no bleach for you!

Well, yesterday, I swam in the pool.

'Swam' is kinda my own interpretation of the action, but the point is, I went in and didn't singe from the chemicals, because I am bubble girl.

I didn't dunk myself, because didn't want to get my hair wet.

I just did it yesterday, and it's all about my hair.

I treaded water, floated Papi around like he was a raft and let him lie with his mouth gaping open in relaxation.

I sat on the little custom seats the Pool Man built us, and then BLAMMO!!!!!!  It hit me!!!!!!

I have a new obsession.

Catching things in the net.

Little things.

Tiny leaves, dead bugs, chunks of dirt, you name it, I was in there catching them.

I couldn't relax and enjoy myself, because I was too preoccupied with catching things.

That pool is going to be clean I tell ya.

Because not only was I catching things in the net, but I was engrossingly scrubbing the water line.

Too much dirt.

I know when I want to have a bath, that damn thing better be sparkling, or my body isn't going in.

There won't be much of that here.  We have no bath.

But there is a pool.

I scrubbed, I caught.

I bounced around like a loon.

I saw another thing to catch, I caught.

I saw a spot that could use more scrubbing, I scrubbed.

O.C.D. has it's place in life if it's not ruling your life.

Here's to hoping this is just a phase because it's a new pool.

Otherwise, I may not ever be exercising or relaxing in it.

I'll be cleaning it.

You would never know I have O.C.D. from the state of my house.

Last night, I dreamed that my house was so messy, the Housemaid couldn't clean it.

Which is just a silly dream.

If there's things lying around, she'll either wash them (even if it's silk) or throw it away (like the camera lens cap).

I had to learn a lot of new words really quickly to salvage our items.

Remember that conversation we had about no bleach?  Some way, somehow, one of my remaining T-shirts that didn't get hit on the first round, now has a nice big bleach blotch in it.

It's supposed to be a black shirt.

It WAS one of the last faves that I was so grateful she didn't give the bleach blast to that first week.

Well, she blasted it Friday.

Now I have to talk to her.  Again.

Actually, I'm asking her to remove the bleach from my house.  She can bring it to her house, and never, ever, ever will it be in my house again.  That should take care of it.

It's like taking a Game Boy away from a child.  You're grounded.  No more bleach for you.  Go destroy your own things.

Anyway, we do have a yard keeper, the Dominican Daddy to clean the pool, but he may not have a job there.

It's mine.  All mine.

Don't you touch my net and scrubby thing.  They're mine.

So are the leaves, dirt and bugs.

Except that one that was crawling on my head this morning, so I flicked it off, then it was then crawling on my arm and I couldn't identify it, so I panicked and did the creepy crawly dance while flailing to get it off my arm.

He can have that one.

today i focus on loving myself and trusting the universe

i see dead people

I wasn't going to write about this, because I was afraid of people labeling me as nuts, but then I realized, people already do.

So, fuck it.  I'm writing about it.

I get visits from my deceased Fuzzy Family.

Every time I've lost a Fuzzy Family member, they come back to tell me they're ok.  It's been happening since I was young.

I have to be honest, I've also had visits from a few people that I've felt a connection to, family or not.

I see dead people, and dead animals.  Sometimes, I even get visits from other people's dead animals.  But that's another story.

Anyway, I have been waiting for The Golden to come, and was fearing the worst; that I'd lost my deceased visitation rights.

Not true.

I talked about it a bit yesterday, but I didn't go into details, and didn't think I would, until I saw Madonna Badger on Piers Morgan last night.

This poor woman lost all her kids in an Xmas fire last year, but she feels her grief is more at peace, because her children come to her in dreams.  She thought she was nuts until she read a book by Eben Alexander called Proof of Heaven.

As much as I don't really believe in heaven or hell, I do believe in an afterlife.  Some cosmic plain that we go to.

Our energy can't just end when we die.  Our spirit must live on.

Well, every animal and human I've felt connection with will visit me as I sleep.

It's not just a dream, and if you've felt this, you'll know what I'm saying.  There's more to it than just fantasy.

When The Golden visited me 2 nights ago, it was really his spirit.  It wasn't just the wanting to see him again and the grief.

He came bounding through the door, knocking me over to the ground with all the love and misbehaving he had when he was here.  He was youthful and energetic again, and his Ghost Face was returned to a rich golden blonde.  He was happy.  He was so full of love and the feelings of love I had to give him, were returned.

