Thank God It’s Saturday!

2015-04-182015-04-18 Miss Poison Chronic Pain, Family, Fibromyalgia, Friends, Honesty, Musings, Pain, People, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Self-Care, Writing Being Self-Aware, Chronic Pain, Family, Fibromyalgia Pain, Friends, Honesty, Musings, People, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Self-Care, Writing

I hate the traditional work week, which is probably why I don’t have a “traditional” job. Granted, with my injury and upsetting things going on in my personal life, I spent most of my week making phone calls, practicing self-care, doing extensive research, texting with a close family member, and trying not to commit any type of crime that would land me in prison. I’m too pale to wear orange.

The future is unclear, so perhaps I will do a tarot reading and see if the cards have any answers for me. I haven’t had to do that in a while, but I know that whatever is placed before me, even if I say I cannot do it, I WILL persevere. I can have a breakdown when the storm passes, but not before.

One of the worst things about this week has been the weather. Hot or cold, sometimes both in the same day. The trees are blooming up a storm, the bees are enormous and keep bumping into the windows, and the pressure in the air has been hell on my body. There were many nights I was in bed by 7:00 PM because the pain was simply too much to bear. I slept a full 12 hours one night this week, waking up truly wanting to remain in bed. “Mama said there’d be days like this”- hell yes, but do they all have to be in the same week!? In that moment, I hated the clock and all it stood for. Too much daylight, not enough night. It’s poison to those of us who identify as night owls, and I’m speaking for myself.

Weekends are always way too short, but they do give us a reprieve from some of the things we think during the week. For many of us, it gives us time to get things done that we’re not able to do during the week, like grocery shopping, laundry, or catching up with a movie or TV shows we didn’t have time to watch. Or it allows us to spend time with friends or family. Two of my favorite shows return this weekend: Bitten and Orphan Black. This is the time of year when many shows wrap for the season and others begin, which means you don’t have to spend the entire summer wondering why you pay for cable, satellite, or streaming service.

This past week I’ve really been able to take stock of the word “family”. I’ve also been able to take stock of the word “friend”. Some people say things because it sounds good, and other people mean it. Many talk for the sake of talking. My definitions are pretty cut & dried. If I love you and care about you, you can pretty much guarantee that I’d take a bullet for you, be you family member or friend. However, I do not forgive and forget. If that works for you, I think that’s great, but it doesn’t fly with me. I might forgive a person at some point, but I’ll do it for myself, not for them. I will never forget. Sometimes when words get thrown at you, there is no way to unhear them.

Proper communication is crucial in relationships and it’s incredibly important not to take out your own issues on someone else. If you do, apologize immediately. Hear yourself. Don’t make excuses for vile words and pretend that it can be swept under the rug. I own my shit. If I hurt or offend someone INTENTIONALLY, and I am one of those rare individuals who KNOWS when she’s doing it, then I will apologize the second I realize my mistake. If you hurt or offend me and the words “I’m sorry.” or “I was out of line.” never come out of your mouth, then don’t expect me to apologize for something I haven’t done or to accept an apology that comes too late.

A mistake some people have made with me over the past few months is to throw out the words “You misinterpreted what I said.” I’M NOT DEAF and my I.Q. hasn’t dropped. This is NOT a habit I have. If it happened daily, you could say it was a pattern and take issue with it, but it isn’t. For many, the problem is that I actually called them on their shit, pointed out a major flaw, and they don’t like it. Or, they always believe they’re right, and/or cannot admit that they said or did something inappropriate, wrong, or hurtful. Put your adult panties on, apologize, and move on. Don’t drag it out. The world doesn’t revolve around any one person, myself included.

I have work to do this weekend, in between two errands. I’m double-booked and one of those jobs is due for completion on the 24th, so I’ve got to focus and get it done. Here’s hoping I didn’t ask for too little money on this one. Unfortunately, one never knows until one is presented with certain things.

Have a nice weekend everyone. 🙂 I am off to take as much Aleve as possible and crawl into bed in the hopes that I do not waste another day in pain.

