Memories

2015-05-202015-08-08 Miss Poison Life, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Family, Grief, In Memory, Loss, Love, Memories, My Uncle, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Sorrow, Writing

There are so many things in life that can be chalked up into two different categories: Good memories and bad memories. There are also “middle of the road” memories, but I’ll leave that for another day.

I woke up way too early this morning. It was still dark outside. I couldn’t quite put my finger on why I was so annoyed, bothered, and agitated. I was trying very hard not to be viciously bitchy, so I decided to keep my mouth shut. The one thing I didn’t do was sit around and ponder it, I got up and went off in search of something to do.

It probably took me four or five hours to realize that today is May 20th, the anniversary of my Uncle’s death. It astounds me that it’s been several years and didn’t just happen yesterday, which is precisely how it feels. I was completely numb then, in absolute disbelief, and I’m numb today.

I miss him.

A framed photo of him is on top of the armoire in the corner of my bedroom. I glanced up at it a little while ago, because his presence can be felt. He was the kind of person that could walk into any room and command it with absolute certainty. He had an incredibly magnetic personality and much like me, you either loved him or you didn’t. He didn’t waste time trying to win you over if you were clearly on the other side, nor did he have to. He was one of the finest human-beings to walk this planet. He always treated me like a prized daughter. Always.

A lot of women are often accused of seeking out “father figures” in their marriage choices, especially if they come from an abusive background with a father or if they never had a male role model to look to as they grew up. I am not one of those women. I do look at men closely to see how they might behave in the future with children of their own, but I do not see them as a “fatherly role model” for myself. Nor should I. It’s one of the healthier aspects of who I am in a relationship. I know myself and I know what I’m looking for. There are plenty of good men that aren’t good fathers, and plenty of good fathers who aren’t good partners or good men.

Despite the mixed emotions I have about my father and the relationship I had with him, the relationship with my Uncle is not one I ever question. Was I loved? Yes. Was I treated with respect? Absolutely. In fact, there were probably times I was treated better than his own children because we had a very deep bond. Not only can I visually pass for one of his daughters, but it’s precisely what people think when they look at me. The two people in this world I most closely resemble are my mother and my Uncle, and both of them are gone.

I have amazing memories of my Uncle. Yes, he was slightly off the wall and uniquely himself, but goodness radiated from his soul. This is, after all, the man who snuck into one of my graduation ceremonies and stood in the back so as not to interfere with the ceremony. But as I got on stage to receive my diploma, his unmistakable presence was a huge part of why I was smiling in my photos. He always showed his love and support in immense ways.

I thank him, today and always, for all that he taught me. He believed in my ability to achieve my goals, to reach new heights, and to chart new territory. As I go through a new phase in my life, I am reminded of his smiling eyes and how proud of me he always was, no matter what. He didn’t always need words, his eyes said everything for him.

I was incredibly blessed to have you in my life and I am in awe of the lives you were able to touch in your 58 years. I also breathe a sigh of relief knowing that you did not suffer.

I love you Uncle R. Thank you…for everything.

I Wrote Today…Be Thrilled

2015-05-19 Miss Poison E-books, Editing, Editors, Fibromyalgia, Honesty, Pieces Of Me, Plagiarism, Poison In Lethal Doses, Things That Enrage Me, Work, Writer, Writers, Writing Beware, Books, Editing, Fibromyalgia Pain, Honesty, Identity Theft, Pieces Of Me, Plagiarism, Poison In Lethal Doses, Self-Publishing, Theft, Writers, Writing

I am in excruciating pain. From the top of my spine to the top of my thighs, I cannot stand the torturous pain that only seems to get worse with every passing minute. After a point, you really have to ask yourself an important question: Do I take ANOTHER pill or do I pray this will stop at some point? It’s been quite some time since I’ve wanted a morphine drip, but right now, it sounds good.