I could feel and smell his breath on my face.  I could feel every lashing of that tongue, every wash of wet nose and every tickle of whisker.  I could smell his scent and as I looked into his eyes (yes, he had both of them) I knew he was here.

He was here.

He came back to me to show me that I can stop grieving.  That he'll never leave me.  His spirit has now forged with mine, and he will never leave my heart, nor my soul.

He has a place right there with My Dearly Departed Gypsy.

When Gypsy came to me, it was so quickly after her death, that I couldn't believe it was a visit.  I said to the woman in the visit (whom I didn't recognize until later), "But she shouldn't be here!  She should still be in the hospital!"

This woman calmly told me, "Just enjoy your time with her right now.  This is your opportunity to be with her.  Just be with her."  I did so, sitting with this woman for a very brief moment, until Gypsy partook in her favourite pastime, ripping up the flower beds of the nearest garden.

I recently found the picture of my Great Grandmother, and immediately recognized her as the woman was from the visit.

Not dream, visit.

What I really feel from The Golden returning, is a piece of my heart has been healed.  I am almost in tears from the joy of feeling that he came to me.

It means I am forgiven, or rather that I can forgive myself.

It means I am loved, and I am able to know he's aware of how much I love him as well.

It means I am still allowing these spirits to come back to heal my heart, and I trust I will be able to do so for my next loss.

Thank you so much for coming back old man.

I'm sure you know how much you've healed me.

i recognize and honour my talents, abilities and skills

lucky bitch?

Do we ever stop looking to the other side of the fence, wanting more?

It's a strange phenomenon.  No matter where we get to in life, there's always more we wish for, or maybe it's just me?

Since we've bought our dream home, we constantly hear, "You're so lucky!"  We are, and we're also lucky enough to be very grateful, which is to our benefit of knowing joy.

There's something that people have to understand, though.  If I hadn't have been hit on my motorcycle and had to rewire my brain for walking, memory and function, I wouldn't have had this 'luck' of having a beach front house in paradise.

We'd have a home, but not the beauty we have right now, with the opportunity to rest our bones.  We would have to work more than full time.

Still, there's something that I long for, that I can no longer have.

Months before the accident, I was in the process of finishing my latest HECTOR CD, was an intern studying the process of being a studio engineer/producer and was working my way up the ladder in the music industry.

During this time, I had a conversation with Chad Kroeger about my music.  True to the boys club of the music industry, he was going on about 'what sells', and without even hearing my music was telling me I wasn't good enough.

Indignantly, I declared, "You know what, I KNOW you'd like my music, so I really don't GIVE a fuck."

I stormed away, but felt a tap on the shoulder.  When I turned around, it was Chad with a look on his face seemed to say, 'you'll never work in this town again', but instead he verbalized, "You know what?  That was really fucking cocky.  Now I wanna hear your music."

Just a few months later, I was in the throws of feeling like I was walking on a canoe and having 5 minute memory, never mind having the cognitive know how to turn on my computer, or how to work my recording programs.

Forget about holding my bass guitar!

So, 'luck'?

I still have such execrable distress for everything that has been stolen from me by losing those 4 years to recovering from that motorcycle accident.

Last night's torment was no less loathsome.

I needed to take some of Papi's clonazepam, because the angst I was feeling made me want to shrink into inadvertence.

Once that accident happened, my life changed.  In 4 years of the music industry, you become nobody once more, and you need to start from the very beginning again.  Everything I worked for was erased in those 4 years.

Oh, and the hard work of getting my life back to liveable has worn on my face, leaving me with a few more wrinkles and grey hair.  I'm no spring chicken and I certainly don't have fake tits.

My love had to remind me, that at one point I was short-listed by Courtney Love herself, for Hole, and that I should be proud of what I accomplished prior to that fateful day.

I allowed myself pride, then almost cried that my performing career has been stripped from me in a second's worth of time by a woman who made an error in judgement, when her illegal U-Turn changed my life.

So, when people sometimes get a little bit green with envy, or those who really don't like me wonder, "How the hell does someone like her deserve that?!" I have to remind myself and others, that they're just looking at my life from the wrong angle.

When someone says, "I want your life," I wish I could say, "You really don't know what you're saying."

What if I never got hit and inherited that big record deal?  What if I landed that big gig as the bass goddess of rock?

Would I have this life with mi esposo?  Would I be have been so fortunate to be as happy as I am now?

My life changed, and I can't say for better or for worse, it just changed.  Life will change for all of us, sometimes the way we want, sometimes not.

