seriously, pass the wine

OK.

So, maybe the 'rules of etiquette' are that you only pour 2 mm of wine in a glass, but why?

My mother is Miss Manners to the extreme.

Right up there with Martha Stewart.

Not sure where this debutant social grace came from.

She really is just a Yukon child raised in East Van.

Did they have this protocol in the land of flannel?!?

She was a single mom who really had nothing and had a mother who didn't really help her out much, because she chose a family over school.

Yet somehow, she got this fancy pants personality.

So, when I said I'd like to indulge in the red wine, she poured me 2 sips in a glass.

2 sips.

I asked my baby sister as to why so little, wondering if maybe it's because she's worried because I'm experimenting with drinking like a 'normal' person.

Which kinda confuses me.

When I drank many years ago, she told me I had a drinking problem, in a not so sweet way.

Then when I was clean 'n sober, she asked why on earth I'd want to do that because I never had a drinking problem.

But now that I wanted to experiment with drinking in a sane manner, she pours me a millimetre of the bevvie?

She might as well have put it in a plastic sippy cup.

Anyway, mother left after a few days here in the blistering cold and I spoke to my baby sis who explained that it's what charm school people do.

If you drink white wine, you get a half glass, if you drink red, you get a couple of sips.

Are we who like red automatically labeled the wine-o-s?

Curious.

Apparently, it's because red you sip and white you gulp.

So what!

Gimme me half glass of red wine just like your white!

You really want to keep getting up and refilling my glass until I drink my allotted amount?

That seems like a lot of work!

And besides, I want my half glass of wine goddamit!

Now, mother has left the building, back on her flight back to Vancouver, my baby sister poured me my half glass.

I don't need more than that.

It's all I want.

It's my only evil for crying out loud!

Except for the sugar I've indulged in over the past few days.

I have pimples that are rivalling my nose.

Not sure where my chin starts and my pimples end.

Really sexy.

Not the greatest femme look.

Pizza face.

But I only have a few days left of the bad food.

This size of jean is not going to be my permanent size folks!

Things are going to change when I get back.

Except for my half glass of wine.

Fuck etiquette.

Fuck manners.

Gimme my half glass of wine.

I know Papi will pour it properly.

i know i am loved by family

a wee secret

So, the funniest thing happened.

Well, maybe not the FUNNIEST thing, but Papi and I found it entertaining.

It was time to bring the horrible, 4 legged cretin out for their walk.

It's our time for our walk on the beach, dogs' time for insanity.

So, there are some neighbours who rent out their place quiet frequently.

Nice place.  Big mansion.

The most recent renters were in the ocean enjoying their Dominican vacation and we opened our gate to release the hounds.

When those mongrels run to the ocean, it's like a tornado has hit the 'hood.

None of the locals appreciate our massive hounds running out the yard, but what can we do?  They need to let off steam.

Anyway.

We followed out the hairy ones and when the vacationers saw us, we were worried they'd be afraid of The Donkey.

She's pretty big.

Forget about fear of the dogs!  They immediately began gathering their items and moved them all in to the yard.

I'm sure they didn't think The Donkey would steal their phones or shoes.

The Guard was alerted about us walking on the beach and out he came with his shotgun.

It was too funny!

People were afraid of US!

Us.  The scared shitless Canadians who need to alert the thieves that we have guns to be sure they don't try to attack us.

Us.  The two who are so worried about their safety that we have a wall to be sure the violent ones can't just stroll in with their masks to hide their identity after they violate us.

Us.  The two who may have tattoos, but honestly, are so timid.

But just to give them something to remember for their trip, Papi decided to make their trip something to post on Facebook.

He decided tonight was a good time to do our monthly air warning.  You know the one?  That we do to warn others that we have a deterrent, so don't try to harm us?

I can just see their Facebook post: "Just heard a gunshot!  OMG!!!"

The point is, it's important not to judge a book by their cover, but our new vacationers did.

And we do the same.

I'm pretty sure everyone does it.  We are not alone.

We're afraid of so many people, and that's judgement in itself.

Yet people are afraid of us.

Us!

I just found it quite entertaining.

It reminded me not to judge, because I am judged as well and it feels bad.

Everyone needs that reminder.

We all do it, and anyone who says they don't, are lying.

I am so grateful for those who didn't judge me this week.

I had a secret to let out to those that are very close to me.

It allowed me to be honest about something I've been holding back.

Something that I needed a little bravery to tell you.

I suppose now that I've started telling you, I'll come clean.

I am no longer clean 'n sober.

Please don't judge me harshly.

I've already been doing enough of that myself.

I'm OK, so don't worry for me.

I'm really doing OK.

i trust myself

you will never win to addiction

I feel like death.

I couldn't eat yesterday.

All I could do was drink ginger tea, lime water, coconut water.

I just wanted to settle my stomach, but it still didn't happen.

He asked me, "Why are you so angry?"

Because I know that when someone tries to win over addiction, they will always lose.

Papi made his choice.

He 'should be able to have a beer every few days' without the consequence of me going into full on P.T.S.D.

He has quite blatantly chosen alcohol over me.

It's not like It hasn't happened before.  We always lose to addiction.

I had to watch someone fade away from heroin, and when I gave the ultimatum: the drugs or me, guess who lost?

We can never win.

I'm angry because I've lost.

I've lost the sober person I married 3 years ago.

I now have more pain to look forward to.

"Can't we just see how it goes instead of jumping to the worst case scenario?"

I've already seen worst case scenario.  I already know what comes next.

He says he won't get drunk in the pool and pass out, or go home with strangers, not knowing where he is or who he is with, again.

Well, the truth is, when you're a drunk, you can't make those decisions.

So, I lose.

Again.

I see this very much like a repeat of the past.

We repeat the same mistakes, until we get it right, don't we?

Perhaps the first time he drank and he wound up sobbing in the gutter in the DTES and I left to keep myself safe from the pain?  Perhaps that was supposed to be my only heartache with his addiction.

He said he would never do it again.  That he was done with the drinking.  That I could trust him.

But instead of learning from my past I've relived more pain.

I'll stick around for even more I'm sure.

I got so angry for my never ending tears to accompany my loss, while I was doing dishes, I had cleaned a knife and I dug it across my forearm about 8 times just to punish myself even more.

Yes.

It's the first time since I was in my 20's that I cut myself.

