I HURT. There’s no getting around that. After nearly two straight weeks where I haven’t missed a single dose of Topamax, a migraine broke through last night. I was waiting for it. I expected it. It wasn’t nearly as bad as a migraine without a preventive in my system, but after almost two weeks with just an occasional mild headache, it was still an awful lot of pain during a time when the rest of my body was flaring up something fierce. It was only made worse by the fact that I couldn’t sleep.
This morning I decided not to punish the medication. It didn’t fail me, there will always be migraines that break through, so I took my dose, managed a little water, made a quick phone call, and now I am sitting here waiting for that call to be returned. I have documents to proof for printing later today and honestly, I am OUT after that. Just put my whiny, bitchy ass to bed and leave me here until my attitude improves. No one ever said irritability is cute, but when you can hear yourself sound utterly miserable, all you want to do is duct tape your mouth shut. Or maybe that’s just me?
Update on Maggie: This poor dog is STILL being mistreated. Apparently her paperwork checked out and the father backed off, but my next door neighbor (the husband) is expecting to be sued over the dog bite. He never added the dog to his insurance when they agreed to take the dog on temporarily for six months. His wife’s son is across the country doing some sort of mandatory USMC training and left the dog with his mother. I’m not sure if he’s ever MET his mother, but last night, while I was trying to do I don’t even remember what in silence, all I could hear was her screaming “Maggie, NO!” at the top of her lungs. I was already sick, or I would have gone outside and said “Hey bitch! What the fuck is this poor dog doing that is worth yelling at her for? Have you ever heard of a dog trainer? Perhaps they can take you for a few weeks and train you how to behave. All the dog ever does is bark and run away from you. That should tell you everything you need to know.” Alas, I was stopped because someone (not me) thought that was “a bit harsh”. I truly don’t think it could be harsh enough. Yelling and screaming at an animal is tantamount to abuse. Surely there are other family members that could take her and care for her until November/December. If you love an animal, you don’t leave it behind with an insane person. You also don’t name it like it’s a person, but hey, to each their own. People do tend to do that with dogs.
Animals don’t understand or respond to yelling. It is simply traumatic for them. I’ve seen animals run and hide if a person is simply speaking loudly, not even yelling, so some animals are more traumatized than other from being in a shelter, foster situation, from being re-homed, etc. Much like people, animals have triggers too and it is important to pay attention and be able to identify them.
In this, animals are a lot less dramatic and wishy-washy than people are. They either love you or they don’t, but once they do, they are with you ’til the end. Animals understand loyalty far better than people do.
When I come back in my next life, I am coming back as a cat.
At 4:00 this morning, I thought someone was trying to break into my house. That is precisely how much noise an almost two-year old cat was making in her attempt to climb something, simply to give Mommy the cat version of a middle finger. She scared the crap out of me. I had thirty seconds to decide whether or not to go for a weapon. When I saw her sitting at the top of her destination, all noise has ceased, all I could do was shake my head (Don’t get me wrong, I was PISSED.), crawl from one point of origin to another, and after an hour, I realized sleep was not going to happen, but I was not about to cave and feed them at 5:00 a.m. either, no matter how many times kitten looked at me pathetically and walked me in the direction of the kitchen, as if I am slow and don’t know how to get there on my own. What is it about cats that make us question our own sense of direction? Do your animals accompany you to the kitchen too?
Kitten ate when I got home later than usual last night, but she licked her plate clean. Cat ate maybe six bites in total and ignored me for the rest of the evening. She clearly had other interests and apparently food was not on the agenda. She came to visit me when I was getting ready for bed so that she could get cuddles, kisses, and praise, but truly, she’s become so picky about food that I am considering A) A raw cat diet or B) Cooking for them myself. Both sound insane, I know, but I was reading an article and this women talked about how, by buying meat in bulk at Costco, BJ’s, or Sam’s Club, she feeds multiple cats for less than $5 a week. That is unbelievable, and quite savvy. I’m not sure about all of the supplements she talked about adding, but I clearly understand the meat she uses. That’s not complicated, though it could be if you are spending hours doing nothing but cooking for two cats. However, if it will prolong their lives and make them healthier inside and out, it’s an investment in their future. She talked about how the diet change has reduced vet visits, etc. It’s certainly an interesting concept. It sounded as though all the meals could be prepared once every two weeks, in advance, by freezing them. Again, that reduces how much physical labor you’re putting into it. Technically you could set aside a few hours and do it, the same as you would for yourself. If I do decide to go this route, I will mention it and whether or not it works for me and the littles.