While this pain attacks my being relentlessly, cutting off my early (for me) bed time by waking me up, I actually sat here for over an hour pouring over what shall forever be dubbed as “the manuscript from hell”. At this point, I can honestly say I am forcing myself to work and get it done. I am NOT enjoying myself in any way, shape, or form. I keep thinking about all the Biotin I will have to take to replace the hair this manuscript is costing me. God help me if my work ever tortures another individual so much! 😦

On a more serious note, a fellow writer had her first book hacked by someone claiming to be an editor in India. After three months of “editing”, he hacked into her Amazon account, tried to pass the book off as done, and then stole her credit card information and, to my understanding, maxed out her card. He damaged her files to the point where she has just lost a year of hard work, work she cherished beyond measure. So now, she’s lost a book she was proud of AND she has to file all kinds of reports to avoid identity theft, and get her credit card charged back and replaced. This is nightmarish, and I don’t want it to happen to anyone ever again.

I want everyone that is a writer to be VERY careful when hiring an editor. I highly recommend sticking to your country of origin and asking for a contract and non-disclosure agreement. That is my standard method of dealing with all of my clients and while some of them may drive me insane at times, I have never, not once in 20 years, released their names or discussed what their work was about. It’s okay to say your job is driving you nuts, but as an editor it’s crucial to my reputation to protect my clients’ work.

At the end of each day, I don’t OWN their manuscripts. I can ask to receive credit as the editor for those that self-publish, but three months after a job has been completed, I release my hold on any and all files. I keep them for that short time period on the off-chance they will need me to fix something or need a backup copy, but after that, I delete the work. I have no rights to it whatsoever, and each contract states that.

If you’re writing a book, back up your files to something external. A thumb drive, a microSD card, an external hard drive, etc., and put a hard copy on a CD or DVD, and put it in a safe place. If you can put it in a safe, I highly recommend that as an option. Don’t EVER allow someone to access your work remotely. Do not give passwords out! Shield everything you put your name on and protect it with your life. There are seriously evil people in this world that are, without question, predators to some extent. Do not allow yourself to become a victim of anyone professing to be something that are, quite clearly, not.

There are plenty of legitimate freelancers and there are even more that are simply liars. Aim high when searching for someone legitimate to assist you with something so important. If you have any questions, I am happy to assist where I can.

Mother & Daughter

2015-05-17 Miss Poison Adult Orphans, In Memory, Motherless Daughters, My Mother, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Relationships, Strength, Writing Best Friends, Friendship, Honesty, In Memory, My Mother, Poison In Lethal Doses, Relationships, Writing

First friend; best friend.

The reason I am who I am.

The person who encouraged me never to follow, but always to lead.

Guide-post. Lighthouse. Anchor.

Part angel, part saint.

The best listener.

Could always see the best in me, even when I didn’t believe there was any.

Teacher of so much.

Giver of books, music, art, culture, and life.

Laughter ’til we cried.

Taught me, in part, how to be a mother with a very simple gift.

Saw my talents clearer than anyone else.

Hated it when friends disappointed, lied, and hurt me. Enraged when men did the same.

Was always in awe of my strength.

Was not afraid to lean on me and allow me to be strong when she was not.

My first audience.

Lover of sunsets, rainbows, lilacs, and cats.

Honesty, Integrity, Loyalty, Love, Friendship.

You thought I was the blessing, but I know with certainty that I was blessed to have you as my mother.

You worked two jobs, took care of your children, and never once looked back. That is immense heroism.

Small aspects of who you are and what you mean to me.

Words fail…

I learned from my mother, but I also taught her in kind. Our relationship was one of kindred spirits. I’m strong and fierce because she was not able to be that kind of woman, having been raised differently. She encouraged my voice because she often felt she did not have one that others would listen to. She is the reason I am a supremely confident writer.

Days like today are very hard. They are made easier when one can honor their loved one, in their own attempt to heal. Truth be told, I don’t think one can ever repair the hole inside my heart at such a devastating loss, but I’m trying.