Not much.

Just enough to stop the tears.

They stopped.

Then I went a bit manic; house is cleaned, seeds are planted, bathroom is cleaned, laundry is done, microwave combined with wall and counter are scrubbed clean with Borax and PineSol, as is the stove and toaster oven.

There's more that I did.

I can't remember everything, because I was in a haze of trying to keep myself busy so I didn't cry anymore.

I did it right up until 10:30.  Then my body finally told me I had to lie down.

And what happened?

I started to cry.

"Why are you so angry?"

Because my love, you don't realize it, but you're leaving me.  I'm sure you'll have lots of fun drinking with the other neighbourhood drunk, Mr. Gummy.

So, I have a choice.  Stay here and live with emotional pain of losing someone to their addiction, or go back to Vancouver and live with physical pain of the cold weather.

Either way, I've already lost.

I suppose I'll choose the emotional.

It's easier, I've had it all my life.

i have a wonderful partner and we are both happy and at peace.

life changed yesterday.

I don't know how this is going to end, but I know how it began.

I tried an experiment.

It went well.  I realize I don't feel like drugging my body with alcohol.

Papi started drinking again, and I decided that I didn't want to be the only sober person in the relationship, because I'd be stuck on the island of the Dominican Republic, isolated with an alcoholic and I'm not sure if I can handle it sober.

I felt I wanted to close my eyes to what was about to happen.

Well, I didn't really like the effects.  It reminded me too much of being on pain meds and that is not how I want to live.

It was the main reason for moving here.  To live better, and get off pain meds.

Papi looked at me, "I can't believe you're drinking.  Aren't you upset that you just lost 14 years of sobriety?"

I didn't feel that way.  "I didn't lose anything.  I gained 14 years of a better life."  It was at that moment that I knew I didn't really want to have the old life I had.

I suppose I had what they call a slip.  I'm not interested in continuing with drinking myself silly to avoid the problems I'm about to face.

I love my life the way it is, and everything I've gained.

Papi on the other hand, well, it looks like he would like to live his old life that is 'fun'.

I told him, "You can't drink just one drink.  Don't you remember how it ended with you crying at the side of the road in the DTES, crying on the curb?"

Because I sure as hell remember.

So, we shared 2 beers to begin the experiment.

I didn't even finish the 2nd beer.  I went to bed, to get ready for our trip to the capitol today, Papi stayed up then drove after those 2 beers to our neighbouring city, Cabarete, and drank some more.

He was drunk enough that someone drove him home.

I woke up at 5:15 to a very drunk spouse, staggering around the kitchen defending himself, "I'll be fine to drive in 5 hours."

No.

No you won't.

Looks like I'll be driving illegally for 3 hours to a strange city that is twice as dangerous as the one we're in today.

Looks like I'll be stranded on an island with none of my friends here to support me, and a bunch of people back home who won't even know the hell I'm going through, because they've dumped me emotionally, hiding my every word from Facebook.

Looks like I'll be living with an active drunk, hoping I don't become a victim of his alcoholism.

Looks like I'll be brainstorming ways to survive with 8 animals, living without support, and a person who will be drunk every day.

Looks like I'll be worrying about my spouse being beaten by locals as he goes out drinking with strangers who will take advantage of him when he's hammered.

Looks like our lives as we know it changed as of yesterday and I'm terrified of my future.

I've had thoughts that when it gets to be too difficult, there are options.  Some that are not a good idea to share here, lest I scare my readers and people who love me.

I got some footage of him passed out on the couch at around 6 a.m.

Food uneaten, dogs picking at the carcass of the remains, hopping all over him, fighting over the food.

He just lied there, completely unaware that they were even in his space, then finally tried swatting them away when The Donkey used his chest to lunge toward the littlest ones in defence of the piece he got first.

Mi esposo opened his blurry eyes, looked at me filming him, then handed me the dirty plate like I was his maid.

No, I'm not your maid, I'm not your keeper, and I'm not your drinking partner.

I am not supporting this.

I want the clean 'n sober life I built for 14 years.

I want the sober person I married to be back, but something tells me, life changes today.

Something tells me my life just got a hell of a lot more difficult.

I feel so alone I can't even tell you.

If I thought I had trouble with The Guard and the Housemaid and every other issue we've had here, I was wrong.

I feel hopeless.

i may not understand the good in this situation yet, but it is there

 (if you'd like to enjoy a happier day, you can watch our latest YouTube Show)

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

i was his hero.

It's that busy time of year, where people aren't relaxed enough to be civil.

While everyone is out freaking about the 'best' gift to buy their child to prove to the kid they're loved, Papi and I have other plans.

The Countdown.  27 days.

Personally, I'm doing a little bit of research to try to find musicians and film companies, but Papi?  He's making plans for his pool.

People say, "Why do you need a pool when you're on the ocean?!?"  Well, Papi wants a nice cool place to jump in without the hassle of seaweed and salty skin.

So, he contacted a company and they say they can have that thing built in 2 weeks!!!  2 weeks man!!!

I guess this means that when we get there, within 2 weeks we'll have a super duper splendid poolside relaxing area.

I don't mind the fact that my love wants to build me a hot tub as well.

That will shut my bitch of a back up in a hurry!  Pain be gone, or at least lessened.

It really is paradise found, and we are so, so grateful that we can have this little haven of a better life, unlike here in the city.

27 more days of living in Our Closet and noisy neighbours, cranky stress-mobiles and drunken knobs strolling the streets yelling.

Last night, as Papi and I were trying to relax and have a quiet hang out, the floor was shaking from music.  It was the same noise that woke me the night before at 3:30 a.m.

We were trying to find out where it was coming from, but couldn't pinpoint it.  It was more than a little nerve racking.

Papi was wandering around outside like a madman, and I was strolling the halls.

Initially, we thought it was a band in the house behind us.  I've been invited to their 'kegger' before.

Yeah.  Thanks, but no thanks.  I'm still enjoying my sobriety, and the hangovers I get from the pills are enough.  I don't need to add alcohol to the mix.

Anyway, we couldn't find the source.  Anywhere.

Until I realized that meant it was coming from beneath us.

We deduced that our sweet neighbours must have received a new stereo system.

Papi was my hero in the past, and now he asked me to be his, or he'd start popping the clonazepam because he couldn't handle the thumping anymore.  He was going to pop.

