fairy

I am pretty sure my fairy godmother visited last night.

OK.

Maybe it was a firefly.

OH WAIT!

Maybe it was Tinkerbell!!!!

Well, I'm going to just go with my fairy godmother.

Yesterday, while feeling like my world was imploding, I thought perhaps my angels had left me again.

There is a saying, about how they don't leave, but we are the ones to do the walking.

It it so empty when I don't feel their energy around me.

But just as I was thinking this, Eternal Friend dropped me a text and I was immediately drawn into her positivity.

She's not the fairy godmother.

It was a little flicker in my room last night.

It gave me good vibes.

Then I woke up lighter, feeling like my angels were here.

So it couldn't have just been a firefly, could it?

It's the first one I've ever seen.

Seriously, I've never seen a firefly, so how am i supposed to know if it was actually a firefly or my fairy godmother?

It was dark, I was reading The Hunchback of Notre Dame on a tablet, because you can't get English books here.  And it was free.

No lights were on, so there's no telling what it really was.

All I know is I felt a hell of a lot better today.

I felt the angels again.

I believe in that thought, that it's we that do the leaving.

Dogs never have that problem.

They just cruise through life with their angels no matter how hard life is for them.

They always have their crew with them.

Perhaps, it also felt good that we have a motorcycle ride yesterday.

Not just a motorcycle ride, but a ride without helmets.

I don't condone riding without helmets.

My helmet DID save my life in the motorcycle accident.

I was wondering if maybe, perhaps, I've just said 'fuck it'.

Death wish?

Or am I just enjoying the freedom?

I'm not sure, but I do know it felt good to be on a bike and not be afraid.

Today was a little more scary, as we rode through one of the most hairy parts of our highway.

None-the-less, it was beautiful.

Maybe the beauty helped me regain my angels.

Beauty.

Happiness.

All I know, is I feel like my heart is lifted.

I always bet back up.

And tomorrow, I get to see the kids for our music.

I have their sweetness to rely upon for good energy.

I also have my fairy godmother.

Bright light.

Shine.

i deserve sublime happiness

life is too short

No volunteering with medicine for dogs yesterday.

A monsoon hit!

Pool got filled, plants got fed, and me?  I spent the day in bed.

I thought I would cancel the day after I shed a few tears.

People can be so mean.

I left the queer 'community' once before, because it just seemed so toxic.

I returned thinking that perhaps it was just those that I encountered at that time of my life.

Well, this time around, I found even more poison than I did before.

I don't know what it is, but some of the meanest people I've ever met are in the queer 'community'.

At the same time, I've met some of the nicest people as well.  People that would lift me up higher than anything the nasty ones could put me down for.

With the proverbial 'mean girls', bullies and power mongers, there will never be anything I can do right.

No matter what I do in my life, they will take it, turn it, twist it into something else, to attempt to prove me to be bad and selfish.

But not the lovely people.

They confirmed what my heart knows; I'm a good person.

Nobody can take that away from me.

Apparently, I'm bad for ENJOYING teaching children for free.  If I enjoy it, then it's only for my own gain.  Of course I gain!  How could I not?  These children make me happy and I teach them a skill.  We BOTH gain.

If I buy crab and lobster from Pescado Pal, the money goes to support his family and I get a meal I could never afford in Canada.  I don't haggle with him, I pay what he asks and we BOTH gain.

And to you who tried to silence me for my honesty?  I will continue to speak for those who are too afraid to do so, for fear of being hurt and ostracized.

I'm not afraid of bullies.  They're really nothing to be afraid of, as they are just weak people who try to build themselves up and above another person because their self-esteem is so low.

Strong people lift others up, instead of trying to pull people down to their level of misery.

I'd prefer to be equal, thank you very much.

My moment of hurt was healed by splendid hearts yesterday.

Then a little more so with a good chat with my Eternal Friend later on.

I am finding that the stronger and happier we are, there will always someone who wishes to attempt to take it away from us and steal our light.

I have even seen it in this blog.

When life is pummelling me to the ground, my readership spikes and I triple the amount of hits I get.

When life is good, it's the happy people who come to see what's up in our zany life of never ending entertainment.

Some people feed off the bad.

All I know is, I'm happy, and the 5 people I deleted from my cyber life yesterday will never take that away.

Hell, I could die tomorrow!

I'm not going to waste my precious last breaths on the 'mean girls' or the Hen Peckers.

I'll vent about it today, and then tomorrow, I'll probably have something wonderful to write about in this amazing life I am only fortunate enough to have created for myself.

You can hate me for enjoying my life if you want.  It's your choice as to how much sickness you want to spread.  I used to be that angry as well.  So, I understand.

We just had an earthquake while I was writing this.  Obviously, not too horrible for me to stop writing, but scary enough that it reminds me of how short our lives can possibly be here.

I forgive everyone who is troubled enough to try to knock me down, but I really don't have time for the negativity anymore.

Life is too short to look at anything other than the positive.

I'll continue doing good and receiving good feelings from it, no matter what you think of me.

Because you know what?

people admire me

i need help.

Your Sunday Sillies YouTube show:

I wish life were as silly as it seems on these videos.

I tend not to tape a lot of the real deal for these videos, but I will start to.  No point in calling it the live version of the blog if it doesn't reflect it, no?

If you're a Facebook friend, I'm stepping away from the toxicity for a week or so, but I'll be back to post next weeks YouTube show.  I need to only speak to close friends right now while I try to get better.

If you're an avid blog reader, you know I can't stay away from getting my emotions out here, so I'll be writing, but there won't be any posting to Facebook for the time being.  You can add me on G+ or Twitter if you want reminders, or feel free to come back on your own accord with your own memory of me here.

... i want to fade away ...

I have great gratitude for my texting system on this computer to get a hold of my baby sister and my Eternal Friend, and I'm adding a few more who have iPhones so that I can have someone to contact when I feel I'm falling again, or when I need to be honest about the thermonuclear meltdown that is Hurricane Andréa.

Fitting, that there is an actual Hurricane Andréa as we speak.

When I have bad energy going on, the whole world gets to experience it.  Sorry about that folks.  I have SOME power, don't I?

Yesterday was the most difficult as I was in panic attack mode for about 6 hours straight.  Hyperventilating, I couldn't walk very far, because my lack of breath stole my strength.

But that didn't stop me from getting to the kitchen.

The day before, cutting my arm stopped my tears.

It didn't work yesterday.  I tried on my leg, but to no avail.

I even went as far as using a serrated knife in hopes that it would go deeper and I would bleed out the pain of tears.

It didn't work.  All it left me with are a bunch of painful cuts and welts.

Papi got a little angry when he saw them.  He hadn't seen the first ones because I wouldn't really let him get close enough to me to see them.

But he grabbed my arm in anger of the realization that I'm a hell of a lot sicker than he thought.

Well Papi, if I have to watch you harm yourself, then you get to watch me harm myself too.

I took more of Papi's clonazepam to stop what felt like lung convulsions, because I came to the conclusion that hurting myself isn't helping matters.

I'll try not to hurt myself anymore.  I just need some peace.

Today, I thought I would water my fruit trees and garden at 8 a.m. without any chance of kids finding me, but Our Favourite was at the gate.

