Hanging By A Very Fine Thread

2015-10-312015-10-31 Miss Poison Life, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Halloween, Heart Health, Life, My Brother, October, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Samhain, Saturdays, Stress, Surgery, Writing

I think what little is left of my sanity snapped Thursday afternoon when I received word that my brother will likely need open heart surgery, providing he is a viable candidate. If that is not an option, he will require a heart transplant. These are the kinds of words that make you want to sink into the earth.

During his last physical his doctor said his heart was healthy and strong, she was very pleased with the results from all of his tests, so I’m asking myself how things got so bad, so quickly. In turn, it’s making me wonder if my heart is a ticking time bomb, despite being told that I “have the heart of an 18 year old”. What does that even mean to doctors?! How can you trust them? Much like lawyers, I’m starting to suspect they’re all in it for the money, minus the few good doctors I do know who are caring, kind, and give 110% to their patients. Why help people when you can simply get paid?! Thank GOD I did not become a doctor or a lawyer. I would not be able to look at myself in the mirror in either profession. 😦

I have been advised to begin genetic testing to find out “what’s in my future” due to this occurrence. I’m much more inclined to look into a crystal ball.. The fact of the matter is, we all inherit good and bad genes. All of us, no one is genetically perfect. I do not want to play G-d with myself. I can understand if I showed signs of something questionable, but I don’t, so the subject matter makes me incredibly uncomfortable. I have already had to tell a family member, more than once, to back off with the know-it-all crap. All I want and need at the moment is emotional support.

My move is temporarily postponed until I know what is happening and exactly how things will proceed. I can’t, in good faith, leave my brother behind in a hospital bed and say “See ya!” That’s not who I am. I know some people would do precisely that, and I am sure someone, somewhere will think that I am a moron for staying behind to take care of him, but I’m not heartless. Surgery will require approximately six months of healing time post-op, and he will need someone to be here for him, even though I won’t be able to do every single thing he might need. If immediate surgery is not the option he & his doctors choose, if things turn to a different type of surgery, like a transplant, I honestly don’t know what I will do.

I can’t spend even 30 minutes inside a hospital. They make me sick and drive me insane. I spent years taking care of my parents when they were ill, and I would not have been able to move or do any of the things I wanted to do at the time knowing that they were sick and needed me. I would have been too far away in an emergency, so this poses a problem for me now as well. I feel bad that I am not with him 24/7. Unfortunately, it did start a fight as to whether or not I “care”. 😦 He does not seem to realize or understand my true value in his life. I have done everything I can to support him through this and be a good sister. I’ve never not been a good sister, I’m not about to start now, but I’m not going to take crap from someone simply because they’re lonely, grouchy, and going through nicotine withdrawal.

When he was in recovery Thursday afternoon at a new hospital he was transferred to, a nurse came to tell him that I had called and was “very worried about him” and that he needed to call me back “right away”. When he asked me about that later on I said “I did not say that.” I hadn’t. I simply tried tracking him down and it took forever once we got disconnected since cell reception in that portion of the hospital is damn near nonexistent. He looked at her when she said it and immediately thought “That doesn’t sound like MY sister. She wouldn’t say that.” I might not verbalize the worry, but obviously I’m not okay about this situation. It’s upsetting and disturbing on more levels than I care to discuss. Who the hell would be okay with it?!

In situations like this, technology is a wonderful thing, though I don’t think I need all the hospital selfies, but I promise to put them in a photo album to show all his future girlfriends. 😉 No, he doesn’t read this.

I realized Friday morning, when he threw me out of bed after less than two hours of sleep because he was finally awake, bored, lonely, and obscenely chatty, that I can’t sit for three plus hours on the phone every single night because he’s awake, though I am glad he is finally resting. Every time my phone buzzes, I jump like I’ve been bitten by a snake. I have the ringer off on the landline because every sound it makes is horrible to my ears. Precisely who makes ringtones for landlines? I want to know. My cell phone isn’t much better. It’s not my personal ringtone choices that bother me, it’s the noise itself. Unless I’m out in public, my phone is always on vibrate. Last night I decided to turn on the “Do Not Disturb” feature on my phone and allow myself to sleep, even if it wasn’t a full night. I knew I needed the silence as I try handling a migraine that has lasted for over two days and the stress of this past week. Up until the last second, he was still arguing with me via text. I cannot deal with that level of crazy. I have my limits.

And yet, it is eerily quiet when my brother is not around talking to Cat and Kitten, slamming my doors, inspecting my refrigerator and cabinets for goodies, blasting baseball or football, asking ridiculous questions, etc. He is the person people see nine times out of ten because I am often in too much pain to do anything outside beyond walking to and from the car.

I am almost certain I scared the crap out of a neighbor when I went outside to bring my garbage can and recycling bin in so that neither of them would go rolling down the street due to the wind. I saw him and his dog coming toward me, he did not see me walking down the driveway, and by the time he looked up, I thought he was going to have a heart attack. As per usual, 99% of the neighbors do not speak to me, and he was no different. They live in the house that drove me nuts for months with the incredibly noisy add-on. On the plus side, the dog didn’t jump on me or bark, always a sign of good training. I honestly didn’t know anyone on the street close enough to me had a dog any more, that’s how quiet this one is. Or perhaps he was simply happy to be out on a walk. I later learned from my brother that he sees this guy walking the dog “at all hours”. He then proceeded to tell me that I’d know who he was if I was not a hermit. LOL. Sue me for minding my own fucking business!

This weekend I am going to attempt to tackle a few things. One, get my brother’s car from the first hospital’s parking lot. Two, try to get over to the hospital with some clean clothes so he will stop bitching (Don’t ask me when I became a maid, because I can assure you that the “pay” on this “job” sucks dishwater.). Three, get groceries. It took me about an hour to realize that the “Shop From Home” app is a piece of shit. I suppose it works fine if you buy the same things every single time you shop, but if you can’t offer me fresh vegetables & fruit with accuracy unless they’re on sale in your current ad, that doesn’t work for me. There is a long list of things you can’t purchase unless it’s in the ad or listed on the site, and it could take longer to compose a list for delivery than it would to simply go and shop myself. An on-line list should not take two hours. Call me crazy, but it should be easier to navigate. I certainly don’t need to pay anyone $20, before a tip, to put an order together and deliver it to me from five minutes up the road. That’s wasteful beyond words.