“Serenity is yours.
When chaos looms seek the sweet
Surrender of simplicity.
Gaze above at the glassy sky,
Feel each blade of green
Beneath your feet,
Listen to the sound of faith
Like a reed flute playing
Inside your chest.
Breathe.
Stand in witness of
Your true nature.
Remember the compassion
Of the lover’s eyes,
The calm wisdom of
The elder’s voice.
Go within. Be at rest without.
Fall to your knees in gratitude.
You have all you need.
Turn from the riot of distraction.
Let it roll over and beyond you.
Serenity is yours.
It lives always within your reach.”

-Ching Qu Lam

Exhausted To The Bone

2015-05-08 Miss Poison Adult Orphans, Exhaustion, Honesty, Mother's Day, Motherless Daughters, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Adult Orphans, Exhaustion, Limitations, Motherless Daughters, Musings, Not Today, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Reading, Rest, Sleep, Writing

I went to bed exhausted, I woke up more exhausted than when I originally went to bed. Lately, there never seems to be enough sleep. I found myself wanting to nod off for four hours yesterday, but when I finally committed myself to “a nap”, I ended up reading for over three hours. I hadn’t planned on reading at all, I simply thought if I started reading something nonsensical, I’d make myself even sleepier. It was counter-intuitive.

I think the stress of the week and of many, many months has finally hit me today. I have absolutely no desire to do anything. I just want to rest. My brain is tired, my body is tired, and you can only ignore your body for so long before exhaustion catches up with you and doesn’t let go. That is definitely chronic fatigue.

My brain is barely working to form complete sentences properly. I have dueling issues. My stomach is telling me that we’re hungry and should try making some soup. My brain is saying that the soup can wait because if we’re not properly rested, we will burn the house down. I got distracted last weekend when I had something in the oven. I set the timer and instead of staying within a 15 foot range of the kitchen, I walked upstairs to check my phone. I went to check e-mail quickly or something, but then I got into texting with someone and the next thing I know, the timer is going off and there’s a slight smoky smell rising. I was also doing laundry, so clearly I was pulling myself pretty thin. Sadly, I didn’t hear the timer, which is quite scary. When I did go downstairs because the smell wasn’t right, I finally heard the timer and felt like a complete and utter moron. On top of being dangerous, I was just plain out of it. Now I stay close by, because the last thing I should be doing is something that could lead to the harm of myself or others. I’m too drained to be able to leave something alone while I’m in the middle of making it, and right now I’m truly too drained to actually make something. I don’t even think I’m capable of walking down the steps.

This Sunday is Mother’s Day, so don’t be alarmed if I make myself extremely scarce. This is an incredibly difficult time of year for me. Each year, I’m reminded that I am a Motherless Daughter. One year I waited until the day settled and went grocery shopping that night, because all I wanted to do was avoid the mother/daughter bonding that this weekend brings forth. If you haven’t experienced this kind of loss, or the kind of bond I shared with my mother, it’s not something one can easily relate to, so I tend to just close up shop for about 10 days and keep my mouth shut, lest I somehow manage to offend someone with my honesty and/or directness. Ultimately, there is always someone who will find me offensive in some way. It’s not my issue, it’s theirs, but I don’t want or need the drama.

So in advance, I wish ALL mothers: Pet mothers, Grandmothers, Godmothers, Aunts, and especially single mothers a very happy day. I’ll be okay, but if you can’t find me I MIGHT be sitting in the dark with chocolate pudding.

Overdoing It

2015-05-06 Miss Poison Charities, Exhaustion, Musings, Pain, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Uncategorized, Writing Editing, Fibromyalgia Pain, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing

When you feel good for even a split second, you try capitalizing on it by squeezing in things from your “to do” list. Mine is more like a “must do” list. I am currently packing things up from my home for donation. There are plenty of people who need home goods and other things I will never use, so I’d like to get about 10-12 boxes ready for any charity that is willing to pick them up. This always helps me feel good; purging things I will never use that can help others. I choose a different charity each time, that way I’m helping more people. I believe that the good you send out into the world is a reflection and will be there for you in times when you most need it. It’s very much the “Law Of Three” for me. “That which you send out into the world returns to you threefold. Send it again and it returns in ten.” I think that’s a really nice way to spread positivity and hope.