I was able to hide behind the new casita until he got bored and left.  I made the house look like we were not up, but that the dogs were in the yard without us.  Yes, once again I am held hostage in my prison away from the beauty of the outside world.

Even in my tears yesterday he wouldn't leave.  I was crying so hard and he just tugged at my arm wanting my attention.  I said, "No friends today!!!  Today is a very bad day!!"  Which is an understatement.  I am in full throws of the Pit of Doom.

Children don't get it, but at least he didn't see me while I hid behind the casita today.

Papi said he was moving into the casita, then changed his mind.  "Why should I have to?  This is my house too."

Then I found his stash of alcohol he had hidden.  I threw it on the bed and asked for a divorce.

Later, I asked him if he was drinking and using pills because he WANTS me to leave.  "Do YOU want a divorce?"

No he didn't.  So I told him that I would suffer through his drinking, but there were going to have to be some 'rules' in place.

You drink?  You do it outside, never around me.  You are alone or you can knock yourself out with the other alcoholic, Mr. Gummy, in the village.

You are drunk?  Do not bring your stench of musty, rotting, repugnant, day-old alcohol smell into the bed.  It's enough to make me puke.  Sleep elsewhere when you are offensive and fetidly rancid.

You pass out in the pool?  I'll still drag you out, because I love you too much to lose you to death.

You kill yourself from drinking?  I'll pull your dried, brittle bones from the ground and lie in them every night so that I'm never away from you.

I look at the dried blood on my cuts and wish that it were simple enough to bleed out the tears that feel like they flow through my veins.

All I'm left with are welts and scabs.  No relief.  I need some peace in my heart.

I've begged the angels to help me with this, but I'm not feeling like they're responding.  So, could someone please send me yours?

I really need help right now.

i forgive myself for any and all past mistakes

ah, the luxury ...

My Eternal friend told me that when she taught in Guatemala, expats in their 1st year got extra days off with pay, because they were so sick all the time.

Their bodies weren't used to the environment.

No shit.

Well, actually, in my case?  Lots.

I am so sick again.  This makes the 3rd time.  Makes sense.  It seems every 6 weeks something gets me.

It started BEFORE yesterday's trip to that 'place of health', so I'm not worried that I got something there.

But damn.  Yesterday began the climax.

And now?

While I'm feeling so crappy?

... sorry about all the poop puns ...  can't help myself ...

Now is when Our Fave's Mom is taking us up on the babysitting by dropping the kid off at the gringo pool.

We babysat for about 3 hours yesterday.  Well, I should say, Papi did.

I ran around from the 'Andréa ...' questions all day, and entertaining the children at the Hector-Brown Amusement Park, in between running to the washroom and filling myself back up with lime water and salt.

I was feeling the illness, and wanted just to lie with Papi and Little Angel all day.

That li'l fella was so comfortable and slept the whole time.

Our Fave's Mom would come around once an hour to see how he was doing.

She was supposed to be relaxing, but most mothers can't be away from a newborn for very long.

She couldn't stop checking in.

But every time, I'd tell her he was sleeping and the shocked look on her face was priceless, because he doesn't sleep much for her.

We know why.

He is a cuddle bunny and just wants to be held.

She doesn't have much time with 2 other children, a home and animals to tend to, all without her husband because he is either working or sleeping off the Graveyard Coma.

So, yesterday, she came to the door, handed the baby to me without a word and walked away.

No words were needed to say, "Here.  You want him?  He's yours."

She used the time to catch up without having to deal with the little one who looks like he's 3 months, not 1 month.

Even the doctor was confused looking at him.  She couldn't believe he was only a month.  That kid eats.  A LOT.

The hard part is, they're in need of money, because the husband's boss can't pay them due to being robbed by Mr. Extortion.

She asked if we could buy formula, diapers and wipes.  We had said yes, but when we went to the bank, we realized, we only have $50 to last us for 20 days.

$50, and workers to pay.

All we could get the little guy was formula.  At least he won't be hungry.

It will be fun to babysit him this afternoon with no diapers.  But I suppose, like other children in the village, we'll just have to let him get the dung out on a towel and wash him up when shit happens.

Maybe I'll get Papi to tend to the workers and Little Angel and I will just make cow pies all day.

At least I can control mine.

Oh.  Speaking of fertilized underwear.

We have a functioning washing machine!!!!  I did laundry yesterday!!!!

Probably doesn't sound exciting to you, but to me?

Made my day.

I've never done laundry and been so happy about it before.

It wasn't a chore.

It was luxury.

Looks like I'll be doing a lot of towels over the next 24 hours.

i prosper wherever i turn and i know that i deserve prosperity of all kinds

pass the clonazepam

Today is a lovely day for a biopsy, no?

Sound like fun?

Massive needles stuck into my boob.

Nice.

I did really good in the fear departement yesterday until bedtime.

What is it about bedtime that makes my mind crazy!?!

Since I was a kid, I've had anxiety galore before going to sleep.

When I was a kid, I was afraid I'd go to sleep because I thought I would forget how to breathe and die.

Yes.

I'm a well trained drama queen.

I didn't know that our bodies were just equipped with the know how to continue breathing.

Well, that is of course until you have a panic attack.

Then there is no breathing.

Which is what would happen when I was a kid, when I worried about not breathing when I slept.

Or when I'd get overwhelmed with learning that the universe just kept going on and on forever.  I think that was the day I blew my mind and the rest of my insanity is history.

Then there were the times I wouldn't breathe when I was a teen, worried about the next predator that was hiding behind garbage cans and bushes as I walked home alone from the bus stop after a shift at McDonald's.

And the big ones?

They really started coming after the motorcycle accident when I had flashbacks of smashing into the car ... over ... and over ... and over ... echoing as if edited in a loop, blinding me with a movie screen that drops in front of my eyes, hindering me from seeing any beauty in life.

I've been having panic attacks since finding Mr. Lumpy.

And now?

As I write this, I just gave myself another one thinking about all the panic attacks I had and from what.

Seriously.

I know there's going to be nothing wrong with whatever Mr. Lumpy has in store.

I know that it's all going to be OK, because everyone else's intuition says it will.

I'm going with everyone else's intuition, because mine is so fucked up right now.

I had a very successful pajama day with Papi yesterday.  The kids didn't find us until much later when they realized they could see us up in our bedroom, then the chorus of, "Andréa!  Andréa!  Andréa!" began.

I just didn't move from my spot, pretending I was asleep.

I did my best to distract myself with editing, trying my hardest to get my new keyboard to work so that I could at least make some music to help ease my mind, and then there was that daunting task that we all hate but need to do; cleaning up my computer files.

There came a point, however, that all of that had to stop and I needed to try to sleep.

That's when the thoughts of today came.

Terror for the pain they will inflict upon Mr. Lumpy, who will in turn, bite my nerve endings having me jump to the heavens.

Papi said to take some pain killers before we go in.  He's always thinking, my love.

They don't really give you pain killers here like they do at hospitals in Canada.

If you need them, the doc comes, gives you a prescription and whoever is your caretaker has to go and get them from the pharmacy.

Seriously.  So odd.

So, having that information after seeing it happen with Our Fave's Mom after her C Section, we at least can take matters into our own hands and take the pain killers BEFORE he starts the torture chamber proceedings.

Am I scared?  Hell ya.

