Honesty

The First Night Of Chanukah

Miss Poison Chanukah, Christmas, Honesty, Judaism, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Thoughts, Wicca, Writing , , , , , , , , , ,

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If one more person wishes me a “Merry Christmas”, I will hurt them. It’s very simple; I’m JEWISH. I feel like I’ve been over this a million times, but today I damn near lost my temper, so I’m going to reiterate this, but for the love of G-d, don’t make me do it twice.

Yes, believe it or not, there are religions that do not celebrate the same holidays that you may celebrate. There are religions that are much older. This is basic kindergarten knowledge, yet every single person I’ve come across for over a month now has made an assumption I don’t fucking like. I’ve spent weeks holding it in. I’ve been polite, I’ve been nondescript in my “Enjoy your holiday!” greetings to others, I sent out cards with genuine, handwritten messages to express how I feel about people in a loving fashion, but at this point, I’m just plain fed up.

Tonight just so happens to be the first night of Chanukah. So, while the Jews are celebrating the miracle of oil lasting for eight nights and surviving taking back our temple centuries ago (By the way, we’re still surviving and we are a religious minority.), and we do this in very individual ways, there is literally zero discussion among us of trees, lights on our homes, Santa, Jesus, etc. To learn more, here’s some info that you might find prudent in case you consider wishing me a “Merry Christmas” ever again:  CHANUKAH 

It’s one thing if you don’t know I’m Jewish, but I make myself pretty clear. I openly discuss Jewish holidays, Israel, traditions, etc. I am also Wiccan, and I openly discuss those holidays, too. But if you go through my feed, you will see zero mention of holidays pertaining to any other faith. There’s a valid reason for that, and to ensure I don’t insult anyone, I’ll keep my feelings to myself.

I will always be respectful of those who show me respect and kindness, but damn, I am SO tired of correcting people. I know they mean well, really, but it drives me insane, so I’m putting my foot down. You can call me names (I’m sure plenty of people will.), but ultimately, respect the simple fact that I don’t celebrate Christmas. Wish me a Happy Chanukah (there are many different spellings out there, so it’s easy to confuse one with another) with the same genuineness as “Merry Christmas”. The big difference between your religion and mine is that Jews don’t believe in Jesus. There are other things we don’t believe as well, but that’s really the major one. There’s no lack of faith in G-d, we believe, just differently than you do. Also, we don’t go around trying to convert you. We’re pretty “live and let live”.

So tonight, I’d like to thank the people who honored me with cards & gifts. I genuinely appreciate the generosity and love.

Here’s hoping I never have to mention this again, because if I do, I’m re-posting an article I wrote a few years ago about what I do on Christmas Day. Frankly, I might post it tomorrow for shits and giggles.

To everyone celebrating whatever they believe in tonight; may peace and love be at the core of all you do. Blessed Be.

copyright © 2016 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

 

Triggers

Miss Poison Honesty, Life, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Triggers, Writing , , , , , , , , , , , ,
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I don’t fully agree with all of this. It’s a very complex thing and I’d never gloss over it.

December. My new month, chock full of triggers.

I woke up Thursday morning and didn’t know where I was. From the colors around me, to the sounds; I was completely and utterly disoriented. And then, it came crashing down on me in one fell swoop; it’s December 1st.

Last year, my life changed drastically on that very same Thursday morning. I worked hard to make sure the change wouldn’t come, but there are things outside our own power structure and oftentimes, we have to learn to adapt and try not to take painful tragedy personally. However, it was indeed tragic, it will forever remain personal, and it breaks pieces of my soul every day.

At the time I said I’d probably never discuss it, and I’m still not discussing it, not in its entirety. Perhaps, one day, in therapy, I will feel comfortable and safe enough to let chunks of pain out, but for now? No. There are some things that are personal; things you’ll carry with you, because they cut too fucking deep and, a year later, the memories continue to haunt you

