Sorting It Out

I hope everyone had a restful weekend. I’d like to welcome the new subscribers who have come on board in the last few weeks. 🙂 I’m glad you find me interesting enough to follow me on my journey. Please feel free to message me and/or leave comments. I always reply.

Today was hard for me. It was the anniversary of my mother’s funeral. I still have her eulogy typed up, and every so often I go back and read it. Mostly to remind myself where I was in that moment and how far I have come since that day.

I tried hard not to think about it, but by six o’clock in the evening my stomach became ill and my current nine day long migraine intensified. The only thing I could do was turn off my computer, set it aside, take my current migraine medication, which isn’t much, and lie down with a cold pillow over my head. If you know me, you know how much I LOATHE being sick. Suffering from a long list of chronic illnesses doesn’t mean I enjoy it. These are things I never asked for and would not wish upon anyone else. I do my best to navigate each of these things, but I also have to prioritize my health as opposed to forcing it to the back burner. I neglected aspects of myself for a long time and as a result, I am sicker today than I ever was before.

I know constantly having to fight for my rights, advocate for my health and proper treatment, and always feel like there is no certainty, just battles, isn’t helping matters. People often read my posts and get offended when I say “I don’t have much of a support system.” I wasn’t aware I was invalidating people who are, predominantly, quite vacant in my life. If all you do is call me when it suits you, text on occasion, message me here and there, and ask me questions about things of no real importance to me, I don’t consider you a part of my daily “support system”. If you feel invalidated by that statement, the issue lies with you, not with me. There are plenty of people who I have offered support to and have received the equivalent of a slap in the face in response, so excuse me if I don’t deem these people “supportive”. My assessment is quite accurate.

Standing by someone while they sort through their health and unhappy situations means you don’t ever intentionally trigger their anxiety, anger, or emotional suffering. If you never say a kind thing to another person, you certainly aren’t bettering their life in any way.

I was raised by two women, my mother and Grandmother. My Grandmother would always turn to my brother and I and say “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” My mother’s version was different. She always encouraged me to speak my truth. I was five when she told me “The truth is more respected than dishonesty. If someone chooses not to believe the truth, and they try to discredit you, at least you know you’ve told the truth, regardless of what they are choosing to believe.” Those were profound words for a young girl, but she always encouraged me to use my voice, and not allow others to attempt to rob that power from me. Having lost both of them, I know they are each in the unique position of being able to see how people treat me, to hear the conversations and comments, and to know precisely who is and is not doing their best. I am far from perfect, but I am doing the best I can.

My Grandmother was such a strong believer in family. After she passed away, I quickly saw through all the things she tried to keep in tact. Her belief in the “family unit” stemmed from how she was raised, but in truth, there was no “family” at all. There was this immense illusion. My mothers’ side of the family chooses to have nothing to do with me, and the feelings I have in regard to their behavior are things I don’t always verbalize. I try not to think about it too much because I am justified in my anger. I have zero respect for a lack of decency, lack of common sense, and basic humanity. The same is true for my fathers’ family. I witnessed so much growing up, always wondering why my Grandmother held tight to the idea of this “family” dynamic. I watched how it became nothing and continued to become less and less the day of her funeral. Losing both of my parents put everything into perspective for me.

I don’t doubt that certain people have feelings for me, but do I believe those are feelings of love? Rarely. I know my brother loves me in his own way. He steps up at times when I am not expecting it. I know that other family members love me in their own way, too, but I often feel excluded and dismissed. I often feel set aside as a person with no thoughts, no feelings, and no validity. If one more person has the audacity to say “Are you ever positive about anything?”, I will probably lose my temper.

I have never had anyone who truly knows me or anyone who follows my work deem me a “negative person”. I am my most authentic self when I am writing and speaking. I am the same way in every aspect of my life. And yet, I’ve noticed snide remarks of late that question my genuine authenticity. I have walked away before saying “Go fuck yourself.”, because I will not engage with someone who is intentionally looking for a fight and/or being an asshole. I have walked away before saying “You’re clearly projecting if you’re questioning MY authenticity. I question YOURS, but I’m classy enough to keep my mouth shut.”