As for me… I did way too much yesterday and I hurt like HELL. From my neck to my toes, I am moving like a hunchback. If the makers of Aleve knew exactly how much of their product I’d taken between late last evening and this morning, they’d be asking me to sign a waiver, absolving them of any and all responsibility. #HealthcareSucks
When I got home last night I put everything away, changed my clothes, washed my face twice (that may sound like overkill, but the first time I was removing makeup, which I did with the help of a wipe. The second time I was making sure my face was completely clean by traditional methods.), and was relieved not to be out in the humidity that a very popular meteorologist claimed was “92 degrees with 80 percent humidity”. BULL-FUCKING-SHIT. From one channel/station to another, be it radio or television, everyone was reporting different temperatures and humidity. One media outlet, in the very same area, said it was closer to 100 degrees with 100 percent humidity. That sounds about right. It was a physical slap to be outside in heat so thick, you could barely breathe. Even if you’ve never had a breathing problem in your life (like me), you walked away from yesterday with some sort of cough or breathing problem. For several hours I thought I was going to be violently sick, pass out from heat exhaustion, or fall and be run over by a car. Even with a large bottle of water with me, there was no amount that would have been “enough”. I also got caught in a heavy thunderstorm with ground to sky lightning. The rain was much more intense than the storm itself and today, more storms, more rain. That’s okay though because underneath my vampire pale skin, I am pretty sure I look like multiple trucks have hit me and then backed over my body. There’s got to be a different way to say “I feel like I’m battered and bruised internally.” However, that is often what Fibromyalgia feels like when you push your body too hard. Alas, shit’s gotta get done and I’m a one woman show.
Today I get to rest. I even went back to sleep and slept soundly, which is surprising, but I’m glad I got that extra few hours. Tomorrow I have phone calls to make and other things to tackle, but all in all, I am going to breathe. There are only 24 hours in a day and none of us are Superwoman. I, however, am not giving back the cape. 😉
Normally I love Tuesdays, but today I woke up in pain. Granted, I didn’t go to bed last night feeling as though I could run a marathon, but this pain is different. In turn, it’s making me irritable beyond words. I am so bitchy, I can’t stand the sound of my own thoughts. 😦
I worked yesterday and didn’t stab anyone . I read, I did a load of laundry, I did research, and out of the corner of my eye I watched cat and kitten eat, play, fight, and sleep like the dead. I wish I could sleep as soundly and as peacefully as they do. Alas, I have two little creatures that walk on me, screech, meow, and act like uncivilized beasts. The very same creatures that take over my bed each day after kicking me out of it. To add insult to injury, I was holding kitten yesterday morning. She got scared by nothing at all (I have no idea what her problem is any more!) and ripped my arm open. This happened twice. I am sporting a hideously raised scratch on the inside of my left forearm that took a while to stop bleeding. The other moment (which was last night) was less bloody and is near my right wrist. I moved quicker in letting her go, so that scratch didn’t bleed and isn’t deep. I’d post photos of my wounds, but trust me, you don’t want to see this shit. Thankfully she’s an indoor cat and I don’t have to worry about either scratch (mostly the big one) becoming infected.
Someone else’s cat once bit me, albeit playfully while sprawled on my lap. and she embarrassingly said “Your cats have never bitten anyone?” She was shocked when I said “No.” I’d be mortified if cat or kitten ever hurt someone. It’s okay if they interact with me and the people they know, but it’s not okay for them to bite or scratch a stranger. That’s like letting your child walk up to a stranger and bite them. It’s inappropriate and unacceptable behavior. I don’t know anyone who’d allow that. No one civilized, any way.
I’m self-abusing. Mentally and emotionally cutting. Nothing dulls the shit that goes through my head. I distract myself with e-mailing friends, reading, partially listening to TV when I’m in the same room with it (“Oh, it’s over? Did an hour really just pass while I played Candy Crush Saga?”), extensively researching my impending career change, and starting and pausing my Pandora playlists. I strongly suspect I’m listening to the same songs on a loop. I keep skipping tracks and/or pressing thumbs down on others. No song needs to play four times in 30 minutes unless you have it on repeat. Ooh, Maroon 5.
Five days into the Topamax and the only issue I have is that I can no longer drink anything carbonated. I’ve switched over to iced tea and plan on moving back to tea and lemonade for a while because eventually the side effect goes away at about the six month mark. I’ve had mild headaches, but no migraines. I’m ravenous in the mornings because I MUST take this medicine before 10:00 a.m. Any later and I won’t sleep at night, but I’m positively grouchy later in the day. Other people report drowsiness if they take it during the day, but I can’t take it before bed or I won’t sleep, so I take it in the morning. Admittedly, not first thing. Cat and kitten tried waking me at 4:00, 5:00, and 6:30. By 7:30 I decided I was willing to go downstairs and feed them. Only one of them deigned to eat her food (Kitten will eat anytime, anywhere, and will eat pretty much anything.). Cat went and hid. I found her sleeping in my bed later on and she’s been here ever since. It’s a good thing I went downstairs though because, in my infinite “It feels kind of warm” wisdom, I discovered that my thermostat is acting up. No one sane would EVER put their thermostat on 99 degrees. I wouldn’t even do that during the winter if it was minus 20. I set it to 64 degrees and I leave it there. Twice in two days it has A) Turned itself off completely or B) Changed the temperature on its own. Yes, this house is haunted. For the record, it wasn’t haunted when I got here. The spirits came with me.