Unfortunately, having that brief moment yesterday where I felt okay means I can barely move my upper body today. I fully intended to do a few more boxes this afternoon, but perhaps I should take some Aleve first. It’s sad that I’ve had to depend on Aleve for Fibromyalgia pain for well over a year now. Sometimes it helps for short periods of time, and other times it’s as if I swallowed Tic-Tacs. How promising. 😦 I definitely need to go back to herbs on a semi-regular basis.

I was able to get some editing done yesterday, despite being ticked off and despite the migraine from hell. I found so much wrong with the work though that I continued to over-analyze it. There are times when, as an editor, I have to step back and remind myself that it’s the writing, and it’s not MY work causing the issues. I think the best idea is to move forward and get it done. Whatever isn’t perfect will be re-done during the final round of editing, after revisions and rewrites. I know she has several other things she wants me to edit once this one returns to her for rewrites, which will be extensive, she has no idea how serious I am with my notes, and despite wanting a brief respite to focus on my own life, I think continuing with the same client is a good thing.

One of the new things I am getting ready to do is design my book cover. Even though I will be pursuing traditional publishing, I still want to have an idea of how the book will look. I’m going to draw up a rough sketch and talk it over with a graphic designer. Branding yourself properly is never a bad thing. In fact, it’s quite smart.

And so, I am off to tackle a few boxes and then do some charity research to see who needs what and how quickly they can come.

Enjoy the rest of your day!

It Doesn’t Get Easier

2015-05-052015-05-05 Miss Poison Cats, Children, Chronic Pain, Fibromyalgia, Honesty, Kittens, Life, Musings, Pain, Pets, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Chronic Pain, Fibromyalgia, Honesty, Life, Migraines, Musings, Pain, Poison In Lethal Doses, Suffering, Writing

Fibromyalgia Pain. Chronic Pain. Migraines. They are just a few of the evils that millions suffer from. Some suffer loudly, but many more suffer in dark rooms, alone, in silence. You’re screaming on the inside, but you don’t make a sound.

There is something about the temperature shifting drastically that changes my “Pain Game” to new levels of insanity. I’ve had a migraine on and off for three days, and after last week, I’d hoped it was just a passing tornado, so to speak. This morning I reached that “insane from pain” stage that is quite scary. You hear yourself saying crazy things, but you truly cannot stop your mouth from moving. You’ve been strong for too long and now you’re venting.

I’m usually up pretty early and by early, I mean still dark. Suffering from migraines last week into this week has meant that I’m finding justified reasons to A) Go back to sleep or B) Take naps. This morning I woke up at 7:24. I’d been up an hour before and truly saw no reason to make a bigger effort, so back to bed I went. Unfortunately, when you have animals and/or young children, you don’t get “the morning off”. I suspect if I bled out of my eyeballs, maybe. The girls were being particularly aggressive this morning, so I fed them at exactly 7:25 and then stomped back up the stairs like an insane person. Once they’re fed, they usually leave me alone. In true form, they had no interest in bothering me whatsoever once they’d been fed. But once I officially woke up, I had a little stalker doing all sorts of wrong to draw my attention. I’ve reached that pain point where saying “No.” or “Get down from there!” isn’t even worth it. If I spritz them with water, they stop doing it. However, they’re fearless and like to lick the water off right in front of me, as if to say “Really Mommy, that’s all you’ve got?” I’m not in the mood to be challenged by anything with four legs and fur, and I don’t negotiate with terrorists that look like children. 😛

Migraines that affect your neck, shoulder(s), face, and spine are fucking scary. There is always someone telling me a wild story about how “so and so had a migraine, and thus thought nothing of it, until they ended up in emergency surgery.” Yeah, that’s what I need to hear. That is totally going to make me feel better, thanks for sharing! I have no idea why so many people use the “this one has it worse” crap on you, as if that is somehow going to magically stop your suffering (and not just with a migraine, but with ALL things in life). FYI: It doesn’t curb your suffering at all, but it does piss you off, which isn’t good because that raises your blood pressure and damn near guarantees that this migraine isn’t going anywhere any time soon.