Then there are the two days I have to wait for results, even though, like I said, it's all going to be OK because all my Eternal Friend tells me so.

Still, she's not here in my brain.

Mr. Lumpy is.

I think I'm going to be sick.

every cell in my body vibrates with energy and health

change.

There's a chorus of dogs out there.

Dogs on the beach.  Dogs in my yard.  Dogs in the hood.  All of them barking at the same time.

To me, it's a beautiful sound.  Perhaps to others, it's not quite how they would choose to have their sound space invaded.

The Donkey is swimming in the pool, so the iron gate is firmly affixed, keeping her from bounding in and flailing her body around the kitchen spreading water everywhere.

Problem is, Pathetic Puppy is getting too big to fit through the spaces, but when that iron gate is closed, she keeps trying.

I envision the day she will be stuck in the gate and we'll be left trying to figure out how to get her out of the mess.

However, she is the most horrible puppy on the planet and will inevitably try again.

Oh, what trouble she is, as are the workers.

I am grateful that Dominican Daddy is here to tend to the garden, as they've started on the last phase of the renos.

We need a proper carport to protect the vehicle from the ocean air, eroding the car faster than our window hinges, and we need the casita to give us a space for something, anything.  Right now it's useless, as it only holds animal cages, drying used ziplock bags and suitcases.

Anyway, both of these spaces are where all my fruit trees are.

I'm so terrified that the workers will destroy everything.

The construction workers here are very much like those at home, and, I'm assuming, like those around the world.

Why are construction workers so damn destructive?  They come in like a tsunami, and anything in their path is wiped out.

They don't care about the plants, as they toss their tools, unnecessary wood, concrete and nails into them, not to mention, just trod upon then when they need.

Why?  What is this phenomenon of construction workers?

They're so good at building, but do they need the balance of destruction to keep them feeling symmetry?

If you're reading this and you're a construction worker, maybe you could enlighten me.

Maybe I'll ask my baby sister's husband as well.

Anyway, Dominican Daddy is trying to move 6 trees fast enough for these folks not to destroy them.

My most prized possession?  My mango tree.

I see new buds!!!!!  I just got her happy and healthy and she's going to have to move again.  Poor soul.

I hope this doesn't destroy my option for mangos in the fall.  After a 2nd move like this, I may have to wait until next season.

But you know what?  Trees are not the only ones who don't like change; neither do we humans.

After crying on my Plumber Friend's shoulder yesterday, I had enough Spanish to adequately talk out my issues, even if it was part speaking, part thinking.

Later, talking it out with my Eternal Friend on our quick computer texts, she was able to allow me to talk it out to pinpoint how I need to conquer these drastic ups and downs of emotions of this grand move and gargantuan changes.

When I was in Vancouver, I knew how to make myself happy; go for coffee with a friend, hop on over to the gym, grab some really healthy comfort food, find someone spiritual to lead me, or make some music.

The list goes on, but I don't have all those options here.  I'm very limited.  So I need to change what makes me happy.  I have to find new ways to enjoy my life.

There is good out there, we just have to have enough time to find it, then enjoy it.

We found the first thing; a once a week trip to Sosúa Beach.

We're depressed until we leave the house.

Once we're out of the house, we stop fighting, we start smiling and our negativity seems lighter.

I truly hope that one day it will be the other way around.

Maybe, one day, coming home will bring us happiness and we won't want to run.

Speaking of running, workers are calling.

And off I go.

hardship helps me grow into a stronger person

Gratitude List, Day 9/10
1. I am grateful for electricity so I can have internet to talk to friends.
2. I am grateful for water, so I can be clean and healthy.
3. I am grateful for the puppies to make me laugh.
4. I am grateful for patience for the puppies.
5. I am grateful for the good people here who listen to my problems, when they already have their own.
6. I am grateful for the support of friends who have done what I'm doing.
7. I am grateful for my beautiful home.
8. I am grateful for fruit trees to distract me with their beauty.
9. I am grateful for this gratitude list to help me through the bumps.
10. I am grateful for my stubborn persistence to make myself happy.

well ...

We talked about it.

We're really not in a financial position to pay for a child.

Now I have to break the news to Our Fave's Mom.  This is going to feel bad.

Yet, not as bad as being tapped financially and having regrets and resentment later.

I didn't get a veggie garden and fruit trees SOLELY because I like them.

Lord knows I'm lazy and would rather just buy my food from the store.

I did this to prepare for our near future.

We need to live off our own land as much as possible to keep our costs down.

If we need to keep our costs down for us to be financially well in the future, then we certainly can't afford to support a little person.

Again, I'll give the children in the village my time.

I wanted to start the children's choir in April, but here we are at April and we're not settled yet.  There's still too much stress to start thinking about lesson planning et al.

We also found out there's another repair that really stung.

I haven't wanted to talk about it, because I wasn't ready to accept it, but our well started out clean for our healthy water, but has quickly turned dirty again.

Our 1st plumber we had was here to help us with the pool, because it had problems and when I told him about the new well and the water, he just looked at me and told me as sweetly as possible that we wasted our money.

The well doesn't work and was built for no reason.

We need a different system with a filter to have our clean water.

So, when I thought we were only in the hole a little bit for what we originally set out to spend, I realized the tear in our pocket just got a little deeper.

The well is going to be taken apart and beautiful plants will be put there, or maybe another fruit tree.

We just got the yard repaired from all the damage the pool workers did and now it's going to be dug up once more for more work.

Ugh.  It truly never ends.

I had such a nice skype chat with my Eternal Friend yesterday, and she told me that the 3 months it took her to adjust had nothing to do with all the repairs etc. we had to do with Casa Paraíso.

Hence, our 3 months is looking like maybe it will take us 5 or 6 months to settle in.

Jeeeeezus.

I sure hope there's an end in sight and we can just start living.

Then, maybe I'll have time to find true friends I desperately need here.

I have accepted the fact that my true friends are not going to be people that are here in the village.

There's nothing wrong with being loving and friendly toward everyone.  I genuinely have so much appreciation for everyone here.

However, we could never understand each others lives, never having lived in one another's shoes.

My shoes look awfully fancy to everyone here.

Yet, I look next door at Mr. Richy Rich and think his shoes are just a little shinier, so my judgement is no different than anyone else.

I guess I could never understand HIS life, either.

All I want is love.  It's really all I ask for.

I say the wrong things a lot.

I do the wrong things a lot.

People dislike me for it and I'm a proud member of The Pariah Club, because I know we're all on this world learning together, and I understand other people's mistakes, as long as they're a good person in their core.

None of my mistakes take away from the fact that my heart is always in the right place.  As long as I have guidance from people who still have love for me, I'm happy.

All I want is to be loved.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go dodge the raindrops that are teeming in our bedroom.

Oh, Mr. Carpenter, could we get this roof done pronto!?!?!

i see myself realistically and objectively

I'm a fucking wreck.

Here's your weekly YouTube show:

Yesterday, a Blogger Friend asked me why I'd need a vacation, if i live in a house on the beach with a pool.

I didn't even have the energy to tell him how much work this was, but I tried.  How could I explain to someone that this is not easy?

Everyone out there believes we've moved to paradise, because we believed we moved to paradise.

We didn't.  We moved to a gorgeous view and wonderful weather that heals my wounds, but it's more work than I've ever experienced in my life.

