Friday Night Rewrites

2017-03-31 Miss Poison Writing Exhaustion, Friday, Honesty, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Rewrites, Stress, Writing

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I started rewrites on this novel late last night/very early this morning. I’m fifty pages in and I’ve never felt more like crying for a protagonist in my life. For the record; she’s never made me feel like this before, so I feel protective and unsure.

I thought a new introduction to the story would be better, or at the very least, give me a third option to present. Instead, I find myself struggling. I get the distinct impression this is what April is really bringing me; stress. 😦

I love this story and I’ve enjoyed writing it, but this rewrite is making me doubt myself. I hate to admit it, but I’m not a born writer of fiction. It’s not what I cut my teeth on day in and day out. My brain doesn’t function in alternative realities or universes, unless written by others. However, I AM determined to get this written. I just have to be realistic about my time and energy. I have to cut myself some slack and not expect perfection. I’m at that point where I just have to write and write well. No bullshit, no filler, no nonsense. Just pure story.

I’m exhausted and burnt out. Every time I take an hour to distract myself, I find myself back in front of the damn file, trying to work out the story and get it back on track. The problem with this rewrite though is that the others were completely on track, and this one is a new direction. The direction is scary, but I have to allow it to play out before I decide if it’s good or if it belongs in the scrap yard.

Yesterday someone told me I’m “an amazing writer”. I politely said “Thank you.” because what else was I supposed to say? However, today is one of those days where I wish I was a little less something and a little more something else. I’m not entirely sure what though. 😦

Wishing you all a peaceful, relaxing weekend. If you get stressed, keep in mind that I’m sitting in front of the screen with a migraine and neck pain, wishing this story would unfold instead of cause me emotional heartache. To add insult to injury, I need a new heating pad for my neck. I’m not sure how I killed mine, but it hates me. Bleh!

Back to the grindstone…

Friday: The Dark Artifice

2016-01-08 Miss Poison Exhaustion, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Cat and Kitten, Cooking, Depression, Exhaustion, Fibromyalgia, Healing, Honesty, Love, Migraines, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Unhappiness, Writing

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!

P.S. My eye is better.

Morphine Mania

2015-11-072015-11-07 Miss Poison Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Exhaustion, Fibromyalgia, Heart Surgery, Life, Musings, My Brother, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Recovery, Self-Care, Stress, Weekends, Writing

It’s no secret; I’ve had a rough two weeks dealing with a serious family emergency. If you’ve ever had to force a man (or any loved one) to go the hospital knowing that something was clearly NOT “okay”, perhaps you can relate.

My brother came out of surgery Thursday afternoon, a good three hours earlier than I anticipated based on the scheduling of the surgery itself. The look on my face when I saw the hospital’s phone number on my cell phone screen so early was scary; I wondered if I was about to be forced to make a medical decision on his behalf, but it was all good news. Surgeons in certain fields are a little too cocky for my taste. The better the school they go to, the cockier they seem to be. 😦 His surgeon told me how great he did (I wasn’t sure if he meant himself or my brother, the man was way too excited.) and that because he is young and healthy, he should be good to go after he heals. I’ve inherited a patient for the next 3-4 months once he’s discharged from the hospital. You can probably feel my enthusiasm from wherever you are reading this. People in Siberia can feel the warmth of that enthusiasm. I’m contemplating becoming an alcoholic in advance of his arrival.

My brother, when sick, is the world’s biggest pain in the ass. If he has an ear infection, I have to hear about it non-stop and deal with his whining. I could have headphones on and still hear him bitching from ten miles away. Post-surgery brother, which is an absolute first, is going to drive me to new levels of insanity. Feel free to send plenty of bottles of wine and hard liquor my way. My “water bottle” might very well have vodka in it later today.