Everything I need to do should be simple enough, but it isn’t. I am enlisting one of his friends for some help because I’m not superwoman at the moment. If someone can pitch in and throw me a bone to make things easier, that will make a huge difference in my eyes. I hate asking for help, but my brother has driven me insane this week and I’m on my last nerve. I can’t deal with any more of his crankiness. All I can do is my best, if he doesn’t like it, tough titty said the kitty.

I’ve been so stressed and distracted that I damn near forgot it was Halloween. Enjoy trick-or-treating with your kiddos or simply enjoy the holiday aspect for yourself. I know plenty of people who love giving out sweets to everyone that comes knocking tonight. I spare myself the aggravation (I used to really be into it, and perhaps that will happen next year when I am feeling more in the spirit of things.), and I truly have more important things to focus on tonight, but I still hope it is happy and safe for everyone partaking.

If you need me, I’ll be running around like a chicken without its head, but I swear, it’s not a blood ritual of any kind. It’s mere insanity.

iendalot — I don’t bother filtering. I use the word “asshole”.

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.

Family First

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Prayers & Tears

2015-10-262015-10-26 Miss Poison Feelings, Life, Mondays, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Sadness, Tears, Writing Health, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Prayer, Sadness, Siblings, Tears, Writing

I contemplated being silent today because I’m not in a good mood, but I’m also too upset to pretend.

I’ve had less than five hours of sleep. I tried going back to bed an hour ago, but I am unable to focus on genuine rest. That usually means doing what I always do when there are thoughts running through my head; write.

My brother is sick. By “sick”, I do not mean he has a cold or the flu, I mean that he is going into the hospital tonight. Why wait? Because he “doesn’t want to ruin my day”. It’s not meant to make me feel guilty, he’s just utilizing God given guilt.

When I tried encouraging him to “just go” (He totally inherited the stubbornness from my Mom.), he refused, saying he could go tonight “after I celebrate”. I even offered to go with him, which he doesn’t want, not unless major surgery is being performed. He’s not trying to be dramatic, he just is. 😦 He’s also conscious of the fact that nearly every birthday I have sucks in some way, and that he’s usually the cause if I, myself, am not stuck in bed sick as a dog (in the traditional way).

Last night, he informed me of all his final plans. Plans I am meant to carry out, some of which include organ donation. I’ve had to hear people’s “final wishes” more times than I care to count, so last night was too much. My eyes are swollen from crying and my stomach hurts wondering if this is it, if some horrible health issue is going to rob me of the only remaining sibling I have left. Very real possibilities. When he got a clean bill of health three years ago, I was surprised, and relieved, but a lot has changed since then and I am sick with worry.

You know that one stubborn family member who would rather risk his/her own hearing than go to the emergency room for a horrible ear infection?! That’s my brother. Not once, not twice, but three times. The first time he did it, he did lose significant hearing in his left ear because he waited an extra day before going to the ER. The last ear infection was so bad that he now accuses me of raising my voice when I speak at a normal tone. I can whisper, he’ll say I yelled.

Today is not about me. Today is about praying for my brother and what he is going through. It is me praying that he did not have a heart attack and isn’t in congestive heart failure, and that nothing more is going on, though I suspect there is based on what he is saying hurts. Both of my Grandfathers died from heart attacks, but one died at 40, leaving behind a wife, a fifteen year old, and a five year old. My brother started taking aspirin several years ago to “prevent” that from happening to him, but he made no other changes that could have been beneficial. That’s why I’m scared for him, and that’s why I’m sick to death over this.

I will half-heartedly do some important things that need to be done this morning into the early afternoon hours, but after that, I am forcing his ass to the hospital, even if I have to drag him there by his balls. He usually hallucinates when they medicate him, so that would mean being told rather loudly that I am “trying to pull out his IV” or “embarrassing him” when all I’m doing is sitting quietly, or pacing the hall outside a room. I will spend the evening waiting to hear what his prognosis is.

No matter what you believe in, I ask that you say a little prayer today. No one deserves to lose a loved one and no one as young as my brother deserves to go through this.

Morning “Rituals” & Fibromyalgia

2015-10-242015-10-24 Miss Poison Fibromyalgia, Pain, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Fibromyalgia Pain, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Sleep Deprived, Writing

I’m sure most people have their morning “rituals”. For most people, it means waking up in search of coffee or tea. It involves the most basic of things until we know with certainty where we’re going (Work, school, the grocery store, etc.). I had a solid idea of how today would go, but instead of being asleep for a few additional hours, I am sitting here, nursing a vanilla yogurt, listening to The Script. (I do listen to them a lot, but it’s also the song that just came on.)

I HURT. I don’t know if I’m capable of lifting my arms over my head today. 😦 I’m weighing my options. Do I spend the weekend packing, doing laundry, and catching up on my DVR queue, thus leaving all my other plans aside for Monday (which means going to bed early tomorrow and getting my ass out the door at 10:00 a.m.), or do I suck it up?

When excruciating pain makes your decisions for you, it SUCKS. You simply do not know until the last-minute if you’ll make it out of the house. I really want to see a movie next weekend, but I am almost certain I won’t get to see it until Christmas Day, weather permitting. It’s the fourth time I would be missing opening weekend for this particular film, and it pisses me off. DVD’s are awesome for a movie lover such as myself, but watching something you really want to see in the movie theater is a nice 2-3 hour escape. You also save money in the long haul if the movie sucks and you choose not to purchase it on DVD or Blu-Ray. If I wake up feeling like crap on Christmas Day, there’s no way in hell I’m dragging ass to see it. Therein lies a multitude of problems because every single day of my life is like that. Full of pain, slow, sluggish, no one in their right mind would sign up for this.