More work than I had before, and healing from, my motorcycle accident.  More work than Papi has ever experienced as well.

We try to convince each other that it will get better.  He reminds me that my Eternal Friend told me to give it three months.

Supposedly, it will calm down after that.  I feel like it will never end.

It is part of the reason Papi drank.  Again.

I found him on a floaty in the pool, beer in hand.  I screamed his name but he didn't hear, because he was too drunk.

I pulled his floaty to the front where I could pull him out, then smacked him in the face until he woke up from his drunken stooper.  I then convinced his drunk ass to get out of the pool before he killed himself.

I tried to get online to book a ticket home, but there was not enough money in my bank account, so I asked him to book it for me from the credit we had in his JetBlue account.

He said he wouldn't.  Right.  Then if you aren't going to help me leave, we're going to talk.

Every single time he started to doze off in bed, I sprayed his face with the spray bottle intended for disciplining the animals.

"Stop it!!!!  Why do you keep doing this?!?!" he begged.

"Because, if I'm going to be awake, crying and miserable all fucking night so are you.  Then you're going to tell me why you think it's ok for me to possibly find my husband dead in the pool?  I'm not sticking around to watch you die.  You can be alone to do that."

But he was dozing during my monologue again.  So I sprayed.  "Stop it!!!  I'm awake!!!  Why do you have to keep spraying me?!?!?!"

"Because I feel like hitting you, and this is the only other option."

"Well, why don't you hit me then if it will make you feel better!"

"It wouldn't make me feel better, that's why I'm spraying you," as I sprayed him again.

That must have woken him up enough to talk.  He cried violent tears from the guilt leaving the G'ma alone in a home with Alzheimer's, and how tired he is from everything we have to do here.

Between the guilt and the exhaustion, he's wanting to escape reality.

I get it.  I would love to as well.  Reality is, nothing comes for free.

There is no paradise without a cost.  Our cost is a stress level every minute of every day, that is beyond belief.

It is waking up every day to work that doesn't quit until we actually sleep.  Even then there's work to do, because when you hear a gun shot in the middle of the night, Papi is up stalking the grounds with our gun, and I'm chasing after him to see what's going on.

Nothing is free.  Even our relationship.

He has vowed to start going to the only AA meeting there is here, and I've decided to find the spouses of these folks and start an Al-Anon meeting, or perhaps some reasonable facsimile thereof.

We all know how I feel about the 'g*d' word in these rooms, but still, I need it.

I'm crazy with running around, sniffing him to see if he has drank again, checking the garbage for ber cans, hearing him open doors and running out to find out where he's going (because obviously he's going to go to Cabarete and drink again, not let the dogs out to pee, right??!?!), begging him not to drink when he's up past my bedtime.

Seriously.  I'm a fucking wreck, but I can't leave the relationship yet.

He has promised to work, not that you can EVER trust an alcoholic's word.  Not ever.  I'm just going to have to have some faith that he does want this relationship to continue like he says.

Trust comes with time and every time he rolls his eyes at the evidence of my paranoia of him drinking again, I tell him to cut it out, because his drinking the reason I'm in this position of hyper-triggered P.T.S.D.

I see every ex who has harmed my trust and faith, I see my father who cared more for his addiction than he did for his children, I see no good endings.

I don't believe in good endings with addiction, because I haven't experienced any, and losing the greatest relationship I've ever had makes me feel like life isn't worth anything.

So, I stay, and I work, hoping that he will too, in every other corner of our lives.

We need a vacation.

i must know what awaits me at the end of this rope, so i do not give up

got bugs?

Well, that some some weird strange bug.

I'm not talking about this one:

 or this one:

 or this one:

 or this one:

 or this one:

... which was probably the one that was on my head the other day.

... shudders ...

I'm talking about a virus.

We're not used to the viruses and bugs here in the Dominican Republic.

Papi had it first.

I thought it was just the fact that he was brushing his teeth with dirty well water, but it was a flu type thing.

Then I got it.

It started out like heartburn.

I never get heartburn, so that was odd enough in itself.

Then the headache came, and finally the nausea, fever and weakness.

Ouch.

I was afraid to get up today, because I didn't want to face the sickness, but somehow, I feel better.

My Eternal Friend had told me that when she moved to Guatemala, she was sick the first year non-stop and not just ordinary sick.  REALLY sick.

We're not used to the viruses in other countries.

Papi was down for the count for a good 3 days.  Looks like mine only lasted a day.

Perhaps it's because I exist on more than pop and Pringles, my love?

Also, it may have been the fact that I'm eating raw garlic non-stop.  That will build your immune in a jiffy.

I also wasn't sure if they had vampires here, so garlic was a good idea for that as well.

The bats are in abundance here.

Papi hates bats.  I LOVE them!!!!!  They're so damn cute!  Those little noses, eyes and ears are too much!!!

And the males will open their wing to cover up their mate when an intruder comes near.

Such chivalry!

Reminds me of Papi.  Always the gentleman.

Except for last night, while I was sick and asked for my favourite, white trash, gross out Papi meal; rice pasta with pretend butter and bacon bits.

He was too busy being engulfed in Facebook chats and left my food cooking until it was a pile of rice pasta sludge.

"I'm sorry honey!  I'm having 2 important conversations at one time!!!"

I ate it anyway.

It's not like I had the energy to get up and do anything for myself.

Besides, I was so hungry after not eating enough all day that it tasted like a delicacy at a fine restaurant.

Amazing what you'll eat when you're hungry, no?

i fill all physical appetites in physically healthy ways

attitude adjustments

Argh.  My favourite scarf.

It wasn't actually in the wash, but the house maid saw it on my bed and took it upon herself to the best job ever and clean it for me.

You don't wash this scarf in a barrel washing machine, or it will ruin.

Between the puppies and the house maid, they're in competition to see who can destroy my clothes the fastest.

I suppose I now have to stop being attached to my clothing.

I loved all my pretty things, but they really are just things.

I'll try to adapt to the attitude I had when I lived years ago as a starving artist.

Everything was 2nd hand, there were holes in most of my clothes and I wore nothing sparkly, except for the items I wore on stage.

Maybe I'll borrow the house maids clothes.  Her's are still pretty, sparkly, brand new and in one piece.

It occurred to me last night that I'm so depressed, it sounds like I'm hating it here.

It occurred to me, because Papi told me that's how I appear.

Well, I've never moved away from my city, never mind to another country, where I don't have my comfort and ease.

I never realized how much I need stability and comfort before.

I'm learning more about myself in these 3 weeks than I have in a long, long time.

So, yeah, I'm sorta out of joint right now, but like my Eternal Friend told me, it will take about 3 months to adjust, then you're good.

Papi thought I was saying, "I'll give it 3 months then if I'm not happy, I'm outta here."

Nope.

We're here for the long haul, and I wouldn't change anything, except my attitude.

I'm going to try to find as many things I can to be grateful for today, instead of focusing on the negative.  I'll ask my angels to guide me and help me out of my Pit of Doom.

I realized that I allowed the judgemental people back home to play too much of a part in my emotions and set me off into depression, because I was triggered by being hurt by a group of people.

I can handle one person at a time disliking me, because that's just life.  Not everyone can like me.

However, since I was a young girl, I've had cliques of people bullying me, and I believe I have a lesson to learn that I've not learned to my best ability yet.