As this day comes to a close and begins to darken ever so slightly, I hope it carries the blues away with it. Absolutely no one needs to carries such crap around inside their soul. Hopefully I will be more positive in the days to come.
I’ve had yet another rough, stressful week. I am emotionally exhausted. I’m also in pain that no one should have to be in. In an ideal world, I’d be able to curl up this weekend and not have to face anything until next weekend. No, I’m not delusional, I’ve just had enough.
I am sitting here nursing green tea. I don’t feel well. I woke up with a myriad of health issues. I went to bed in pain, needing Aleve to fall asleep in a state of slightly less pain, but since I forgot to take the medicine that protects my stomach from NSAID use, I’m paying for it.
Upon inspection this morning, I found two chemical burns on the back of my neck. I’m not 100% certain of the cause, but I have my suspicions. One stings, the other is seemingly in the healing phase. I hope they’ll look better tomorrow because the last thing I want to do is be seen in public with what looks like brand marks. Note to self: Must find Aquaphor. How do you cover the back of your neck in August when your hair isn’t as long as it used to be and you normally wear it up? #GirlProblems
Due to the crazy influx of migraines over the last few weeks, I began taking Topamax this morning. I’ve been off of it for three years, so I am hoping it will help prevent some of what I am experiencing. If not, I will have at least made an effort and will know that another treatment method must be found. It is better to try than to dismiss something that has worked so well for me in the past. Today is the start of a month on 25 mgs. Here’s hoping it does more than make carbonated drinks taste funny.
Was anyone able to see the meteor shower? I looked for about 30 minutes last night and all I saw were a few constellations. I couldn’t keep looking, so I went to bed. I’m betting all the fun started the second my head hit the pillow. I’ve only seen a few photos from earlier in the week.
I hope I will be able to concentrate on the shit I need to do over the next few days. I want to get as much work done as humanly possible. I haven’t been able to focus on a large page count with any regularity, but I am certainly trying. All one can do is their best. If that’s not good enough for someone, tough shit.
Summer is nearly over, and soon it will be Fall in the Northern Hemisphere. It’s my favorite time of year. The nights are already getting a bit cooler, but there’s something about the crispness of October air that rejuvenates my spirit.
I’m a ridiculously intuitive person, which has the tendency of scaring people if they aren’t used to it. I live my life paying attention to the same things most people ignore. However, it is virtually impossible to ignore your body and mind when they’re screaming at you. No matter what bad thing it is that you may be going through, it is sometimes important to take a step back, allow yourself to feel what you feel, without apologies, and regroup tomorrow.
For the majority of my life, my purpose wasn’t clear. I don’t know if I ever considered the purpose for my existence. I had so many responsibilities, and I openly admit that I took them on myself. When most people would have been taking care of themselves for their “most selfish years”, I was taking care of two sick parents. I was dealing with burying friends and loved ones, and so it took until maybe this last year for me to say “Enough!” and begin focusing on myself. I now know that it’s not selfish to be focusing on myself at this point in my life, it’s survival.
I’ve been through some awful things, a lot of which I try not to focus on. There’s a saying about not looking back or you’ll only manage to hurt your neck. In many respects, that is true. I gain nothing from reflecting on pain, but I do gain something for having survived all of it. I know that I can get through the horrible, never-ending cycle of suffering, I know I can come out the other end a far better person than I was today, but it’s not a choice one ever wants to make. It’s “kill or be killed”, so you have to regroup and “kill”, even if only metaphorically.
In times like this, a lot of people turn to religion. I am not hardcore religious, but I am spiritual. I pray several times a day for the peace and the concept that someone Higher is listening to me. That someone Higher cares. Through trial and error, I have found that most people care about themselves, and they have no room in their mind or heart for anything or anyone else. I’ll never understand it. The average person cares about five people, or less. Are we such a selfish, self-absorbed, self-centered society that we take no time at all to care about the person next to us? I often hear myself say that if a situation does not directly affect me and/or those I love/care about, then I cannot put forth the emotion to worry about it. The point though is that I actually love and care about other people. I’ve spent a long time placing others before me, and I still do it at times, but ultimately I don’t have my head up my ass. I find it easy to be emotionally present for others, and a lot less easy to be emotionally present for myself.
I’m sick of my internal dialogue because it’s so abusive. It’s something I call “self-abuse”. You’re cutting yourself apart as if you were actually cutting, but there’s no blood, the wound is entirely internal and it grows daily. You wouldn’t even feel it if someone dipped you into the Dead Sea, because you’re already a walking wound of agony.
I can point out positive things in other people, but when it comes to doing the same for myself I usually say “I’m loyal.” and when asked how I’m feeling I often say “I exist.” I will never lie and say “I’m fine.”, because then I’d be lying to myself. I’m not fine. I’ve never been less “fine”, but because I’ve been through so many “not fine”, “not okay” times, I would rather not pick at the scabs, so to speak. How much negativity does one need to focus on before they become batshit crazy and hurt someone, or themselves?