If you woke up this morning and nothing hurt, be grateful. I’ve had migraines so bad that my hair hurt, and it’s only grown about an inch since I cut it over the summer. I might not have noticed if I hadn’t seen the drastic tonal difference between the blue-black color I’ve had these past few months and my roots during my Fall Color Change. It was almost the equivalent of a not-so-natural-blonde with black or brown roots, though not nearly as severe. I don’t know if I like the new color, but if I don’t, I can change it in 30 days. There are cancer patients shaving their heads, so I should be grateful to have what I do.

If you wake up and not a single joint or muscle protests, you are blessed. My body is often in a perpetual state of “Go back to bed, dumbass!” I’ve had naps more restful than most nights where I slept for 6-10 hours. I track my sleep to better help my new neurologist, so I see the dips in my sleep as a failure on my part. I tell myself I stayed up too late or that I got distracted by something/someone, etc.

When a woman says she’s “getting ready for bed”, you might see her three hours later. That is 100% me most of the time. I go through every room making sure things were done, garbage thrown away, everything in its place, etc. Last night it was a last-minute trip to the laundry room to make sure I’d put my towels in the dryer. I hadn’t, but I only remembered when I was in the bathroom washing my face. I paused mid-wash and thought “Did you ever go back into the laundry room?” This resulted in me drying my face, quickly moisturizing, and going downstairs to see that not only was the washer still full of my clean stuff, but I’d also left clean clothes in the dryer. Clearly I got distracted when I was packing clothes and books. 😦 It’s times like these when I feel like a moron.

Sleep came easy once I got out of my head, but I woke up way too early this morning because my thermostat (I don’t know where you live, but it’s fucking cold here.) decided to play games with me not once, but twice. Before going to bed, I set it on 66, knowing it would be in the 40’s overnight. Sometime around 4:00 or so, I woke up to see what the hell was going on. “Why the hell is it so hot in here??” I yelled. (Yes, I talk to myself a lot. I get the best answers.) It was hot because my thermostat reset itself to 70 degrees. I can’t breathe when it’s that hot inside and doesn’t need to be. Unless it’s in the red, my heat does not go over 68 degrees. It’s a rule. I can put on an oversized sweatshirt or hoodie, but I don’t need to be wasteful. On a semi-regular basis, my thermostat screws with me. I woke up one summer morning unable to move. I’d set the thermostat for 64 degrees, which is typically my summer temperature these days, but when I woke up it was mysteriously 52 degrees. I’d love to jokingly say “It’s ghosts!”, but there’s no spiritual presence in this house, or I’d feel it.

So here I sit, in pain, unhappy, grouchy, and probably not in the right frame of mind to deal with people in public.

Monday is another day.

Empty

2015-10-24 Miss Poison Emotions, Feelings, Honesty, Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Cat and Kitten, Feelings, Life, Musings, Negativity, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Thinking Positive, Writing

I might be writing this from the afterlife. Why would I say that? Because the truly gruesome bruises are gone, there’s not a scratch in sight, and I feel…nothing. Perhaps empty would be the correct word. That can’t possibly be normal. Though my warm shower definitely reminded me that my left knee is far from okay. I will try to get it checked out this coming week.

I am packing my clothes, or at least, I’m trying to. I had no clue I had so many items. I tend to cycle through a lot of the same things over and over, as many of us do, but now that it’s getting colder and I am moving to a colder climate, there’s just cause to make sure my sweatshirts, sweaters, and warmer items are readily available.

I packed several boxes of books. I still have to finish getting all of them into boxes, so this weekend and Monday I will be on a box hunt to see if any stores have boxes from deliveries that they’d normally be recycling. It kills two birds with one stone and since the entire area doesn’t recycle until next week, they will surely have some larger boxes that will help make my life a little easier. With lighter items, the bigger the box, the quicker things get packed. There will definitely reach a point where I just start throwing things into boxes. Hey, it’s what a lot of “professional movers” do. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I keep labeling things STORAGE or HOUSE. I’ve lost the ability to read my handwriting and codes about what is in each box. If I had more time, I’d feel like less of a moron. 😦 I should have cataloged everything with a notebook.

Monday is my birthday. If my best friend hadn’t mentioned it to me the other day, I would gladly have pretended it wasn’t happening. However, I promised her I wouldn’t do that. I will spend a few hours on Monday doing some small “me things”, but afterwards it’s back to work. I shouldn’t be wasting time I don’t have. I can always “celebrate” after the move, in a city where, right now, I know exactly four people. YAY! 😦 I’ll become a proud member of the “Can you open a bottle of wine?” club. #NockingPoint #UnfilteredBlonde

I truly wish more hands were on deck than just mine. Packing up a large house on your own is incredibly difficult. My cousin gave me a very lame excuse as to why he couldn’t help, and has suspiciously been avoiding me ever since. Case Study #1 has to work, which is a legitimate reason seeing as how he’ll be in another country. That’s not his fault, but I’m happy to mention it whenever he says he’s sorry he can’t be of “more help”. Seriously dude?! Case Study #2 is being an immense pain in my ass. By the time I arrive at my destination and clear the truck out, I might be insane and/or murderous. Expect to see bizarre Tweets “from the road” and/or photos posted from odd stops along the way.

I feel bad for Cat and Kitten. They’re going to be forced into their carriers for roughly 4-6 hours and believe me, the chorus of crying will begin the second they realize the house is empty and all their safe things are “gone”. I will pack them up with a blanket each, so they have something soft to sleep on and pray that they both fall asleep at some point. I know where the first stop is and I will make sure they’re okay before the longer shifts of not-stopping occur, but ultimately, I look forward to seeing how they adapt to their new home. I suspect it will be harder on me than it will be for them. As long as they have me, their toys, food, and things that still smell “like home”, they’ll be okay. Cats may hate change, but they do adapt well when you raise them properly. I am many things, and one of those is an excellent Cat Mother. It might be roughly for 7-10 days, but I know they’ll be fine.