My biggest problem with this particular migraine is that I also hurt from my spine down to my calves. If it’s not severe pain, it’s a horrific ache or serious soreness. There is a 50% chance of rain and honestly, I’d like to see it rain a bit because that would explain the sudden increase in pain from my daily 8-9 to DEFCON 1. Historically we have never reached such a level of “readiness”, but I’m betting that a vast majority of pain patients HAVE reached that threshold. It is pain that is so bad, you’d rather feel ANYTHING ELSE but that pain. It applies to more than just the physical.

Doctors have often told me “It gets better as you get older.” That’s what they told my mother when I had horrible growing pains and constantly felt like my muscles and bones were going to pop off. Now, doctors ask whether or not you can remember if you had bad growing pains as a child, because that often signifies whether or not you might suffer from a form of chronic pain later on in life. They ask about your long-dead relatives medical histories, as if you know all about your “dead before I was born” Grandparents and Great-Grandparents. Unfortunately, I remember those growing pains the same way I will remember my current pain a month from now, with 100% muscle memory.

I fully intended to get some serious editing done today. I have a client crawling up my butt (I have more to say on this subject, but it’s unprofessional, so I’m going to shut my mouth) asking for a timeline for delivery. We’ve never discussed one before, but as I go through pages and pages of work that requires severe corrections with every sentence, I had to be honest (I chose professional honesty as opposed to niceness because I don’t have niceness in me at the moment.) and tell exactly her how much work is involved. The cleaner the manuscript, the less work there is for me, but as a developmental editor, I fact check and do way more than I’m being paid for, and yet from a writer’s perspective, I cannot tell if it’s just excitement at the prospect of having never been edited before, or anxiety that a professional is dissecting your work. I don’t know, I suspect it could be a lot of both, but I’m also in too much pain and under too much stress to sit and psycho-analyze it. I also hesitate to ask because I’m about .1 seconds from losing it on just about anyone. I’ve never failed a client before; it’ll get done, but work stops when I’m in agony and being nagged.

Right now, today is turning into another “Must Take Care Of Me” day. I truly don’t feel there are enough days like this because I often turn my attention to helping someone with a problem, or doing something else to shift my internal focus off the pain. Focusing solely on my own needs is slightly unnatural to me, but for now, it MUST be a priority.

Here’s hoping that none of my readers are hurting like this today. 😦 This is the kind of pain only Hitler deserves!

These Days

2015-05-022015-05-02 Miss Poison Chronic Pain, Fibromyalgia, Honesty, Musings, Pain, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Stress, Writing Chronic Pain, Fibromyalgia, Life, Musings, Pain, Poison In Lethal Doses, Stress, Survival, Writing

When you suffer from any form of chronic illness, and I can only speak from experience with Fibromyalgia/Chronic Pain, there are days when you cannot fathom getting out of bed, leave alone getting out of the house. The pain is just that great in its magnitude that functioning is taken out of the equation. You reach a point where you merely exist.

When I push myself, I make everything worse. It often takes me 5-6 hours just to get my mind right in order to get ready and leave. I have to factor in so many things in these decisions. My big motivator isn’t about myself though, it’s usually about making sure the girls have all that they need. If they don’t, I have no choice but to get shit done, even if it means not being able to walk at all for several days.

I woke up in a dark head space. Despite going to bed early last night, I accidentally left the air on instead of the heat. That’s how crazy the weather has been. By the time I reached the “everything hurts and I can’t move because everything is stiff” stage, it was 62 degrees inside. In this house, that’s like 45 degrees with a bitter wind chill. So, the heat went on and I went back to sleep for a few hours. When I officially woke up, it was “too hot” at 66 degrees, which just goes to show you that Fibro is no joke. There are days I am wrapped in a blanket when everyone else is in shorts and tank tops. There are also days when I’ve got two layers on and people are saying “You’re not hot?” When I’m really cold, I’m even wearing socks inside. I never know which way my internal temperature will slide or what the external will make me feel. There are days when 70 degrees makes me want to pass out and die, but if there’s a cooler breeze within the temperature, I’m okay. These days, even my hair hurts, and that’s never a good sign.