Down I went in my very fancy winter pj's, with nasty tacky slippers to hit home that I was definitely in for the night and ready to sleep.

I knocked.

No answer.

I knocked again.

My sweet neighbour answered and when she opened the door, it really didn't sound like the noise could be coming from her suite!!

I asked, "Hey, SO sorry to bother you," big smile, trying to seem as nice as possible, "but did you happen to get a new stereo system?" as meekly as possible not to seem like the worst bad neighbour ever.

"Um, yeah," she said as her face looked like she was not going to enjoy what I said next.

"Ah, well, it's sorta making our floor shake, the bass is a little loud."

"Oh, ok, I'll turn off the sub-woofer."

I was so grateful they were respectful, yet felt so bad for ruining their fun.

But seriously.  A sub-woofer in an apartment suite?  What's the fucking point?  You could never have that baby up loud enough to enjoy it's full potential!!

Dudes, you need to go get your own Casa Paraíso.  You can turn it up real loud there.

Your neighbours will not be disturbed.

They're going to be too busy listening to the sound of the waves.

27 more days of inter-city dwelling.

i am surrounded by good, respectful, loving people

Ah! The Joys of S.A.D.

For some of us, December is a dire month for our emotions.  It seems the demons trap us during this time.

For some of us, the only exposure to the outside world is to merely peek through the curtains with one eye, in hopes that the world doesn't spot us.

We hide, we suffer, we count the days until it's over.  I see those who join me with this ailment are already experiencing the re-surfacing of their yearly torture.

This year, I'm making a difference for myself.  Maybe, if you suffer with this, you'll want to join me?

We've already had a Hurricane Andréa sighting, but it wasn't an Xmas Meltdown.  Still, while I'm feeling back up from my fall, I'm ready to fight my Pit of Doom off with all my might.

I'm going to do my very best to create a stronger dark season for myself.  Here's how I'm going to do it:

I'm staying off the processed sugar.

I'm drinking enough, or maybe more, water.

But hey, I'm no angel.  I'm having my one cup of coffee per day dammit!

I'm staying on my food plan of only a cup of grains per day, and at most a slice of wheat free toast and a handful of rice crackers.

However, I'm having my bag of popcorn while I watch Dexter with Papi.  That's a given rule.

I'm keeping my blood hearty with a little more protein than usual, but also keeping my blood clean.  I intend on sweating once a day.

Our blood is what feeds our minds.  It needs to pump ferociously to wash out the negativity we so wish to purge.

I'm keeping my veggie intake to MUCHO!  Minus those delicious little carrots and potatoes.  They should really be under the 'carb' list.

I'm keeping my fruit intake down to one serving per day.

This does include those lovely li'l Mandarin oranges.  I normally gorge on them every December, to ward of the envy of everyone else eating all the masses of sugary, carbed treats that seem to inundate our lives during this time.

Of course, being clean 'n sober, I have a one up on the demons as well.  If you're suffering, perhaps this is the month to try out what it's like to live in sobriety?

I have only one mission in mind this dark season; Peace and tranquility.  I don't want to hide and fret about the pain of ghosts past.  I already did that last week.

The most horrid part about falling is it allows the Anorexia Monster to start whispering in my ear as well.  Seriously!  Fuck off with that!!  I'm sick of looking in the mirror only to see hell!

Something I learned from my emotional fall was quite nurturing.  I've never been protected.  I've always felt alone in this world.

I've felt that all battles must be overcome by me, myself and I.  My Gemini battle.

I have my protector to see me through until I can protect myself: Papi, my fearless lion.

I also learned I've closed my heart to a lot of the world, keeping it only concealed by ribs and muscles.

Flesh and bones can only safeguard for so long, until something evil burrows it's way in and poisons my blood once more.

Even though, as I write this I feel the breath of P.T.S.D. stalking me, I know I'm strong enough to allow my heart to be open.  I allow myself to experience the fear, pain and all other negative feelings I've avoided for so many years, along with the joy, love and strength along with it.

I didn't realize that if I'm closing my heart off to the bad, I'm also closing it off to the good.  I don't want to do this anymore.

It seems, that when I've kept my heart closed, the only feelings that got to my soul were the painful ones, because evil is like a weed that has its tendrils wrapped around my veins.

I closed myself off to the good that can fight this intruder.  Good prevails!  Good fights bad always!

My heart is ripped wide open right now.  It's a big gaping wound that has to be healed by love, and I'm the one capable of healing it.

I want to feel my spirituality.  I want to live in the existence of joy.  I want that feeling of magic in life.  I've had it many, many years ago, and it's time to bring it back.

I am ready.  I am now open to life, good and bad.

It's starts now.

i choose to exercise regularly

no lectures. please.

I can dream can't I?

I can dream that one day, one FINE day, they'll make a wheat free bread option that isn't so dense, that Papi will actually eat it.

I'm fine with it, but then when I was a drinker, I used to drink thick beer.  Mind you, I would drink any beer, or wine, or hard stuff all in one shot.

Whatever you had to offer, I was in.  And yes, I'm still grateful I'm clean 'n sober.

Wait!  I got off track and it wasn't even about my hair!

Anyway, off I went to the bakery, to look for wheat free bread for myself.  Not for Papi.  My dream hasn't come true for him yet.

I got to the yellow and brown sign, and in I went to look for my kamut bread.

The young lady tried to tell me, "I don't think we make that here."  I was positive they did and that maybe she was nippin' at a few brew herself.

I let it go eventually, and went to the front to see what kind of wheat free, dairy free, processed sugar free, quick goodies they had to offer.

... today i found out she was right ... it was from a totally different bakery with the same damn colours! way to fool the brain injured femme bitches!  aaarrrggghhh!!!  get your own damn colours for chrissakes! ... end rant ...

When she heard 'dairy free', off she went on a vegan tangent about how cows should really only be giving milk to their babies.

I had a flashback of another vegan friend who gave me the same lecture, back when I was putting cream and honey in my coffee.

That of course was back when I was clueless as to why I kept getting sinus infections.  I soon found out that it was the dairy.  It was a sad day when I had to let go of my Havarti cheese.

G*d, I'm really out to lunch on this staying on track thing today!

Ok.  Back on track.

So, the old vegan friend told me that milk was for the cows' babies and honey was not for our consumption.

Yeah?