He called me yesterday morning after they removed the tube they left in overnight because they were afraid he’d rip it out, and not only did he sound insane, but he openly admitted he couldn’t feel anything because they have him on a high dose of morphine. He told a nurse “Sure, take blood. I can’t feel my arms.” NICE. There’s nothing I enjoy more than hearing someone repeat themselves ten times in less than thirty minutes. Even better, he said he wasn’t repeating himself as he disclosed details of his surgery that I simply did NOT need to hear about. I don’t know him that well, he doesn’t need to share every single thing with me. 😛

In my brother’s infinite wisdom, he gave me a list of errands to run for him. However, he left out crucial information, like where he keeps certain things and how I can access them. Welcome to the land of the paranoid boy. “Do this…”, but apparently I don’t need to know HOW, I just need to “get it done”. I am shaking my head at the stupidity of it all, and the fact that I went to four different places to handle this crap. I can’t decide if I’m stupid or insane. By the time I got home last night, I had dinner and went to bed, and this morning there is not a single part of my body that doesn’t hurt like hell.

I did everything earlier than I anticipated so that Monday, once all the tubes come out, I can go to the hospital for a while, and perhaps then, I will be let it on the secret as to where all the other documents are so that I can copy, print, scan, and fax/ e-mail them to the necessary parties. I’ve seen a LOT in my life medically, but there are some things my brain does not need branded in it for life. I’m banned from his room until the tubes come out, as he’s afraid I will pass out and/or throw up on someone. I have NO idea why he thinks I’m some sheltered little creature. Far from it. However, he said he’d prefer that I not see him as he is now, but that I can come once he looks like a “normal human-being again”, whatever that looks like.

Things are all pointing in good directions for him health-wise at the moment, but I can tell that recovery will be slow. It makes me sick that he’s coughing and is in so much pain from every movement. I understand pain far more than he will ever realize, but I have been lucky to avoid surgery, despite one major hospital stay.

He can’t do anything for 12 weeks upon being discharged from the hospital, but he said he’d give the paperwork to me so I can A) Read everything and B) Learn about his new diet. Subtlety at its finest. 😦 I offered to make him homemade chicken soup this weekend and bring him some on Monday, but he refused, saying it was “too much work”. It’s roughly a few hours of letting the flavors simmer before I pull the chicken out, but if he’s going to be on an all liquid diet for a week or two, nothing is better than homemade soup. It soothes the soul and heals the body, or at least mine does. Then he told me it likely has too much salt in it, which was downright insulting (No one has EVER accused me of that!), so I will bring him something else once he decides what he wants. His vocal cords are going to take some time to heal, so for now, he’s asking for some pretty weird things, but I am happy to bring them if they will make him feel better. If I can keep his mouth full, it might even keep him quiet. 😉

I am glad to have this weekend to rest my body. Even after a night’s worth of sleep, I’d gladly go back to bed and snuggle with Cat, who returned to her spot in bed as soon as she finished her breakfast. She looks so warm and cuddly in her twisted upside down position while she purrs. There is something about watching Cat and Kitten in their restful states that often makes me sleepy, perhaps it’s how calm and relaxed they are in the safety of their home. Of course, Kitten just got smacked for jumping up on the bed and checking on her. As she has grown in size, Cat has become less amused by her antics. There is a definite balance between play and slumber. If she feels Kitten is getting out of hand or acting out of turn, she will smack her gently, to let her know she’s not in the mood. Kitten is still a baby in so many ways, so she will either smack her back and force her to engage in play, or walk away sad, which is precisely when she looks at me as if to say “Mommy, she’s being mean to me.” She defers to her ‘older sister’, but she won’t take crap from her either. They have watched over me these past two weeks while I’ve been in various stages of upset, and cared for me when I’ve felt sick myself. This is a great benefit of raising little creatures that unconditionally love you. People, I find, are too fickle to truly offer that level of love.

Since my original plans for this weekend are no longer valid, anyone who sees SPECTRE needs to let me know how they enjoyed it. Feel free to send me spoilers as well, since I have to pre-order it on Blu-Ray which won’t happen ’til next year. I absolutely HATE missing another Bond movie opening weekend. 😦 If you know me well, you know why.