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I cannot tell anyone the last time I was truly happy, if ever there was a time, or even a moment of happiness. My life is very ordinary, and extremely unhappy. Write, edit, cook, clean, wash dishes, do laundry, shop for groceries. Lather, rinse, repeat. I sing when I cook, if I don’t have a migraine and happen to be in the mood for music. I even danced the other night while cooking, because the song was perfect. I couldn’t remember the last time I had danced around a kitchen and dining room. I take care of Cat and Kitten, because they love me unconditionally and would never intentionally harm me in any way. I have been constantly reminded that I’m “not someone’s mother”. In fact, this year I’ve constantly been reminded how little I matter to those in my life, and especially to those around me. Many people have stepped back (some permanently, others I let go of), but others have stepped up and in to my life in larger roles. I am immensely grateful to those who truly stand by me, even when I’m suffering, and don’t push. I am grateful to those who take the time to get to know you, because they genuinely want to know YOU, because they CARE. They show you your value by their words and actions. As I told a friend recently “Friendship is free.”, because it is. However, it is also an immense gift in times of good and bad. And if you’re dealing with horrible shit, you quickly learn who will stand by you and who will not.

I’m happy to say I’ve made some new friends this year, and managed to strengthen my long-term bonds into something richer and deeper than ever before. That makes me proud because I highly value my friendships. It’s nice to receive text messages that make you smile, or items in the mail that mean SO MUCH because it’s truly the thought behind the gesture. It’s nice when friends say “I wish you lived closer.”, because they mean it. I’m almost certain I’d be in jail if all of my friends lived within 1-4 miles of me. Perhaps that’s not such a bad thing, either. I might benefit from being on a first-name basis with more police officers. LOL.

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Emotional garbage. Littering is unacceptable.

I am trying hard to turn my triggers into positives by changing my reactions to days of the week, to numbers on the calendar, etc. It’s not easy, it will take time, but I am trying, and I give myself credit for the effort that takes.

So, while this will be a difficult month for me, I look forward to coming out the other side a stronger, smarter person who can look for the silver lining amongst the clouds.

copyright © 2016 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Brain Problems

Miss Poison Autoimmune Disease, Being Real, Fibromyalgia, Health, Honesty, Life, Musings, November, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing , , , , , , , , ,
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I have exactly ONE PERSON in my life who has done the research and offered his help. Out of so many who could use their brains, my cousin chose to use his.

No, the title isn’t meant to indicate an actual health issue. Not that I’m aware of. However, Fibromyalgia Brain Fog, also commonly referred to as “Fibro Fog”, has really done a number on me this month. It was slowly progressing, but now I feel dumber than a box of rocks with twelve piles of shit on top. It’s scary, freakish, and makes me feel terrible about myself. Only another sufferer can truly understand how much pain this puts me in.

I know these are common daily occurrences for a lot of people who struggle with Fibromyalgia and other auto-immune diseases, but my incidents have been sporadic and easily managed, up until now. This weekend has pretty much brought me to my knees on the memory front. 😦

If you ask me about something from when I was two or three years old, I have complete recall of the entire moment. If you ask me why I tried putting black pepper in the freezer, I’ve got nothing. If I didn’t set the timer on the stove, I’d walk away from preparing meals and never go back (I ALWAYS set the timer, even if it’s just ten minutes, it’s loud enough to bring me back in order to focus.). I have to be 100% in whatever it is I am doing, otherwise I am going to end up cutting myself, burning myself, or forgetting what the hell I’m doing to begin with. There is nothing normal or acceptable about this.

To add insult to injury, I put notes on my phone as reminders for pretty much everything. I take this phone with me wherever I go, and yet, I still forget what the hell I’m reading and end up deleting at least 50% of the note before I’ve left most stores. It’s utterly pathetic. It’s also sad, because I’m tired of searching cabinets and the refrigerator/freezer for things I forgot to buy. I then add the missing items to next week’s list, only so the cycle can continue on in an ugly manner. I have to start each list with cat food and cat litter, otherwise it’s entirely possible I will forget one, the other, or both. This past weekend, I forgot the litter. The plus side, there’s 20 pounds of it sitting near the litter box from the weekend prior, so all I have to do is change the damn thing. The fact that I can even lift 20 pounds these days is miraculous to me. 😦

I think I would be better able to cope with this lack of brain function if I were over 75 and had achieved all of the things I set out to do with my life. I’d be able to say “Hey, I’ve lived longer than my parents. I’ve accomplished all of this. I’m simply getting older and forgetting things. It’s not the end of the world.” However, I’m nowhere near 75, not even close, and yet, my brain is suddenly turning to mush. I tried refrigerating herbs when I was cooking earlier (obviously, that’s not where they belong). As soon as I realized what I was doing, I nearly dropped all of them on the floor and burst into tears.