I am slowly pulling myself together today to hit two stores. If I don’t go, no one eats, including me. The last thing I want to do today is go anywhere, but for now, it’s just about calming the pain and stress levels down a few notches and hoping that a cool shower will wake me up enough later on so that I can run these two errands and come home.

I won’t lie: My first option was to have everything delivered or ready to pick up, thus minimizing my actual need to force myself out. Alas, two different stores were “out of stock”, so I have no choice but to go there myself and figure out what their deal is. Unless you’re having some kind of epic sale, there’s no way you’re completely “out of stock”, not unless you want to screw with me or there’s something wrong with your on-line system. It’s all very frustrating. It’s even more pathetic that I thought “Wow, that’ll be a breeze. I can just go in, pick up the order, and come straight home. I don’t even NEED to wear make-up!” Of course now, pride determines that I do not leave the house without looking like a human-being. Think Corpse Bride, with a lot of curves.

I admit, I have become moody due to the limitations from pain. If I don’t cook dinner by a certain time each night, which is the right time to allow me to be in bed in a timely fashion, then it’s simply not happening. And if I don’t eat a balanced diet, I will be deathly ill. One of my best friends joked that I’m damn near a vegetarian these days, which isn’t true, but can seem that way at times from the outside looking in. I don’t share in the vegetarian or vegan belief systems, so it’s really not possible for me to be either. It’s not about achieving some kind of goal or physical look, it’s merely about eating to live and getting proper amounts of rest. I hurt too damn much to get into semantics with people.

As the sun begins its rise above all the clouds, I keep wondering exactly when the “perfect” time is to get the hell out of here. Truth is, by the time I clean my bathtub (which I do several times a week because it annoys me), get ready, put up a load of laundry, and leave the house, it might very well be 4:00 PM. Trust me, the clothes are already in the dryer by the time I’m leaving, if not already dry, so there’s also that time in the “getting ready” process. Waste not.

It would be SO NICE to have someone to rely on in times like these. Someone dependable to say “I’ve got this, you go rest.” Not everyone is blessed with people in their lives who are willing to physically assist with errands and chores that have to get done. It’s not that I don’t want to do these things for myself, this isn’t about laziness, it’s about illness. I promised myself I’d learn how to ask for help this year, and accept the help that comes my way, but so far, I’ve hit a lot of brick walls and it’s disturbing to me. I loathe people who say one thing and do another, in all aspects of life. Don’t open your mouth unless you can follow through.

I’m sitting here with my tiny list, but all it does is stress me out. Normally I love grocery shopping and taking care of others, but in this moment, I’d really like someone to take care of me. I physically feel too broken to do it myself.

Beltane Blessings To All

2015-05-012015-05-01 Miss Poison Beltane, Blessings, Editing, Emotions, Fibromyalgia, Fridays, Life, Loss, May, Migraines, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Work, Writing Beltane, Hockey, Loss, Loved Ones, May, Migraines, Musings, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing

Beltane Blessings everyone! 🙂 I wish I were able to enjoy this holiday as I once did, but seeing as how it is the anniversary of a loved ones’ death, it’s still a bitter pill to swallow. Tomorrow is the 7th anniversary of the death of a beloved cat, so I’ve decided to take it easy this weekend and do my best to decompress. This week has already been stressful to the point of severe darkness.

I am still trying hard to focus on the manuscript I’m working on. You KNOW you have flipped over to the dark side of OCD when you find something wrong with your own work every single time you open the file. I keep making changes and then I have to remind myself that revisions will be made by the author, and it will be edited a final time. So, I need to push forward and let some, if not all, of the nagging in my brain go. I can’t really afford to rip any hair out of my head. Short hair, on me, is not a good look.