So then, try telling the birds in the park that our cars are meant for driving, and not for using to their advantage.

You know?  They fly up with a clam shell, then drop it on the road as the cars drive by, in hopes that our cars will crush the shell and they can get to the goodies!

As much as I can't have dairy because of allergies, I really don't appreciate being lectured to about veganism.

I appreciate that vegans can be vegans.  If I could, honestly, I would.

However, my food allergies don't allow me the pretend meats, turkeys and chickens vegans can consume, because they're made with wheat.  My sugar imbalances don't allow me to chow down on grains (aka: carbs) all day long.  I'm only permitted a cup a day, or I'll be passing out all over the place.

I was vegetarian for 13 years and I was always sickly.  Not to mention, because of the fact that I was anorexic at a younger age, I was delayed in the muscular growth I needed to build muscles around my knees to hold my knee caps in place.

I tried every vegetarian, food combination option I could, but nothing was going to build my muscles until I ate the meat.

As soon as I started to eat meat, my physio, doctor and boxing trainer all jumped up for joy!  I would finally get the right foods for me into my body.

Next, every single person I knew started to tell me I was looking so healthy!  I couldn't tell them I started to eat meat, because I was so embarrassed that I had let go of my vegetarianism.  I was so humiliated that all my politics of eating had to be ignored.

Of course, to be fair to myself, I now only eat meats that are properly treated when they're alive.  No cooped up chickens, or animals who have been shot up with every hormone and antibiotic known to us.  Not to mention, eating foods they should never be eating, just to give us foods that feel good for our spoiled rotten taste buds.

My body needs proper protein, or I'll get anemic, and my body won't function properly.  Especially now that I'm still bloody well healing from that fucking motorcycle accident 4 years ago.

So, I don't need some snotty little brat to make me feel guilty about eating the foods I need to be healthy here on planet earth.

It's survival of the fittest bitches!

Now, pass me the organic, grain fed steak, with a side of wheat free toast.

i think before i eat

oops!

As a non-drinker, I sometimes wonder what those yummy fruity little drinks taste like that the all inclusive drunks are frantically gulping down poolside.

I'm not so jealous about of after effect.

In example, the foul creep who thought that horking up loogies on the concrete in front of us was kosher.

It's not.  Take it to the can, man!  Or at least the fucking bushes!  No matter how much we gave him the stink eye, he kept going.

It was hard to tell if he is always so disgusting, or if it was the alcohol bringing out the worst in him.

Regardless, he was revolting and I vowed to never walk barefoot in that area again.

All the bartenders and servers are confused with me, as I only drink water.  It's too hard to explain about my food plan and that sugar is the devil when it's in my blood.

How would I explain Hurricane Andréa to them in Spanish?  So, I just say I like it, and it's good, even if it's not.

I seriously can't wait to get back to my ionized water, so clean and tasty.  I'm not a fan of bottled water for many, many reasons, but I really, I have no choice in the matter.

I don't need another round of Montezuma's Revenge, which I'm sure came from the ice that was in one of the bevies I caved in and drank, then spent the day in agony.

Anyway, the day before I had an experience that a clean 'n sober person really doesn't want to have.

This hasn't happened to me since the first year of my sobriety, as I'm usually more careful than this.

You see, Papi always has fruity drinks and pop galore surrounding him.  He tends to look like the rest of the yahoos drinking it up, coming back to their chairs, double fisting their bevvies, only his are booze free.

Beside him sat 2 fruity drinks and one cola, and for some reason, I thought, I really, really, really, really want a sip of that sugary sweet stuff.  I really really, really, really, really do.

I'm sooooo thirsty!!!!!

So, I decided to take a sip of Papi's drink that was beside him.  I announced, "I'm going to take a drink of this bad boy."

Papi tried to wave saying, "No!"

I just figured it was because it had been sitting there all day and was skanky, and he didn't want me to drink stale liquid.  That his pretty li'l femme deserves a better tasting specimen than that. 

However, the moment that crap got into my mouth, I knew it wasn't right.

Then it hit me.  The reason my love was trying to wave it away from me was because it wasn't his.

It tasted like it had decayed fruit that may have been sitting in the sun for a week before it went in my mouth.

It was the people's that were there before us, and it was filled with alcohol.  Now, not only do I have someone else's cooties, but I had a gulp of booze.

A lot of normie drinking people may think, "Hey it's a drinking freebie!"

Nope.  Not having drank for 13.5 years, alcohol tastes awful.  It truly does taste like it's spoiled.

Kinda like the chunky Egg Nog I drank straight from the carton when I was a kid.  I never drank Egg Nog again.

As for the dastardly drink I sipped the other day, I can't even tell you how rancid it tasted.

I could smell it coming from my throat through my nose.

I tried to drink some pop to help wash away the aroma, but it didn't help.  I suffered with that rank stench for a good 30 minutes.

How the hell did I find that pleasing all those years I abused it?!?!

Oh yeah.  It's not about the flavour.  It was the effect of the alcohol I was after.  I wanted to be as blasted as possible when I was abusing booze.

Now?  I don't ever want that reek in my sinus cavity again. 

I'm sticking to bottled water.

i love nutritious, healthy food, and i enjoy eating fresh fruit and vegetables

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

an anonymous encounter

At the very least, The Mrs. forgives me.

I was told I was feeling too guilty about the whole Papi relapse debacle, and that I was doing the right thing.

I know I am, but it's hard not to be with my love, especially when we had such a wonderful day yesterday.

It was really nothing out of the ordinary, as we saw the G'ma and answered the same questions she asked when I saw her last week.  We went to the house and I apologized to our Fuzzy Family and gave them as much love as I could for that short period of time.

We had such a nice time just talking about 'nothing' in particular.  It felt like I'd never been gone.  It also felt like this 2nd week will be the hardest. 

Papi, being the person cleaning up his act, feels it's kinda silly that I'm staying away for another week, because he's dedicated to staying clean 'n sober.  I now believe and trust this to be the truth.  I honestly just felt like staying with him last night, but Java the Mutt was relying upon me.

I don't even know where the 2 weeks 'rule' came into play.  It really was just a thought that I had while there was more snot and tears on my face than skin.

However, there is a reason, and I don't even know why.

I have some strange alternate sense that I don't even understand.  It doesn't matter if I don't understand, because I trust my intuition, even if others don't.