How Honest Are People About Their Mental Health? This Might Surprise You…

2015-04-11 Miss Poison Artists, Being Real, Creativity, Emotional Pain, Facebook, Fibromyalgia, Honesty, Life, People, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Suicide, Writing Anxiety, Autism, Bipolar Disorder, Chronic Pain, Depression, Fibromyalgia, Honesty, Life, Mental Health, Migraines, OCD, Out Of The Ashes, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, PTSD, Stress, Writers, Writing

Facebook needs to institute a better policy involving “friending”. Even with strict filtering, I have people sending me friend requests simply because they like something I’ve said. Why in the world would you want to be “friends” with someone who is simply the same astrological sign as you, or just happens to also be a writer/editor? I understand when people say they’re an “aspiring writer”. They want to see what they can learn from you. I am a very open person, BUT when it comes to my WIP’s, I am not about to post them anywhere for the entire world to see. I don’t want or need a critique, I don’t need someone to tell me how to be a better writer, etc. I have been doing this for 28 years this month. I know my shit. If I didn’t, I would never have continued to return to it, be it as a source of inspiration for myself or as a source of income.

Moreover, if a person openly declares themselves a “sociopath”, you probably DON’T want to accept the friend request that is sent to you an hour later simply because they “like” an intelligent and/or helpful comment that you’ve made. I keep my “inner sociopath” to myself. I do let her out on special occasions though, when a person is deserving of dealing with it. 😉

One interesting thing that caught my eye over the past couple of days was an article that other writers and aspiring writers were contributing to. I want to say that it was more a group of highly creative individuals, so there were songwriters and artists also involved in the conversation. It began with a question: “How many of us suffer from bipolar disorder or other forms of depression or anxiety?”

Nearly a hundred different people (it might have been more, this has been a rough week for me in terms of keeping in touch with others) responded with various responses that said yes and each of them explained their diagnoses. Only four or five people said they suspected they suffered from some sort of depression, but that it had never been diagnosed. About the same amount, more or less, said they did not suffer from depression.

I was very proud of everyone for openly, honestly discussing bipolar disorder, anxiety, OCD, and a plethora of other forms of “mental illness”. It hurts me to use that term AT ALL. I don’t see every single person as “mental” and I cringe when people refer to others in such a way, as opposed to educating themselves. An illness is an illness. I would never tell someone they were responsible for getting sick in the first place, but MANY do say shit like that. It baffles me. Some people even discussed varying degrees of autism. That takes incredible courage. One of my cousins is autistic, so I’m not ignorant there.

When confronted with my own mental health, I am supremely honest, but I do not advertise it. I am going through something that has made me full-blown OCD, exacerbated my PTSD to levels I didn’t even know existed, and my anxiety is so bad, I can barely sleep most nights without waking up screaming, sometimes from pain, sometimes from my medication wearing off too quickly.

From day one, I have openly, and very honestly discussed suicide. This makes people uncomfortable because they REFUSE to face the fact that they’ve romanced the idea themselves. No one can tell me they suffer from any form of depression and have NEVER considered suicide. It might have been a fleeting thought, it might be something you NEVER act on, but it still exists. This is a trigger for a lot of people. They lash out at me and decide I am no longer worth their time, all because I was HONEST. Catch me on a dark day and I might scare you with my truth, but anyone who genuinely cares about you will give you their time and concern, they will not pretend you’re “mental” or tell you to “take a pill”. Those are two of the most insulting things to tell someone.

I once had a woman piss me off at the grocery store. I was going through a stressful time with my father’s health and, in front of her children (both of whom were under the age of 12, but not younger than 8 or 9), she told them to “Get away from her, she’s “mental”. I might THINK a person is batshit in a public place, but unless they’ve caused harm to someone or they’re about to hurt themselves, I’m not stupid enough to go there.

Truth is, they were standing in front of a huge display of fruit for nearly ten minutes and wouldn’t move out of the way. How do you not tell your young kids to move over so other people can shop too? She was talking to them like they were infants, as opposed to children that have the ability to comprehend. The comment was completely out of line and off base. I turned to look at her, contemplated knocking her teeth out, and then looked at her a second longer with her kids. I felt incredibly sorry for them. I then politely took the fruit I wanted and said “Did you learn that in your many years of therapy? You might not want to pre-judge people based upon your own issues.”, and I walked away. She was left in the dust, unable to speak, because I called her on her shit.

I don’t need that kind of false denial in my life, not from any one. You don’t have to like me or love me, but I guarantee that with an open mind, you will respect me. I would never intentionally hurt someone with my candor, and it’s okay to say “Lisa, I care about you, but this upsets me too much to discuss any further.” It’s called COMMUNICATION.

