and have more caffeine in my system than the average Starbucks consumer. 
Earlier on, I realized could still be “on time” today if I got 4-5 hours of sleep, so I forced myself into it and not only was I on time, but I managed to have a relatively decent day.
My first stop was the library. As a writer, I’m a big fan of libraries on a whole. They’re a great way to support writers by reading their work, and many of them have extensive collections you can read on your tablet or computer with a simple tap. You may not be able to fork over $30 for that first edition hardcover (or $10 for a paperback. Let’s face it, book prices aren’t getting any lower, unless you’re buying Kindle versions where there are often deals and decent prices at times, especially if you pre-order. I cannot speak for Nook prices.), but if you borrow the book, you’re still supporting a writer and you’re supporting your local library. Win-win.
By proxy, some libraries are better than others. My “new to me” library isn’t as good as the one I frequented in Pennsylvania, which was a Comcast supported library and, interestingly enough, was the BEST in the county. This one has fewer computers for people not bringing their own, 60% fewer books overall, 80% less DVD’s and Blu-Rays, and 70% less space, but it’s nice and quiet, is on two floors, has separate rooms for things some people deem “popular” and “interesting”, and I could probably spend an entire day there without being disturbed, unless they had some kind of event going on. There’s also a pizza place next door, so if you got hungry at any point after 11:00 a.m., there’s pretty good pizza within walking distance. Not too shabby. I scored a book that I’d placed on hold earlier in the morning before deciding I could attempt sleep (talk about fast service on a hold!), and a pile of CD’s that aren’t due back until June. Trust me, it won’t take me long to copy the music and drop the CD’s off next weekend, and since almost all of it is brand new, I was pretty impressed by that alone. They have a nice section called “New Music”. If you wanted anything new at my previous library, it had to be ordered and it could take anywhere from two weeks to six months, if not longer. Here, they order books and music directly from Amazon, so I learned. That’s quick service.
After that, I spent a few hours at the beach. Yes, I know. Beach and Lisa are two words you don’t normally find in a sentence. Yes, I was properly sun protected, as I would later discover in front of a lit-up mirror exactly how pale I am when I’m under different lighting (Holy crap!). It was nice being at the beach when it wasn’t chock-full of people, was low-tide, and I was able to take photos and find a few shells that spoke to me. Plus, it allowed me a good mile plus of walking. Yay! 😀
I then had lunch at a restaurant that had previously been an absolute favorite. I was saddened to find that they’d changed their menu entirely, and that the quality of food, service, and even more than that, were seriously lacking. If I never see a server bringing a drink into a huge party, only to hear a waitress call out “She specifically said ‘no lime’.”, only to watch him fork the lime OUT of the drink, it will be too soon. If you’re in the food-service industry, we all know you’re supposed to pour that drink out and start over, not fork out the lime. There’s a reason people get specific with food and drink orders and nine times out of ten, it is due to an allergy, especially in this day and age. If someone handed me a drink where I tasted lime after specifically saying “no lime”, heads would roll. Not because I’m a bitch, but because you don’t go into a fancy restaurant of any kind and expect such poor service. You cannot charge nearly $30 or more for most lunch items (I’m not exaggerating.) and do shit like that. It is completely unacceptable. I wasn’t the only person who was utterly shocked to see that, a couple sitting at another table was also mortified. That place is now crossed off my list of favorites. Every time I find a fabulous restaurant, it doesn’t remain fabulous. 😦 This is one of the reasons I’m hooked on my cooking. At least then, I know what to expect and can only blame myself if something isn’t to my exacting specifications, which is incredibly rare.
The remainder of the day was pretty calm/relaxing, though I did come home in some serious “I walked way too much for one afternoon” pain. Such is the life of a sufferer of any form of Chronic Pain. I openly admit I pushed myself hard to do what I did, but it’s important to do that at times, because it helps you achieve something out of your day. Being at home 5-6 days a week, completely isolated, hurting, with just Cat and Kitten to keep me company and (partially) listen to me, is grating on my last nerve. Sometimes, I need to be around people and be reminded that I’m still young and that I need to break out of my shell on occasion. Otherwise, life is pointless.