At the end of our day together, I didn't want to leave mi esposo, so I decided to join him at a late night meeting.

You know that meeting?

The one we're never supposed to talk about, because it's anonymous and is full of drunks who may, or may not, be sober.

Yeah, that meeting.

For my own sanity, I had to stop going to their convergence 8 years ago.  Their idea of non-denominational membership was not the same as mine, and I'd always leave feeling empty, because I didn't believe in 'their god'.  All it did for me was make me want to give up on happiness and drink.

Well, last night, guess what the topic was?

Yup.  God.

... for fucks sakes people ...

And guess who was the first person asked to share?

Yup, me.  Can you guess what I said?  I'll put it in a nutshell.

"I had to step away from these rooms, because they're supposed to be non-denominational, but somewhere along the lines, this became a Catholic church.  I'm still looking for that atheist meeting that actually follows the tradition about non-denominational fellowship.  I still need to be around sober people, because honestly, when my spouse was drinking in the beginning, I thought that if he could drink, maybe I could too.  I'm grateful he relapsed into a bottom to remind me that I too, am not able to drink normally."

Oh, I went on and on with more of my non-god talk and that's when people left the room.

I'll never be asked to share at that meeting again, I can promise you that.

The rest of the meeting was spent listening to everyone who did stay trying to convince me of the 'miracles of god', and I overtly rolled my eyes the whole fucking time.

Until 'god' gives me a phone call to tell me he exists, there's nothing that little books written by humans, and 'ideas of proof' can tell me to make me believe in some dude in the sky with unruly, unshaven hair, Birkenstocks and a toga.

They wonder why people won't go to their meetings.  They wonder why people would rather die out on the streets than get the help that they so desperately need.  People are dying because the zealots can't respect the tradition of the program being non-denominational.

The zealots took over and royally fucked it up for the rest of us.

The good news is, I did find some words about sobriety that were good for me to hear, and I took those words and left the rest of that fucking bullshit there.

I may go back, because I have less anger about their podium gospel since I left 8 years ago and tackled my sobriety on my own.

I'm still sober, without your fucking belief system, which is more than I can say about a fuck of a lot of people there who think that memorizing a book is the only way.

End rant.

i have abundant faith in my ability to succeed

rolling with it ...

It really is the worst possible time for this 2 week sabbatical.

Papi and I are both feeling it, but most importantly, we're still moving through it.

My love has been working hard at his end of the deal, and so have I.

It's really not easy.

I have seen mi esposo a few times, where we can.

Yesterday he did his chauffeur job and drove me to an appointment after I got to the Vancouver side of the Burrard Inlet.

Even if it was for those 20 minutes of getting a ride with my love, it was worth it just to see him.

The hardest part is when I have to leave, knowing that I don't get to sleep in our bed.

"Can you drive me to the SeaBus now, Papi?" is the hardest question to ask.

I just want to be with him.

I don't want to be somewhere else, even if I do have the coolest temporary roommate, Java the Mutt, not to mention, my Eternal Friend whom I'm grateful I'm able to spend a little time with.

It is wonderful to get to get to have this quality time with my Eternal Friend whom I've known since elementary school.

It's like a little holiday with her gorgeous North Van condo, complete with soaking tub and bubbles!

At the same time I'm making the best of this situation, it's still difficult to have to live out of a suitcase.

However, I would rather that than to live with an active alcoholic.

It's important for me to know that I can live away from him, in the off chance his addiction could one day convince him that the bottle is more enticing than a life with your love and your soul mate.

I have to do this to know that I'm still able to have a sober, drama free life, even if the addict/alcoholic is abusing their drug of choice.

I have to do this so I'm safe.

Papi now has 5 days clean and sober.

Every day he works on his part, is a day I'm closer to going home.

A day closer to getting back to my Fuzzy Family who are currently not speaking to me.

Yeah, they're pissed.

They're not impressed that I've 'abandoned' them.

I'm sure they'll get over it when I get home.

We all will.

'I just want my life back to how it was,' is just a myth.

Everything is changing.

There is no 'how it was'.

Ever.

If we try to stay with 'how it was', we'll be sorrily surprised when life gives us the gears.

If we don't roll with it, we'll remain the victim.

So, I'm rolling.

Even with all the rocks and roots that jab me as my little muscles careen down that hill, I endure bump after bump.

I roll.

It's better than being in the Pit of Doom

Honestly, I'm cool with rolling, as long as I'm not being kicked when I'm down, and so far, everyone has left their hen pecking, shit-kicking Daytons at home.

Instead, I'm feeling so much love, support and hope.

i discover new aspects of my self-confidence daily

2 weeks.

My eyes have gone down a bit.

I finally stopped turbo crying when I had an actual telephone conversation with Papi.  It was good for me to let him know in voice what my terms of condition are.

1. I will go home when he's 2 weeks clean and sober and not a day sooner.

2. I will not live with an active addict or alcoholic, not even for mi esposo. 

3. I love him

Still, the love of my life is not exempt from these conditions and I will never live with that bullshit again.

I've done it too many times in my struggling life, and this is not the way my life with my love was supposed to be.

He has made his mind up about being clean 'n sober, because he had such a bad experience the other day, and doesn't want to have that life of crying on a curb in the streets of the DTES.

One of his messages said, "I feel like an addict again."

It's the lies coming from alcohol if you think you can control it.

Of course you can!

Until it gets it's grasp on your meaty tendrils and then you're alllllll his.  That's when nothing matters more than another drink.

The wife you love so much doesn't matter, even if she's crying at home alone, begging you to take a cab and come home, because the drink has a hold on you.

No, you won't take that cab.

No, you won't come home.

I know this.

I've lived this.

Both from my end and from the end of the person who has loved me, yet left my heart dangling in agony, because their addiction had a hold of them and I no longer mattered.

There is nothing harder than watching someone you love kill themselves in front of your eyes, and having to leave love because of it.

Nothing.

There is no grieving like it, because you don't get closure when they're still breathing.  There's nothing you can do to save them, you can only save yourself, and watch them bob in your wake.

I have a lovely friend who has given me her home for a few weeks, while I watch mi esposo get better day by day.

I've never really believed in prayer, but I feel like it's what I'm doing now.

I pray my love makes himself better so I can go back to my beautiful marriage.

I pray I have the strength to believe that our lives together will be ok.

