move that body!

Don't know what got me.

Since last Tuesday, I've been rather sick.

Enough so, that I've seen a slight decline in the weight I put on after the 3 months of lying around like a bloated manatee from the whole ankle 'thing'.

Virus?  Food from a foreign country?  Parasite from the water?

The sick part of my brain, that good old Anorexia Monster, is telling me this is great, because I'll get back to feeling my normal weight!

But the healthy person in me would rather eat better and exercise to take it off the right way.

However, up until yesterday, every time I tried to move was an immediate invitation to run as quickly as possible to the bathroom.

My phone has been glued to my hands.  You don't want to be stuck in there for half an hour with no puzzles to play.  Ya know?

Yesterday, I just stared out at our beautiful yard we are fortunate to have and fell into an anxiety attack like I haven't had in a long time.

Looking outside.  Stuck near the washroom.  Feeling so weak.

Frozen, because the anxiety had immobilized me.

Like I said before, I am NOT good at staying dormant.

Today I feel a little more strength.

I feasted on an entire bag of Dorito's throughout the day yesterday, minus the scant amount I shared with Papi.

That and all the lime juice I could drink.

For the tail end of the ankle 'thing', I watched to the end of Breaking Bad.

For this stomach 'thing' that got me, I've started on The Walking Dead.

Never really been a fan of zombies, because they don't scare me.

It's reality that scares me.

Yet, everyone seems to like the show, so I thought I'd give it a whirl.  Love it!

Anyway.

I go back to Dream Project tomorrow.  In the next 2 weeks we'll be driving the children full speed toward a performance at the DR Jazz Festival.

They're pumped!

I'll just fill myself with plenty more Pepto to make it through my 4 hours of teaching.

MusicMan told me that he'd be asking the BigWigs for my gas allowance.

I was so grateful that he said that on his own accord.

I wasn't going to ask anymore, but he brought it up, so I feel a little like he really is happy with me being there helping with the kids.

He got a real kick out of me telling him the story about how I thought he no longer had a job there.

Funny enough that he decided to tell more people the silly story.

Oh, how I make a name for myself everywhere I go.

Now I'll be the silly gringa at the school.

Which is OK.  I know who I am.

I've really have nothing more to prove to anyone.

I'm just spinny Andréa, and it makes me a much more approachable person when people know that, and we all know I just want to be loved.

I remember being the Andréa that had a permanent cloud of doom hanging over my head.

I'm just grateful I can laugh at myself and not take myself too seriously anymore.

I have meds to thank for that.

I'm looking out at the ocean today.

I'm sitting at the table, instead of the La-Z-Boy, my favourite tool of the Pit of Doom.

My ankle doesn't hurt from sitting in an upright chair anymore.

The ocean doesn't sound like white noise when you're actually watching the white caps crash against the shore.

It's beautiful.

I am strong enough to walk to that ocean now.

Perhaps today I'll allow the feeling of that gorgeous salt water to wash me clean of these past 3 months of stagnancy.

Move.

With the waves.

Ebb and flow.

i am willing to change my eating habits and i do so easily

it's simple

He is American and talented.

He sang his American national anthem.

From the stands, those who have been taught racism rang out, "BOOOOO!!" because of the colour of his skin.

Why?

Today, important once again to search for simple joy.

Puppy nibbles on toes.

His little body twists and turns with exultation for no reason other than to express his merriment for living.

A walk with Papi and the Fuzzy Family down the beach as we giggle at their antics of jumping in and amongst the waves, rolling, tumbling.

We floated around in the pool, I drinking lime water for my stomach that seems to have come into contact with some bug, from somewhere, Papi drinking soda, of course.

We taught Pathetic Puppy and Jake-a-Like how to swim and exit, so that they could save themselves if they ever fell in to the pool.

This, while The Donkey swam laps around them.

I taught children piano, watching their pride glow as they felt the strength of playing the line right.

One little soul pulled on my heart strings.

We both wore glasses.

She liked mine, I liked hers.

She helped me with my Spanish, I helped her with her staccatos.

I felt connection to her awkwardness, and the wanting so badly to be loved and have approval.

Something as effortless as encouragement in her fledgling musicianship made us both feel strong.