One of the ways in which I will be breaking out of my shell is via YouTube. It’s completely outside my comfort zone and goes against a lot of my feelings and beliefs, but you do what you have to do when you have to do it, for your own reasons. As long as your choices are on your terms, it is okay. No one is perfect. It’s more important to me to be a decent person as opposed to aiming for the impossible.
So now, I return to a book and hope that everyone has a fantastic weekend and week ahead. I’ll be around, in one form or another. That alone is a soberingly depressing thought. 😦
Blessed Be.
copyright © 2016 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Shutting Down
I’ve had roughly six pain-free hours in the past two weeks, so bear with me. I could never say “I hurt.” enough. 😦 That’s not even the appropriate terminology for what I’ve been experiencing, and I hate it.
Pain isn’t always physical. For me, it often is, but sometimes pain is also emotional. I don’t care who you are; we’ve all been there. Whether we care to admit it or not, it is a fact of life, in varying degrees. No one lives a supremely happy existence 24/7. If they do, they aren’t human.
I hate making plans for a day, or even two consecutive days, and not being able to do much of anything, save washing my face, brushing my teeth, caring for Cat, Kitten, and OGK, and doing simple things, like a load of laundry, or cooking a meal. I know for some people, the thought of cooking a meal as a Fibro/Chronic Pain patient means “heavy duty work” (and it’s something so many of you have told me you no longer do, for various reasons.), but for me, it truly is simple nine times out of ten. If it were too much for me, I wouldn’t do it. If I couldn’t do my laundry, it would simply pile up. There are days when I just want to walk out of the house and not come back. Far more than I care to admit. The past few months, I have felt that way a lot. More than a lot. It’s been a daily struggle.
It’s unbelievably lonely living in a state where you only know three people, where you’re almost completely isolated, where the TV and your laptop (and the cats) are your best friends. It’s not just lonely, it’s sickening and pathetic. But here are the facts: I am not a joiner. I do not talk to strangers simply to “connect” with new people. That’s not me. I am not a small talk kind of chick. I will not discuss nonsense with anyone simply to have something to run my mouth about. You’d think some people would appreciate that level of depth, but instead, people simply see it as me being unpleasant, a bitch, or any number of other things that aren’t true. Ultimately, the truth of the matter is, I am too honest. I lost my filter many moons ago, so if you ask me a direct question, you may or may not like the answer, but that’s not really my problem.
I make an exerted effort to pull back on my temper and be supremely polite and engaging, but if a situation really doesn’t involve me and there’s nothing for me to say, I will quietly observe. The last time I checked, this was not a crime.
I’m hurting, and no one sees it. No one cares enough to do so.
I want to sit, eat chocolate, and cry until I cannot see. Perhaps I have not received the support I need because this is the first time I’m voicing the distress I feel, but come on?! How blind is everyone?! Things are so bad in my life at this moment, I have no idea how to pull myself out of the mess that it is, and yet, all the outside world is going to see is the girl with the makeup on who forges ahead. I could be bleeding out of my eyeballs, but no one would notice that, not unless it started spraying everywhere which, I agree, is completely unsanitary, despite the fact that I am free of blood borne diseases.
My attention span is so poor that it has taken me several months to finish a book I would normally read in a few hours. I cannot watch an hour of TV in one sitting, because my mind wanders and then I have to rewind it back to where I was initially paying attention. And yet, I somehow managed to sit through one of the worst movies EVER (I’ll tell you which one if you ask nicely.) in two sittings, desperately waiting for the fucking plot. Guess what? There wasn’t one, it was absolute garbage. I’d like to get that two hours of my life back, along with three hours from a few years ago that I had to spend dealing with a family member’s meshugas. I’ve since stricken this person out of my life much the same way Ramses tried to strike Moses out of The Ten Commandments (If you haven’t seen this movie, shame on you.).