I have lost people to suicide because they had no one they felt would truly listen and hear them out or “make it stop”. I’ve stopped myself many times from acting on a thought because I believed it was irrational and felt it was wrong to leave any one of 4-5 people in my life behind to discover what I’d done, or have to receive the phone call that just plain brings you to your knees. It would devastate four of them. The last person probably wouldn’t give a shit or so much as come to my funeral. I’m not a priority now, why would I be a priority then?! (Yes, that was morbid and I apologize. Two, you’d understand why I said that if you knew who I was talking about and how they have treated me.)

Being honest about what I suffer from, including migraines and Fibromyalgia/Chronic Pain is part of what keeps me alive. The other part is that I am responsible for little people that love me and would have terrible difficulties without me. And even still… I often find myself thinking “This isn’t enough to live for.” It’s not coming from a selfish place, it’s coming from a place of wanting to be better, to strengthen the relationships in my life, to bring other relationships into my life and allow them to flourish. I cannot live for one thing and one thing alone. That’s my personal take on it, but it might not be yours, and that’s okay. I’m by no means here to judge you.

I want to thank the people that have supported me this past week through a living nightmare. I am surprisingly uplifted by the emotional support, care, concern, dedication, determination, and devotion. Only ONE person said “I’m proud of you.” When you’re going through hell, you do not want to be pitied, treated like a failure, or be belittled and/or disrespected. You simply want to be treated like the person that you are. I had to be reminded that I am strong, smart, and capable in the face of others trying to crush my soul. Bad things happen to all of us at some point in life. I may have been given a higher dose, perhaps God shouldn’t trust me so much, but it is what it is, and I am making peace with it.

I refuse to allow anyone to make me feel small in order to raise their own self-esteem.

If you’re honest and upfront about any illness, I applaud you. If you’re a loyal, supportive person to those that you love, I also applaud you. Compassion & genuine kindness is severely underrated.

“Things” do not make you who you are. It’s what’s inside your heart and soul that is the true value of self. The trappings are pure nonsense. They do not define you. I wish I’d understood some of that for the past ten years, but now that I do, I am determined, now more than ever, to persevere and make important things happen.

This phoenix has been reborn. Stay the hell out of my fire.

What To Say?

2015-04-08 Miss Poison Honesty, Inspiration, Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Faith, Honesty, Inspiration, Life, Life's Battles, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Stress, Wednesdays, Writing

What to say? Oh, what to say? This is a challenging week, and it’s only Wednesday. My blood pressure has been through the roof from stress since last week. Medication gets taken as needed, and then I get sleepy. Under normal circumstances, my blood pressure is always normal, unless you piss me off. Needless to say, I’ve been irked, to say the least.

I don’t have much to say, but it makes me feel bad to not post. All I can say is that I am dealing with some unpleasant things in my personal life, and desperately trying to help someone. I will be writing about that soon.

The highlights of my day, thus far: A) Kitten throwing a ball into her water dish and, instead of waiting for me to take it out and change her water, she simply waited for about a minute, and then proceeded to pick it up with her fangs and run off with it. Gross, yes, but cute. Cats do the silliest things. I cannot believe how much she has grown since I brought her littleness home.

Second highlight: My Rabbi called. No, this is not me “going religious on you”. I spent damn near my entire life feeling persecuted by all aspects of my faith. From houses of worship to my extended family; I was not considered “Jewish enough”. How is that even possible? I can trace my ancestry back to 85 B.C. On both sides of my family, we have never been anything else religiously. On my father’s side of the family, we are descended from Aaron, who, if you’ve followed the Old Testament, was the brother of Moses. Technically, because it is patriarchal, it passes down to my brother and not to me. My Mom’s side is a story for another day. So, my Rabbi called and we had a good conversation. I cannot explain how comforting it is to be accepted and treated with respect by a ‘Man of God’. Whenever he says “I will pray for you.”, magical things happen. I am positive he has a direct line. I was just talking about him yesterday and my phone rings this afternoon. Just seeing his name on the caller ID put me at peace.