I will never lie about often feeling suicidal. Never. I will never pretend that darkness doesn’t coat aspects of my life so thickly that it’s hard to see the light. I will never say it is a topic that is “off-limits” or “taboo” because the fact of the matter is, not everyone acts on their thoughts, but those that do aren’t weak. It takes an immense amount of strength to say “I’ve had enough pain.”
Many people advocate for “assisted suicide” for terminally ill patients, but what do we advocate for when a person cannot be healed in any way, shape, or form, through no fault of their own? Do we pretend the issue doesn’t exist and go off into our own selfish bubble? Do we say “That’s not my problem?” Do we walk away? Do we ignore it?
So many people have been unable to see the signs in a loved one and have later been devastated that they chose to end their own life. Instead of thinking about how much pain THEY had to be in to go there, to reach that point, all I ever hear is “How could s/he do this to me?”, “How could they leave me behind?”, “Why didn’t s/he tell me?” Bringer of honesty: It’s NOT about you.
It amazes me how people don’t look closely at situations or loved ones. It blows my mind how people choose to see the surface, and nothing more. It behooves me how few people ever say “I’m here for you, no matter what. And I will NOT judge.” Once a person commits suicide, people can lie ’til the cows come home, but they are absolutely judging. If you’re unaffected by the deeply personal pain of others, you aren’t human.
It is important to check in with those we love. It is important, and crucial, to look deeper. There will still be times when you will not see what a person chooses not to show, but there will also be times when a hug, a hand to hold, a kind word, a moment of inspiration, a thoughtful phone call, or card will pull a person back and show them that they mean something, that their life has value and purpose.
This will be painful for some people to read because they choose to avoid brutal truth. This may be painful for suicide survivors who are still left asking themselves “Why?” As a person who thinks about it deeply, I have very few reasons for not acting on my feelings. Those reasons become less important each day.
I am touched by the people who genuinely reach out to me in love or friendship. I am touched by the people whose actions say “I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.” But those moments, and people, are few and far between.
One day I may not be able to rely solely on my self-talk to pull me back. And the excuses you might very well hear in the wake of that will be: “I work 60+ hours a week, I have no time to talk.”, “I never returned her phone call. I feel TERRIBLE.”, “I didn’t answer her text message.”, “I stopped speaking to her because she was too honest.”, “She was so young, smart, creative, and beautiful…I don’t understand. She had her whole life ahead of her.”
No one will say “She was in so much pain, she couldn’t take it anymore and I understand.” No one. And that is truly fucking sad.
I don’t feel or think all of these things, but I know many people who do.
I have come to cherish my weekends like a newborn baby. The arrival of Friday makes me feel less guilty about self-care. This week in particular, I need it.
Early yesterday evening, I had a coughing fit come out of nowhere. In the midst of said coughing fit, I felt something in my upper spine pop. The sound resounded through the room. My immediate thought was “This is NOT good.” Already in a pretty harsh Fibro flare, I did NOT want or need to add to the pain I was already in. My brain kept saying “I can’t believe you hurt yourself coughing! Why can’t you have a more interesting way of causing your body excruciating pain?!” 😦 Don’t worry, I shut that fucker up.
Less than an hour or so later, I was in bed. On top of being exhausted, I could already feel that this sudden pop was going to make things worse for me for a few days. As I sit here writing this, the pain has escalated immensely between 6:45 last night and now. Moving my neck too much is completely out of the question. I’m contemplating Icy Hot. I already took over-the-counter pain medication, whatever good that will do, but I’d rather attempt to treat it as opposed to doing nothing at all. I know it’s going to be achy and sore for a few days. I just need to allow myself proper rest so that it doesn’t get worse.
I had planned on getting some editing done today. I have decided to limit it to a chapter once my neck loosens up and isn’t screaming in agony. Hell, I’ll do two chapters if I feel okay, but no more than that because I don’t want all that sitting and neck movement to aggravate this and make it worse than it already is, and it’s pretty fucking bad. If I feel better tomorrow, I can do another 2-3 chapters and so on. Hopefully that means I will finally rid myself of this nightmare manuscript, for good. It’s a first edit of a fourth draft. I suspect it will need 2-3 additional rounds of editing, but if I am asked to do additional work on it, I absolutely MUST price it better because it’s tormented me from day one and explaining that to my client in a nice way is -cough- difficult because this client isn’t a very good listener.
If you’ve never been edited before and you’re worried about how long it takes, not understanding the editing process and how thorough I am, then think about how long it took you to write it. If you tell me “I wrote this in three months.”, I already know it’s going to be full of issues. This manuscript is full of issues, and it is also one of the reasons that I want to focus on my work, which probably does have some issues in it, but if nothing else, it is predominantly clean and flows beautifully. I know this because I’ve been writing it for five years. I also know it flows beautifully because the last time I read it, I was so caught up in the story, I forgot that I was the writer. Color me impressed. 🙂
I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, but I did sleep. I was unable to take the 9:00 a.m. nap I thought about yesterday morning, mostly because I was in a lot of pain, have a lot on my mind, and couldn’t get comfortable. On the plus side, I did fall asleep pretty quickly last night and I slept soundly for nearly three hours before I heard my phone buzzing. If I don’t leave it on vibrate, any ringtone will make me come right out of my skin or it will make me yell at whomever is calling. After listening to the other person for damn near 30 minutes, I practically growled and hung up. It’s not wise to talk to me after a certain time when I’m A) Still in sleep mode and B) Hungry. It’s like trying to negotiate a ceasefire with a dragon. I’m not exaggerating, I’m aware when I am unpleasant.