These incidents are made worse by the criticism of others. “Do you even have a fucking brain?”, I was asked earlier this month. “You really DO live in your own world.”, I was told the other day. These are things I’d never say out loud to someone I know is sick, leave alone healthy.

If you have someone in your life with an autoimmune disease/disorder that affects their brain function, I would like you to walk a hundred thousand miles in their shoes. I want you to spend 365 days in their body before making a single derogatory remark in their direction. Our ears are fine; we can fucking hear your offensive, rude negativity. However, if you don’t understand the illness itself, shut the fuck up. You’re not making the situation better, and how you treat someone is just as important as how you speak to them. Unfortunately, we live in a world where everyone wants respect, simply for existing, but they don’t realize their behavior is what garners respect. Moreover, we all express our feelings differently. I prefer to say a lot of things to people privately, eschewing public professions. Some people seem to have a deep-seated need for the public professions though, and it baffles me. Just because we live in a selfie-filled world doesn’t mean every single thing we want to say ought to be made public.

You can argue that by writing it, I’ve made it public, but here’s the thing; I didn’t name names. I rarely, if ever, do. I talk in code with my friends, we have our own private language, and I write in code a lot of the time, too. You get the gist of it, obviously, you just don’t have faces and names to attach to what I’m saying. It’s like reading a book. You get descriptions of characters, but you are left to your own devices as to what they might truly look like if you met them on the street.

So, even with my “brain problems”, I don’t have “writer problems”. Thank G-d and Goddess for that!

copyright © 2016 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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Nobody Knows The Real Me

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I’ve been going through some seriously heavy stuff for well over a year now. I may have posted this before, but today, this rings immensely true for me. I pray for strength to get me through, but some days, even the strongest person has a meltdown in the shower, so no one can see or hear. Some days; the strongest person you know can’t bear the thought of any more yelling, abuse, or internal pain. Some days are fucking HARD. Way harder than they should be.

Thankful, Grateful, Yet Pissed Off

Miss Poison Honesty, Life, Musings, My Brother, November, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Thanksgiving, Writing , , , , , , , , , , , ,
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My ancestors didn’t come to this country until the late 1800’s or 1920ish, if not later than that.

Thursday is Thanksgiving here in the United States. There is much history behind this holiday (I currently live in Massachusetts and you can’t escape people talking about spending the holiday in Plymouth. I’ve never spent Thanksgiving at a restaurant; I’ve always participated among family, cooked it myself, etc.), but for me, especially this year, this is the first Thanksgiving where I’ll be completely without my brother.

He was just released from the hospital once again. He’s SO sick, and while I am thankful and grateful that he is alive, I am exceptionally upset that he isn’t in a good situation and is so far away. It makes me ill. The fact that the medicine he needs for his heart and lungs is more expensive than I can handle is also too much for me emotionally. I want to help him, to fix the situation and the problems, but I can’t fix every problem he presents me with. It kills me. You are only given so many people in a life and I have been given one living brother. Not helping when he asks (or doesn’t ask) is to be a lower life form. I can’t be like that. I stand up as much as humanly possible.

I have much to be thankful for this year. I am thankful for what little in my life is mine. I’m grateful for the roof over my head, clothes, food, Cat and Kitten, my friends, and family. However, I’m also pissed off.

This has been an extremely painful year for me. I don’t know when it gets easier, or if it ever does, but I hope and pray that the coming year (and years) won’t wreck me like the previous dozen, or so, have. I’m a human-being, I’m imperfect, my feelings are real, and valid, and in 2017, I’d like to break out of this horrible shell I am in and be reborn in some way.

For the past six months or so, I’ve been experiencing bouts of Fibro Fog that are terrifying. I’ve done so many bizarre things that I’d never normally do if I was at 100% capacity (like trying to put black pepper in the freezer). For over seven months, I’ve been experiencing blackouts where I cannot account for my time. I’m not passing out and waking up on the side of the road or anything, and I’m lucky that they are no longer happening daily, but there are far too many days where I look at the clock and it’s 9:00 a.m. and the next thing I know, it’s 4:00 PM and I couldn’t tell you where my day went if you paid me a million dollars. These are not normal things for anyone, leave alone me. I stopped talking about these episodes with friends and family because no one seemed that interested or concerned, but I’m walking around on auto-pilot and I have no idea how I get from point A to point B most days. It’s scary and it’s completely unlike me.