Aside from that, I am dealing with the 20 degree drop in temperature that was so sudden, I hurt from head to toe. It’s a cold, grey day and all I want to see is some real rain and maybe even a good, old-fashioned thunderstorm. Let’s mix it up a bit. I also want a pint of ice cream and a good cry, but hey, we can’t have everything we ask for.

Ultimately, like so many others, I am just trying to get through my day/week/month. We all have our struggles and things that are tough to handle. We all have something that makes us happy or smile, even if it’s not something major, it’s still valuable to us. I sometimes find it difficult to laugh and smile through the pain, or find humor in things when I’m terribly upset, but eventually, I do find things that numb or help me heal. I simply want to get over this hurdle and begin the healing process. But this time, I am not going to allow anyone to talk me into emotionally neutering myself. Not only is it unhealthy, but it’s not who I am.

Oh, and a happy belated birthday to one of my favorite men on the planet. You crack me up, T.

Also, a VERY happy belated birthday to my Aunt, who will be reading this eventually. XOXO.

Pie For Breakfast

2015-04-05 Miss Poison Cooking, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Chocolate, Cooking, Exhaustion, Fruit, Musings, Pie, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Sweets, Writing

When someone brings you two pies, each covered in chunks of Oreo cookies, with an Oreo cookie crust, and whipped cream as the filling to this confection, do you ignore this sugary delight before you (Especially when you’ve had minimal sugar for months on end.) or do you blissfully enjoy a few bites?

I have a love/hate relationship with sweets. (I said sweets, not chocolate. Dark chocolate and I are on a first name basis.) I know that too much sugar is not a good thing for anyone, but a sweet treat once in a while is not going to prematurely age you, nor will it kill you (Unless you’re diabetic and truly cannot have even small amounts of anything that is made with real sugar.). People who claim they “don’t eat sweets”, but eat pounds of fruit aren’t being realistic about their sugar intake. Natural sugar and sugar in desserts is processed the same way by the body. We know if we’re eating chocolate or peaches, but our body simply takes the vitamins from the fruit and uses what is needed, or it allows the chocolate to “calm the beast”, but after that, your body does the same thing with it, regardless of what type of sugar is may be.

Some people are traditionalists; they’ll only eat breakfast food for breakfast and “dinner food” for dinner. Me? I will reheat pizza or even Chinese food for breakfast if that’s what I’m in the mood for. Sometimes I will make breakfast food for dinner, because that’s what I felt like making/eating. Sometimes cooking an elaborate meal is simply too exhausting, so I will do whatever takes between 10-30 minutes, or less. I cook a LOT, so there are days I simply want to go on strike and not cook again for a month. This stems from exhaustion of the soul and honestly not giving a damn about what’s being prepared However, if I did go on strike, I’d probably starve, so I cook. No matter how many times you make different things, it all becomes boring at some point. I eat to live.

This is precisely why you sometimes need to be a little crazy and have pie for breakfast, or whatever suits your fancy.

I’d Hoped For A Thunderstorm

2015-04-04 Miss Poison April, Being Real, Exhaustion, Honesty, Life, Musings, Petty Garbage, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Saturday, Toxic People, Writing Full Moon, Honesty, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Toxic People, Writers, Writing

For every weather site and app that predicted thunderstorms last night into today; I am not happy with you. Deliver your predictions, lest people start believing that you “cold read” the weather to begin with and aren’t actually looking at all the colorful charts and fancy equipment you like to show us and claim is being used to “detect storms in the area”. Cat and kitten are better at predicting the weather accurately, you should all be ashamed of yourselves!

Has anyone else felt the intensity of this full moon? I’ve been ready to outright harm someone since about mid-day. Mind you, I’m very in tune with the elements, so that might have something to do with that. Moreover, some people are assholes and do not deserve the attention, and yet, people are wandering around the interwebs today causing drama and trying to place blame on others. Intelligent people with intelligent comments and opinions are not a part of the “clique of the dumb”. Everyone wants to be something that they’re not, and yet they all feel as though they’re a special part of an extremely large crowd. Ask me how many people I’ve had to block today…because the number is astounding. Simply put; I will not engage with morons. You get one chance with me and if you blow it, I’m done. Plus, I’m still trying to cope with the Polyamory group that somehow sought me out (I don’t get it, but to each their own. Obviously I’m not ignorant, I fully know what it is, etc., it’s just not my personal cup of tea.). I can barely tolerate one person at a time, you want me to add MORE people to my love life?! Clearly, the “invite” was sent to the WRONG Lisa Marino. This one is too busy today, tonight, and every day until I die. Try me in the afterlife, maybe I’ll entertain the notion then, which is precisely when I suspect I will be bored. At least Walmart was happy to send me a message about a whistling tea kettle. If only their site-to-store time wasn’t so long. They say it’s not, but I once waited nearly four months for an item I ordered that was only supposed to take two weeks. That item now sits in my laundry room, clean and unused because it is way too heavy for my bed and I suspect cat and kitten would claw it to bits.