Me? I’ll be emotional. I never dreamt of leaving my home, the home I chose for the long-haul, but sometimes shit happens, life changes, and you have to make decisions to better yourself, your health, career, and happiness. I would prefer to be as positive about it as humanly possible, as opposed to holding on to negative energy or emotions that do not enrich my life in a prosperous way. The only way to reach an emotional state of inner peace is to be a positive person. I’m not perfect with this, no one is that zen, but I’m trying.

I hope you all have a wonderful, fun-filled, happy weekend. If you start sneezing for no reason at all, I’m probably talking about you (Just Kidding). LOL.

100% Sore

2015-10-202015-10-20 Miss Poison Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Baseball, Donate, Fibromyalgia, Football, Hockey, Migraines, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Purge, Recycle, Reduce, Writing

Hello everyone! I hope you’ve all had a marvelous few days. Me? Not so much. I’m doing my best, but I’m covered in bruises and there are many more that have yet to surface. I can feel them. Not fun. 😦

While trying to pack and get my shit together (Waste Management must hate me when they pick up the trash. I am breaking records with how much I am getting rid of. I have a twisted sense of humor, so this brings me great pleasure for some reason.), I badly injured my left knee. It’s swollen and difficult to walk, so I’m hobbling. There’s not much I can do about it until after the move. My right hip and lower back have also taken the time to act up and scream at me in daily agony. To add insult to injury, it was 28 degrees the other night. Every part of my body is in full-blown Fibro flare. Getting out of bed this morning was four hours of me saying “No.” to Cat and Kitten. Insomnia has taken over, so I’m not sleep-sleeping, which is making me unpleasant and grouchy.

I’ve virtually had no time to work as I sort through things and box up bits and pieces of my life. Thankfully, most of what I have is not moving with me, which leaves room in the truck for boxes, but I’ve decided that I want my life to be as minimalist as possible. I don’t want the next generation to be going through my stuff in 40-50 years saying “Wow, Mom had a lot of crap.” I am trying to reduce, purge, recycle, and donate. In fact, I am going through my things now, trying to put another box together for donation. As soon as I know how many there will be, I can schedule a pick-up. I’d like to aim for eight. So far, I’ve got three.

I did make a lot of progress throwing things out today, which makes me happy. I am certain that aside from photos and things that were handmade, I do not need to keep anything from before I was born. Sorry Mom, Dad, Grandma, Grandpa, and all the Greats, but one person does not need roughly eight different sets of dishes, a multitude of wine glasses, and things she will absolutely never use. I don’t plan on having a dinner party any time soon for eighty people, but I’m almost certain I’ve got roughly eighty wine glasses that have never been used. I need to nip this in the bud NOW. On top of not being my taste, it’s too much and I’m worried about things of this nature breaking during the move. No matter how well packed things are, there’s always something that happens and I have to take that into consideration.

I am still adjusting to the new mattress. I’ve had maybe two good nights of sleep on it, if that. The replacement box spring was supposed to come out last week, but at the last-minute the store called (three times, no one can say they’re not trying to be helpful.) and said they only had one in the warehouse and had tried removing a stain from it. I called and said they could keep the stained one since that was only going to be temporary and to simply let me know when the new one was ready for delivery. I followed up this afternoon and the new one that I’d been told was “on order” has since been discontinued, so they’re now sweeping the store for a similar item to deliver to me. I don’t know if it will make an immense difference or not, but I credit them for doing their best to help. I was told by other customers how awful their customer service is, but I’ll be able to write a review stating otherwise. They even found instructions for me to take my bedroom furniture apart. The dresser has a mirror that screws into the back and the bed is four different pieces, but they got me a PDF file so that it can be detached and put back together as safely as possible. That’s major effort considering they no longer sell this furniture and I do love it or I wouldn’t have bought it. It’s no longer pristine from the store, it no longer has the “just delivered” newness to it, but it’s all mine and that’s what matters to me. Everything I am getting rid or and/or leaving behind can be replaced at an IKEA or a slightly more upscale store and quite frankly, IKEA has some really nice stuff. Again, this falls in line with my minimalist approach. My poor books are going into storage, but eventually they will be in a new place on new book shelves and I look forward to that. Books, DVD’s, music, and art are timeless items that I simply cannot live without for any real length of time.

My migraines have remained the same, they exist and they’re not going away anytime soon. 😦 The sudden shift in temperature hasn’t helped much and today is probably the warmest it will be for a while. Unlike most people, I don’t mind the change of seasons, but I DO mind it shifting so quickly from warm to “Holy crap!” My poor body doesn’t know what to do with that, so my pain levels go from manageable to sky-high. In times like these, all I can do is focus on what needs to be done and rest when I need to. No matter what I am putting my body through, I still need to rest and slow down. The last few nights that has meant watching baseball, and last night I sat through one of the worst football games I’ve been tortured with in a long time. If a team has no intention of showing up <cough, GIANTS> they should forfeit before embarrassing themselves. I’m happy for the Blue Jays though, and I promise I will try not to refer to them as the Maple Leafs any more. Or perhaps I’ll try not to do that next year. LOL. I clearly have hockey on the brain. It happens.

For those of you that submitted questions for the AMA, it will begin after my move, so I welcome people to continue to submit their questions.

I’ll be back soon. Have a wonderful evening everyone! 🙂

Time Is A Fickle Thing

2015-10-11 Miss Poison Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Israel, Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing

This weekend has blown by. I’ve done so much in the last few days that I am struggling to move. The only thing that doesn’t hurt is my hair. 😦

My new mattress was delivered earlier in the evening. The irony that I’ll only get to sleep on it for the next three weeks is not lost on me. The sale was amazing, so I was able to get some other much-needed items that I wouldn’t normally spend money on, but I had a huge store credit to use up even after the mattress was factored in. The fact that they wouldn’t fork over the cash is the only reason I allowed myself that bit of “retail therapy”.