And so, I am off to begin “the weekend” in some fashion. I’ve been up for hours, but haven’t made any definitive decisions as to what I will do. For now, I think Self-Care needs to be a priority.

Wishing you all an enjoyable, happy, & safe weekend. Do something fun! 🙂

Boxes, Hospitals, & The Immovable Insomniac

2015-10-29 Miss Poison Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing All Saints' Day, Boxes, Cat and Kitten, Dia de los Muertos, Exhaustion, Halloween, Insomnia, Migraines, Moving, Musings, My Brother, October, Packing, Poison In Lethal Doses, Rain, Samhain, Stress, Writing

I scored boxes at my local liquor store Monday afternoon. If you’d seen them piled up in the backseat of my car, you would have thought I was throwing the party of the century.

For those that told me Barnes & Noble would not only have boxes, but happily give them to me; you’re all wrong. I called them and was slightly disgusted by their “policy” regarding boxes they’re only going to end up having to recycle. Other places are much more willing to hold large boxes for me as soon as they receive deliveries. Everyone else is seemingly re-using a single box 4-5 times until the boxes fall apart completely. I totally understand reuse, it’s common sense, but I also think it’s overkill for the people who have to work at the distribution centers and those that deliver. Use any box too many times and it will break; this is a fact.

And yet, with all these boxes, I can barely move because I overdid it Monday. I managed to get a bruise on my hand, of all places. I suspect this is the first of many more to come. 😦 I hurt so bad in my neck, shoulders, back, and legs that I’d give a lot to sit somewhere and watch someone else do all of this work. Don’t get me wrong, I would happily water them, feed them, and give them regular breaks. I’m not a slave driver.

Moving is very difficult, and it’s made harder when you’re on a creative streak, but when you’re on an emotional streak as well? It’s super difficult, to say the least. My brain was utterly devoid of complicated thought for many hours yesterday because there are too many stressful things going on at once. I have no idea when I am going to shut down or kick into high gear, but I sense a change in the wind.

My brother’s health is currently at a stand-still in terms of what is and isn’t being done. The procedure he was supposed to have done yesterday was put off. I received a text after 11:00 a.m. to let me know they might not be able to get him in at all due to so many emergencies concerning people in worse shape. This progressed until they finally decided they’d let him eat. We later learned from the lab techs that he was low man on the totem pole because so many heart attacks and catastrophic heart patients came in after he did. That makes sense, but now he is being tested for additional problems. 😦 This is precisely when my brother becomes a PITA (Pain In The Ass) patient.

He has sent me photos and video. Granted, one video was for Cat, because she’s searching for him. She’s moping and pining because her boyfriend isn’t here to tell her how pretty, sweet, and good she is. She IS a beautiful cat, and she’s very sweet, but their relationship borders on nauseating at times. I was in bed at 8:15 last night and she threw me out of bed several hours later simply because she was A) Bored, B) Hungry and refusing to eat, and/or C) In search of her favorite man. Why should I sleep when complicated cat emotions need to be tended to?

It’s good that I’m awake though. I can do some things around the house, take out the recycling as soon as it stops raining, and try to focus on packing my linen closet and a few things in my bathroom. The smaller the room, the easier I can handle it, focus, and get it done, or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. If I start now, I will have an additional bag or two for pickup. I put one out last night, but it was just normal stuff as opposed to ” I threw it all away!” stuff. There’s a difference in the weight.

Of course, the more I sit here writing, thinking, the more I realize how physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted I am. There should be a nurse standing over me, forcing me to bed with all sorts of pills and liquids. Alas, there is not.

The only noise is the rain and the wind. Cat is sleeping a few feet away to my right, with her ears pointed in my direction. I have no idea where Kitten is hiding, but I know she’s not far. That little bug is never far away from Mommy or sister, which is kind of nice. 🙂 Now if I could get a handle on these migraines, that would be fantastic, but we all know that increased stress is going to increase the amount of migraines I get. Unless I am able to fully take a breath and calm down, they’re going to keep up their insane ways. Never a dull moment, but man am I praying for one!