It gave us an acquaintance where nothing mattered for that half hour, but the lesson and sharing the music.

MusicMan gave me a great hug when he saw me yesterday.

He had gratitude for me being there, I had gratitude that he was happy to see me.

Simply joy.

He told me he spoke to the BigWigs and it looks like I'll get paid for my work in September.

I'm already being paid in my heart, but a little reimbursement for my gas will be the cherry on top.

I was tired and weak when I arrived at Dream Project.

I left energized and ready to make more of my day than I had in a few days, from feeling so weighted in my heart.

When I arrived home, The Carpenter followed me in to our driveway with an offer: if I pay for the wood, he will make seats for the children of The Garage Band no charge.

It's happening!

People are starting to help with the children.

I only took the first steps.

But now, I am seeing others follow for their support.

Soon, they'll have a place to sit as they sing.

Simple joy.

This is only the beginning.

I'm so happy for them, and yes, for me.

It means their energetic, wiggly little bodies won't be squirming all over the place.

They'll have somewhere to plant themselves to listen a little better to instructions.

Seats.

Something so uncomplicated, yet another step toward more jubilance, love and gratitude.

It's simple to find, when you focus on the good.

Joy.

i feel good doing things that improve the well being of others

airing the room

I am a hoarder.

Or so Papi says.

I'm seeing how he would see that, though.

I've spent my life working day jobs, only to support my music habit by way of being an Odd Job Jack, or Jack of All Trades.

Except for music.

That one, I can safely say, has been the only thread in my life since I was 2 and a half.

I'm pretty sure I came out of the womb a musician.

Not kidding you.

At 2 and a half years old, I was giving concerts on my toy piano at the end of my parents bed.

At 6 a.m.

Every morning.

Yet here I am, looking at all these stints I've done just to survive.

I have recycled papers upon papers of tourism notes about Vancouver and our Vancouver Island from when I was still driving tour buses.

I can't drive anymore.  I'm letting it all go.

I am releasing books upon books of instruction for my 13 year stint as a piano teacher.

I am not able to keep up with the stress of being self-employed.  This new brain just can't hustle like it used to before the motorcycle accident.

None-the-less, I am thoroughly enjoying The Great DR Purge.

At the same time I'm purging, I'm seeing a direct correlation to what focus of energy means.

I've been so insecure about letting go of day jobs, because I never felt that I could make a living from my music.

It's hard!  You've seen countless starving musicians, haven't you?

However, now I see how letting go of everything will allow me to be open to what I'm supposed to be doing.

Granted, in music, it's not about how much of a genius you are.  It truly is who you know.

Even back to Mozart's time, his gift of genius was really only given to the world, because he had a patron of the arts.

Back then, they would feed, clothe, and house the musician, so they could be asked to play whenever the rich folks wanted.

Hey!  I'd be into that!

Anyway, my point is, I'm only so lucky to have My Gratitude Buddy who has been mentoring me on how to get the composing work I deserve.

I have met my patron of the arts. 

She doesn't feel I should be doing anything but earning an income through music, and she knows the BigWigs who can get me there.

OK, I'm now getting to my point of this blob/blab.

My point is, this motorcycle accident has taken a lot 'away' from me.

By taking away from me, it has allowed me to earn the enlightenment of how to let go of what I don't need anymore.

I am purging my life's past, except for what I need.

All I need is what I require to make music, mi esposo, my Fuzzy Family, my blood and chosen family/friends and love.

I am purging my past.

Everything is zeroing in on right now, and right now, my life is coming into it's fate.

I'm releasing my past clutter, to make room for what I deserve.

i pursue my life's purpose

sugar! oh honey, honey!

It is confirmed, yet again.  I have an eating disorder.

I get into a little trouble with food sometimes.

You see, Papi has been told he has food allergies, so I bought him 2 glorious packages of some wonderful little gluten free cookies.

They're not on my food plan, because they are pure sugar.

We all know sugar makes me crazy.

Super crazy.

Yet what also makes me crazy, is knowing those little treasures are in the cupboard.

They've been there for about a month now.  So, what have I been doing for a month?

Telling myself, "Don't eat those cookies, they will make you crazy."