If you’re going to the movies this weekend, please let me know how the new Avengers movie is. I am really looking forward to seeing it. Unfortunately, I’ll have to get it on DVD because I simply do not have the time now for a movie or anything even remotely social on an external level. It’s quite sad, really, but I suspect it will be quite a while before I am able to focus on my social life, or even mild entertainment. For now, my DVR is difficult enough.

Last night I watched my team lose Game 1 (I’m going to hunt Henrik Lundqvist down and have a little chat with him about his idea of goaltending. I didn’t have time last night to threaten to beat him with his own stick when he allowed the Caps to win with 1 second left on the clock!! I’d rather sit through overtime than have my team lose at home. UGH!) of the second round of the playoffs, flipped over to The Blacklist, and then went to bed. That means there’s approximately 8-9 hours of “How much do I WATCH?!” on my DVR. If you saw the queue, you’d think I had absolutely no brain cells OR a lot of free time on my hands. I have all of my brain cells, that I’m aware of, and damn near no free time on my hands. If I had free time, I’d use it to murder my neighbor across the street who is currently mowing his lawn for the third time this week. The first two times were while I was trying not to cave my own skull in from migraines. Each time he saw another neighbor mowing within a 1-3 house range, which automatically spurred him to come out and proceed to mow, trim, and be a pain in the ass. I suspect now he is trying to make it even shorter than it was two days ago, before we get rain. Either the man is incredibly bored to be mowing in 50 degree weather OR he needs a hobby. I’m thinking it’s a combination of both. No one needs to mow their lawn that often. This is NOT a golf course or Yankee Stadium, nor is it a football field with real grass on it. Unless you’ve somehow managed to use 10-30 bottles of Miracle-Gro in a matter of days, you don’t need to be out there every few days mowing the same patch of grass over and over again. It’s borderline psychotic. (Plus, every time I sneeze from the smell of cut grass wafting in, which drives me allergies insane, my kitten mimics the sound with a meowish squeak. She feels my pain.) The fact that another neighbor across the street just joined in on this madness makes me feel like I’m listening to a dentist’s drill on a loop.

When you suffer from migraines, you become incredibly sensitive to noise. I rarely mind good music (I said GOOD.) and I can tolerate certain things at an extremely low level, but everything else is just a great big NO and has been for almost 18 years. My migraines have progressively gotten worse, so I’m extremely audio-sensitive and equally photosensitive. For me, the latter is far easier to manage most days, but especially on dark, grey days like today.

Okay peeps, I am going back to work, or at the very least, I am going to try. Enjoy your day and have an awesome weekend. 🙂

100% Anti-Idiot

2015-04-302015-04-30 Miss Poison Honesty, Idiots, Musings, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Honesty, Idiots, Musings, Poison In Lethal Doses, Thursday, Writing

I’m not sure who shit in everyone’s breakfast this morning, but the lunatics are EVERYWHERE. The Full Moon is next week which might have been able to explain some of this away, but no. I’m dumbfounded by the levels of idiocy I’m seeing. It’s like a disease, spreading every second. I can only follow the conversation for so long until my brain starts to hurt. I’m coming off of several days worth of migraines and horrific physical pain, so I’m trying NOT to go back to a place of pain. In turn, it’s time to speak my peace and turn the computer off for a good 8-10 hours.

We live in an opinionated world, but no one on this planet holds the key to every single aspect of knowledge roaming around. That is virtually and statistically impossible. Unfortunately, opinions ARE like assholes and the world, and Internet, are FULL of them. This saddens me, because for every 100,000 assholes, there’s one smart person looking for other smart people. Reach out smart people, reach out!

Is there nothing I can do to shield myself from all this insanity? Yes: Walk away. Let the idiots run their mouths. Let them put their feet in their mouths. Let them choke on their own hip bones, but do not, I repeat, do NOT, engage. Because apparently it’s not Thursday, it’s “Know It All” Day. And all I can think is “I did NOT know that!” LOL.