Too often people refer to their autoimmune diseases and mention how it deeply affects their brain function. They are 100% correct in that it does affect our thought process, among many other things. There are moments when I feel like someone has erased huge chunks from my mind, yet I can recall other things with perfect clarity, to the point where it’s terrifyingly eerie. So, call it “Brain Fog” or “Fibro Fog”, but whatever it is, I definitely feel it more often than not. Last night, at dinner, I momentarily tried to figure out where the piece of bread came from on my plate. I’d been eating not ten seconds before, but I drew an absolute blank staring at this small piece of bread, one of my absolute faves, because I couldn’t recall it being there. I catch myself mentally checking out, shutting down when I shouldn’t, and it’s a miserable feeling. Don’t ask me what I did this week because, unless I wrote it down, I haven’t the foggiest fucking clue! 😦
Before I forget, I want to discuss someone being attacked for suffering from Lyme Disease. I absolutely HATE IT when hundreds of people come out of the woodwork and accuse a fellow sufferer of an invisible illness of faking it “for attention”. As if! Yes, there are people who DO fake all kinds of illnesses, but this person is someone with integrity. She’s not creative enough to make this shit up, and she so desperately wants her old life back that there’s no way in hell she’d put herself through a “fake illness”. It’s not gaining her anything, being sick, so for people to think that and make their accusations public pisses me off.
Lyme Disease is a complicated son of a bitch. It can happen to ANY of us at ANY given time, so only the ignorant are the ones wasting time judging. Lyme can lie dormant for YEARS and is one of the largest, growing epidemics in the world. If caught early, you can be treated with antibiotics and go about your life, but if the disease has been in your system for 10+ years, it is going to take its toll. Most people have no reason to be tested for it, but I’ve been tested for it on a regular basis since I was eight. So, I know precisely what I am talking about.
Instead of allowing fellow autoimmune sufferers to be bashed, we should be banding together in support of those who hurt the way we do. Being a good person means doing a little research sometimes. Being a good friend means you do the research when your friend is suffering, and by no means do you allow others to denounce their pain and suffering. We all know that our symptoms can be co-morbid with other illnesses, it’s a fact, but the next time I hear someone disrespecting a fellow sufferer to the extent that this person has been attacked, I will seriously open up a can of whoop ass on those doing it Steve Austin stole that line from me back in the day, not the other way around. 😉
Now that that’s off my chest, the weekend is here, it’s freezing, there’s a little snow on the ground, and yet, it will be 70 degrees on Wednesday. I kid you not. I am already taking allergy meds, so I suspect this Spring might very well be the death of me, and really, I was hoping to just drown myself today around noon. 😦
Patient X was scheduled to undergo another procedure, but it has since been postponed indefinitely. Hopefully I will get to see him for Passover, if not sooner. I’m sending out prayers in advance to my best friend’s father, who is scheduled for heart surgery in a few weeks. Scary, scary shit. 😦
I am off to do wild and crazy things, like contemplate sleep (or watch the rest of The Originals, you’ll never know which! LOL.) and/or hunt down a cupcake.
Be good to one another. Until next time,
© 2016 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Friday: The Dark Artifice
I woke up far too early this morning to a dark, grey day. Normally that wouldn’t bother me (it rarely does), but it’s the fact that the weekend is hanging over my head…the artifice of it darkening my mood.
Under normal circumstances the weekend is a dear friend I welcome with open arms, but it isn’t at the moment. The weekends are now Loki; the trickster. Instead of being able to enjoy them, because who doesn’t enjoy Tom Hiddleston (I would usually say it’s the accent, but the truth is, I find him charming as a human-being.), I am almost certain to contemplate purchasing rope, and not for Fifty Shades of Grey type activities. More’s the pity.