I don’t know what these next few days hold, but if I’m silent, please know that I wish everyone a happy & safe Halloween, a blessed Samhain, a festive Dia de los Muertos, and a peaceful All Saints’ Day. If you don’t celebrate any of the aforementioned, have a piece of candy and chill.

I Refuse To Change

2015-10-062015-10-06 Miss Poison Honesty, Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Asking For Help, Exhaustion, Family, Friends, Friendship, Honesty, Writing

After taking a couple of days to rest from overdoing it, I am back on my grind today. While going through a box that I never unpacked from my original move (because nothing inside it was overly important), I found a ton of missing CD’s. I reorganized that box for its intended purpose, took the CD’s out, and I’m boxing up music. I added some songs to my media library since I will be putting the majority of my music into storage initially. You know how there’s always that one song you miss? I was happy to find a few. But I’m also debating tossing things I don’t want to move with, heavy things that seem kind of pointless, but then I have a moment where I think “Shouldn’t you at least have the opportunity to go through all of this stuff before deciding to toss it or not? Okay, so it’s a few extra boxes and it will take hours to go through every single item and make a decision, but if you’re throwing away solid memories, maybe it should wait. If you’re questioning it, then now is not the time to toss it.”

How is it that “stuff” emotionally neuters us at times? In life, we build memories and sometimes, memories captured are difficult to part with. The more I pause, the more I feel like nothing is getting done and I’m working on a very tight deadline.

To add insult to injury, I have absolutely no clue how this move is going to take place. I’ve had two “helpers” back out in the last few days. No explanations, just flat-out back out or say one thing, and then say they couldn’t or wouldn’t help. I need someone to drive a 26 foot truck, so I asked the one person in my life who is a professional driver. It’s not like he has someplace to be the following day. I’d never ask someone to take off from work to help me move, but naturally, there are going to be kinks along the way. I was then left with the second task: I need to transport Cat and Kitten and all the delicate items in a separate vehicle. I legitimately need help. I can’t take them and leave them in a situation they’re not familiar with and them come back and do everything else before I have to be out, so I am frustrated and more than a little pissed off. Ultimately, I have no choice but to keep packing, but not knowing with solid certainty where I’m going due to these issues is upsetting me greatly. And yes, I have thought of so many options and no one is willing to say “I can help you out that weekend, it’s not a problem.” Mind you, they’d all come to me in a heartbeat for the smallest thing, but my asking for help is somehow wrong. Note to self: Trade family members into slavery. Buy Porsche Cayenne with the money you make from the trade. (I’m only partially kidding.)

The larger insult that I was slammed with the other day was basically being told that I don’t have enough friends. It was an incredibly rich statement based on who it came from, but it pissed me off nonetheless because it was thoughtless, insensitive, and rude. How many “friends” does one need? Do I need a fucking sorority house to satisfy someone else’s idea of how I should be, or am I good with just a few close friends?

I do not grant friendship easily. My friendship is a genuine, loyal, breathing organism. It is fully committed and quite frankly, most women don’t know how to be friends like that. I don’t need falseness in my life and I don’t need to be a joiner to be a good person and be content. Anyone who thinks I need to change the core of who I am needs to realize that Fibromyalgia is with me 24/7. Eventually, people stop asking you to do things when you can barely get out of bed and do the most basic things for yourself, so why would I want to put myself in the situation of opening up to absolute strangers who haven’t earned their place in my life? I’m a grown woman, and the last thing I need in this world is to be told how to be or that there’s something about me that needs to change because it’s imperfect. I have two words as an answer: FUCK THAT.

I am who I am. I am ENOUGH. Anyone who disagrees needs to mind their own business, keep their opinions to themselves, or get the hell out of my way.

I only apologize if I’ve truly done something wrong. Being myself is NOT wrong.