Do you have anything special planned this weekend? Do you feel guilty when you have to prioritize your health over the demands of others? Let me know in the comments.
Have a safe, pain-free, pleasant weekend. If it can’t be all three, aim for one positive thing.
Mondays. They are the bane of my existence. I get sick by 8:00 PM nearly every Sunday evening, knowing that Monday is only a few short hours away. I have a sneaking suspicion I should only work Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Perhaps I shall rename the week days altogether. I’m starting to suspect that an insulated cave with WiFi and food delivery is the way to go, something very “off the grid”, so to speak. I’m not entirely sure the world is capable of handling me on any level.
I desperately want quiet. True peace, true silence. I hid in my bathroom while my neighbor did the landscaping on my property and mowed next door. Why? Because it was the only place where I didn’t have to hear the roar of the riding mower and the drill saw sound of the trimmer. By the time he was finished, which wasn’t very long, I thought the migraine was going to send me to the emergency room, begging to be put out of my misery. That was Saturday night. This morning, I don’t feel that much better, though I can say the pain has shifted and is no longer trying to shoot itself out of my skull. Small victories.
I realized a few days ago how utterly disillusioned and unhappy I am with my line of work. If I did realize it beforehand perhaps I never voiced the truth to myself, but I’m doing it now.
Those of us who are highly creative don’t do well when we’re boxed in, and I think I may have accidentally done that to myself over the past few years. I’m done. Within the next 6-8 months, I am going to stop editing for other people. I will still beta and do critiques, I will still be present for those that want/need my knowledge and skill-set or simply want a reliable, experienced person to turn to, but I am going to be doing two things once the time-frame passes.
I will be focusing on my writing, and I will be starting something new that will allow me a great deal of creative freedom. I’d rather juggle the two than be miserable for the rest of my life. Misery is unacceptable, so it is high time for a transitional rebirth. I’m sure I will be met with some negativity here and there, but ultimately I am the one that has to be happy and this is a way for me to achieve that in some small fashion, or perhaps a very large way. I won’t know until I dive in.
I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. Once you’re able to see the full vision of “Why is this happening?”, you’re almost grateful because it lets you know how strong you are and how much you can handle without going utterly batshit crazy. I am counting my blessings, of which there are many, and thanking God for who and what I am today.
I will still be writing, but hopefully the mood will shift. While I will always be open and honest about migraines, Fibromyalgia, depression, suicide, and other things I deem important to discuss, it’s also crucial that I have more time to focus on my fictional work in order to speed up the publishing process.
I am planning a YouTube channel and some other things that some of you may or may not appreciate, but will have access to all the same. So yes, there will be some changes up the road, but I am embracing it all because I’m tired of dulling my shine to make other people feel more at ease.
Many people told me that when I was ready, it would be time to focus on myself exclusively. They assured me it wasn’t selfishness, but about prioritizing my needs over that of being dutiful. I’m ready.
I think it’s admirable when people say “Keep Fighting”, but in actuality, they do not know what you are battling, they do not know your mind, they do not know your heart, and they do not know your breaking point.
We all have lines that, once crossed, send us into different modes of survival. It is perfectly normal to freak out, panic, cry, scream, be incredibly angry, etc. It’s also okay to want to curl up into a ball and not emerge from that position for a while. It is okay to think your feelings through, in your own time and in your own way. When you’re going through something rough, something most people will never have to face, no one wants or needs to be yelled at like a dog that just shit on a persian rug.
I am going through something tremendous at the moment. It is terrifying, heartbreaking, cruel, evil, wrong, and a plethora of other things that I will refrain from saying. Maybe in a year from now, I will feel comfortable sharing the story without feeling as though I am being judged.
There may reach a time when I am not able to be present here on a daily basis. I might be able to check in once a week for a few months, if that. I hope that you can all be patient and stick by me through this, but I will also understand if you don’t. I’m not going to take it personally, but I do feel it is better to be honest in advance, as opposed to simply disappearing for a while without any explanation. I do not intend to abandon what I have.
I LOVE what I do here. It brings me an immense sense of peace and contentment. It is a daily reminder that I’m not just “some person who writes” or “likes to write”, but an actual writer. There’s a difference between the three, but I don’t have to explain it. A great many of you “get it”.
For now, I will remain as present as possible. I will let you know through my work when the insanity is going to start and hopefully have a “I’m going to be back full-time” date as well. Please know I am doing the best I can, trying to remain sane, and trying very hard not to cash in my “life chips”. I am reminding myself this morning that I have survived all of the worst days of my life up until this point. That’s a 100% success rate, and now I just have to keep moving forward, despite wanting to shut down and lose my temper.