Well, yesterday, I opened one of the packages to have 'some'.

A 'few'.

Here's what happens when I eat sugar:  I can't stop.

There I was, munching and working on my emails that I have to send out to all the film and TV BigWigs and the next thing you know, I've eaten the whole damn package.

Well, really, I knew I was going to eat the whole package when I saw I'd already eaten 2 rows.

What happens at that point is my brain, filled with poisonous sugar chemicals says, "Just great, Andréa!  You've already eaten most of them.  You might as well eat the whole damn package and get rid of them!!!!"

There's a problem with that, however.

There were 2 packages.

I realized that if I ate them all, I would never have to think about those fucking cookies again.

So, I decided that I would have the next cookie package for dinner.

Oh yeah.

I ate them.  Both packages of cookies.

I'm slower than a slug right now, and I'm supposed to go to the gym to do my physio.  This will be interesting.

I'll be lucky if I make it through my cardio without falling asleep.  They might have to peel me off the rowing machine and mop me to the weights room.

Not to mention, those passive aggressive ladies better not be fucking with me today.

Sugar = Crazy.

Oh, I'm going to go to the gym alright.  I've gotta get my blood flowing to wash that shit out of my system.

I'll have 2 days of an unquestionably short fuse, but I won't be obsessing about cookies anymore.

I already have 4 mounds of red bumps on my face that will be sure to invite more friends to the party, turning into unwanted guests that will emulate a few extra noses on my face.

There will be many more to follow on my chest and back as soon as my body kicks in to try and push that crap out of my system.

But I won't be obsessing about cookies anymore.

It's back to whole foods and minimal carbs today.  Tons of water.

Jeeeeeeezus.  Going to need about 5 litres to wash this shit out of my blood.

Yes.  I have an eating disorder.

And I will not be buying Papi anymore treats unless he asks for them.

When my friend called and I told her I was binging on sugar, she screamed, "But you're not supposed to be eating sugar!!!!!!"

Oh.  I know.

Somehow, I forget these things in the heat of the moment of binging.

Goddam!  They were fucking good and this misery I'm feeling was definitely worth it, at the time. 

No worries.  If I know myself, which I'm pretty sure I do, I'll probably do it again in 6 months when I forget how bad this episode made me feel.

i choose to make positive healthy choices for myself

tears for papi

You know what I think?

I think that Papi and I have been tested up the wazoo, and I think we're on to the next examination of our devotion to each other.

We've survived my motorcycle accident, along with all the brain injury and physical hell that my love has had to endure while watching me struggle to heal.

We've survived a horrible miscarriage, where I had 2 emergency D&Cs, 3 trips to ER, followed by the realization that perhaps, I can't carry a child to full term.

We've survived my love going through male transformation.

We've survived being ostracized by hateful crud in the 'community', who did their best to crush our hearts.

This has all happened in 4 years.

Well, we're now on to another chapter of survival in our relationship.

We're both going through life issues that are not the same, however, we're doing it at the same time.

Today, I begin working on dealing with my past of sexual/emotional abuse, abandonment, and low self-esteem due to my upbringing.

My love lost his mother at the tiny age of 10 and has never really worked on his issues, but now that G'ma is going downhill, he can see her time is coming, and I'm so grateful that he's going for support to deal with his grief.

It breaks my heart to see him in such pain.

We were upstairs organizing our recycling together, when we noticed G'ma didn't eat her dinner.

We tried to give it to her, but she said she's not hungry.

Alzheimer's will do this.

We're seeing all the typical textbook symptoms come to light now, and this is putting my love into a very difficult place; It's bringing up everything from the loss of his mother at such a young age.

It's interesting that we've both had stuff come up from our upbringing at the same time.

My dear sweet Papi is hurting so bad right now, and is afraid that I'll see his worst side and not be able to take it.

I'm not sure if my love has really taken a look at Hurricane Andréa lately, but she is not one to back down from any emotional challenge.

I didn't stick around after the year of grieving from losing my butch, only to take off after a difficult time comes up.

We're two peas in a fucking pod, I'll tell ya.  The 'CooCoo Couple'.

Even still, by having two people who know what it means to work on personal issues, we're very fortunate that we both understand.