Never, ever, ever trust a group of people who move like a school of fish.

I had a moment of letting them go yesterday.

Today, I will work at it even harder, though I still hurt and have the urge to cry over loss of friendship.

My Trust List has changed again.  It has dwindled, and what I've learned is that is ok.

Quality vs. Quantity.

Besides, we're making new friends here.

They're all a lot older than Papi and I, but none-the-less, they're friendly and know what it's like here, so they don't judge us as horrid beings for wanting to protect ourselves.

I found a bread maker!!!

I'm going to commission him to make me wheat free bread.  Then I'm going to BEG him to teach me how to do it.

The pool is almost done.  We were told that perhaps today, we could be swimming!

We probably could without them putting in the river water they promised us.

The torrential downpour has almost filled the damn thing up!  But there's nothing like swimming in water when it's warm and raining.  I'll enjoy it just as much.

Did I tell you we got our gun?

Fired it off a few times to check it was working, and spread the aural rumour that we're not going to be easily violated.

Go bug someone else.

We're getting so much closer to having our dream space, and every minute that it gets closer, my heart nears the life I wanted.

Quiet, serene, pain free paradise.

With the exception of the puppies.

They are trouble on paws, but they keep each other entertained.  If you ever want a puppy, get 2.  Seriously.  It's not much more work and they don't use your arm for a chew toy, because they have each other.

And now, I'm starting my first moment of gratitude for attitude adjustment.

I am grateful to be so very lucky to be living in a climate which eases my physical pain.

i see the perfection in all my flaws, and all my genius

Our DR Family

The first day we arrived here, the housekeeper was so damn sweet.

She had figured out how to say, "Welcome to your new house, Hector and Andréa."

Here, in the Dominican, people can't say Papi's name very well, so when they look at a document with our last name on there, they immediately jump to thinking his name is the first part of our last name, 'Hector-Brown', and call him 'Hector'.

So, our non-English speaking housekeeper made a cute little sign that had our welcome on it.  You'll be able to see it in Episode 2 of our YouTube reality show!

Right now, as I write this, I'm uploading Episode 1.  I'll tag it on here when it's actually finished uploading.

Anyway, on top of making us a sign, she also had a meal of rice and fried eggs ready for us.

Lotsa salt!!  Holy!!  But we were so damn hungry and tired, we ate it with zeal!

They are so incredibly sweet.

When the internet person came to hook us up, she came running down the road to make sure he was a 'bueno persona' because she's so protective of us.

This wasn't even her working day!

She just wanted to make sure she knew the person who was in our house, because she wants us to be safe.

She is definitely our DR Family.  She comes by to help us without pay.  Just to 'help' us.

One of her 4 boys, the smallest one, will bring me fruit fresh off the trees and the smile on his face as he gives me a mango is incredible.

He is so proud to be able to give me something and it shows.

He has nothing, but to make me happy with a mango made his (and my) day.

We really haven't had a chance to rest, until now because I'm so sick I can't do anything.

We run around to get the puppy better, get the cat his dental surgery, get the internet, get our cable, cleaning supplies, food etc.

Oh, update on the stove.  We now have one burner!  So I made us a nice pasta meal last night with meat sauce.

Not that I got any nutrition out of it.  It just went through me, but it felt good to put something other than corn chips in my yack.  I'm sure you don't want to hear about how I'm living on the toilet.  I've resolved to not eat anymore, so that I can have a rest from being sick.

Anwyay, there are so many 'priorities', it's hard to figure out what is first!!

~ Stove fixed.
~ New bed so I'm not in agony.
~ New doors that bandidos can't just push open because the hinges are rotted from the sea.
~ Bars on the windows so that we can sleep with fresh air.
~ Taps that work, water pressure AND hot fucking water for a shower people!!
~ Lights.  Oh, we have about 3 that work.
~ Dressers so we can finally put away our clothes.

There's more.  Oh, so much more.

However the 'more' is really just stuff that would make our lives 'nice'.  Like a lounging chair to sit in the sun.

I tried putting my towel out on the grass just to lie in it, but soon found I had laid right next to one of 100 ant chambers that are in our yard.

That 'relaxing' moment was short lived as I ran screaming patting myself off.

Then we got a hammock.

I lie elevated, however, I can't type on my computer while I'm out there, because we don't have a wall up yet.  The bandidos will see our computers and rob us, so we hide indoors.

Oh our wall?  In order to have a wall, we have to pay off the commissioner!  They say, "No!  You may not put up a wall and destroy our scenery for our native people!

That's sweet and all, but they will let us do it for a 'fee' of $2,500.

Yup.

Bribery works here like gang busters.

Anyway, yes, we are off to a rough start, but my Eternal Friend, who just moved back from a 3rd world country giggled in an email, asked me if I really believed it would be easy.

I suppose I knew it would be work.  Just not this hard.

I'm trying very hard to stay optimistic and know what I've always known.  Things will always get better.  Always.  They always do.

giving up is easy.  i will delay the urge, just for today

sometimes, you just need a hand up

I'm feeling so much better today, and it's really because of those I spoke about having gratitude for.

The phone calls from my Eternal Friend, My Gratitude Buddy, texts from the MC Guru and the Sweet Ex, not to mention a handful of others, really hit home that I have such amazing people in my life.

I received messages on Facebook from new people outing themselves as readers, sending me love and a new face leaving me a comment of support here on my blog, plus Blogger Friends reminding me they are still here to give me esteem when I fall down.

Then there were the hugs in person from yet another goodbye celebration.

All of it added up to a strong hand pulling me out of the Pit of Doom and the band-aid on my boo-boo.

I'm given positive energy by people I appreciate in my life.

I'm grateful for YOU: Readers and brave senders of private emails and comments here, G+ and Facebook.

I am grateful for people who actually make an effort to send us off on our adventure with love.

I am grateful for people who are honest about their feelings of us leaving, even if they're not excited for us, expressing their sadness or worry.

I realized that any advice I gave to Papi yesterday about his depressive state, I could use for myself, and it really did tie in with yesterday's mantra.

I told Papi he would find MANY people to help that will help him feel like he's needed.

I too, will find people to love me in our new land.

I had a nightmare last night that all the new people I found were abusive, abrasive, dishonest and hateful.

I walked away saying, "I don't want to be friends with these people!"  Off I went, preferring to be alone.

It's true in the conscious world as well.

If I'm not 'good enough' for some people, well, I don't want to be friends with them either.

I find good people everywhere I go, because I have great faith in fellow humans.

I won't have to worry about 'cliques' in any 'community' there, because really, I can't speak sufficient Spanish to be part of the cool kids.

Who knows what their politics are anyway.  We all know I'm not a political person.  Not to mention, I would rather think for myself than follow the herd.

All I want are good hearts around me and people that will enlighten my life.

I've had some good practise the past few months with letting go of users and negative souls quite quickly.

I've taken some brave steps and let go of people that I wanted to be my friend, but found out that it wasn't mutual.

So, why on earth would I let a spattering of inconsequential people trigger my feelings of 'un-want'?

In my moment of weakness, I fell in to the old standby; "I'm not good enough."

That's the one I run to when I'm feeling overwhelmed with my emotions, because it's the one that's been there since I was a child with a deadbeat dad.