I pray the tears I cry as I write this will dissipate after I've written it all out and can go find coffee.

I pray for the dreams we have mustered to come to reality.

I pray for Papi.

I am grateful he sees the brutality of addiction so quickly.  

Most people have to go a little further to find it, and sometimes, that little further is too much to be able to see the crumbs to follow back home.

I miss him so much. 

I haven't seen him since I left for Seattle on Friday at 8:45 a.m.

I have a beautiful friend who has forced me to eat berries.

It was a good choice.  They're an addiction that is good for you.

I am grateful for these berries, the outpouring of friendship, support and love we have both received during this, and the optimism that I will be able to go home and have my marriage.

I would be very grateful if I had my lovely coffee.

And my Fuzzy Family.

And my life with Papi back to normal.

i have faith in my future

i'm dying inside.

Remember all those mornings I would wake up with swollen eyes?

They would look like they were used as a punching bag while I was too busy crying to notice anyone beating the shit out of them.

I have them today.

Right now, my demons have a hold of me and are eagerly dragging me further into the rancid Pit of Doom.

I was supposed to be home, not in the Pit of Doom, but there's a small problem.

I won't go into massive details right now, but let's just say I won't live with drama that I never asked for.

I'm sleeping in someone else's bed, when I should have been sleeping in my own with my loving spouse while we celebrate the sale of the home, and our next adventure.

I thought I lost my phone, but at least, the very least, I found it in my friend's car as I did my usual, "Hey!  Why don't we leave it on the front seat?" game, and it wasn't stolen!

I guess I can say I'm grateful for that.

However, I excitedly looked to see a message from Papi, but there was nothing.

I left a message saying how much I love him, but that would not make sense to someone when at the same time, I left my home.

It's not really my home anyway.

I came home to The Yank having lived in our room for a few days, and it no longer looked like our room.

I came home to a 'Sold!' sign on our front lawn.

I came home to my spouse relapsing.

Besides, it's no longer my home anyway, and when Papi and I have a chance to deal with the current stressful situation, it still won't be my home.

So, I'm just getting a head start on not having a home, by sleeping in my friend's bed until the drama has ceased.

I don't ask for drama.

I ask for peace.

I ask for love.

I ask for the best life possible.

I ask for happiness.

I ask for gratitude.

Crying alone in fear for my spouse's safety is not the best life possible, is not happy times, is not something I'm grateful for, nor is it peaceful.

At least there is still love.

And yet, here I sit, crying so violently, that I can only wish each tear was one step closer to death.

If tears could kill, today I would wish for them to do so.

I suppose that Beatles song is right.  Love is all you need.

I'm being ripped and torn inside because I love so much.

I'm on an endless loop of tear after tear because my love for Papi is so deep, I could feel our connecting dissipate while I was away for the weekend.

I didn't get my usual texts of love, because Papi had a distraction.

A down and dirty, nasty distraction that will stray even the most loving hearts away.

I was chosen second over this demonic liquid.

This evil poison that will whisper in his ear, "You can drink socially!  You're fine now!"

From the phone messages I received last night, he is not a social drinker.

Every sip he poured into his mouth is a tear that is rolling down my face today.

I'm broken.

There are no kings men or horses to put me back together again.

There is only one person who can do that.

i have a wonderful spouse and we are both happy and at peace.

You get what you need.

There has been so much stress around The Great DR Purge, but at the same time, there have been amazing moments of looking at the past, and where I've come.

Good.

Bad.

Sad.

Realllllllly ugly.

It doesn't really matter, it's all my past and it's mine.

I found 4 pages containing, "If I Could Be, Do and Have Everything I Wanted" that I was instructed to write out when I first got clean 'n sober in '99.

We all know life doesn't always give us what we want, but damn!  I got a few things on that list.

Work/Career:  Ok, I'm not a famous rock star, but I'm at least able to compose.

Income:  Nope.  Not making that $6,000 a month from performing and royalties, but I'm financially well enough to eat and have a home.

Lifestyle/Possessions:  I got that motorcycle I wanted, only it almost killed me.  Unfortunately, there was no side car, because my Dearly Departed Gypsy left the planet before I could get her a side car with a fancy helmet that fits dogs.

Relationship:  OK!!!!  I got one of them!!  Well, sorta.  I wanted to be with a sober woman who has all the qualities I ever wanted and we would dote upon each other with love and honesty. 

Got it!  Umm ... however, it's in the form of an F-M.  That one cracks me up.  I guess I've come a long way if I can say that cracked me up, no?

Creative Self-Expression:  Well, it's sorta true.  I do work with many musicians, and I do have a cult following, albeit not as big as I aimed for in my wishes.

Leisure Activities:   Nada.  I had to give up boxing a long time ago.  Yes, I boxed.  Quit laughing.

Personal Growth:  Ok, kinda.  I do still go to counseling, but nope.  I've still not learned how to meditate.

Education:  This one is awesome.  I thought I'd be a personal student to Deepak Chopra.  I suppose anything can still happen in this life.  Maybe I need to give him a call.

I also thought I'd be living in 2 homes.  One here and one in Hollywood.

Ok.  The home I wanted here was in Point Grey.  Can you believe that's where I'm living?

There's nothing on there about moving to paradise in the Dominican Republic.

I guess my point of all this, is I strongly encourage you to write out your dreams and passions.

Put them on paper!  Then put them away for a long, long time.

Later on, bring them out and take a peek.

It's amazing.

It was truly sad sometimes, reading about all the goals I had that I'll never attain now that I have a different mind and body, but what I can say, is my life is amazing.

It's beautiful.

I could never have envisioned my life changing experience of nearly dying to bring me all I ever needed.

I didn't know what I needed.

Oh, but I knew what I wanted.

Sometimes, we need to look back and see that our lives have become a completely different scenario than we expected, but expectations are ridiculous.

Expectations are meant to be screwed up.

That's the rule of life.

The secret to life, is wanting what you have.

When I read my '99 hopes and dreams, and look at where I am now, I can honestly say, I have found happiness in my life that I never imagined.

Happiness amongst life's terms.

'you can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find you get what you need' ~ The Rolling Stones

what IS that?!?!

So, I went to a bridal shower.  You know, stagette?

The groom to be was out eating steak while got his bride hammered.

Thing is, I don't drink, so I had to give all my drinks to the bride!