I miss Cat and Kitten. They are my constant companions, the only two ‘little people’ who’d notice if I went missing. I don’t get to spend any time with them. Last night, while in the process of feeding them, OGK came creeping up the stairs and refused to heed the warning Kitten gave him with her baby hiss. It was a non-threatening “Back off!” kind of hiss. If you hadn’t been standing in front of her, you wouldn’t have heard it. Instead of realizing he wasn’t welcome at the moment, he took it as a challenge, as he always does. Thankfully I blocked his little stampede and herded him down the stairs away to diffuse potential drama. I’d plugged the Feliway diffuser downstairs earlier on in the evening to try and help keep him calm (It already helped diffuse the tension the girls experienced from the move.) and maybe allow him to adapt, but so far, no dice. Next step: A baby gate. The girls can jump over it with ease, they have a lot of energy, especially the little one (who I am sad to say, is no longer little. She’s actually taller than all three cats. I often wonder if she’s part hybrid. I’ll never know unless her new vet mentions it.). So, I’ve come to the conclusion that once I clip their nails this weekend, I’m not going to baby OGK any more. It’s been nearly a full month and I can’t allow this to go on any longer. It’s stressing me out and making me sick. He needs to adjust. The Feliway diffuser will help, but there’s no way it will do anything if the girls remain behind closed doors 23 hours a day. I didn’t adopt them to keep them locked away. That’s no way for any animal to live. Perhaps next week, progress will be made. It’s exhausting, to say the least.
Sadly, I’m already exhausted enough. Between the migraines, smacking the back of my head into the wall this week (an accident on my part, as I am not used to being that close to a wall), and the bitter cold causing my body to go into varying degrees of Fibro flares, I’m not very pleasant to be around. That’s okay though because there’s no one here to listen to what I have to say. My life could easily be a reality show: “Three Cats & A Kitchen Knife”. Because unless I am caring for them, writing, or in absolute agony, I am probably chopping vegetables and making something. My cousin thinks I should become a “celebrity chef”. I disagree. The thought of making tasteless food for egos the size of Russia is not something I could ever become accustomed to, unless it came with a seven-figure salary. I bristle when someone says “Don’t put any salt into that.” I am a traditionalist. The only salt you will see me use is kosher salt or sea salt. I don’t buy anything else and I will not use anything else in the cooking process. I’ll be damned if I put something tasteless on the table for anyone. It’s an immense pet peeve of mine.
This past week I learned that there are a few words I NEVER want to see on an item I spent nearly $5 on and that is: Hearty Minestrone Soup: VEGAN. My percentage of Italian blood boiled, wondering what psycho came up with that idea. Trader Joe’s, you’re damn lucky it didn’t taste like crap or I would have gone after one of your cheerful employees this weekend upon returning. Of course now, I don’t trust them and will be obsessively reading labels in the store, thus adding a good hour to my grocery shopping time from here on in. I will keep the vegan concept in mind for my few vegan obsessed friends, but in the future I want all of my groceries to be marked “We didn’t screw with it, Lisa!” That’s right, I want a special section with my name on it for things I buy weekly. Thus far, only Polar Seltzer has received the memo. Kudos to the Vanilla Pear. 🙂 The only holiday flavor I was able to find was Blackberry Apple and it was good, but it wasn’t stellar. C’est la vie.
I am torn between desperately wanting a nap and trying to organize a few things for the weekend. Oh screw it! I’ve already done 95% of what’s on the list, I’m allowed a two hour migraine-induced nap.
As I attempt to recover in order to embark on my Loki-filled weekend, I wish everyone a weekend full of happiness and productivity. Here’s hoping no one has to hear about me on the news. I can’t promise I’ll behave or be very nice though. In fact, I might take up hissing myself. I already hiss at the next door neighbor’s dog because she viciously barks at me. Now while she does bark at everyone, she liked Patient X just fine as soon as he tossed her a few Milk Bones. I refuse to succumb to her pleading for treats. I may be a trained human for cats, but uncivilized dogs can kiss my ass!
copyright © 2016 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
P.S. My eye is better.
Never Underestimate The Pain
My physical, mental, & emotional agony trump a lot of other things at the moment. I’m, quite possibly, not clear-headed enough to write this properly, so please, bear with me. I’ll correct anything that I post that needs to be fixed later on.