The other one is seeing that girl in the mirror that nobody else can see, and panicking.

I've stopped looking at her.  I've decided to trust everyone is telling the truth and that what they see is reality.

That Anorexia Monster is really not something I need to deal with right now.

Here's what I need to deal with: Getting ready to use the 2 month visa we just received today.

We just received it today!!  We are now allowed to go for 2 months of pain free life.

Does anything else really matter right now?

I look at the picture of Casa Paraíso every day now that it's a permanent fixture on my computer screen.  It's the first thing I look at when I turn on this laptop.

It's still really hard to believe it's OURS.

It's still really hard to envision our smiling faces inside those walls.

I see the rooster.  That seems realistic.

If I was any good at Photoshop or any other photo editing program, I'd superimpose us in that villa.

Instead, it sits empty with the only life in it being the rooster in the yard.

Waiting.

i adopt the mindset to praise myself

what's your normal?!?!

Papi's manic.

His eyes are crossing while he's trying to stay awake, but he's insisting on doing more.

"Maybe you want to help me?" he asks with the snark level on high.

No, I want to finally write today, because I haven't been able to write for a few days.  However, I helped him anyway, because I really just want him to go to sleep.

It's been so busy.

Really busy.

I saved as much food as I could because I needed to eat, but damn!

Every time I turn around, I'm going for another hang out, which usually includes food and I'm not starving.  Let me just say that.

I'm not liking what I see in the mirror, so it may be time to cover up those reflective demons.

It seems we have lunch and dinner booked for the next 9 days.  Today is my last Thursday Lunch with my mother.

My Eternal Friend warned me, "Just wait until you get closer to the date.  It gets even worse."

I have friends that stopped having anything to do with me when I said I'd like to say goodbye.  They may try to catch up now, but I'm too far gone.

I realize now that my migraine is 100% due to the anxiety and stress.

The other day, I thought it vanished and I was excited that it would be a day to live without pain killers.

Then I spoke about everything we need to do, my mind started racing, my heart started squeezing and BOOM!

It was back, creeping up the left side my cheek bones until it landed throbbing at my temple.

My doctor was hoping to hear a miracle when I saw her the other day, but unfortunately, she wrote me a script for more morphine.

She also doesn't understand the stress.  "But it's a good thing you're doing!"

No, she doesn't get it.

I tried to explain, "Well, all my comfort is gone.  All my things that keep me happy are gone and I'm living in chaos.  It's really hard."

Not too many people understand.

I had awesome words from one reader who said how she gets stressed out when she's running 10 minutes behind if her dog takes too long to poop and I realized, any stress I've ever felt is only relative.

I've felt that stress before.

Now that stress seems like nothing, but to her it's everything, because she's living in it.

It is probably how people who don't understand view this.

It's really nothing to them, because they can't relate.

Man.

Try having every corner of your life either in boxes, gone or changed.

We humans hate change.

As I write, I'm looking at Papi, and wishing he would start the Graveyard Coma because he just looks so damn tired.

I made the mistake of saying, "Hey, Papi, maybe you should just go to sleep?" because his face was getting quite pale.

"Honey, I'm trying to do this, don't stress me out!!!"

Niether of us has really had 'normal' for weeks.

There is no more 'normal'.

Not right now, and I suspect, there will be no 'normal' for a long time.

We've abandoned our lives for a new one.

Our lives changed when we made the decision to strive for a better life.

There will come a point when all of this does become old hat.

Can you imagine?

When life with goats, a veggie garden, chickens, gads of dogs and island living (and perhaps a donkey?!?!?) becomes 'normal'?

Hard for me to fathom.

But it will.

my angels are helping me with every step i take.  they are always here

bedlam brain

"Honey?  Can you get me a Pepsi?  I want my breakfast in bed today."

No, I'm not kidding you.

You think I exaggerate?

I don't.

He's fine with living off junk food, but he doesn't understand I can't do that for 2 weeks!

He made me give away all my kitchen stuff last night, in another round of The Great DR Purge.

He's so mean.

He says I don't need them.

Ha!

Because of my food allergies, I can't just go grab a burger or pizza, so I'm forced to actually COOK my food.

At home.

So, getting rid of all my kitchen stuff means I can't cook.

I'd like to say it means I'll be losing weight, because I may be starving to death, but it won't.

It will mean I will be eating staples for the next few weeks.

Staples always includes way too many carbs for this body.

There may be some candida issues, not to mention a few Hurricane Andréa sightings and definitely some bloating.

It's bad enough that The Countdown is down to 12 days and we're freaking out, but a bad diet definitely won't help issues on my part.

I say WE are freaking out.

Yes, we.

On two different occasions yesterday, as per usual, we were asked, "So!  Are you getting excited?!?!"

Every time someone asks that, Papi and I just look at each other for the pause of 'they really don't understand' silence.

Like clockwork, I will spurt out, "Overwhelmed," and Papi will reply, "I wouldn't use the word, 'excited'."

My Eternal Friend knows what it's like.  She packed up and moved to Guatamala.

Everyone else just treats it like we're going for a holiday.

Well, I guess to some we are going on a holiday that lasts more than 2 weeks.

We're not allowed to leave for 2 months if we want residency, so even if I wanted to come home, I can't.

I guess if I only wanted 2 weeks of pain relief, I could do that.

But going back and forth so much during the winter probably won't do me any good.

It will just make my bitch of a back think it's bipolar and drain the bank account pretty damn fast.

On a side note, I just thought I'd let you know I drank an entire cup of coffee without spilling it on my t-shirt.

Not that that has anything to do with this blog.

But then again, this blog kinda started out a little scattered anyway.

That's pretty much how I feel these days.

Scattered.

My brain feels strewn across the city.  I suppose that's the reason for the migraine.

It's still threatening to come back at force.  It seems I can go half a day without pain killers for it, but at some point, it just gets to be too much.

I guess I may be putting off the withdrawal for a few more days.

Anyway, there I go again.

I can't keep any conversation on one thing for more than a minute.

Perhaps it's because we're living amongst chaos.

Bedlam brain.

i follow my dreams, no matter what

That's pretty much it.

ah forums. so full of useless crap.

It was either:

a) the gads of wasabi I stuffed down my throat at my Thursday Lunch with my mother that burned it out of my head

or,

b) the sweetest going away gift that I received from my Eternal Friend that melted my heart so greatly that it chased the pain away

or,

c) the love note I wrote to my migraine, leaving it no option but to abort the mission when it felt the positivity that oozed from my blood.

or,

d) all of the above, with the timing of the migraine choosing to have run its course.

Whatever it was, my head definitely feels a bit lighter today.

I can still feel it, but it's definitely not morphine worthy at this point.  I still took a tiny bit to make sure I didn't launch into puking from withdrawal.  I also didn't want that nasty rebound headache you get from taking the poison out of your system.

I don't need to write a love note to my body for going through withdrawal.  I've already met my love note quota.

Anyway, I woke up feeling a bit better, only to receive panicked texts from Papi.

You know how EVERYTHING you read on the internet is true?

Papi got a dose of it today and it scared the shit out of him, and in turn, he tried to bring my migraine back with stress and fear.

"Talked on the forums, looks like we need a guard.  They poison the dogs and then rob.  A big fence is going up!!!"