I’m too fucking tired to deal with idiots that cannot carry on an intelligent, adult conversation. The holidays are over, so I don’t expect people to preach religion at each other and sound like even bigger assholes by doing so. Even with a Presidential election coming up next year, I do NOT want to hear every Tom, Dick, and Harry’s twisted opinions. I don’t want to hear Jane, Mary, and Lizzy’s opinions either. I have my own, I am legally entitled to them, and I really don’t care who other people THINK I should vote for. For now, I simply want to eat something and take a fucking nap (kitten is napping nearby and looks so precious. I love cat-napping with the purrables.). I’ve been up longer than most people have been at work today, no judging.

Later, I just want to watch the fucking hockey game and be left alone. Peace and quiet, even if only an illusion, is still peace and quiet.

In the meantime, while I am living my idiot free existence, let me know how you’re faring as you dodge what I am sure are your very own idiots du jour. Can’t we send them somewhere? Isn’t there a country that needs a larger population?! Because I am more than happy to send them a list of people they can collect as their very own citizens. If I factor in people I know, as well as strangers, they’d have a million new citizens by tomorrow morning.

Blank, Empty, Devoid

2015-04-23 Miss Poison April, Chronic Pain, Fibromyalgia, Growth, Honesty, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Support, Survival, The Future, Toxic People, Writing Growth, Honesty, Life Chapters, Moving Forward, Musings, New Beginnings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Stress, Writing

There have certainly been times in my life where I’ve been devoid of all emotion, except maybe anger. Sometimes rage fuels me to be stronger, better, smarter, faster. I worry sometimes that therapy weakened me, taking my strengths as a woman and turning me into a neutered puppy. But lately, due to serious concerns about my health, I am starting to feel devoid of so much. Not just emotion, but everything. I’m a pretty fearless woman, but when I’m sick every single day from stress and I don’t act on my thoughts because I know they will only result in broken bones, it distracts me from the goal at hand.

I haven’t said anything at all because this is not a personal place, though I think some would disagree and say that my writing is VERY personal. I don’t perceive it as being anything more than me being me, and allowing others to take it or leave it. But I digress; I am about to embark on a huge change in my life. It is going to take every ounce of internal, physical, and emotional strength I have left. It will not be easy. In fact, I expect it to be yet another bloody battle. I really wanted to get away from sword-sharpening and focus on my goals for the next few years, but all of that has been stripped from me, albeit temporarily. Now, all I am able to do is take things one day at a time.

Part of having Fibromyalgia to this extent means accepting help that is offered with a genuine heart. I’m finally seeing a few genuine hearts, as opposed to the kind that do something in the moment and then throw it back in your face at the most inopportune time. I’m shedding the toxic, negative people in my life and embracing the supportive, positive, loving people. I cannot deal with the bullshit or drama that comes with that constant negativity, period.

I will be slightly less present on here at times as I pack up my current life, weeding it down to the bare necessities, in preparation for the next phase. I will take time to mourn what I thought would be best for me, and embrace that which is new. Sometimes doors DO close, but dwelling on that is unhealthy. I have to believe that there is a different purpose for me, even if now, it simply feels like an immense inconvenience.

I know not everyone here is religious or spiritual, but if you’re the praying type, please keep me on the positive side of your prayers. I am sick, praying daily that I do not get worse, and that the change I am about to make is, overall, healthy and smart.

Nothing in life is perfect. Nothing in life is truly permanent, not even death. There will always be good things happening to bad people and bad things that happen to really good people. It’s twisted, it is senseless, but it’s unfortunately a part of life. All I can do is take each day as it comes and give it my best. If “my best” means staying in bed and asking for help, then so be it. I’m not here to compete with anyone and I’m certainly not walking around believing I am better than anyone else. I’m human. Take it or leave it, and if you leave, I really don’t care if the door breaks your tailbone on the way out.

I will check any messages sent to me and respond as soon as I can, but for now, I have no real answers. Each day brings different stressors and honestly, all I want is a problem solver. Alas, life does not work like that.

I pray that as this week comes to a close, I am able to solve the most pressing issues quickly. Wish me good luck. XO.