If you have never experienced an issue with your own mental health, then you don’t get to sit in judgment of ANYONE. And if you have, then you should fucking know better before running your ignorant mouth. Period. Sufferers don’t want your attention; they want the pain to stop. They want to feel like themselves again, because they feel like their emotionally bleeding to death. Educate yourself on the various forms of mental illness and learn how to be kind.


This is my favorite season and favorite time of year, but after an emotional, rage-filled moment yesterday, I am questioning EVERYTHING in my life.

To be fair to myself, I reacted via a triggering comment made to me, and new medication that, without my knowing in advance, causes people to occasionally react in a volatile fashion. I’ve stopped the medication, obviously. I don’t ever want to be the type of person who uses her medication as an excuse not to behave properly. That’s unacceptable to me. It’s going to take a week or so to get it fully out of my system, which isn’t a common issue for others, but apparently, for me, it builds up. For most people, it it out of their system within 12-24 hours. I am feeling is gradually leave, but nowhere near fast enough. 😦

I never ask my doctor about trying new medication unless things are bad. This was “new to me” medication, and I should have done extensive research before taking my first capsule. I openly admit to feeling stupid, but relieved that I quickly found the info and said, “I can’t do this anymore.” I had JUST spoken to him yesterday about the drug and was trying to tough it out past the side effects, but that one moment was one moment too many.

When you’re suffering and working solo on your pain/trauma/harm, anything can resurface and cause you to react. That’s what life has been like for me for the past few years, but I haven’t mentioned it. I’ve tried to cope silently, and in turn, I’ve retraumatized myself in several different ways. It is sad and upsetting, and I wish I had the energy to discuss it at length, but I don’t. I feel empty because this is an exhausting process. It’s made worse by no one asking how you’re doing or reaching out to you out of any kind of genuine concern or love for you, which I find SO insulting.

In times like this, I take a huge step back from people. I stop reaching out to them because, quite frankly, enough is enough. The world doesn’t revolve around others who have zero interest in doing the same for you. At the start of quarantine, I reached out to all of my friends to make sure everyone was doing okay, and I let damn near everyone know I was available if they needed to talk. I was mostly ignored. And then, at the end of July, my cousin passed away from terminal lung cancer. I reached out to two of her children, with whom I have solid relationships with, but I know they will call or text if they are having a rough time. They have their support systems. I do not.

I don’t speak to 96% of my blood relatives, and I have my reasons. If you have to find out that your Aunt passed away by finding her obituary online (after not being able to reach her by phone), that is a testament to how your cousins actually feel about you. My father’s side of the family baffles me. My mother’s side isn’t much better, but at least a few people value me enough to maintain a relationship of some kind. One of my cousins is sending me distantly related cousins via Facebook because she uploaded her DNA onto 23andMe and located people this way. If I wanted to upload my DNA to find family, I would do it myself. The truth is, I have enough distant relatives to last a lifetime and no deep-seeded need to “connect” with people I don’t know at this stage in my life. Especially with people in their 70s, 80s, 90s, etc. Let them live and be well, but I would much prefer a few peers. I don’t want conversations about who died, and when. Hard pass.

So yeah, I am struggling. I am suffering. I’m in a dark place. I am usually on a telehealth appointment once a week with my doctor, and despite writing and doing research for various projects I have in the works, I feel like I am mostly achieving nothing at all.

I am either asleep or not sleeping at all. I am in a lot of pain, so I have extremely limited what I do and where I go. After getting sick last month for a while (and having my symptoms suddenly disappear), I wonder if I need to be tested for Covid. It’s hard to tell if my cough is “just allergies”. I might have a minor cold, but it’s the feverish feeling with no fever and insane chills, that make me worry. Yes, this could be a major Fibromyalgia flare-up, or something valid. Unfortunately, when I did call my doctor’s office about this, they weren’t the least bit concerned. The fact that a persistent cough makes me feel like there’s eucalyptus living inside my chest was of zero concern to them, but they thought they were doing me a favor by letting me know I could go and get tested, and they’d fax a request in wherever I decided to go. Instead, I called a local Urgent Care and they said, “Just come in. We don’t need a note or prescription from your doctor, and it’s covered by your insurance.” There’s also free testing being done in the area, so I’m covered if I do need to go. My insurance has called, texted, and sent letters to let me know any testing or treatment will be 100% covered. If I go, I will verify it over the phone, just to be on the safe side of potentially receiving an astronomical bill.

As it begins to dip into the 40s and 50s here, my entire body feels like someone poured -30 degree blood into my veins. Even if it’s 70 degrees outside, I am bundled up like it’s about to snow. I can’t seem to shake the chill. And yet, this could just be my new normal. 😦 I will not know until Spring, pretty much.

Here’s hoping some of this lifts for me and I am able to enjoy the Fall version of October. Realistically, I’m not holding my breath.

copyright © 2020 by Lisa Marino & Poison In Lethal Doses, LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

It Is Safe To Assume…

“It is safe to assume that, no matter how it appears, the attempt probably did not come out of the blue. Look for clues. Some possibilities include a family history of mental illness, a history of abuse, unusual or stressful family dynamics, prior diagnosis or evidence of a psychiatric disorder, and/or bizarre behavior long before, or in the days or weeks immediately preceding the crisis. Part of your job is to be a detective, assembling the pieces in the puzzle that is depression.” ―Andrew Slaby


This Is Quite Wrong

“Killing oneself is, anyway, a misnomer. We don’t kill ourselves. We are simply defeated by the long, hard struggle to stay alive. When somebody dies after a long illness, people are apt to say, with a note of approval, “He fought so hard.” And they are inclined to think, about a suicide, that no fight was involved, that somebody simply gave up. This is quite wrong.” ―Sally Brampton

What We Don’t Need


I’m going through a rough time right now. I’m only discussing it fully with a few people, but it’s difficult as hell and I live in constant fear that someone else’s mistakes, which I have been informed are likely good in nature, yet illegal, will destroy what little of a life I have. Every single day, I pray for my sanity and safety. I’ve been extremely honest and transparent about what I need, but no one seems to be listening. Or maybe, they don’t think what I’m saying applies to them. I don’t know. The silent treatment isn’t very productive.  

If it weren’t for my doctor and therapist, I would be dead. When your own family makes you feel unsafe, unloved, and leads you to believe that their lives would genuinely be better off without you in them, it makes you question your existence. No one should ever have to feel the way I do, or feel like they can’t stop taking medication because, without it, they’ll crash and burn and not care at all.  

I’m trying to get caught up on everything here, and I apologize that I’ve been unable to get things set-up precisely as they usually are. I’m not perfect and lately, I am on my laptop less and less, though I’ve recently written under 20,000 words. That’s great, but I need a little more time to edit it before some of you will see what I have to say. I won’t sugarcoat it; it’s extremely personal, painful, and I cried while I wrote the majority of it, but hopefully someone, somewhere, will start to understand that I really DO need a cushion of calm right now.

I am very infrequently deeply afraid for myself, but right now, I am. It’s honest. It’s real. It’s an illness. I keep all of my appointments. I take the medication prescribed and I try to keep my head down, because G-d forbid I be the person I truly am in all of this.

I’m hurting and I’m upset, but I pray for strength and guidance.

Thank you to everyone who has stood by me, who keep on reading my words, and who help me remain connected to the parts of myself that are Heaven Sent ability. I hope you’re all well. I will post more soon.