Is it terrible that all I want to do is watch the basketball game and eat dinner? I tried taking a nap earlier and HE annoyed me in his search for a screwdriver to “fix a belt”. I’m not sure how fixing a belt equates to “Do you have any clear nail polish?”

I get asked the oddest questions.

Sleep Interrupted

2015-04-032015-04-03 Miss Poison Chronic Pain, Editing, Family, Fibromyalgia, Fridays, Honesty, Life, Loss, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Work, Writing Chronic Pain, Easter, Fibromyalgia, Good Friday, Holiday Weekends, Honesty, Musings, Passover, Pieces, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing

I was in bed last night right after The Blacklist ended (If you don’t watch this show, you should. I never intended for it to become something I watch, but the pilot had me hooked from day one.). I flew up the steps, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and after double-checking cat bowls, got into bed. I slept well, until about 5:30 when I started smelling coffee. You know what that means, right?

Just yesterday I told Him “Do not touch my non-dairy creamer. I need it for my tea.” I made threats, none of which were nice, all of which were serious. I take tea time very seriously. When you drink 3-5 cups of tea a day, it’s clearly something you enjoy. I like mine a certain way and plain is not on that list.

I went downstairs in search of the smell, but He was in hiding, and rightly so. When I find him, it won’t be pretty. I fed cat and kitten and stomped back up the steps, furious, but still in need of additional beauty sleep. I was able to get a little more sleep, and have been awake ever since. He is going out later and replacing my creamer because I am not pleased that I can’t have tea until it arrives. Bastard.

This morning, waking up was not what I had in mind at all. It feels like a Saturday, perhaps because it is deathly quiet out. Apparently the kids are not in school this week, which makes no sense to me since Passover is next week and I don’t know how prudent it is for them to have two weeks off, but whatever. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

I’m stressed and I HURT. The weather keeps going back and forth between the 20’s and the 60’s, and while it is utterly beautiful to have milder temperatures, even if it’s a rainy day, it still messes with my body.

I have no plans this holiday weekend. Technically, Passover begins tonight at sundown. My family is scattered across the States and overseas, so I’m not attending any seders, nor was I invited to any. I will keep editing this manuscript so that I can move on to the others she has in store for me, and watch The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 1. I’m trying to make tentative plans for tomorrow, just to be able to enjoy the day for a few hours out of doors, but nothing is etched in stone. If I’m feeling up to it, maybe I’ll just take a long walk.

As I’ve said before, the holidays are lonely. I miss my parents and Grandparents terribly. Loss often feels like it happened yesterday, but the years come and go and life moves on, even if the pain of each loss remains with you. I find myself astounded by people who never seem to be affected by the loss of a loved one, who return to work immediately, who never discuss the person again, etc. Are people really that cold and detached, or is that the “coping mechanism” utilized by most people? What is your take on that?

Regardless of what you celebrate, I wish you a wonderful holiday filled with family, friends, laughter, joy, and peace. Me? I just want my tea. LOL.

Long Days, Short Nights

2015-03-312015-03-31 Miss Poison Chronic Pain, Fibromyalgia, Friends, Help, Honesty, Introverts, Judgment, Kittens, Life, Migraines, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Time, Work, Writing Cats, Chronic Pain, Emotional Support, Family, Fibromyalgia, Friends, Honesty, Kittens, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Work, Writing

The days are way too long. The nights are too fucking short. Sleep is hard to come by, but man, I’m trying. I was raised to believe that doing your best is “enough”, providing it is truly “your best”.

I suffer from “Superwoman Syndrome”. This is a real thing. I’m an overachiever that has this unbelievable difficulty asking for help. Perhaps it stems from constantly being stabbed in the back when I HAVE asked for help in the past, or because people like to throw things in your face as if they are owed something. “I was there for you when…” are probably not wise words to hurl in my direction. If I’m there for someone, it is genuine, and I don’t have to say “I told you so.” years down the road. If you don’t want to be there for someone, don’t be, but that’s on you.