In the meantime, I really want and need several solid weeks of uninterrupted sleep each night. My allergies have decided to become a full-on pain in the ass out of nowhere, so I took half a Benadryl last night before going to bed (Because that’s all I had left, or I would have taken two.). My eyes and parts of my face are still itching and burning with no logical reason whatsoever, except that I am stressed and already have eye allergies. Even my eye drops are utterly useless, providing absolutely no relief. Stress, it turns out, manifests in a myriad of ways.
Stay healthy and safe everyone. I’ll be around until I say otherwise.
Once upon a time, in an extremely bizarre reality, I was in a relationship I should not have been in. The warning signs were there, but some people burn so brightly that you don’t seem to notice you’re going up in flames and turning to ash. Immensely large red flares of danger were being sent up so I wouldn’t get burned. Did that stop anything? Not so much.
He was the quintessential “bad boy”, complete with motorcycles, fancy sports cars, tattoos, multiple drug addictions, and a boatload of issues. Maybe the maternal, nurturing aspect of me wanted to fix or heal him. I don’t know, but whatever it is, I’m thankful every single day that it is no longer a part of my life.
Initially there was no reaction or emotion from me towards him. He was just a guy, a guy all kinds of women fell for, but I prided myself on not adding myself to the throng of fools. Until one day, when I was seemingly drawn in like a moth to a flame. Except I wasn’t a moth, I was a butterfly, and yet, I suddenly had to have him. The pull was intense. He was crazy about me; The only person who challenged him, who questioned everything, and who was not impressed by anything. The problems though, they were simmering under the surface, just waiting to come out, one by one.
They started relatively early. I had never been told I was “too skinny” before. Even as a former gymnast that had experienced bouts of bulimia on & off for about two years after realizing that I’d never be an Olympic anything. I did not consider myself “too skinny” or “too” anything, really. I had the mouth of a Marine on leave, a writing career that had taken off in an amazing way, and a guy who told me he loved me, but to this day probably doesn’t know the meaning of the word. You’ll find him in the dictionary, somewhere between the words “Douchebag”, “Hypocrite”, and “Liar”, providing you’ve opted for a Webster’s upgrade.
His career allowed me the independence and space that I like in a relationship. I can’t have someone in my face 24/7, nagging, or standing over my shoulder like a watch dog. It drives me insane. He respected that, until the possessive behavior became more than just one or two phone calls a day. At first it seemed like he was going out of his way to surprise me and brighten aspects of my life, but that wasn’t it. Not at all.
The man could spit out promises just as quickly as he broke them, I just didn’t know he was trying to break me in the process.
The criticism I endured throughout the course of this relationship was harsher than what I dealt with from my family, and even though I had a comeback for everything he said, the words still haunt me…
I went from being vibrant, smart, confident, & 100% in control to depressed, unhappy, paranoid, angry, & jealous. I was reduced to questioning why I was somehow not good enough for him. It was irrational and insane. There was always an inner voice telling me “He’s not good enough for you. What are you doing? This man is poison. Tell him to go to hell and walk away.”
I remember crying one night to my best friend at the time, after a particularly shitty thing he’d lied about. Here I was, the strongest, toughest, most direct chick people knew, asking “Why would he lie to me like that? Why would he lie about something so important? Why am I not good enough for him?” I was devastated by the pathological way in which he’d lie.
My best friend consoled me quietly, basically saying she didn’t know why he had lied or why he would, but months later she told me I was “Too smart, too pretty, and all aroundway too good for the likes of him!” She was furious that he would hurt me in such a manner and then behave as if all was right in the world, and her anger continued to fuel when he showed up at a work event we all attended with a married woman on his arm. “A friend”, he’d called her. More like a drug supplier he’d hooked up with. He was spiraling and wanted to take me with him, but I would not allow that.
For the record, I was already ass deep in alligators when I realized how big an issue the drugs actually were because they weren’t an issue at the onset. It went from being an old football injury to being an all-consuming, problem-inducing, complete lack of grip on reality. It started out small, as many addictions do, and escalated until it had to be confronted. I did not condone it in any way and refused to support the habit. I was not going to be in a relationship with an addict, period. I was the catalyst to get him into rehab, explaining in list formation all that he would lose if he did not get clean. But as most people can tell you, 30 days in rehab will detox you, it might even get you to talk about why you got into it in the first place, but it’s every single day after leaving a protected environment that matters most. If you have people who love & support you, you have a greater chance at remaining sober. You might slip up, recovery is going to be a constant for the rest of your life, but the effort you put forth is SO important. However, if you immediately return to the same lifestyle and friends you had during the height of your illness, it will revert you right back into it at some point, especially if you have no real desire to be clean, no willpower, and no real desire to live. It’s a way of committing suicide slowly, secretly hoping that one day it’ll all be over and you don’t personally have to do the heavy lifting, or deal with the aftermath.