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This year, Thanksgiving will lack all forms of tradition. The only “tradition” I’ll be bringing to the table is a 40+ year old recipe for stuffing. In my entire life, I’ve only eaten one other type of stuffing and it paled in comparison to my Mom’s. However, to highlight my Fibro Fog I have to say I’m embarrassed and mortified that I remembered all of the ingredients for the stuffing, but once I hit store #3 on Sunday, I realized I never purchased the actual stuffing, herbs, or a turkey pan for it. I tend to make stuffing the night before, that way it’s perfect Thanksgiving Day (and only takes a little while to heat up). It also helps me pace myself because making it involves a lot of vegetable chopping and ingredient play. However, I am happy to make it and enjoy that piece of my Mom that she passed on to me; the ability to cook and cook well (In fairness, I did inherit other things from her, for which I am also eternally grateful.).

So yeah, lots of sadness at the moment. I’m praying I will somehow be able to come through for my brother, and as it has been nearly a year since I’ve seen him (Unheard of!), I am hoping & praying I will be able to see him next month. I have learned this year that the person who knows me best is my brother (only regarding certain things, not all things). Part of me finds that exceptionally sad, and the other part thinks it’s extremely fitting.

Wishing everyone, in advance, a wonderful start to the holiday season. You don’t have to be American to appreciate that sentiment.

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Be safe, everyone!

copyright © 2016 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Silent Nausea

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I’ve felt the need to be silent this past two weeks. There are millions of thoughts in my head, things I’ve love to put into a cohesive pattern, but I honestly cannot bring myself to do so. I’m physically, mentally, and emotionally too drained. I am sure many people feel the same way.

I will put everyone at ease; I don’t want to discuss politics. I hate every single election year. I’m sick of hearing a multitude of opinions on the radio, reading them online where horrific fights have broken out and people have ended friendships over differing opinions (or where families are fighting over who voted for this one or that one), hearing about it on TV, etc. I’m upset that children are terrified and scared about what all of this means for them, and that families feel as they do. I don’t care who anyone voted for, because that’s truly none of my business. I realize that roughly 46% of Americans may not have voted in this election. To each their own. It’s your right, your choice. I’m not going to judge it/you or discuss it. I’ve genuinely had enough of the subject. I’d like to be woken in four years. Subject closed.

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I’m sitting here functioning on some bizarre form of auto-pilot. It even took me on a four mile walk today. I truly have no idea how I got home! 

Currently, my focus is on my health. I’m rarely afraid for myself, but something horrible is happening and there is seemingly no way for me to save myself this time. I’ve spent days crying and breaking down, and no one has noticed or said a word to me. It truly makes me feel invisible. Sometimes people get upset when they hear me say I’m “useless”, “worthless”, “invisible”, “barely existing”, and/or “a failure”. They don’t ask why I feel that way, they simply tell me I’m none of those things. They don’t get it, and that hurts.

I don’t have a lot of people to talk to about this sort of thing honestly and openly. Very few people want to hear what I have to say, and on the off-chance they do; they cannot relate to this level of anguish. I’m not very trusting, so I wouldn’t go to just anyone with my problems, either. People are extremely happy for me to listen to them, but it’s so rare to be listened to in kind. My own brother told me to “stop talking” earlier this week, because he couldn’t process what I was saying. That or he doesn’t believe me; I’m not entirely sure which it is. Clearly, we are ALL fighting our own battles. Some are worse than others. Compared to a lot of things I hear; my life isn’t that difficult. Many people have it far worse than I do. But my emotions? They’re so violently painful that there’s no way to wrap your head around that much hurt. It’s killing me silently, and no one sees it.

My stomach has been horribly painful for about a week now. I thought some tea would help a few days ago, but because I’m so wrapped up in the pain, I probably should not have been grating ginger. I nearly took a finger with me. 😦

When I feel like this I am often accused of “hiding”. What people don’t seem to realize is; I am so filled with pain that it’s for their protection, as well as mine. Instead of accusing someone who is hurting of “hiding”, I would think the healthier alternative would be to encourage them to be around people, or to at least not be locked up in a room as if they’re in a jail cell. 😦

Where the fuck do you meet “new people”?! A close friend and I have been debating this over and over because we’re both utterly clueless regarding this matter. We both agree that we like and prefer depth, not superficial bullshit, and drama-free individuals to spend our time with is a must; because neither of us has time for drama. It’s incredibly difficult to find people who are on the same wavelength as I am. Almost all of my close friends/best friends are people I met because of my work/writing. Every single one of them lives far away. I’ve been incredibly blessed to make life-long friends simply by doing whatever my job is at the time, and finding people through my work who respect and appreciate my ability to be real, without apology.