Fibromyalgia makes life harder than it needs to be. I used to be able to walk for miles on end, doing countless things along the way, and then walk back. It was never a big deal. Now, I actually have to gather strength to run errands and take care of very basic needs. It’s pathetic. And the last thing in the world I need is for anyone to point it out to me, as if I don’t already know that I’m slow. “We just went without you because we didn’t want to wait three hours for you to get ready.” NICE. Yes, that’s sarcasm.

Even without Fibromyalgia, I was already a pretty isolated individual. I had (and still have) a very small group of close friends and my family. I spent my days writing and editing, and I still do. It’s not the kind of thing I do in public. I’m an introverted extrovert. The people that see me work my ass off are cat and kitten, they know Mommy’s working. Pretty much everyone else thinks I do absolutely nothing, because I’m very quiet and they rarely see me. When you don’t do what everyone else does in terms of “normal”, people automatically make wild assumptions. It would be very nice indeed to do absolutely nothing. Attach a six figure salary to that and I will sign up immediately. Shit, I’d love to do “nothing” by spending my days at the mall, or the bookstore, or any number of places that I haven’t been in the last four years, or longer.

The most important thing to me now is having emotional support. I’m going into some horrific, tough battles and all I really want is to be heard, understood, and cared about. I’d rather a person not have the right words, and say a prayer for me.

There are no heroes in this. I have my Superwoman cape and I’m not giving it back, but all kidding aside, being supported means a great deal to me. The simple fact that I’m asking for it shows me that I’ve grown. Help and support, that’s all I need at the moment.

Holiday Weeks

2015-03-29 Miss Poison Chronic Pain, Family, Fibromyalgia, Friends, Judaism, Life, Musings, Pain, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Stress, Thoughts, Work, Writing Easter, Holidays, Honesty, Musings, Passover, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing

It’s no secret: I’m fucking exhausted. Fibromyalgia, migraines, and two hundred truckloads of stress are slowly trying to kill me. Every day, I wonder if a heart attack or a stroke will take me out. I wish I were being dramatic, but I’m not. I would really like to curl up on the floor like a content cat and be left to my own devices. In my next life, I am definitely coming back as one…

In other news; Passover begins later this week just in time for the full moon and today is Palm Sunday, with Easter Sunday being next weekend. The former meaning something to me, the latter meaning “It’s Sunday.” I’m Jewish, which I know is not something people expect, but I’ve never hidden the fact.

Holidays are stressful for me, and depressing. Apart from my brother, all of my family is far away. I don’t speak to 9/4’s of them, and with just cause. I do not get invited to anything except funerals (Who the hell e-mails someone else in the family and asks them to deliver the news to me, and expects me to trek out 3+ hours to be treated like shit?) , and Passover in particular is one of those holidays that I hated growing up and have a terrible aversion to as an adult. This is a holiday where I am grateful to be an intelligent, creative, free spirit, yet under the tyranny of my nation’s President, as opposed to Pharaoh, which for me, is the same fucking thing. What won’t Americans be allowed to do tomorrow? Your guess is as good as mine, and I’m sick of it.

Holidays are often isolating if you suffer from a chronic illness that others refuse to understand and/or take into consideration. If family alienates you and friends drift to the wayside, or make themselves unavailable, it can be quite lonely. Do I want a house full of people for every single holiday? No, but would it be nice to have a few people around to do something with? Yes. In the end, I will probably be working on the never-ending manuscript (It’s really not that long, I’m just that tired.) and listening to music, or something as relatively laid back as possible. If you have a good move recommendation, please, send it along!

It is hard to believe we move into another month this week. Tempus fugit. The knowledge makes me ill (I have my reasons.). The truth is, before we know it, it will be Fall or Winter again, thus the cycle will continue. It’s always something. No matter what you’re going though, the world keeps on moving in various directions. You will agree with some and disagree with others. Such in the pattern of life.