Part of what saddens me about the relationship itself is that I defended, protected, and shielded this man. I was the epitome of devoted and loyal to the Nth degree. My love was genuine, and yet I was constantly criticized, going as far as to be told that I wasn’t good enough to be introduced to his parents, who for years, he told me were dead. I’d later find out he only wished they were. Our differing religions was the reason given when I questioned why I was somehow “not good enough” to meet his parents. Who the hell were these people? England’s Monarchy?! How isolated and ignorant were they to think their religion was the only one that existed in this world?! This was not the first time someone had taken issue with my religion and tried to make me feel guilty for it. I was considered “not Jewish enough” by one guy’s family, and now I was being made to feel like I was somehow inappropriate and shameful. And the worst part? He wasn’t religious, AT ALL.
Suddenly, after years of knowing our religions were different, it became this big issue, and we fought about it a lot. Would I be willing to convert to Roman Catholicism? HELL NO. Would I sign a pre-nup? Whoa, where the hell did THAT come from?! You want to marry me. You’ve asked, I’ve accepted, but now you’re afraid I suddenly want to be with you for financial gain? Are you serious?! Anyone who knows me knows that I’ve always taken care of myself. He knew that. I don’t expect a man to pay for my lifestyle. I’m fully capable of making my own money, buying my own clothes, jewelry, etc. I think you should want to take care of your partner and be a provider, but relationships are give and take. I did not expect to sit on my ass and be given anything, so I waffled back and forth on that little tidbit. It is a deal breaker if it’s not a document protecting both of us.
The ever-present “Would you please eat?!” grated on my nerves. He’d bring me food for several years of our relationship, but not in a loving, caring, concerned way (I do like it when I’m sick and a guy has the sense to bring me soup or Italian food. There’s something very nurturing about that.), but in an extremely controlling manner. As soon as I gained about 15 pounds from this constant influx of food, I was suddenly told the exact opposite. Now I wasn’t thin enough, I was becoming the woman who he didn’t want anyone else looking at. What was so shameful about being curvy? He’d have a fit whenever we’d be somewhere and someone else would check me out. I was not the one doing the looking, yet he was suddenly paranoid that anyone who checked me out was somehow going to end up in my bed. It was eye-rollingly ridiculous.
He’d do something shitty, and I’d be “rewarded” with jewelry or flowers, sometimes both, depending on the situation. It got to a point where I began to loathe the pink & purple roses I loved so much. To this day if someone sends me roses, I cringe inside. He would promise to be somewhere I needed him to be, but was almost always off feeding his drug habit, or as I would later find out through a friend, a habit for other women.
It was demanded upon me that I be 100% faithful. That was not an issue because I’d never cheated on someone and wasn’t about to start, but because he was the one doing all the cheating, he started having people follow me to find out what I was doing every time I left the house. Stalker much?! It was sick. It was also an excuse.
I’d had enough after confronting someone he often had tail me, and I put my foot down. I’m not big on ultimatums, but he needed to hear what his behavior was doing, that it was unhealthy and damaging, and completely unwarranted and unacceptable. It came down to this: He needed to return to rehab, fully commit to it, and he then needed to be clean & sober for a year before I would agree to marriage. It was time for him to prove that he was worthy of me, not the other way around.
He went to rehab for a few months, coming back apologetic, and for a while things were simply tense. We talked, but clearly he was refusing to hear me. He was about to do something he’d probably been considering for quite some time, and simply hadn’t been man enough to say to my face. With marriage promised, it probably made me believe a slew of lies I was too smart to actually buy into in the first place, but there was something slightly blinding & intoxicating about it. But the truth of the matter is, it was just plain toxic.
The problem with relationships slowly turning abusive is that, initially, we think we’re in the right relationship with the right person, until suddenly, we’re not.
For years after this relationship ended I’d hear “Oh, LET IT GO!” whenever I mentioned how hurt, angry, or betrayed I felt; as if emotions could be turned on and off like a faucet. How could I not feel all of those things?! Saying “I love you” is not a cure-all. Actions speak louder than words. His actions were atrocious.
With a ring solidly on my finger, he married someone else, just weeks after saying we were good and moving in the right direction, that he was trying. I had to find out via an announcement his new wife was sending to friends & family. She was pregnant before they even said “I do.” He would go on to have several children with her, each time choosing names we had decided on for our future offspring. That was the icing on the cake. I seriously worried about my ability to be around him in any capacity after that, so I disengaged. I made sure that whenever he’d be around, I would not be present. Hurting someone you claim to love in such a manner is vile, but to then go on living your life as if said loved one never existed is even worse. I started to think I was losing my mind. If it had not been for the fact that I knew the relationship had occurred, and exactly what I had endured, I’d have felt like I was being erased, or replaced.
Up until a few years ago, he & I continued to have mutual friends. I finally got tired of hearing the lies and cut everyone off. “He asked about you.”, “He hopes you’re all right. He just wants you to be happy.”, “He cares about you.” PLEASE! He never cared in the first place, it was a fucking game to him. No matter how many times I would ask these friends not to relay anything he said about me, it would come up in conversation, until I finally changed my phone number and said “No more.”