Love, loyalty, authenticity, and all my friendships and relationships are some of the most important things in my life. In this, I am a supreme perfectionist who is honest about her imperfections. Someone told me last week “I can see that authenticity is very important to you, and I respect that.” When one person chooses not to see it, and everyone else sees it immediately, it is much easier to cope with one person trying to take a pot shot, as opposed to thousands of people viewing you negatively.

I am going through a lot, but I’m still the same person. I am working on myself, and I am doing the best I can. If you don’t know every single thing in my heart, you have zero right to judge me.

This week I move on to other battles. I am hoping for some downtime at some point to be able to find a sense of calm. I have a consult with a new neurologist next week, so I am hoping there’s a positive outcome there, especially since I’ve waited nearly six months to be seen. Fingers crossed for some good news.

Wishing you all a wonderful week ahead… Li

copyright © 2018 Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity, LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

FB_IMG_1526012630450.jpg

 

Advertisements

When A Person Screams In Pain

“When a person screams in pain, the actual pain is only half the noise they make. The other half is the terror at being forced to accept that they exist.” ―Noah Cicero

For the better part of this year, this is precisely how I have felt. My pain is getting worse (it is damn near uncontrollable) and I’ve been met with nothing but useless doctors who truly do not deserve their titles. Next month I see a new doctor, and I hope and pray that someone will lead me to the root cause and will start treating me like a human-being who is suffering greatly, and losing an enormous chunk of her life in the process. All I want is someone to treat me properly, instead of giving me the runaround.

If you follow me on social media, my life might seem “normal”. It isn’t. I might have that one day where I was able to walk four miles, and then pay for it with a week or two in bed, with nothing but Cat and Kitten to keep me company, as I desperately try to get the heating pad to be my friend and help ease some of the pain, and it will help temporarily until I pass out from sheer exhaustion. More nights than I care to count, I cannot get comfortable or sleep, because my mind is so overactive, it’s painful. I’ve noticed of late that my mind races when I AM asleep, and the pain leaves me unable to move, speak, or silence my brain. Apparently, my brain is running marathons. 😦 There are days I am crawling because of the pain, and then there’s that one good day, or a good chunk of hours, but it usually results in an insanely early bed-time, which results in my waking up in the early morning hours, in tears from how much pain I am in.

I cry a lot lately. The things so many people take for granted, like restful sleep or a ten minute shower, are things I can’t do. I can sleep if I take the PTSD medication and go to bed within an hour or so, because it drops my blood pressure, but the medication will often wear off in the middle of the night. It only has a two hour half-life within the body, so I’m still trying to hit the right dose. I’ve been able to knock my shower time down from an hour to under thirty minutes, and I turn the water off in between each physical task, but it is often exhausting and draining. Instead of taking four or five hours to get ready, I can now be ready in about two hours, but still, I pay for it the following day. I hurt SO bad, that there are days I just can’t do what I need to, and that destroys me.

So much bothers me, and I’m keeping it all inside. When the heart and soul can’t speak, that’s a whole new level of pain one should never know.

Trying To Cope

11182314_391118801075909_4844715758370178550_n

Have you ever wondered if you’re trying too hard? If you have to question yourself, then you probably are. But what if you’re being told that you aren’t trying hard enough? It’s incredibly confusing, and downright counterintuitive, to have someone tell you you’re not trying hard enough when they don’t actually see how hard you try to begin with. When they only see a small percentage of your daily battle. Alas, welcome to my world where I’m never good enough, not unless I’ve somehow done something magical to meet someone else’s approval for the week. And even that is never truly “good enough”. I’m constantly met with a disapproving face or attitude, or something to let me know what a complete and total letdown I am. If you can explain to me how that is “being supportive”, I will buy you a fucking lottery ticket.