I have a lot to do this coming week, so I made a list. I think it’s a good time to let people know you’re thinking of them by sending out cards, especially if you haven’t done so in a while, and make phone calls to touch base. Texting doesn’t count with this one. Since I can’t bear to talk to certain people at the moment, cards will have to suffice. After all, it is the thought behind the action that counts. 🙂

Here’s hoping everyone had a lovely, relaxing, productive weekend.

Hard Work Makes Me Sleepy

2015-03-24 Miss Poison Exhaustion, Honesty, Musings, Poison In Lethal Doses, Work, Writing Editing, Exhaustion, Honesty, Musings, Poison In Lethal Doses, Work, Writing

This morning I said that I would push myself to work on this manuscript. I’ve revised portions of it so many times that it’s caused me to not go further into the manuscript than I normally would at this particular point in time. That irritates me, but my client is pleased and said she’d rather I be honest and do it right, than not be able to understand why I cut certain things and why there are thousands of words full of notes. I’m around 5000 additional words, all of which are notes and suggestions, and I’m not even halfway done, which is completely unlike me. Yes, I’ve been sick and in a lot of pain and I’ve got things going on in my real life that are sucking time away, but in truth, it’s no excuse.

For two hours this morning, I worked my ass off. When I finally glanced down at the time, I was surprised how much work I’d done in those two hours. I have a sneaking suspicion that I was able to get more work done in that short period of time than perhaps in all these weeks. Sad, but true. I own it.

As it nears 5:00 PM EDT, I simply want to crawl into my bed and not leave unless A) I need the bathroom or B) I get a headache from too much sleep (Yes, this can happen to people.). My body is demanding rest. The thought of cooking dinner, feeding the girls, and then beginning the female process of “getting ready for bed” makes me want to fall on the floor. If I’d remembered to eat earlier in the day, I’d skip dinner and go straight to the “getting ready for bed” part. Alas, I did not remember, so there is much to be done. Here’s hoping I don’t lose what’s left of my mind in the process.

Talk to you all soon! 🙂

The World Really IS Full Of Idiots!

2015-03-232015-03-25 Miss Poison Honesty, Idiots, Musings, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Honesty, Idiots, Musings, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing

Author’s Note: This does not pertain to the non-idiots of the world, of which the ratio seems to be smaller by the day.

Patience is not my strong suit. It’s a fact, so I’m being clear about it. And yet, with my severe lack of patience, every idiot in the world is somehow finding me. Where the hell did all the smart people go?!

You can tell me I’m crazy, or you can simply nod in understanding. Take your pick. When I’m wrong, I say I’m wrong, but when I’m right…I am woman enough to admit it. Thankfully, I am often right, mainly because I don’t open my mouth if I’m 100% wrong. I’m smart enough not to. So, here’s my ~~short~~ list of pissed off rants.