Not one to eat bullshit politely with a knife and fork, I have gone out of my way to avoid him since all of this went down. I have nothing to be embarrassed about. I didn’t do anything wrong, except believe in a person I shouldn’t have given the time of day to, but hey, we all make mistakes. Avoiding him is my way of remaining a healthy, non-toxic human-being.
I know eventually, at some point, we will run into one another, and I pray that I am not carrying a loaded weapon that day or wearing particularly high heels because even though people tell me I’m not a damaging, harmful person to be around, and that I’d never willingly hurt someone, I cannot promise the desire to harm him won’t be there. Some of the rage goes away with time, but any time the relationship is mentioned or I come across something from that time period, I am flooded with everything I thought I’d already moved past. For me, that lets me know the damage runs deep. It does not, nor will it ever, mean that I care about him. I don’t. I wouldn’t spit on this man if he was on fire.
Once I no longer love/respect someone, my emotions will often turn to pity, anger (at myself & the other person involved), & my anger is a burning rage that can simmer and bubble for years until it is truly out of my system. If the anger is unjustified, it eventually dwindles and the flames put out, but if it IS justified, stay the hell out of my way. I can go from zero to bitch in about half a second.
Unfortunately, there are so many different kinds of abuse in the world, that it’s sometimes hard to pinpoint if you are the abused or the abuser. Sometimes you are simultaneously both, even if you don’t intend to be.
Writing this makes me feel a bit like I’m back in Psych class, but I’ve been revisiting certain things lately, which is why I am writing about such a personal, private matter. If what I’m saying helps even one person get out of a toxic relationship, then that’s important and necessary.
If you’re in any kind of relationship where your words and feelings are being defined in an incorrect manner, where you are constantly insulted and berated, it is time to take a closer look at this relationship. Thinking this person is “the best you can do”, having low, little, or no self-esteem, or coming from a “people pleasing” type of family are all potential signs you’ve probably overlooked. Most people do. When you’ve been taught that everything around you is “normal” and a part of your daily life, you stop questioning things. You begin to lose your inner voice. Once you lose your inner voice, you start to become everything the abuser has defined you as. Your thoughts, feelings, actions, everything is now completely defined by someone else. Moreover, you question yourself and promise yourself you’ll be better for them, that you will do everything right, not realizing that your life is your own, and it is not owned by someone else.
I am a product of abuse. Not just from the relationship I am talking about, but from my childhood. I am very forthcoming about that fact when approached, but generally I keep such things to myself. However, when a person comes to me and needs help, I am the first person to listen, and the first to say something.
For many, many years I handled the abuse (verbal, emotional, and physical) by throwing myself into my writing and my singing. One day I snapped; I’d had enough. I was 100% committed in the fact that I’d kill the other person and spend my life in jail, but I believed in my cause because I was protecting two other people. I took the brunt of everything so they wouldn’t have to. To this day, one of those people denies that 99% of the abuse ever occurred. It must be nice living in such a warped bubble of false memories, but I know what I lived, I know what I saw, and it is sad for me to see this person deny the abuse and become the abuser themselves. If you correct this person, or disagree with them, they will say YOU are abusing THEM. It’s a vicious cycle, however, I know that by standing up and saying ENOUGH, and being committed to putting a stop to it, that I did the right thing. If I hadn’t, I’d be in jail now. Or worse.
People are often shocked to learn that I’ve been through such things. I don’t deny being strong and confident, and I don’t deny that I will say something is wrong when it is wrong, regardless of who is saying it. I will admit to being wrong on the rare occasion that I am. But I will not allow myself to live a life of abuse. I won’t allow someone to define me, to disrespect me, to use me, to tell me what I think, to tell me where to go, or tell me what I am allowed to do. When someone behaves that way around me, I am very happy to show them the door. I know I deserve better.
I look for different things in people now, and I always pay attention to my intuition. It is an immense part of who I am. If someone or something seems too good to be true, then it probably is. If something feels innately wrong, re-evaluate it and follow your instincts. Intuition will never lie to you, but the heart will. If your relationship involves young children, get out NOW. You do not want your child/children to be affected by the abuse inflicted upon their mother in front of them. I know people who have stayed in these relationships because they believed that taking their children out of the home during the formative years was the worst possible thing they could do. It’s not. The worst thing you can do is stay and allow them to think that what they’re hearing, seeing, and living is normal. If you get out early enough, you will save yourself and your child/children a fortune in therapy bills.
Once upon a time, I was a moron. It won’t happen again, because I am firmly committed to not allowing it. No one defines me, except me.
Do not be afraid to search the Internet or the Yellow Pages for additional resources available to you in your area/country. If your abuser uses the same computer, always be sure to delete your browsing history to protect yourself from additional harm, or go to the library if available and search for information there.*
Written by LISA MARINO-Molchanova 