I had a plan for this year. It backfired, backslided, & royally fucked up. I remain annoyed with myself, frustrated by ongoing and new health issues, and I am more than a little pissed off, and yet, highly emotional. This lead in is to say, all of my posts will be out of order, hopefully for *just* the remainder of the year. They will, unfortunately, be a little backwards. Perhaps a lot. This was never my intention, you see. I can’t afford to be like this. I don’t appear to have a choice in the matter.

I sat down in November and started writing a few pieces I wanted to share. I like to focus on what’s in my heart and mind in the moment. I finally had a bit of a breakthrough on what to say. Initially, I had a solid six thousand words written. Then it became bits and pieces. Large chunks of information. All the things. Cue a near nervous breakdown towards the end of last year into early 2026. It was not writing related. I was overwhelmed beyond measure from how sick I am, and how much medication is, and isn’t, involved. I no longer had words, especially as I sat in neurosurgery prior to Thanksgiving. I almost walked out of the appointment, because there were suddenly so many people in a small space, and I could not handle it. Have you ever thought you might scream at an appointment? I nearly did. As much pain as I was in, I found myself so broken. I had feelings I needed to lock down, and here I am, in September (!!!) with a gigantic, “What the actual fuck?” moment. Okay, it’s more than one moment. I am not okay.

January came and shocked my system. Where did 2025 go? I blinked, and it was February. After hitting my head once a week for three weeks straight, I saw a doctor. He told me to take it easy, move the sink (I should not be left to my own devices. In fact, I should organize my skincare products, because I was looking for the exact same product every single time I hit my head. No worries; I now keep a bottle near my bed and another with my shower stuff.), and rest. I have a lengthy concussion history, which is why I sought treatment. I’ve never been so sick from a hit to the head before, and it was the same spot each time. I had the weirdest side effects. I’ve had moments where I thought I was better, and then I saw the decline hit hard. I’d be happy if I could control the dizziness, nausea, and neck pain. I’ve never been more grateful for a heating pad in my life, and that’s saying something. An oversized one you can sleep on, that doesn’t turn off until you turn it off. Some of those Prime Day sales come in handy when you suffer like this.

No one could possibly plan, or prepare me, for what my life shifted into. Pain so chronic, I feel as though my entire body is falling apart. That’s not an analogy. No one warned me that a shit show was coming.

I’ve had Trigeminal Neuralgia for many years at this point, but not like it is now. Originally, it was manageable. Sort of. I followed procedure. Take medication, eat the right foods, try not to freak out, and let flare-ups pass. I’m not sure exactly when it began to effect 85% of my face. as opposed to the occasional electric shocks on the left side, but the day it moved to the other side of my face and the pain was every single day, throughout the day, I knew I was in trouble.

A few months ago, I just about fell to the floor when a flare-up hit me. I thought someone had set my right ear on fire. Since that day, I’ve been completely unable to function in any kind of semi-normal way. It was bad before, but now? Holy.Fuck! If you ever look to see where the nerve is situationed (Essentially in and around the ear and jaw area.), you can understand why it causes so many issues for people. I have struggled to eat (Often screaming in pain. It can take me three hours to eat a very basic meal.), sleep, talk properly, and leave the house. I’m being shocked as I type this; there are rare breaks. The majority of my life is now spent at doctor’s offices. Getting someone to understand what I’m experiencing is incredibly difficult. Despite increasing the dose of my medication, and increasing nerve blocks to every month, this is essentially an extension disease of chronic migraine. Trigeminal Neuralgia isn’t often diagnosed. I suspect doctors hesitate to diagnose it, or people hesitate to report it. Maybe there’s a combination; I don’t know enough people to have an idea, and I don’t know anyone else who has it. Roughly 150,000 people suffer from it. Receiving treatment is a bit of a guessing game as to what will help. I think the nerve blocks help a bit, because it’s straight anesthesia, but since I’m in such a serious flare, it’s genuinely hard to tell. I felt the numbing last month, and my next appointment is right around the corner.