Naturally, delivery couldn’t just be an easy thing. As soon as the delivery guys lifted the mattress up, they discovered that the broken spring wasn’t just on the top side of the mattress where I discovered it and where the inspector had found and photographed it. It had cracked and busted through the other side of the mattress as well, putting a huge hole in the box spring, a hole that exceeds the one I saw on the surface of the mattress. I had to call the store and leave a message to let them know that one side of the box spring will need to be replaced, since it’s a split box spring to suit the size of my bed’s frame. I was mortified seeing that hole, because I regularly check these things and I never even thought to take a look at it when I discovered the hole in the mattress. You live, you learn. Thankfully, this new mattress is spring-free. I suspect I might actually sleep well tonight.

I tried doing some lighter stuff today to help my lower back heal a little before I tackle the heavier things, but I ended up boxing up some stuff for donation (clothes, stuffed animals that my Mom had collected that I am okay parting with, etc.), sorting through some of my books, and putting things aside for the library, my nail salon, and tossing an immense amount of items. I also did laundry that way I will get to my new place with clean clothes for late Fall/early Winter, I just have to fold it all and pack it up. I’ve damn near met the ten bag limit for tomorrow’s garbage pick-up, which makes me smile. You truly have no idea how much you own until you have to move. If it were up to me, I’d leave 75% of this stuff behind, but since I inherited the “stuff”, I feel responsible for it. The next time I have to move, it will be the most minimalist move I can manage. I am determined to make that happen. I would prefer to leave my life and have memories as opposed to “stuff”. Music, books, art, photos, and jewelry are the only exceptions to the minimalist concept. Let’s not discuss my collection of bridal magazines that are in perfect shape that I will be putting out for recycling later in the week. I think there are three full boxes chock full of them, along with a smattering of other magazines that I definitely do not need to keep. It’s probably 100 pounds of printed paper. Note to self: You’re not allowed to subscribe to anything ever again, not even a free subscription. It’s not necessary. Read it and toss it like a normal person!

I wish I’d had more downtime to read and catch up on my DVR queue, but it just wasn’t possible. While waiting for the delivery men I watched (which means I fast-forwarded through all the commercials) The Originals (One of the BEST episodes ever. Kudos to Joseph Morgan & Daniel Gillies.), Bones, The Player (If you haven’t seen this show, I highly recommend it. Philip Winchester is AMAZING.), and after dinner I watched the finale of Strike Back, which is the ONLY series finale of any show that actually made me smile. Normally I am left with a “Who the fuck wrote this crap?” moment, but this one was outstanding. I love that show and will miss it terribly. Nothing else like it on TV.

I’ve got a ton of things to do this week. I have writing assignments to either complete or get started on, but I’m proud of the quality of the work I’ve already put in and I’m proud of the topics for the pieces I haven’t begun working on yet. All in all, the writing aspect of my life is doing what it’s supposed to do. When you don’t force it, or yourself, your work is ten times better than if you sit and stare at the screen in an attempt to “be a writer”. And yes, that’s a subject that will be covered in the coming weeks.

And so my lovelies, that was my weekend in a nutshell. I spared you the gory details out of the kindness of my heart. 😛

If you’re not watching football or baseball at the moment, I hope you’re getting ready for the week ahead and resting well. I am about to shut everything down for the night and get into bed. Really, just sitting here is so comfortable that my repeatedly broken tailbone doesn’t hurt at all. That’s unheard of since I normally can’t sit on any surface for very long without a small amount of pain in that part of my body, so I hope this is a sign of good things to come.

I’ll be back with more interesting things soon. Until next time, remember that while 40 may be the new 20, kindness is also the new black. 😉

Also, I am sending out prayers to my best friend in Israel who e-mailed me earlier today to let me know about the bombing near her home. There is absolutely NO reason why she should have to feel like a prisoner in the country she was born & raised in. Something has GOT to be done to keep the citizens of Israel safe from terror. Hell hath no fury if someone harms one of my best friends. I pray things settle down soon.

Laila Tov,

Know Your Rights

2015-10-10 Miss Poison Honesty, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Firearms, Honesty, Ignorance, Opinionated Views, Poison In Lethal Doses, Safety, Weapons, Writing

Author’s Note: You can agree to disagree with me, but I feel that what I am saying is completely valid and I make no apologies for it. These are MY feelings. You don’t have to share in them and I did not write this to argue, I wrote it because it’s my perspective.

Rights in America change a little too frequently, so much so that it’s hard to keep up. The Founding Fathers are probably rolling over in their graves as they watch what has become of this nation.

Under normal circumstances I keep a lot of my personal beliefs to myself, but someone started an ignorant fight with me and it sparked the desire to write about it.

The very benign disagreement was deleted by the person who started it with her comment, so not only did I cease further communications with her, something I never do when I’ve known someone for 20+ years, but ultimately, I lost respect for her because she clearly knew what she was doing with her comments and I felt that was low. Don’t say something stupid and expect every single person to agree with you. This is not GroupThink.

Here’s what happened verbatim:

The first person (who, as I said, deleted the three comment disagreement) stated that she really wanted to go to the movies, but that she didn’t feel it was okay for the movie theater to “search through her purse”. She lives in the same state as I do, and I agree with her. It’s NOT okay. Her acquiescence in the same statement was “I guess that’s the world we live in now.” Um, NO, it’s not, and it’s irresponsible for you to say something so stupid.

People immediately chimed in with a plethora of anti-gun sentiments, so this quickly escalated into something it didn’t need to be.

I don’t think of guns and movie theaters in the same sentence. I truly don’t. I’m not ignorant, I know what happens and what has happened in this country, but to give that thought credence and act as though it will continue to happen because of responsible gun owners is not rational, intelligent thinking. Unfortunately, this was like like reading comments from a Million Mom March, as opposed to people with differing opinions sharing their views. I was the only person saying anything pro-gun, and believe me, I barely got started.

In regard to the statement that “this is the world we live in now”: It’s incidents of unlawfulness with malicious intent. However, it is not the entire globe. Anyone stating shit like that is utterly ignorant. I have NEVER, not once, gone to the movies and thought about harming someone. Neither has anyone else I know.