I sit here terribly sleep-deprived, covered in varying degrees of bruises (some are healing, some are fresh), and my physical pain is worse than I ever imagined possible. And yet, none of it compares to what’s going on inside my head. 😦 For the past week, I have been pushed way beyond my limits and comfort zone. On the plus side; I’ve walked away from some very negative things that were causing me severe physical, mental, and emotional illness that I wasn’t even aware was happening until that final step away, when I took my first clean, stress-free breath and realized I hadn’t felt free in years. On the downside; the move I was trying to put off in order to take care of Patient X until he is fully healed is coming up sooner than I thought possible.
As of this past Monday, 95% of my stuff is in storage. My temporary “safe place” is a hotel; the only pet-friendly one I could find. The room is fantastic, but the walls are closing in on me. Again, I’m stressed and sleep-deprived. This morning I felt so weak, I went back to sleep, something I’m trying in earnest NOT to do because it exacerbates my insomnia.
Patient X’s first post-op appointment went surprisingly well. He is healing properly, mostly due to the fact that I’m OCD and constantly repeating myself so that he’ll listen at least one time out of ten. Unfortunately, his “young pain receptors” are having trouble with the really painful aspects of such a complicated and delicate surgery, so his pain medication was changed at yesterday’s appointment. I’m not thrilled with the choice, but so far, it is working.
I went to three different pharmacies for this drug and when I finally found one willing to fill it, they damn near told me to go back to Philly and fill it there. It is the store’s policy that certain drugs be filled “closer to the prescribing hospital”, as if people have a choice as to where they’re operated on or not! They were willing to do it this time because I’d called in advance, which apparently made them nervous (I think they called security several times, an absolute FIRST, and I’m a pain patient, so I was floored.). I’m not about to apologize for calling with a legitimate question. Lord knows I showed up less than ten minutes after calling with the script, the patient, and his driver’s license to prove it wasn’t being sold on the street. They weren’t going to fill it until they realized he’s A) wearing a Life Vest and B) talked with him about why it was prescribed. Not cool Walgreens, not cool AT ALL, especially in light of the medication you filled without batting an eye for several patients who showed up after me, one of which is something I feel should be outlawed, but I’m not judging the fact that people need it.
Walmart & Target: you should both carry this drug that I desperately needed to acquire immediately, even if only in small quantities. Post-op patients need access to pain medicine that their surgeons prescribe. It’s completely unacceptable to tell them you can order it “in a week”. What are they supposed to do in that week? Hang around with a thumb up their ass?! NO ONE should be forced to suffer because you’ve decided not to carry medication legally prescribed by a physician. By doing shit like that, you’re trying to override a doctor’s right to prescribe and you don’t have the authority to do so. I was so annoyed by the time the medication was paid for that I damn near flipped my lid, and I can only partially blame that on low blood sugar.
Sunday is “moving day”. Some of my clothes & electronics, Cat, Kitten, and I are moving nearly five hours up north. Life as I know it is changing drastically, and I am not happy about the “rug pulled out from beneath my feet” feeling. Yes, I will adapt and yes, I will adjust. I will pull myself together and dust myself off over these next few weeks/months, mainly because stress can do horrible things to the body, mind, and soul. Someone told me on Monday that if I don’t take care of myself, I could do irreparable damage. She herself was so stressed around this time last year that she had to re-learn how to walk. I don’t want to reach that level of stress, so I need to get on the self-care diet of putting myself first for a few hours every single day.
Once I move, there will be a period of time where I will have to back-date things I write for this platform because I am not 100% sure when I’ll have Internet access, however, things will be written & posted as soon as humanly possible. Let’s hope the wait isn’t too long, lest I lose my marbles. There is such a thing as “too much silence” after a big move. The only books I have are on my Kindle Fire (every book I own is sadly, in storage. My poor babies!), and all of my music is packed, so I will be living off of what’s saved on my laptop and phone until I’m back for good. You simply never know when I will need to listen to Taylor Swift on a loop and cry.
I will miss all of you during “the dark period”, but know that I’ll be back the second the technician plugs everything in. I’ll be in touch before I leave. Be sure to check my Twitter feed and for those that need to know, my cell # and e-mail address will not be changing.
Laters, peeps!
copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Written by LISA MARINO-Molchanova 