My heart breaks to watch my love witness his G'ma getting worse.  It breaks my heart to see his tears roll down his face as he sees G'ma fading.

The one thing I do know is, he will get better.

Everything gets better with time, if you work on it.

Everything works out, no matter how hard it is at the time, even if it's not the result we want.

Between the two of us, our reasons for healing are different, but we're in the same car on the road to get there, we'll just take turns driving.

There is so much work for both of us to do on our own ends, but we'll do it with love, and some more tears.  Not to mention, a few more difficult passages through our own personal hell.

All I know is, I'm ready to be Papi's advocate, support, and caretaker when the time comes for him to fall.

I'm also ready to start my counselling today.

After all the intake has been done, and my case presented to the BigWigs who decide whether or not I get free counselling for 6 months, I've been accepted.

Congratulations Andréa!  You're nuts enough for the government to pay for your counselling!!

I look forward to being even stronger and happier, even if I'm terrified to look at my past.

i am willing to let go

Schmooze-0-Rama!

Well, it's the time of year for parties.

I've been so busy trying to keep up with all the advantageous moments to be amongst friends, acquaintances and BigWigs!

Last night was the BigWigs.

Fortunately, my brain injury has donned me with horrid facial recognition, so when the BigWigs would talk to me, I was calmly myself.

You know how you get when you meet someone important, and you choke up?  Well, that doesn't happen if you don't recognize them.

For example, they were handing out lovely little treats, and I was so hungry that I had to have it, but when I tried to bite in with my Brace Face, it was too hard.

No biggie.

I'll just announce it to the world of BigWig TV producers and directors, and see if someone has a better idea for me than to bite into pork belly on a stick.

I was lucky enough that one of the BigWig's wives was accommodating and passed me some tissues so I could remove the swine on a stake from my mouth, and try to grab some class while finding the perfect place on the table to discard it.

my brace face has really removed the 'classy' in my life ...

But alas, Mr. BigWig took off his glasses when he started to feel a little more 'spirited', and I had no idea who he was.

The night went like that for me repeatedly.  My sweet butch of a friend was my seeing eye person, and I continuously followed her lead.

Although, there were exceptions when she was busy speaking to someone else and I took initiative and introduced myself again.  Only to see their face knowingly smirk, and then I'd ask, "Umm, did we already do this?"

I was greeted with great smiles of, "Yes," and a chuckle.

However, nobody really batted an eye at it and I didn't have to give my brain injury disclaimer, because they were all drinking, so I fit in quite nicely.

Nothing but a room full of nerdy creative types, and I was in my element.

Well, there is a lot more schmoozing to be had this weekend.

I don't usually oblige with the parties etc. at X-Mas, but this year, I'm feeling so happy that I will.

I believe this is the first X-Mas season that I haven't felt like a crying lunatic in years.

Last year, I had the male transformation bomb drop and flood restoration from hell.

2009 was my terrible miscarriage that had me in emergency 3 times within 2 weeks, and 2 separate D&Cs to get that demon out of my body.

2008 was my motorcycle accident.  'Nuff said.

2007 I was suing The Beast who had made me homeless by having a packing party full of rancid people who thought that was the right thing to do to another human being, along with changing the locks on my home.

2006 was alright.  I had finally gotten on meds to help my chemical imbalance stop making me think suicide is a great option in this world.

2005 my Dearly Departed Gypsy girl passed away and I had a nervous breakdown that lasted until after the awful winter season took a hold of my emotions.

Yeah, I could go on, further back into life's miseries, because it just seems that every winter something happens to make me a little more insane.

This year?

I am the happiest that I can ever remember.  I feel like life has finally stopped attacking me.

Well, perhaps I'm just being given a break, because we all know life throws us curves, but none-the-less, I'm taking this break and running with it.

I feel like I'm shining with love and happiness so much, that a perfect stranger said to me last night, "You have such a beautiful smile.  You're always smiling!  People could use a lesson from you in understanding that life is not so bad."

They don't know that I just spent a year grieving and am finally out of the woods.

They don't know that this is the most peaceful, loving X-Mas season I can remember.

Well, off I go to a film screening of the movie I just composed for.

Charmed life?

Indeed.