While many movie theaters are posting signs asking law abiding gun owners not to carry openly or concealed into their establishments, regardless of the fact that their state’s laws allow them to do so, others are simply going through women’s purses to confiscate candy, snacks, and bottled water, which isn’t about anyone’s safely, but ultimately about how much money you spend after purchasing a ticket. That has NOTHING to do with your personal safety or the safety of those with you. If they want you to be “safe”, if they are truly concerned about a potential shooting occurring in one of their theaters, then maybe they should have someone armed in every single theater as opposed to acting like going to the movies requires a TSA-type pat down.

Going to the movies is supposed to be fun, not stressful. If they want to prevent something from happening, they can’t make their audiences targets. After all, they weren’t searching any of the men, just women’s purses. Does that seem a little ass-backward? I don’t recall any females shooting up a movie theater, do you?

My response to this was “I would walk right out if they demanded to search through my purse without a warrant or probable cause. Know your rights.” And that’s precisely when some stupid bitch decided to turn that into more than it really is by saying “I guess your “rights” are more important to you than your safety.” I answered the lunatic by stating that she is ignorant, that a lawful citizen not only knows their rights but can protect themselves, their loves ones, and absolute strangers because they have passed a background check, have been fingerprinted to be able to carry concealed, taken a 40 hour class in firearms safety, among other things based on the individual state one resides in. Within an hour of my response, the entire interaction was deleted by the originator of said discussion, and I find that utterly cowardly. I do not abide by cowards.

For starters, I am not a criminal and therefore if you do not have a warrant or a legitimate reason to search me, I do not have to submit to being searched, be it my person or personal property, without reasonable cause. Certainly NOT at a movie theater where I am paying hard-earned money to watch something I want to see. I don’t carry a gun in my purse. I don’t know anyone who does, so if that is how a movie theater is going to conduct themselves, they do not need my business. If they think they’re going to confiscate a gun from a law abiding woman by such means, they’re wrong. However, I’m also not a mental moron. Unless I am going to an airport to board a plane (in my state, you can be armed and be standing at baggage claim waiting for someone. If you’re approached by security or a police officer because, for some reason, you’re imprinting, all you have to do is show them your concealed carry permit and ID. They might be a little dramatic, but if you’re not aggressive, they won’t be either.), walking into the post office, walking into a government agency (I’ll use Social Security as an example since I had to replace my card a few years ago), or going into a courthouse, then searching through my bag is completely unacceptable. Would you let a restaurant do that before they seated you? No, you wouldn’t, because that’s not acceptable behavior, nor is it acceptable for anyone to do that at a fucking movie theater. Moreover, you have to check a weapon at the front door of any courthouse or lock the firearm in the trunk of your car, the choice is yours. Otherwise, you’re going through a metal detector, so it’s not like you can hide anything. How many women have had a wand used on them because they were wearing an underwire bra that had real wire in it? I have. It takes two seconds for them to say “I don’t mean to be nosey, but I have to ask. Are you wearing a push-up bra or any type of underwire bra? Oh, okay. It’s the bra. You can go, miss.” I have yet to cause anyone harm with a bra, though there are days those fuckers hurt and should be abolished.

I was once asked to leave a Kubaton attached to my keys behind with an armed guard. He held it for me until I left, no harm, no foul. He didn’t treat me like a fucking criminal for having a self-defense weapon in my possession because I have the legal right to do so. After all, this is still America, not Nazi Germany.

A TSA agent once checked my hair because the screening showed a piece of metal. She immediately saw it was my hairclip and that I did not have a bomb strapped to my head. That was the end of that. I very clearly didn’t require a cavity search.

Second, it is important to know your rights. When you don’t, you’ll allow stupid shit to be done to you and you’ll accept things you wouldn’t allow if you’d had the proper knowledge.

Many people turned the original comment into a war against guns. “Oh, everyone is so violent.” or they outright stated that “People who are mentally ill need to have guns taken away from them.” Categorically speaking, that would mean someone who suffers from OCD, has bouts of depression, PTSD, or anxiety could potentially have a concealed carry permit revoked because a bunch of assholes think that somehow impairs your judgment. Unless a person is paranoid and thinks the entire world is out to get them, the chances of that gun being used outside of a range are slim.

Would I tell an anxious rape victim that she had no right to a concealed carry permit to protect herself from future harm? No, I would NOT. Would I tell a single mother that she didn’t have the right to own a shotgun to protect herself and her children? No. Would I tell someone who has an order of protection that she needs to wait weeks, or months, to purchase a firearm for protection? NO. However, all these people cared about was causing an issue where there wasn’t one.

People will argue that guns can escalate a situation, and that may be true in the hands of the wrong person, but it’s not the truth in every situation known to man. Would I prefer to shoot someone or be raped? The former, always. Would I prefer to shoot to protect myself or be shot? The former, always. Every woman in this country has the right to defend herself however she sees fit, and for anyone to say she does not have the right and that she be allowed to be a victim in any situation disgusts me.

This country was built on the back of a horse and guns have always been used to defend and protect. We have the right to bear arms. We have freedom of speech and freedom of religion. And yet, Americans think we need to take rights away from ourselves every single day and they are 100% WRONG.

Two Americans disarmed a gunman on train and protected people a few months ago. http://www.npr.org/sections/thetwo-way/2015/08/22/433742051/3-americans-hailed-as-heroes-for-subduing-train-gunman That is heroism.

Many Americans immigrate to Israel to join various factions of the IDF, to protect land that is, from North to South, slightly larger than the state of New Jersey.

Our military is taught to use force in combat if necessary, yet they are not allowed to defend themselves on U.S. soil, which is absolutely deplorable. You’re telling them to be victims when they could diffuse a situation with their experience.

I grew up with NYPD officers as next door neighbors. When one cop moved out, another would move in. You couldn’t have been safer. My Mom once had a roommate whose brother was a cop. Whenever he wanted to go out drinking, he needed to leave his service weapon someplace safe, as it wasn’t allowed to go off-duty with him at the time. Everyone else was afraid of guns, except for my Mom. He’d tell her where it was and she’d babysit the gun until he came back. I grew up with a healthy respect for firearms.