So, to the person that feels I need to be “changed”, I strongly suggest you take a good look in the mirror and change some of your own behavioral patterns. I don’t change friends daily the way you change socks, and that is a quality to be admired, not disrespected as you did. The fact that you look down upon it is quite sickening.

The cherry on top: I’ve had a migraine since yesterday afternoon. I was legitimately in bed before 4:00 PM. At some point, my body will inform me that it needs more rest and I am going to do my best to give it what it needs. Unfortunately, moving and self-care don’t exactly mesh well. 😦 I’d love to just lie in bed and read a book today or tomorrow. I am going to try to squeeze in chapters of Trigger Mortis here and there before I leave. Worst case scenario: I’m unable to finish it.

On the plus side, I am truly grateful for the people who have stepped up and assisted in both large and small ways, regardless of the miles between us. That means so much to me, to have that level of support. Sadly, I wish it was a team of ten people at the moment helping me with all this crap instead of a handful making me feel like crap.

Life, my friends, is not for the faint of heart. Treat people the way you want to be treated.

It’s Normal And It’s Okay

2015-10-04 Miss Poison Life, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Emotional Pain, Emotions, Exhaustion, Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Strength, Stress, Work, Writing

Another night of barely present sleep has me sitting here stressed. I should be boxing things up in my bathroom or going through my closet, but it’s cold, even with the heat on, the wind is insane, and I think I have to give myself a break today. From the neck down, everything hurts. If I don’t rest through this flare, nothing will get done as I lose a week to bed-rest, so I need to give myself a day here and there and cut myself some slack. Rome was not built in a day. I cannot pack up my entire life in a few days either.

I’ve been contemplating breakfast for several hours. Is it weird that I want mashed potatoes? LOL. Hot, comforting, and fast because they’re already in the fridge and all I have to do is heat them up. Alas, I came upstairs to write instead.

I will organize laundry next, as the store I bought my mattress from is finally sending someone out to inspect it on Tuesday, “sometime between 4 and 7”, and while I always change the linens on Sunday, this time I want to make sure that everything is good to go for that. Hell, I might even make my bed. It would be the first time in a few years. Don’t judge me, no one cares what it looks like so long as it’s clean.

The person who was originally working with me in regard to this issue is “no longer with the company”, so I am afraid that this hole in my mattress will be blown off, as opposed to the person being able to feel the spring popping up and authorizing a replacement. I am going to ask him outright if this thing is a lemon (which I suspected less than a year after sleeping on it. It shouldn’t have gone from the best thing EVER to “I want to replace this.”) or simply defective. I informed the store that I was moving and because it’s a regional store, as opposed to nationwide, if they do replace it, they’ll have to get it to me before the end of the month. At the very least, if they deliver it the day I leave, it’ll be wrapped and good to go into storage for a while. My bed is huge when you factor in the entire piece of furniture, so I will have to get them to send me instructions on how to take it apart since it took two men to get it in here and put it together. It was expensive or I wouldn’t be so concerned about taking it apart and storing it. It’s special to me and while it’s no longer pristine as it was when I first bought it, I’d like to be able to keep it for the foreseeable future. If not, a trip to IKEA is in my future. It’s been so long since I’ve been to IKEA that I look forward to going, which should be sad, but I think it’s a good idea. If nothing else, I might find some great ideas moving forward.

Tomorrow I notify my final editing client of the year that I will be taking the next two months to move. Technically I don’t need all of November blocked out (I will buckle down and finish her manuscript once I’m settled), but I won’t have Internet access immediately because the company that runs everything where I will be moving knows nothing about customer service. I’ve spoken to them twice and I can assure you that they’re drunk on their own Kool-Aid. The fact that I said I didn’t want a two-year agreement nearly sent two agents into a tizzy. “You will be so satisfied with our service, we are certain you will want to keep it for years to come.” Yeah, whatever. When Verizon moves in, and inevitably, the demand will secure their position, I am GONE. I will do whatever I have to in order to leave you and return to the company that has been amazing to me from day one. If I didn’t need the Internet, I’d let it fly, but I can’t work without it. If I’m going to be without it for more than a week on my laptop and tablet, it means I’m on the vacation of the century. Verizon is more along the lines of “We can be there tomorrow; would you prefer a morning, afternoon, or evening appointment?”, but these assholes told me installation would be 5-10 days from the time I place the order, but that I can choose the date to coincide with my arrival. How kind of you, since you’ll be sucking money out of me every month like leeches. The whole thing annoys me, but ultimately, having Internet access is important. It’s how I get shit done.