Genuine friendship is rare. Being able to trust another person is crucial. In the beginning of any friendship, trust is built. However, I’m starting to realize I have immense trust issues because I’ve been hurt & betrayed in the past. I try hard not to look at new people as potential betrayers. I’m simply hyper-aware of them. The one person I met this year that I instantly disliked ended up hurting someone I care about. The other person may eventually forgive, forget, and move forward, but I feel as though listening to my intuition is one of the most important things I can do in all situations. No matter how wonderful and fabulous someone is telling you another person is, take a thirty-second pause to really look at them and allow yourself to sense the truth. You’d be amazed at how important those thirty seconds are.

I’d rather have five solid friends than a dozen tarnished pennies. So, while not a social butterfly, I am 100% ride or die for my friends. However, when they made me they broke the mold. Rumor has it they also beat the hell out of the mold-maker, so don’t expect every person to be a dazzling creature such as myself. 😉 Use your intuition. I find it helps keep the nausea at bay.

I hope you all have a lovely weekend. I’ll be back soon.

copyright © 2016 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

An Open Letter To The “Person” Who Hurt My Brother

Miss Poison Abuse, Anger, Honesty, Life, My Brother, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing , , , , , ,

An Open Letter To The “Person” Who Hurt My Brother

Let’s pretend, for a second, that I don’t know who you are. I’d simply hunt you down slowly and throw you to a pack of wolves. I wouldn’t shed a tear. My tolerance level for such behavior is nil.

However, I know precisely who you are, which makes this ten times worse than if you’d been a mere stranger. This information is dangerous because, in doing what you did, you pissed off the wrong person. Moreover, you left evidence of your “attack”. It wasn’t an attack in the physical sense; or you’d be dead. No, your attack was low, cheap, deplorable, offensive, and you’re incredibly lucky I haven’t ripped you to shreds and fed you to wild pigs. You fed someone lies in an effort to hurt them. It was not “tough love”; it was pure, unadulterated viciousness and hatred. I know you think you’ve gotten away with it, but you haven’t. Knowledge is power. Nothing will ever protect you in this life again. I work best when I’m angry.

My brother is 100% my blood. He is one of few people in this life that I would kill for. The remainder of the list is shorter than an ant hill in winter, and getting shorter each day. I think some people mistake passion and/or rage for love. They’d be wrong. If I don’t love you, you do not benefit from my loyalty and fierceness.

Like most girls, I didn’t want a baby brother. I genuinely wanted a sister, but G-d gives you what He gives you. You learn to deal with such things as you grow up. I’ve been there for my brother since before he came into this world. I was there when we brought him home from the hospital. I vividly remember the first time I saw him. He was quiet; looking directly at me as if he knew who I was; with wide, searching eyes. From day one, I was his protector. He would cry hysterically if I was out of his sight for a minute, and he always wanted to follow me everywhere. He was obsessed with his older sister. Thankfully, he outgrew that, but still, a person remembers.

No matter how mad I get at him, a siblings’ prerogative, I will always have his back. Not to stab him in it, but to shield him from as much as humanly possible. Not because he needs the protection, but because it’s what a good sibling does. Take notes.

Just because you lack quality communication skills does not give you the right to take shit out on my brother. If you want to be ugly, take it out on someone else. Go see a fucking therapist or a psychiatrist for much-needed medication, but don’t attack a person for existing and being human. Don’t swipe claws at someone unless you’re prepared to be attacked in kind by someone far more lethal. Sadly, my brother is too good a person to confront you. He’d rather pray for you and hope that you develop a heart. I have no such issues.

There are maybe a handful of people I will go to bat for in life, and my brother is one of them. You hurt him and even if it takes me five years or ten, I will figure out precisely what it is that will bother you the most. Hell hath NO FURY like me when angered to this level. I wasn’t raised to eat bullshit politely with a knife and fork, and I will not allow him to believe lies about himself, or lies fed to him about me. Something you do not seem to understand is that he knows me and I know him. You can’t feed people lies about each other when they know the absolute truth.