I rolled my eyes at Papi, even though he couldn't see me, because he's sleeping off the Graveyard Coma.

I decided to read on with what he wrote a few seconds later, "I think we made a mistake not getting in gated community."

Sorry Papi, but we are going to be enjoying Casa Paraíso.  No mistakes what-so-ever.

The next text showed Papi's disdain through the four little letters, "Fuck!!!"

Now I giggled at Papi, wishing he wasn't asleep so I could remind him we wouldn't have beachfront property in a gated community, nor would we be allowed the gads of dogs we want to adopt, because some control freak with a pickle up her ass wants to make sure she gains the respect now that she didn't have in high school.

Three and a half hours of obsessing later, he wrote, "Pay Albert to watch the house??"

Seems logical.  We want to employ our DR family somehow, but the way I see it, Albert will be there full time trying to teach this gringo how to garden, anyhow.

He had three more hours of consuming worry before he wrote the last text, "We should return your laptop.  It will be stolen.  I think our 2 computers is too much as it is!  I'm selling my gold necklace here.  I will make you read the DR1 thread about safety in the DR.  I will not get a safe because that will attract people.  I wish the gun shop was open on Sundays!"

Well, that pissed me off.

Papi, sell your own damn computer.

I need to make our documentary of our travels and you're always hogging your computer with your Facebook and Sims-O-Rama-Banana-Fana-Ding-Dong-Land infatuation.

Seriously.

The people who are writing these things are just trying to put the fear into you that someone else put into them.

Misery loves company and bored people are everywhere.

These people need a migraine.  That would shut them up for a while.

Papi has the worst anxiety I've ever known in a person.  He's not a candidate to be going on these forums full of people trying to scare one another.

There's always 'that guy' who likes to instil panic in others.

He's probably sitting in his mother's basement, snickering about all the people he's terrified, because he's jealous of the fact that he hasn't taken any risks in life, other than eating the moldy sandwich that he stuffed under his bed for safe keeping, just in case his mother ever kicked off.  Lord knows he's never had a reason to make is own sandwich, never mind do his own laundry.

Besides, like I've maintained from the start, if we treat the 'community' there like our own family, why would they treat us any less than their own?

No, we're not going to hide away, we are going to engage in living WITH our neighbours.

Great.  The pain is back.  At least I had a good run of bitching for a few minutes there.

Bring on the morphine.

i surround myself with people who treat me well

i love you to the pit of my bowels

I've begun a positive relationship with my migraine.

At day 14, I may as well make peace with it, so I'm pretending that I like it.

Hey!  It's cool to walk around with my eyes half slit and bloodshot!  I look like I'm an active alcoholic again!

Now, I get to have the look whilst being sober.

I'll fool everyone as the old ladies 'tsk tsk' me for being a louse in broad daylight.

They'll especially enjoy the staggering that accompanies my swollen brain.

It's a bit akin to when I first had my brain injury.

People will just think I'm drunk and clear the sidewalk as I wobble on by.

Ooh, I'll get lots of dirty looks while I resemble someone passing out from last night's bender.

The morphine will help on that end.

Involuntary naps.

Maybe I'll just look like I'm on heroin as I'm nodding off on the bus, or in today's case, the SeaBus.

Morphine, heroin, same diff.  Both are meager attempts at blocking the suffering.

Both will be equally as difficult when it comes to withdrawal.  Oh, how I look forward to that.

For today, I'm going to pretend my anguished head is really just normal and carry on with business as usual.

It's my Thursday Lunch day with my mother, and later, on I've made plans to see my Eternal Friend.

I've canceled on every plan over the past 2 weeks, except for family on Xmas and our special dinner with my baby sister, husband and kids.

My family are used to seeing me in this state, considering they were there for me during the brain injury.

However, today, I've decided to push through the feeling of my brain trying to seep through my skull.  It's not too much different than the roots of a tree breaking through a sidewalk.

I'll just put my sunglasses on and turn my headphones up as high as my poor little spasm brain can take.

Tune in and tune out.

This change in attitude came from my massage session last night.

He made it feel like it's ok to be in this much agony.  "Sometimes, it's better to acknowledge the pain, rather than will it away."

So, today, I'm going to acknowledge it.

I'm going to cake on the makeup to hide my pale face, and slather on the eyeliner to give my eyes the illusion that they're actually open.

I'll wear soft soled shoes so that as I walk, the 'thud-thud-thud' of my steps won't echo in my head.

I know there's no point in praying to get better.  I might as well pray to win the lottery.

Praying is really quite useless, unless it's for a change in our thinking, then it becomes a change in our brain mechanism that switches to another route.

We have the ability to think stronger and more positive, if we wish to.

So, today, I'm going to think positive as I embrace my migraine.

Dear migraine,

I think you're absolutely wonderful and I cherish your presence.  I hope you stick around until my dying days so that I never have to feel like I did 2 weeks ago.  

Being pain free is really over-rated and I'm glad you've come to show me this, and show me that light and sound are the enemy.  I was living a lie before you came along.

I'm grateful for your existence in my head, and that you make me feel like my brain is 10x it's normal size.  I get to pretend that it's because I'm so smart that there's no more room left in my skull, so my noodle is pushing it's way through the bone.

Thank you for being a part of my life.

Please don't ever leave me.

Signed,

Andréa, your love slave

There.

How's that?

there is a great reason that this is unfolding before me now

on track.

She sent me home with a care package containing leftovers from the scrumptious meal she prepared for our get together.

It was a short and very sweet visit with my Eternal Friend, accompanied by the animated presence of Java the Mutt.

I'm so very grateful we're living close to transit, so that I can see her more often.

What was really important for me about our visit, was that she understands my current flux of emotions.

She moved to Guatemala from our hometown, then back again.  It was with this life experience that she was able to tell me I'm right on track.

The tremendous anger I felt by coming home to hearing about bullies, abundant violence and criminal activity was just a typical state of beginning to detach from something I love.

We actually all do it a lot in our lives.  For example, when we know we're leaving a job, we start finding everything we hate about it, so that it's easier to leave.

The other area I'm on track with, is the pull of family and friends.

I'm feeling extremely needy about the fact that I'm leaving people I love.

My mother and I have had a terribly tumultuous relationship since she became a single mother.  We've struggled right into this past year when I felt the sting of not being included in a family dinner.

I was about 10 when she was tossed into a laborious life with 2 broken children, weakened by the split of an emotionally sick family, and no support from a deadbeat dad.

The lawyer she hired to fight him told her, "You'll spend way too much money trying to get anything out of this guy.  You'd be better off using that money to support your children.  You'll never get any support from him.  He's a deadbeat."

And so the walk on our path began.

Here we are, two adults doing our very best to be friends, because we both realize how much we love one another, regardless of the differences and difficulties we have.

Yesterday, I showed her my exercise regime, because there's a gym in her new condo.

I instructed her to lie on her back, so I could teach her how to initiate her core muscles.

There was this woman that had the same body as me, albeit a little softer with an extra layer.

Here was this woman who had the same eyes as me.

Here was this woman who I immediately felt a connection with and found instant forgiveness for anything she put me through.

In that moment, I was forced to remember that I put her through a lot as well.

Imagine living with a child who kept trying to kill herself?  I honestly can't picture myself in her position.