Ultimately, I am trying to make peace with my decision. The more negativity I deal with here, the more I want to be gone. I want to get back to being the woman I used to be. I deserve to be able to be myself without having to mask 99% of what I think or feel, or be told that it’s wrong. Overall, the things I will miss about being here aren’t as large as missing chunks of myself. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt or that I’m not upset about it. I am. However, there comes a time when you have to stop sacrificing pieces of your soul

When my mother had her accident, she worried that she was holding me back because I stayed put to take care of her. I would not change that decision for anything in the world, even though I was completely burned out in the end. I would not have been able to look at myself in the mirror if I didn’t know exactly what was going on with her. I would not have been able to enjoy anything in my life knowing that I wasn’t a good daughter, the kind she deserved, the person she raised me to be. I may not have been able to keep her alive in the end, but I remember a time when my Mom wasn’t strong enough to leave a bad situation and I was her strength. Now, I have to be my own.

Rest Alludes Me

2015-09-262015-09-27 Miss Poison Exhaustion, Musings, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Exhaustion, Musings, Pain, Poison In Lethal Doses, Saturday Night, Writing

All I want to do is SLEEP. For God’s sake, it’s Saturday night and I am BEAT. It’s meant to be a ‘day of rest’. But really, why should my body obey unwritten laws?!

Today I completed two writing assignments, decided on a mountain of paperwork for tomorrow when I inevitably won’t be able to sleep (might as well kill two birds with one stone), watched a friend’s video from her birthday trip (Happy 31st lovie!), washed & dried two loads of laundry, and fed Cat and Kitten. Cat is seemingly feeling better after being sick yesterday. I care a lot less about the stain on the carpet that I am treating and more about her overall fluffiness. Carpet can be covered and/or replaced, a cat can never be replaced. Big picture.

The birthday dinner was successful. Major kudos to the amazing chef, oh wait, that was ME. Yeah, I was a rockstar. 😉 I would have taken photos of the finished product, but quite frankly, we all know what food looks like. I was slightly grateful when Case Study #2 thanked me for dinner, saying how delicious it was, and said he was still recovering from being sick over the past few weeks, and could I save dessert for tomorrow. Sure! By all means…go and rest. It would also be great if he’d pretend he doesn’t know me until 2020, but the chances of that happening are slim to none.

And so here I sit, listening to Imagine Dragons and my muscles protesting everything I have done this week. I need a vacation that involves daily massages.

I have decided that the Topamax is interfering with my sleep at night (This is usually why I take it in the morning. My neurologist says I’m the only patient he has that doesn’t get sleepy from it.), so I am going to take the daily dose every day before 1:00 PM (because sometimes I forget) and see how that goes. I’ll try to use an app to track it, but that might not work as well for me as the migraine app does; it’s been an absolute Godsend at tracking each migraine, the symptoms, and my sleep. If anyone wants to try it out for themselves, I will tell you what it is. I don’t know if it’s available for the iPhone, but one can always check.

Okay my lovelies, I am off to finish my tea and try to lull myself to sleep. That means turning off all electronics. I will talk to you soon.

P.S. For those submitting questions for the AMA: Please remember to include your WordPress info so that your question(s) can be linked to you. Thus far I’ve received a few and they were all bereft of a WordPress link. I’d hate for someone not to be given credit.

I’m Going To Use…

Image 2015-09-162015-09-16 Miss Poison Depression, Exhaustion, Honesty, Images/Photos/Quotes, Pieces Of Me, Writing Depression, Energy, Exhaustion, Fibromyalgia Pain, Images/Photos/Quotes, Mental Health Day

This about sums it up for me today, people!