To add insult to injury, I have been deeply, dangerously suicidal. There’s a reason TN is called, “the suicide disease.” I won’t beat around the bush about it, because maybe I once did. Initiallly, it was more on the passive side. Last year, I realized I was in trouble. I decided to talk about it, because silence doesn’t fix this sort of thing. When we allow mental health issues to be turned into something shameful, we are feeding the narrative that we don’t deserve to be seen or heard. That our pain is not worth treating. That no one really cares. That we don’t deserve help. We do. Yet, while part of the world has heavily encouraged self-care, this does not mean excessive skincare purchases and a bubble bath. Why are so many people still so damn gun shy regarding real discussions about mental health care? Your little hotline doesn’t do shit for people. It’s time to do better.

Mental health care is a declining issue on a global scale. People are fighting for their lives, all while doctors prescribe medication which is known not to do anything. People want to live their lives; not spend it unable to sleep, or over-sleeping, both of which can be harmful to them. Some people are trying to keep busy, because if they don’t, they will be gone. The worst part is when we ask ourselves if anyone would notice. Would they even care? It’s in our minds, quietly, as we watch everyone go about their days in a normal way, while we are trapped in a grievous form of surival mode.

Survival mode stems from a Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder diagnosis, a form of PTSD, often referred to as CPTSD; Complex Post-Traumatic Disorder. There is no diagnosis code for the latter, so it is less understood, and all too often blown off like it’s no big deal. IT’S A BIG DEAL. My diagnosis came years ago, and I’ve taken medication for it ever since. Does the medication fix it? No. It is intended to work on night terrors, nightmares, flashbacks, etc. It is not a cure. You don’t suddenly stop suffering. You might sleep a little better here and there, or it might not help you at all. People have had raging arguments with me about Prazosin, which is prescribed for CPTSD. I will no longer engage with the unhinged stranger on the other side of any device. I don’t have the time, patience, or personality type to work with such individuals.

This is not a small thing, depression. Feeling suicidal is absolutely not a small thing, either. For so many people, medication makes things worse, not better. I know, because I’ve tried just about every medication available. I believe the last attempt was Auvelity, which I have not heard anyone else talk about. It is a combination of Wellbutrin and DXM (Yes, the cold medicine.). I’ve lost count on numbers, but it is rare for me to not have taken a medication once. In fact, it disturbs me how much I know about these drugs. When you have to advocate for yourself, you cannot afford not to know about these things.

I told myself this year I would stop educating people regarding any and all subject matter. I will not pretend it is my job to heal the world. It’s not. I have minimal kindness left in me, and I don’t want to waste what little I have left. I’m in nonstop pain; and even the people I talk to regularly has dropped down to less than a handful. I’m good with this. I don’t have the bandwidth for incessant chatter. I don’t want or need anyone overexplaining themselves to me, and even though it may seem as though I have overexplained, believe me when I say I have not. You know what I have let you know, and no more than that.

This week covers very painful things for me; the first anniversary of Charlie Kirk’s assassination (You will hear me talk about this in another post.), the 25th anniversary of 9/11, and the Jewish New Year. It will be an emotional time, and I know this because I was tearing up thinking about it last week. I am going to try to write as much as I can cope with. My Broadcast Channel on IG will probably have some real-time thoughts, as well. It is at the top of my Instagram bio, and you can go back to the beginning, and hear things I have previously discussed. I will try to time things correctly, but none of this is scripted. It’s me, straight from my head and heart.

Perhaps after I post this, I can move forward, and cover less of what is behind me. Though, I have to say, history is just as important as current events. Thus far, it is the Mondayest a Tuesday has been since last week. Caffeinate. I am back, and I’m not going anywhere.

Poison In Lethal Doses: Uncensored is copyright 2026 by Lisa Marino-Molchanova. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Work on this website is further protected by the Digital Millennium Copyright Act.