Only fair, no?

We played a drinking game where we had to answer a card with all the disgraceful things we've done in the past.

Of course, I'd done 19 out of the 20 things, so the dear bride was getting in a lot of drinks for me.

Funniest part was, the reason I had done all those things was because I was always drunk.

Anyway.

We also got these awesome little goodie bags filled with candy.

I can't eat the candy, but I got some interesting gifts in the bag.

I got a pirate puzzle!

Too funny, eh?

But there's another one.

This.

What the hell is this?

Look, it has a spot for some dudette to ride in front.

Then there's this little 'spine' thing that moves when you rub underneath.

Here's how far the 'spine' thing moves:

Kinda pointless, no?

Then from the rear, it sorta looks like a truck.

So, seriously, what the fuck is this thing?

It's beyond words.

No clue.

If you can tell me exactly what it is, I'll mail it to ya.

Oh.

I also got a camel.

Look at the gems you get from a stagette!

life brings many surprises

just for today ...

As I sit in this little coffee shop in the downtown core and people watch, I can't help but think about 2 days ago.

First thing in the morning, sometimes even before my 'wake up and run to the washroom' tinkle, I have to take care of the old bird upstairs.

Really, it's so I don't forget.

I walk my zombie self, complete with watery eyes and bad breath, to do the routine before I eagerly get back down the stairs to make my coffee.

The other day, one of the first things G'ma said was, "Do you know what today is?"

I answered, "Wednesday."  That wasn't what she meant.  I thought she forgot the day, which both of us tend to do as we foolishly check for the mail or newspaper on a Sunday.

Anyway, she told me what the day is.  "I was married 70 years ago today."

My heart broke, melted and rejoiced all at the same time.

"Happy anniversary!" I quickly chirped.

She didn't think it was a happy anniversary.  Her husband died a few years ago.

It saddened me that this was how she saw her day only as sadness and grief.  I asked her, "Do you think you could remember the happy memories to celebrate your day?"

We all do it.  You know what I mean?  We look at loss as our focal point.

But what about the good?  What about all the beautiful memories to remember?  Why don't we just bask in the glory of how much love we had, and celebrate it?

We are way too human for that.

Just like when an animal loses a limb, they don't worry about what the general population of fuzzy friends will think.  No, they say to themselves, "Ok.  Now I have 3 legs," then learn how to walk properly and carry on with life.

Not us humans.  We feel loss in a different way.  We're very emotionally intricate.

We also care too much about what others will think of us when we have a disability.

When I was first out of the house after my accident, people would give me looks of disgust, because they thought I was drunk.

I looked pretty drunk.  I couldn't walk alone with my cane.  I needed help.  That or a wheelchair.

But it really affected me that people would judge me so harshly after all I'd been through.

Especially because of the fact that I was clean and sober!!

However, such is our human nature.

Back to chatting about G'ma.

... but it's all about me isn't it?!!?!?!? ...

She put her whole life into her husband.  They did that in her generation.

I've heard about the G'pa.  I never got to meet him, but apparently, I would have really liked him because he was cheeky.  I wish I met him.

Regardless, nice and/or cheeky as he was, G'ma followed him to wherever he went, whatever he wanted to do and his friends became her circle.

I hope to hell that I continue to have an independent life while being coupled with my love.

I know that a lot of my life has been meshed with Papi, which is just beautiful, but I really hope that when I'm old and grey, if mi esposo leaves this planet before me, that I will still be grateful for my memories.

I hope that I will still continue to do things that I enjoy, and do them knowing that my love's spirit is always with me.

Or, I hope that I go first.

Nobody wants to be the one left behind in love.

Ah, but there I go.  Thinking about the future again.

That's human nature as well.

Right now, I'm going to enjoy the fact that I have the greatest love, and that soul mate is a part of my life.

don't dwell on the past or worry about the future for too long.  right now is life.  live it!!

addiction, you're a fucker.

I am so fucking grateful to be sober, and I'm only lucky to be so.

I've lost friends over the past few years to alcohol.  They haven't died yet.  I've simply had to let them go.

I've suffered the repercussions of others drinking, by being betrayed by them stealing from me, or worse, putting my faith in one who I trusted with my family members, only to find they were snap drunk the whole time, and broke my trust.

I've had friends ask for help, but I know I can't help them.

It's up to each and every one of us to see that our lives are worth living, and that addiction is not worth our pain.

No matter how much you drink, your problems will never go away.  Ok, that's not completely true.  If you die, your problems are gone, but then so are you.

Let me tell you, the pain doesn't go away from being sober either.  Life is just plain hard.

It's mother fucking hard!

Anyone who's life isn't hard, is only lucky that they have such a life, and it's rare.

And fuck am I ever envious of you!

However, your path is different than mine.  You may not learn from mistakes because you're not making any.   Who knows, maybe it'll kick you in the ass later on, but that's not my problem.

My problem is loving people who are currently addicted.  My heart breaks, and I get frustrated and/or scared.

I spent the evening celebrating a friend's birthday by being brutally honest about her heading down the slope at such an increasing speed that I'm afraid, and I can't just sit and watch it happen.  I can't enable.  I have to be honest, because it scares the fuck out of me.

When I get scared, I get short fused.

When I get short fused, I speak before thinking.

When I speak before thinking, I hurt people.

I apologized this morning, but it still doesn't mean that my behaviour needs to be forgiven by her.  I'm the only one that needs to forgive myself, because ultimately, I'm the one I answer to in the evening.

It was her birthday dammit! Still, I couldn't just let her get away with celebrating her day without responding to her statement, "I'm so stressed out, I need a drink," with the question, "What is a drink going to do for you to fix your problem?"

She couldn't answer the question.  She only focused on rationalization, because she wanted the drink.

Earlier on in the day, someone very special to me had said, "I don't want to quit drinking because I love it."

I told them, "Well, it doesn't love you!"  No, that demon's nectar is currently on a mission to kill one of the most important people in my life.  They've been told time is almost up and it's serious.

I'm being handed challenges in every corner of my world, with people who are struggling with their addiction.

I suppose my next task in this is to be able to just allow people I care about to have their addiction, and to let them go with love.

I let so many people go who are addicted, but I haven't always done it with love.

No, I simply throw my hands in the air, roll my eyes and walk away, or rather, run as fast as I can.