Yet I put her through this, not to mention, the horrendous mood swings that came for a child ruled by an eating disorder and chemical imbalance, further exacerbated when drugs and alcohol were introduced into her blood stream and mind.

Regardless, there she was lying beneath me, as I squeezed her lax muscles and showed her how to hold them tight.

It put her in a place of trusting her child.

I, above her.

It didn't matter that Mr. Homophobia was standing right behind us.  He can't allow my Mother to be alone with anyone, as he needs to control everything my Mother does.

However, yesterday she was all mine, regardless of the black cloud that loomed above us.

I connected with my Mother.

I'm connecting with the spirit of my Great Grandmother.

I'm connecting with family and friends, while at the same time, I feel I'm repelling my city.

My Eternal Friend tells me I'm right on track and that these high and low emotions I'm feeling are typical.

And this, is the journey.

i am loving and accepting of myself for who i am becoming

here's a new one ...

So sick.

Shit.  Quite literally.

At least I know it's not a parasite.  The way it came on was completely unlike the parasites I've had before.

And besides, I'm behaving myself and not eating the salad.  I have my Brace Face to thank for that.  I still can't chew salad with ease.

Anyway, I got something, and I'm assuming it was Montezuma's Revenge.  I've never had that one before.  I thought it was food poisoning, but having had food poisoning a few times in my life, I can safely say food poisoning is much more violent.

I braced myself for the worst while I was clinging to the walls of the bathroom anyway.

We were on our way out to the supermercado to get snacks when it hit me.

I thought I just had gas.

Well, I did have gas, but it turned into much, much more as I asked in a frenzied way, "Donde esta el bano?!?!"

When we returned from the store, Papi dropped me off at the front of the hotel and went to park the car.

As much as I'm studying Spanish, I still get things wrong, like the last trip, when I tried to say, "I'm hungry," but instead said, "I have man."

I did it again yesterday, only this time, they didn't laugh.  They took it seriously.

I tried to walk up the 3 tiny stairs to the lobby, but I was on the verge of passing out.  I couldn't walk.

The security came to ask me if I needed help, and I tried to say, "I'm sick."

He could totally understand by the way I was pale, shaking and unable to walk that there was something wrong.

I was grateful that they walked me to the little buggy to drive me home, but damn!  Once we were in that little cart, we didn't need to go so fast!

They were speeding in and out of people, one swerve shy of honking and I thought, "Gee!  They're really being sweet about this!"

Then we arrived at the medic and Papi saying, "No doctor!  Just go home."

I was trying to agree, "Si, dormitorio," but I was too crampy, faint and nauseas to spit out the words with conviction.

Finally they got it and drove us to our room, helping me up the stairs.  They looked so worried and said, "If it is not better, call the doctor!"  I understood enough to get it.

I agreed and collapsed in the bed, until my body erupted, expunging the poisons from my system.

It wasn't until a little bit later, that I realized I may have said the wrong thing to those poor souls who were speeding me to get help.

I remembered, because when I was staying with my Eternal Friend for those 2 weeks, she was helping me study my Spanish, and told me I confused 'nurse' and 'sick'.

I decided to look it up on Google Translate and sure enough, I said, "enfermera," instead of, "enferma."

Easy enough mistake, and that would be why they rushed me to the medic.

Papi said that everyone in the resort was looking at the drama, and now I have to face the whole place who are wondering if I'm dying.

I'm so damn embarrassed, but such is the life of someone learning a new language.

It's not much different than when we try to say, "I love you," on our cell phones and it comes out, "I lice you."

I won't be leaving the room today.

However, I do have an update for you about The Hotel Shark. 

We went snorkeling and now I get it.  It didn't hit a shark or a whale.  It was indeed a sand dune, but the reason it felt slimy is because it's covered in that gross grass that waves around!!!

That's more disgusting than anything!!!  EWWWWWW!!!

When I feel better, I'll still be sticking to the shallow end.

For now, I'll be lying here in the room, eating bananas.

i have a positive attitude about what i eat, how i eat, and when i eat

home = heart

Anyway, back to regular biz.  I'm preparing to go home today!

I'll be leaving temporary home #2 to go to temporary home #1, to prepare for our move to temporary home #3; our closet of 454 square feet.

With 5 animals.

Regardless of where I go, I go home to Papi.

I don't get to see him much when I'm home anyhow, because I'm usually watching him sleep the Graveyard Coma.

That's fine by me, because when he's sleeping he can't deny that I'm always right.

Or drink.

... hehehe ...

Tried another anonymous meeting yesterday.  Guess what the fucking topic was?

Faith.  Yup.

Of course I got asked to share, and again, I told them, "I have utter faith in myself, not in your god, but somehow coming to these rooms kept me sober, so I'm going with it."

I spoke for the struggling alcoholic who approached me afterward to say, "I'm so glad you said that.  Can I have your number so I can talk about how I feel about this?  There's not too many people who understand."

Oh, I understand.  Still, the most important part of her calling me will not be about all that zealot bullshit, it will be about how we get a wonderful life because we don't drink.

I guess it's imperative because that's where all this keyed up chaos started 2 weeks ago.

I have great gratitude for being sober.

So do the people who still cross the street when they see me, because all they can remember is what a nutbar I was on the bottle.

Now that Papi has mightily worked through his 2 weeks, I get to go home, however, not before we take the G'ma out for her annual gambling birthday celebration.

The old fart is now 97!  97 man!

Not that it matters that we'll be celebrating her day, considering she's been 'neglected and thrown into a home so that everyone can take her house away from her'.

... oh the gramma drama ...

Back on track.

I'm leaving my temporary roommate, Java the Mutt and my Eternal Friend who has been so gracious in providing me space and comfort for 2 weeks.

I leave this peaceful, hotelesque, accessible condo, complete with a full body soaker tub.  I leave this for cats who are trying to kill each other.

And Papi.  Home.

I'm actually really good with transition and being transient, since I've been doing it from a young age, but goddam I have to tell you that living out of a suitcase fucking sucks.

Especially when you only have 3 skirts to choose from!!!  Good god it's been hard to be a femme these 2 weeks!!

I've never liked that, unless I'm somewhere beautiful and tropical.  Then I'll do anything to stay.

But here we are in the city that gets about 9 days of true summer, and today, it looks like winter's back again, so all those mother fuckers who complained those 9 days can gloat now because they have their fucking nasty weather again.

Whatever.  I'm going home.

Home is anywhere our hearts feel whole, peaceful and part of a family, no matter what that family looks like.

Papi and I could live in a grass hut for all I care, and I would call it home, because it's with Papi.

And 2 cats that are trying to kill each other, not to mention the other 3 critters who have to live with the furry fury.

Oh!  And my Dominican style coffee, my morning ritual, my awesome ionized water and my greens.

I've eaten enough junk food and carbs to get me through the apocalypse.

i share my feelings with others and they accept me

quickie!

Not much time to write again.

Not easy living out of a suitcase, but when you wake up in the morning and see this:

You kinda smile a little.

Java the Mutt was very grateful for his morning breakfast, even though it was only a half cup because he managed to sneak a double feast out of myself and my Eternal Friend last night.

So he was on a bit of a reduced diet this morning.

Off I go to start my day, have a Papi sighting and go volunteer for Queer Arts Festival.

i am confident in myself