I went to bed feeling like this. 😦 I woke up feeling like this. 😦 And as the morning has progressed, I’m trying to talk myself off a ledge. Let it not go without saying that the work two doors down is not yet complete, so there’s a lot of hammering and banging to add to my misery. I could jump off my roof, but who the hell would take the time to notice? Case Study #2 would only notice if I didn’t respond to a few hours worth of phone calls, text messages, and ignored all pleas for food (I’d simply be an evil bitch until he saw the body.). His birthday is approaching, which in his mind somehow means I owe him lottery winnings or something. Perhaps a nice bodily organ. UGH!

I feel utterly paralyzed in my pain. My neck and shoulders hurt so bad, I want to cry. It also turns out that my bruises have given birth to bruises. If you’ve never had a deep bone bruise on the top of your that you cannot explain, all I can say is that it hurts. If it were a series of ugly colors, that would be one thing, but it’s a faint shade of brown. The pain, however, is not faint. I’m almost certain that when I wasn’t looking, someone tried crushing my hand.

All I want to do is go back to bed. I keep wondering if that’s a viable option. Can I call it a Mental Health Day? “A Step Away From A Nervous Breakdown” Day is too long, especially if anyone ever wants to turn it into a t-shirt. Oh leave me alone, I’m weird.

I hope everyone is having a superior Wednesday by comparison. Practice a random act of kindness, even if it’s as simple as paying for a stranger’s cup of coffee tomorrow morning. Go forth and spread positivity, even when you, yourself, don’t always feel so positive.

I’ll be back as soon as I am able.

Bright, Blue, and Dark

2015-09-14 Miss Poison Depression, Exhaustion, Feelings, Fibromyalgia, Honesty, Mondays, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Depression, Exhaustion, Mondays, Moods, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Sadness, September, Stress, Writing

Despite what the Migraine app claims, I slept horribly (hours don’t count unless it’s quality sleep). Under normal circumstances the fact that I took two Benadryl for my allergies would mean I would have gotten an extra 2-3 hours of sleep. Alas, around 5:00 a.m. I was haunted by Case Study #2. Note To Self: Change locks and murder anyone that wakes you three times in one night for their own selfish reasons. By sometime after 6:00, I was awake, pissed off, and hungry. Thank God for awesome leftovers because that’s all I was craving this morning. When you haven’t made something in several years, having it after so long is like a homecoming. I wanted to celebrate the happiness that was occurring in the kitchen. 🙂 However, I’m not in the mood.

Despite bright blue skies vividly showing off the start to an early Fall, my mood is dark. I would love to say “Oh, it’s just Monday blues.”, but I know that’s not it. I’d love to say “It’s just the holiday bothering me.”, but that isn’t it either. Normally those might have been the lies one would tell themselves to get through a bad day, instead of honoring the fact that some days aren’t good, and that’s okay. We don’t wake up every single day feeling our best, or wanting to cast that cloud on others. I often say my mood first thing in the morning will determine my day, and that’s true. If I wake up on a mission, then I’ll slowly, but surely get things done. If I wake up feeling sick, or in a terribly low mood, then it’s often best to keep my mouth shut and my mood to myself. The last thing I want to do is lose my temper in public.

Because today is a holiday, it is often solemn. I normally read, keep a low profile, maybe talk to someone via phone or e-mail, but basically I keep to myself until the holiday is over. Unfortunately, that’s how most of my days are, minus the minor socialization and reading. I have so much to do and the stress is weighing heavily on me. I know that it will all get done, but man, all I want to do is crawl into a cave today and be left to my own devices.

It is extremely difficult not to feel insignificant in God’s eyes when you are going through difficult things with minimal support. But then you look in the mirror and you realize that ultimately, you support yourself. You look in your eyes and say “No matter what, I’ve got this. We’re going to be okay. We’re going to rise above everything. Hell, we’re going to fly.”