I am a firm believer that if you truly love and care about someone, you use your words. When someone is going through something horrible and you can’t be bothered to check in with them and see how they’re doing, but you can be bothered to talk to them about nonsense, there is no way in hell the person feels loved, cared about, heard, etc. They will NOT come to you with anything serious because you’ve already proven to them that you don’t take them seriously; that their life, their pain, suffering, etc., is a fucking joke to you. If you want your love and concern to be taken seriously, you have to bring it to the table. It cannot wax and wane like the moon.

I absolutely HATE hearing anyone tell me they “don’t know what to say to me“. Good. Say NOTHING. Be silent. It tells me everything I need to know, truly. By being silent, you’re reaffirming what I already know.

People who never ask how I’m doing, but are happy to come to me with their issues drive me INSANE. It makes me feel even more invisible. There’s never even a polite “Hey, how are you doing?”, it’s just “Let me tell you what I’m going through.”, because apparently the world revolves around other people and their idea of “problems”.

Here’s my take on this: If you’ve got a roof over your head, money in the bank, a good job, a working vehicle, food, health insurance, clothes in your closet, money to buy medicine if you aren’t well, and can pay your bills each month without ever being broke, and you’ve got the majority of your health (or all of it), then I genuinely don’t want to hear your “privileged people problems”. If you’re sick, suffering, struggling, truly battling something real, and understand how hard it is to survive in this world, then I am more than happy to listen, but I can’t do the privileged bullshit crap. If your wealthy family can bail you out of a problem in a New York Minute, then I have a hard time relating because if I need to be bailed out, it’s probably because I’ve finally killed someone. My “family” has made it clear that they enjoy seeing me suffer and do not care about my pain. That my losses are basically icing on the cake for them. Does that sound loving to you? That’s because it isn’t love; it’s hatred. I genuinely hope that one day, one of them needs a bodily organ and I am the ONLY match in the world that could save their life. I’d rather give that organ to an inmate on death row.

Call me crazy, but I prefer to be spoken to, not AT. I honestly need to start charging people for the “therapy sessions” I am providing because it’s gone too far. If they respected my time, then maybe by receiving a weekly bill, the 10:00 PM-5:00 a.m. texts about bullshit would stop. The hours of Facebook Messenger nonsense would stop. If a pop-up message comes up while I am writing, you’ve just cut into my hourly rate as a writer, which is quadruple my editor’s rate. If you interrupt me while I am writing with dramatic bullshit, I should be able to bill you. Unless you’re my brother, best friend, a doctor, or the two women I call sisters, then you probably don’t need to be contacting me after a certain hour unless there’s a death-defying emergency (and how many doctors would be calling after ten o’clock? None I know.). Truth be told, I’ve lost my ability to care.

My cousin had the audacity to tell me that he & his wife are “always here for me because ‘that’s what family does for family'”. I wish all of you could have seen the look on my face when I read that message. The one time I asked him for a favor was well over two years ago. He made excuses and said no, all after having given me the “I’ll do anything for family” rhetoric many times before. Clearly this is a selective thing. “I can be there for you when it’s CONVENIENT to be there for you.” That’s what it really means. That’s why it annoys me and that’s why, ultimately, it pisses me off.

A lot of his invitations over the past year or so have been super last-minute and I’ve had to say no. You can’t give me 24 hours notice for anything and expect me to show up. You’ve got to give me a month or so. I must have the physical, mental, and emotional energy, and you have to know a holiday gathering of 50+ people is NOT how I want to spend my time. I’m not married to you, or your wife, and I am not obligated to be a part of these gatherings. I’m family, yes, and thanks for including me in your thought process, but I’m pretty much always going to say no when you ask me at the last-minute.

Now it may have bothered him that while I did not attend his son’s Bris after being given four days’ notice (I was sitting Shiva), I did turn around the following weekend and meet up with my sister, Britt, in Boston. He didn’t say anything and quite frankly, Britt and I had those plans for MONTHS. However, not once has my cousin even offered to meet me halfway. He could be in a neighboring town and not even say “Hey, do you want to get a cup of coffee.” If I did that to him, I’d never hear the end of how I was in his part of the city and didn’t stop by. Drama, drama, drama.