I purchased something on eBay that never arrived. I immediately requested a refund. The seller wanted me to wait another two weeks “in case it arrives late”. It didn’t. Now the seller is claiming that I cannot be refunded, “PayPal will not allow it”, and suggests they re-send the item which will take approximately TWO MONTHS to get here. If it didn’t arrive the first time, do they really think I want to wait another 45-60 days? I’m calling PayPal stat. FYI: This was not an expensive item. The whole point of using PayPal is to protect yourself from things of this nature. I’m starting to wonder what the hell compels me to occasionally purchase something from countries with questionable shipping regulations.
A woman purchased a mineral foundation from me on eBay. My listing was clear, concise, and specifically states that I do not accept returns. She purchases, pays, and the item arrives. She leaves me positive feedback, and then files a “Request To Return Item” with eBay. UN-BELIEVABLE. eBay states that I do not have to accept returns because my listings all state that I don’t. She claims she “bought the wrong shade”. She bought it with plenty of time to spare and could have said something to me in advance of my shipping it, but instead, she paid right away and I shipped it to her. How do I warrant positive feedback and no personal message asking if I’ll accept a return if she states that she was satisfied with five-star feedback? I ALWAYS communicate directly with a seller if there’s even the slightest issue. I think we can all agree that I shouldn’t be forced to let her have a refund AND keep an item she opened when it was shipped sealed. I don’t think it’s my job to do the color research for her that she should have done at ANY store, or on the Internet. If you’re buying any type of foundation for the first time, test it out somewhere first, especially if you’re looking to save money by buying it on eBay. I’ve never bought foundation without first knowing the color would be a match, but if I did, I knew the company I was purchasing it from accepted returns within 30-120 days. This just plain irritates me.
I ~~stupidly~~ offered to help out a fellow writer in January by editing her manuscript. She said she could not afford an editor, so I stepped up and said I would do it “in my spare time”. I was abundantly clear that I’d do it “in my spare time”. That actually means “when I have a few minutes, I’ll work on it, but not all at once”. It does not mean “I’ll prioritize your work like the customers that pay for my work”. I cannot afford to do that. I will treat her with the same respect and courtesy, yes, but is her manuscript my first working priority? No. I made that very clear. I don’t need a pat on the back for an act of kindness, but I’d really like the incessant whining e-mails to stop. The other day she sends me a message to ask if I think she should remove some characters (YES!), because she’s considering revising it by omitting a whole bunch, but also wants to flesh out others (all of a sudden. How much work does she expect for free?!?). I told her I could not make that decision for her and that if she is going to make that choice to forward me the revised manuscript at her convenience. I have a paying customer whose work I MUST focus on. (I did NOT say the last part, but I did want to locate a spoon to remove my eyeballs.)
How is that people take a simple discussion and make it all about religion? How is “I’m a Christian” an answer to something that does not involve religion AT ALL? The subject then turns to the painting ‘The Last Supper’ by Leonardo da Vinci. Any idiot with half a brain knows that this particular, not to mention famous, painting is not called “The Da Vinci Code”, right? I had to stifle myself from pulling out my own hair. No wonder other countries are so much smarter than Americans! Even better, some idiot says “I think it was supposed to be a metaphor.” Umm, NO. If you’re trying to debate with someone and you involve religion and a book that is probably based on some semblance of fact, then have the fucking facts, use spell check, and know what you’re talking about before you open your mouth. Moreover, a work of fiction has NOTHING to do with Jesus and your personal beliefs regarding such. (I’d say more on the subject, but it’s not a wise idea.)
Another idiot asks if it’s okay to publish a book with all of the following: Spelling errors, poor grammar, broken thoughts, slurred words, etc., because she wants it to be “authentic” to having had a stroke and wants the readers to “be her” because she had to relearn everything after the stroke. I understand that. I’m not ignorant, but by disagreeing with a group of professionals, she turned a conversation from civil to vicious. I said that I’d hire someone to collaborate with her (NOT a ghost writer, but someone who can make all of her thoughts cohesive since her thoughts are all randomized due to memory loss.). She made a lot of excuses for herself to the point where the words “That is victim mentality.” finally were posted. Her response was “I AM a victim.” She also said “I am the stroke.” No, you’re not. The stroke happened to you, it is NOT who YOU are, and by allowing yourself to keep on thinking that, you encourage the victim mentality instead of growing from this tragedy and allowing yourself to move forward and heal. Why else would you want to tell a story about it? While I empathize with her plight, no publisher in their right mind would allow that to be greenlit the way she intended to do it. I do not know a single editor that would let that slide. It would be nonsensical gibberish and no one would be able to follow it, unless, perhaps, it was only released as an audiobook. I finally had to say “Good luck.”, because while the conversation started out well, it was going nowhere fast and was about to get ugly. The moderator stepped in and deleted the entire thing. How sad is that? You pretty much know you’re causing problems when someone out-right deletes everything you just said and, knowing how things are now, probably booted her or gave her a personal warning.

It comes down to this: The older I get, the less I understand people and the less I want to understand people. The things that bother people, based on what I’ve seen and heard, are pretty unimportant, superficial things. The things that people allow to slide are actually pretty serious issues, and yet everyone wants to sweep that shit underneath the thickest rug possible. I have to be true to myself and sweeping things under the rug isn’t how I do things.

Life is long, hard, and oftentimes, lonely as hell. When you go to someone in search of advice, it is ultimately still your decision whether or not to take that advice. I wish people would stop coming to me for quality advice and doing the exact opposite in the end, but hey, that’s THEIR issue, not mine. I generally don’t ask for advice because I was raised to trust myself and trust my intuition, but there are far too many people who insist on spewing stupidity at me, as if I asked for their opinion or advice. They don’t understand that their words aren’t warranted unless asked for.

It’s very important to me to be my authentic self, but sometimes I have to walk away from the idiots because in the grand scheme of things, they all seem to enjoy their idiocy way too much. I simply do not have time for that.