I had a friend call to tell me about a date she’d been on. She freaked because the guy she was seeing was a cop and she had no idea that the entire time they were out together, he was carrying concealed. She went to hug him goodnight and jerked away the second she realized he was armed. I explained that he was off-duty, but her personal experience with guns was so negative that she never saw him again. She didn’t want to be around guns or have them in her life. I explained his side of things gently, and then I let it go because her feelings were based on trauma. That I understand. They were not coming from a place of ignorance or hatred, they were coming from a place of trauma and fear. She was never going to be able to get past that, and I told her that was okay.

No matter where you live in this world, guns can and will continue to get into the wrong hands. It’s a given, and it’s sad. However, those I know are pretty unexpected. I don’t expect a 65+ year old Grandmother to be walking around packing heat, but a great many do. To each their own. I have found that every male gun owner expects me to be dainty, dumb, and a Republican. I’m not dainty, I’m far from stupid, and I’m not a Republican, so I just let them talk themselves into a wall. All I hear is “Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.”

All that being said: School shootings are unacceptable. If you’re paying to send your child to a community college or a university, you’re sending your children off to public school, you have a very reasonable expectation for them to be safe and remain safe. If you’re going to ban guns from campus and not allow guards and security to be armed, then you’re 100% asking for trouble. There is always going to be some lunatic looking to martyr themselves onto the news. Healthy people don’t talk about Satan and they don’t shoot people based on their religion. But does that mean guns should be taken away from everyone? No.

The current President of the United States is using all of these tragedies as a way to further destroy this country. Our relations with some of our closest allies have been tarnished and/or strategically broken by this sorry excuse for a President. It is absolutely shameful.

Guns themselves do not kill people. It’s the person holding the gun who is responsible for any good or bad they commit. I could say that some writers should have all pens and all forms of technology taken from them due to horrible writing, but that would be dismissed because people don’t see words as ‘weapons’.

We’re not arguing for “knife control” when people are stabbed. We’re not arguing for a lot of things that involve our daily safety, but every other person has an opinion about “gun control”. Many of whom do not own guns and never have.

If you are an actor or actress with armed bodyguards, either for yourself or your family, then you have absolutely NO right to say that this country needs “gun control”. Especially when you make your money on television or in films that A) have violence in them and B) Use guns. If you’re from a country where guns are banned, take a good look at your military personnel. They are not going into battle unarmed. How do you think your freedoms are being protected? With stickers, candy, and handshakes?

Overall, this world is violent. I do not place blame on individuals, governments, or weapons for that. I place blame on how people think. It’s not normal to stampede over someone on Black Friday to save money on Christmas presents, yet it happens, people get hurt and some die, and yet, NO ONE says we need to better control those sales because there will always be a Black Friday. We care less and less about the human condition, but we’re all too ready to point fingers and spew uneducated words, or hate.

If you know nothing about firearms, educate yourself before you say something stupid. It’s crucial to know your rights, no matter where you live in this world. You don’t have to like what I’ve said, you don’t have to agree with it, but I think we can all safely agree that our rights shouldn’t be violated.

If you’re doing things lawfully, good for you, you’re responsible and educating yourself. Unfortunately, there will always be people who will illegally purchase a weapon of any kind, or make bombs in their homes, with the intent of harming others. Do you think terrorists care about your safety? Do you think they care about legally acquiring a weapon of any kind? They don’t. So before anyone tries lecturing me about my rights, they should do their fucking homework and know what they’re talking about first.

In all situations; know your rights.

Friday Feelings

2015-10-092015-10-09 Miss Poison Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Emotions, Family, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Siblings, Tears, Writing

What profound, intelligent things can I say today? I won’t give myself that much credit as my thoughts are scattered at the moment, but hey, it has been known to happen. 😉

On occasion, I wish people wouldn’t give me such rich material and expect me not to write about it (That’s okay, the status quo is in tact.). Generally, those who do such things have no idea it’s being written about because they take no real interest in me as a person, but at this point, you’re opening yourself up to be cannon fodder. I make a point of protecting the guilty by never naming names. 😛

Most writers will write and speak from personal experience, even in works of fiction, because daily life is ridiculous and downright comedic at times. I often look around for hidden cameras to make sure I’m not part of some bizarre reality show. Half the time I feel the need to double-check to make sure Ashton Kutcher isn’t going to pop out from behind something to tell me I’ve just been Punk’d. They really need to bring that show back…

I got a surprise phone call yesterday afternoon from the store where I purchased my mattress, the one that somehow managed to have a spring crack and pop through the pillow-top, thus causing a hole that hadn’t been there two weeks prior when I first discovered it. This has been going on since August. When the “mattress inspector” came out early Tuesday morning, and by early, I mean he was here at 8:45 and after a few photos and my signature, wished me good luck with my move, I figured that even with visible proof, I’d be forced to replace it sometime next year. I cannot begin to explain how painful it is, but the inspector was nice. He said they’d take care of me “Even if you are a Yankees fan.” LOL. During the inspection he pointed out that the entire area where the spring popped is caving in slightly. That explains why I have often felt like the mattress was uneven (Total blonde moment. I can say for a fact that I was blonde when I started thinking there was something wrong with this thing.).

The lady from their service department sounded really nice when I answered the phone, but I thought she was lulling me into a false sense of security. When she informed me that the inspector’s report was that the mattress is damaged (“He said your mattress is stain-free and in perfect condition despite the damage, which is clearly not your fault.”), I was thrilled. I paid very little for a higher-end mattress because I purchased it during a big President’s Day sale along with most of my other bedroom furniture. She said I could come into the store anytime as there is now a massive credit on my account, all I have to do is pick out something new and by the way, they’re having a 50% off sale for Columbus Day. My jaw dropped. I cannot begin to express how grateful I am. So, later today (tomorrow if I still feel like crap) I am taking Case Study #2 with me so that I can get a second opinion on mattress comfort. I openly admit I only sat on this one before I chose it, and because my Fibromyalgia has progressively worsened since then, I felt it was important to do some research on the best mattresses for chronic pain sufferers.