I firmly believe that if you really want to be there for me, you will be. He speaks for both of them (I HATE when couples do that. It nauseates me. I can’t speak for someone else; it’s rude. That person has a mind and opinions of their own. I’m also smart enough not to stick them with my family! Escape while you can!) and I wanted to respond and say “There’s no way in hell I am going to ask either of you to be there for me! You have a new baby and while your heart might mean what you’re saying, we both know you’re not going to show up for me, so thanks for the sentiment, but you won’t be hearing from me.” Like, EVER. (To quote Taylor Swift.)

Have I mentioned I can’t stand his wife (I’d NEVER say this to him and hurt his feelings. For some unknown reason, he thinks she walks on water and performs miracles. Ad nauseum.)? Now that she’s not pregnant, she’s behaving differently towards me, but I will probably never be able to get over her bitchy rudeness directed solely at me while she was pregnant. I checked with other family members to see if it was her normal behavior or an isolated incident and apparently she fits in with that side of the family really well because it was directed only at me, which makes me extremely wary of her. I have made all of my close friends promise to have a “Come to God” meeting with me if EVER I behave like that towards the kindness of others while pregnant. One of my closest friends said to me “You’re not a piece of shit, so I can’t imagine you ever being so ungracious to someone. She was really fucking rude to you.” Sometimes, it’s good to get that extra feedback so you know you’re not crazy.

I’m going through all of this disturbing, upsetting misery day in and day out, and I legitimately hear from three people daily because they actually care about me, and my best friend e-mails me on the weekends. Everyone else is purely radio silent, until THEY have a problem and then it’s all about them. And like I said, they don’t ask how I’m doing, they just start talking at me. Not only am I invisible, apparently, I also have zero emotions or emotional needs to be met. It’s always nice to know this is how others perceive me. As a sounding board. Or a door mat for people to wipe their feet on, so they can walk away feeling better about themselves.

Over the weekend, I ducked into PetSmart to grab a bag of cat food. There was the most gorgeous green, orange, and yellow parrot there. Birds don’t normally come up to me, but this one did. They don’t usually make noises and do tricks for me, but this one did. It made me emotional, because I felt like this bird understood me. I wanted that bird. I’ve met so many birds over the years, all different types, all different sizes, but I’ve never wanted to take one home before and have a new friend.

I feel completely abandoned by Cat and Kitten. They used to spend time with me and care for me, or they’d hang out with me and be loving, but now they eat and sleep, and at three PM each day, they come downstairs and start staring at me, waiting to see how they can con me into giving them their dinner early. Mind you, they do NOT starve and they have food and fresh water all the time, but they’ve become regimented in their meal-times and it’s seemingly all they care about. They have their separate spaces, their cat beds, and zero interest in what I am going through. This, I am certain, is why people have dogs. Alas, I’ve got no energy for one, or the room. Or the patience and tolerance levels required. At this point, I’m best suited for a pet rock, and even that is a stretch. 😦

I’m quickly becoming one of those people who is going to spend the rest of her days talking to herself, getting answers back. Oh wait, I already do that! Excuse me while I go back to producing a flood of tears.

American Horror Story: Lisa’s Life

copyright © 2017 Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity, LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Every Age, Every Culture

“Every age, every culture, every custom and tradition has its own character, its own weakness and its own strength, its beauties and ugliness; accepts certain sufferings as matters of course, puts up patiently with certain evils. Human life is reduced to real suffering, real hell, only when two ages, two cultures and religions overlap. A man of the Classical Age who had to live in medieval times would suffocate miserably just as a savage does in the midst of our civilization. Now there are times when a whole generation is caught in this way between two ages, two modes of life, with the consequence that it loses all power to understand itself and has no standard, no security, no simple acquiescence. Naturally, everyone does not feel this equally strongly. A nature such as Nietzsche’s had to suffer our present ills more than a generation in advance. What he had to go through alone and misunderstood, thousands suffer today.” ―Hermann Hesse

*Might have shared this quote before, but I’m honestly not sure. Regardless, it felt appropriate today.*