One aspect of being bonded, close siblings is that my brother talks to me. If someone says something to him he will say “Hey, let me tell you about this and get your take on it.” But this time, the issue at hand was taken way too far. He doesn’t deserve to be hurt like this, and to feel such hatred from someone he’s never harmed. If you want to pick on someone, pick on someone your own size. In fact, attack the person staring back at you in the mirror, because after all, that’s who you’re really mad at, not him.

If you love someone, love them wholeheartedly. Love them unconditionally. Love them while you’re still alive. “Band-Aids don’t fix bullet holes.” You can bandage certain wounds, but not caring and letting a person know how much you don’t care? Not everyone recovers from that. You cannot fix wounds that deep. Unlike him, I won’t pray for you. I’m not that kind.

I cannot unlearn what I’ve learned. It is one of the most astounding things, and yet, I’m not surprised. The fact that I have managed to restrain myself this long speaks VOLUMES for how well I have learned to manage my temper. Ten years ago, you would still be explaining to people why you got beaten with your own arm; after I ripped it out of its socket and broke your face with it. Some people talk tough, but I have the capacity to do what I say I will do. My temper is infamous. People do not expect it. They see a petite (read: short) woman. They smile, I smile, but they have no idea what lurks beneath the pretty exterior if you piss me off or hurt someone I love. I am a protector, but I won’t be fooled.

Not to get it confused or twisted; I yell at my brother a lot. We get into very heated arguments because he pushes my buttons and keeps pushing until I lose my temper. However, when I tell him the truth about something, it isn’t to be mean and hurtful, it’s because I’m that direct. He doesn’t take it personally because honesty from me is acceptable, but someone else being cruel to him for the sheer satisfaction of being cruel? NO. That’s unacceptable, and he knows I will inevitably say or do something to put a stop to it. I didn’t major in drama because I lack the ability to be fake. But some people behave like insane sociopaths, and it makes me question their many faces.

I refuse to make excuses for your behavior from here on out. I refuse to say kind things or to temper things gently. From here on in, I am going to be the biggest, most vicious pain in your ass. I’d start investing in hemorrhoid cream now.

If you cannot be a solid person, at least have the decency to tell someone honestly, instead of hanging up on their phone calls and ignoring them for months at a time. If you pulled that crap with me, you’d come to find that he’s the nice sibling. Me? I enjoy being bad cop, even though I’d be an amazing one.

Knock off the drama or deal with me. The choice, ultimately, is yours. Do what you can live with. You’re closer to leaving this world than I am.

copyright © 2016 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

So Many People…

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“So many people cover-up things within themselves. They smile when they really need to frown. They “laugh” nervously when they are uneasy and uncomfortable. They try to make it “all right” so everything can be “perfect” and “fine.” We do this to be accepted. We do this because people guilt us into acting perfect. We fake perfection, so others don’t have to experience any unpleasant realities, because their life is just as fake as ours.

If some people came into contact with anything real, they would be shocked out of their minds. This phony life builds up inside of you until one day you erupt like a volcano, and you don’t know why. But, some people don’t explode, they implode. They fake perfect until they disappear forever and become someone else’s version of who they “should” be. Either way it’s a total loss of life. You are lost because you have not been honest with yourself, and your life is largely unexamined and unexerted. You have to do some thinking and know who you are, and then you have to resist compromising your truth for the comfort of others.

Don’t intentionally be rude, but be you. Some people will see you as an asshole because they don’t understand honesty, integrity, and honoring ones’ self. Witnessing honesty frightens some people because they haven’t known authenticity in their own life. But really, your abrasion is the rub they may need to open themselves or at least cause them to think. In a world of sleep-walkers, an awakened mind is a teacher and a catalyst for new awakenings, whether they want to be or not. A moment of truth is very powerful.

Instead of smiling to be polite, frown. Instead of laughing when you are nervous or uncomfortable, speak your truth. Instead of acting like everything is all right, proclaim it isn’t all right, and talk about your feelings! Honor your truth. Honor yourself. Be real. If you can honor yourself and be real about your discomfort and pain, then your happiness will be just as real. If you can’t be real and firm with others about who you really are, you will be doomed to a phony, plastic bullshit existence, where you only live for others. When you are real you can move through what ails you, instead of being stuck there forever in some sort of “Pleasantville” hell.” —Bryant McGill