I’ve always wanted to upgrade to a Sleep Number bed, but I’ve read mixed reviews from pain sufferers. Memory foam has always felt painful to me, but there is now a new type of memory foam with some kind of gel in the core, so I went on their web-site and found three or four different mattresses to test. No matter how I cut it, I’m still making out like a bandit because they issued me the full price despite the fact that I bought this one on sale. I’m going to look at this as a gift and a blessing because being in pain while I sleep is agonizing. Whoever is looking out for me from up Above, THANK YOU. This means replacing my pillows after the move because I always have a difficult time finding good ones that remain good. Maybe this time I won’t need so many and can downgrade to six.

However, in my joy, I found out there are also plenty of painful, unshed tears inside me. I don’t want to move and leave what little I have built here behind. I’ve enjoyed living here, for the most part. I’ve enjoyed the area and all that has become familiar to me, but in order for progress to occur, I have to improve upon instead of remaining stagnant. I have to focus on my health and make some big changes before I can consider anything else.

What pains me most about this is that I am leaving behind my closest family member, which is making me worry beyond words. I have looked out for him since before he was born. I take the responsibility of being a sister very seriously. We spend an extraordinary amount of time together for siblings (He gets mistaken for my father or boyfriend constantly because apart from a few features, we don’t look alike.), and I know I will be sick with worry every single day that I will get a phone call with news that I will feel responsible for.

I have taken care of my brother since the day he came home from the hospital. I took care of him even more after we lost our parents. Leaving him behind now makes me feel like the worst person on the planet. No matter how many times he & I have discussed other options, we were railroaded, so now I’m left with no other option. I will be 2-5 hours away in an emergency, depending on my method of transportation, and I am worried because he’s never truly been on his own before. He has always had me to rely on to bail him out of trouble and to look out for him. I always say “Call or text me so I know you got there safely.” and “Call me when you get back, so I know you’re safe.” He constantly makes me worry. We can go for days without speaking and our relationship is not perfect, but he is still my brother and I’d hate myself if anything ever happened and I wasn’t there for him.

Does he feel the same? I honestly don’t know what he feels. He isn’t the most communicative human-being when it pertains to emotions. I’ve only seen him cry three times in the last decade, and that number might be too high if I think about it.

Since informing him of my decision, he has been angry and volatile. He has accused me of abandoning him and said we won’t have a relationship at all once I move, that he’ll be “cutting me off” emotionally. I’ve repeatedly said “We can talk every day, we can text, we can e-mail like we always do, and we can Skype. I’ll be back in a flash if you truly need me and you can always come and visit.” He’s said he won’t visit, which might just be how he feels now, but I truly don’t know. I do, however, feel that he has some major growing up to do and since I was recently accused of “holding him back” simply because I provided unsolicited advice, I feel like it’s time to let him learn the way he’s always chosen to learn; the hard way. It makes me sick to my stomach, I’m terrified over what he might get himself into, but I also know in my heart that I have done everything I possibly can for him and he’s chosen not to change or grow. You can no longer help someone who doesn’t give a shit about the things in life that are truly important.

Cat will miss him terribly. She worships the ground he walks on. Since the first night I brought her home, she has adored him. He was the first person to hold her, the first person she purred for, the first person she chirped at, and the first person she ever gave kisses to. If I thought he could truly care for her the way I do, I’d let them be together, but I know he can barely take care of himself and that the responsibility of a cat is not in his wheelhouse at the moment. I know she will search for him and miss him, but I also know she will never forget him. And I do hope he’ll change his mind and visit a few times a year, because it’s not a huge trip to make when you only have a bag of clothes and your laptop with you. I am hoping that time will show him that I’m not abandoning him, that I’m giving him room to spread his wings. No matter where either of us are, we will always remain siblings. That’s an unbreakable bond, though I realize for many, that the bond does break.

The day he was born my exact words were “I didn’t ask for a little brother. Can we send him back? I specifically said I wanted a baby sister.” I was lovingly informed that I don’t get to choose that sort of thing. God has given me sisters in the form of my closest friends, and for that I am truly grateful, but when it comes to my brother I suspect I’ll always have mixed emotions. Even when we’ve gone years without seeing each other, we have still spoken regularly and communicated better than when we’ve lived in the same home or city/town. Perhaps this is precisely how he learns to be a better brother.

He has, often quite begrudgingly, been there for me these past few years as my Fibromyalgia has worsened and my migraines became more difficult to manage. He has taken out my trash and recycling, picked up medication, brought me emergency supplies when I’ve been sick or in too much pain to get out of bed, done library and post office runs, and been my partner-in-crime nine times out of ten. He has helped me when I’ve needed help, cared for my familiar when I’d go on vacation, dropped me off at the airport and picked me up, even when the timing inconvenienced him, and fixed things for me when I wasn’t 100% certain how to do it myself. No matter how many times I say thank you or do something to show my appreciation for these things, he tells me he has “outlived his usefulness”. Unfortunately through all that help, he has also been highly disrespectful, overly demanding, and extremely abusive. He always expects to be forgiven simply because he is my brother, but it is not always possible to forgive unforgivable things. I realize that is a lesson he needs to learn for himself.

So as I proceed, I am certain my eyes will be swollen shut at some point from all the crying, but hopefully he will flourish without my presence. I will never stop being his sister or his friend, but I’ve done all I can to “keep the family together”, my Grandmother’s dying plea to me. Maybe it was an unfair request, but I think I’ve held up the three promises I made to her before she passed away, to the best of my ability, as this was long before my Fibromyalgia diagnosis when I only had two things plaguing my life.

I don’t know how to turn off the maternal gene, it’s ingrained in who I am. It’s possible I have always been overprotective. Here’s hoping that one day my brother can look back on all of that and know in his heart that I’m not abandoning him, I am simply making important changes with a hole in my heart. I cannot allow guilt to make my decisions for me. I cannot allow tears to hold me back, because no matter what, my life and happiness are equally important.

I pray I am making the right decision for all involved. I also pray that he will soon realize that I’m not choosing someone else over him, but that I am choosing me for the first time in my life.