Only this time, I can't.  I'm being forced to see it in people I love so much, and someway, somehow, I have to allow it to happen around me, even if the results are devastating to my heart.

Maybe it's time to visit my good friend Al-Anon to deal with it all around me.  They just better not be throwing around the 'god' crap, or my visit will be short lived.

Anyway, this is an open apology to anyone who is currently struggling:  I'm sorry that I don't know how to handle your addiction.  I'm sorry that I'm horribly afraid for you, and that I am blunt about it.

This is also my opportunity to say that if I didn't care, I wouldn't be upset about it.

I care.  Maybe a bit too much.

i will not be afraid to move out of my comfort zone.  some of my best life experiences and opportunities will transpire, only if i dare to lose.

my sobriety day

Yesterday was my sobriety date.  Only problem is, I forgot.

However, I was given the opportunity to remember.

His name is Danny.

As I limped with my cane, slowly to the front of the store, I was greeted by a smiling man who was panhandling.  I've seen him outside that door before.

I've said 'hi' in the past, when I've been a little more able bodied as I passed, but yesterday, he chose to engage in a conversation.

"Hi!  You look like you're in a lot of pain," he said as he came to help me with the door.

"Yeah, it's not my best day that's for sure," I confirmed.

"I hope you feel better soon.  I'm sorry you hurt so much."

I felt like hugging him, so instead I did it with energy and had a conversation with him, regardless of how much it hurt just to stand.  Crazy part is, I actually forgot about my pain for a moment.

He was excited to tell me that we had something in common.  "I had braces too, you know!"  I smiled a great big smile as he told me this.  My smile ended when he continued, "But all my teeth got knocked out so it doesn't matter anymore."

He opened up to me about his addiction.  "I don't normally tell people this, but for some reason, I felt like I was supposed to tell you."

He was supposed to tell me.

He was supposed to tell me, to remind me that this was my day for celebration.

I told him that it happened to be my sobriety day, and that I am 13 years sober.

I told him that I am an alcoholic, who has found peace.

I told him that I have a chemical imbalance that goes for a ride when I put that liquid devil to my mouth.

I told him that I struggled with drug addiction and we bonded about the drugs that were my drug of choice, which happened to be his as well.

I told him that Papi, too, was living a good life without his choice of drugs and alcohol.

He hung his head, "It's just been so long that I've been using and I can barely remember any of my life."

I assured him, "That's really ok!  Do you need to remember pain?  There's always time to make new, positive memories that you will remember."

He recognized that I needed to get going.  The pain was increasing with every minute I stood.  After we exchanged names, I placed my loving hand on his shoulder and left him with words of friendship.  "Danny, I wish for peace for you in your life.  Whatever that means to you, I wish for you to find it."

I went down to my favourite wheat free muffin stop, and put my pain killers in my soy latte.

When I left, feeling a little relief from the pain killers, I bought him my very favourite muffin and hobbled back up, hoping he'd still be there.

He was!

"I brought you a gift," I told him.  "All I ask in return is that while you're enjoying my absolute favourite muffin that you tell yourself, 'I am at peace'."  All I want is for him to plant the seed.

We spoke more about the fact that he knows what he needs to do, while he made sure I got to my bus stop.  He wanted to be sure I got there, because to him, I was in worse shape than he, so he was my attendant to get me to safety.

While we walked, we spoke about how he knows that the only person who can help him is himself.  I just reaffirmed that all I want for him is to be well.

He looked into my eyes and said, "You have the bluest eyes I've ever seen."  Funny part was, so did he, and I told him so.

For a moment, I realized that it was completely possible that this person with the same eye colour could very well be the brother I've never known about all my life.

Stranger things have happened and addiction runs in the family.

He looked to be the right age, mind you being an active addict, he could be younger.  The facade of age comes when we destroy our bodies and minds with that rotting poison.

But you never, ever know who that person is standing in front of you.  We are all connected.

Danny was put in my path to remind me of why I'm grateful to be sober 13 years.

if i make mistakes, i am able to give myself the benefit of the doubt

Are you happy?

Yesterday, I had quite the day at the building of teeth.

I tripped through the whole bloody concrete tower with my old lady cart.

First, the orthodontist to take out my wires and elastic chain for the dentist.

Next, the dentist to put my crown back on that fell off during my last visit to the orthodontist.

Then up to the surgeon.  This was fun.  Brain injury looked at the floor in my contacts list about twenty times and couldn't figure out which floor to get off at, so I just bounced from floor to floor until I recognized the door.  So, then I had my surgery check up and he showed me my exercises for opening my mouth more.  OUCH.

After that I went back to the orthodontist to get my 2 back brackets put back on, my little hookie thing that holds one of the three elastics I have to wear, and then my elastic chains and wire were put back in.

I fucking hurt. 

I woke up with huge chipmunk cheeks.

I do not feel pretty.

I'm bitchy.

Hurricane Andréa is kicking up a storm and I don't feel like writing anything today.

However, I am going to therapy again today.  Let's see what she pulls out, shall we?

Doesn't feel like it's going to be the best day for me to stay positive.  Today will be work.

When I wake up in pain in both my mouth and my bitch of a back, I know there's going to be a Pain Med Party later on.

Yesterday I didn't need to take any pain killers.  I'll make up for it today.

Right now, I'm just trying to get through my coffee and eggs without screaming.

At anybody.

At anything.

Anyway, enough whining.

I have to go get ready for my 'short bus'.

Then it's off to talk about all the nasty things I've had to deal with in life.

It fucking sucks that we have a bad thing happen, then it's up to us to barf out the demons later.

I hate puking.

I don't want to deal with all this shit.

I was perfectly happy ignoring it and looking to the future, not the past.

However, I suppose if I want a healthy relationship with Papi, I need to work on this stuff.

I really am only doing this for our marriage. 

My love said, "I wish you were doing this for yourself."

Yeah, I'm not really.

Yet, in the end it will benefit me, no matter what.

Even if it feels like crap right now.

Hell!

I got clean and sober to try to make someone else look bad, ...

... long story ... different blab/blob ...

... but after all was said in done, the only person who benefited was little ol' me.

So!

Even if I am only doing this for Papi, it will be good for me none-the-less.

Ok.

My cup of artificial positive thinking has kicked in and I'm ready to fake my happiness until it truly comes back.

i deserve to be happy