One thing I can say is, I have learned what it means to go with the flow of it, even when it brings tears of loss.

My life has been quite the ride.

Sometimes, the changes and loss really hurt, but someway, somehow, I have to believe there is still a magical life of music out there for me to continue with.

Every cloud has a silver lining, and currently, mine has an ocean view.

i am successful

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

no, no, no, no, NO!!!!

This stress is too much sometimes.

We had our first open house yesterday.  What came next may sound really good, but at the same time, it's problematic.

We didn't really expect the response, but 5 people are interested, which means we'll be homeless soon.

That's where the trouble comes in.

We have nowhere to go with our 5 animals yet.

If you're not from Canada, sometimes, you may think we live in igloos.

Well, we might be living in an igloo.

Ok.  Not quite an igloo, but we do have a place to go to that is free: Bum-fuck-nowhere with The Uncle.

Nova Scotia.

compliments of wikipedia

See that little red island off the coast of Canada?  Colder than cold.

This is where people go to retire, not start a new life, because there's nothing there.

This is where my piano will be living.

So, we could move to my personal version of hell, or waste all our money sticking around a city that is way too expensive.

It won't take long to get super broke, super fast, in this way beyond our means city of Vancouver.

I'm quite a bit less than impressed.

While Papi was driving around with 5 animals in the car yesterday, listening to either panicked panting from dogs, yowling death screams from cats or hyperventilating from me, ...

... thank you ptsd ...

... neither of us knew that we'd come home to this news.

It's too soon!  We're going to be homeless!  With 5 animals!

Fuck.  This is a bit warped and wacky.

Ahem.  Hello!!!  Our dream is the Dominican Republic.  Not fucking iceland.

Nothing against Iceland.  I'm sure they're a beautiful country.  I'm talking ice-land.

Brr-fucking-chill.  But it's free.

... yeah ... there's a reason ...

I suppose it's ok, because there won't be any distractions and maybe we'll get some rest.

Oh.  Speaking of no rest for the wicked, there was an 'issue' with the pussies.

One of them now has a black eye, that could have easily been a loss of it.

Psycho Kitty took a bit of a beating from The Bastard Prince.

I actually thought it would have been the other way around, but nope.

Psycho Kitty had blood flowing out of his eye at 3:30 a.m., and I thought that we now had 2 one-eyed Fuzzy Family members.

We cleaned him up a bit and found it was cut on the eyelid, only millimetres away from actually hitting his eyeball.

So, he has a bit of a swollen black eye right now and is looking a bit droopy in the lid.

However, I am now armed with spray bottles in every doorway entry.

Fuck I hope this is was the fight that ends the battle.

Do I sound like my mind is blown yet?  I'm pretty sure I'm ready for that straight jacket.

And this is the journey.

my future looks great

dream a little dream with me ...

Oh dear.

We decided to move the cats up to our new floor of the house.

It was a bit of a gong show and Papi was the gong.

Up we went, while protecting our faces from the possibility of becoming The Golden's one eyed kin.

We brought them to the new pee box space.

Immediately, The Bastard Prince was placed in the box and proceeded to tinkle.  It was, in our minds, excellent that he went right away.  We thought we were at a good start.

The Mrs. however, when placed at the top of the stairs, hissed at 'nothing'.

Or perhaps Papi's mother's ghost, or even the ghost of G'pa, but none-the-less, there was nothing we could see worth a kitty spit.

When we were back into the kitchen, hoping everything went well, I noticed it.

Piss.  Allllllllll down Papi's pants.

... no, it wasn't papi ...

The Bastard Prince was so scared of coming up into Psycho Kitty's space that he pissed himself.  I knew he was afraid of him, but I didn't realize just how badly.

We all meet our match in life, and well, it looks like The Bastard Prince is no longer the king of his castle.

In the past, he would even scare the dogs in the neighbourhood wherever he lived.  Not anymore.  It was so sad and pathetic.

Then there was The Mrs.

She made herself at home on Psycho Kitty's tree, and when the loony cat came to say, "Hey!  That's mine!" The Mrs. told him, "Not anymore, bitch!"

It blew me away.  The one I thought was tough is the chicken and vice versa.

Meanwhile, Papi and I have switched spots on the bed now that it's in a different room.

Well, when I heard my alarm go off, I did my usual 'slap around the bedside table to find the alarm', only I almost clocked Papi in the head.

Fortunately, I had removed my eye patch just enough and just in time to see my possible mistake.  It truly would have been a rude awakening for my love.

One thing I can say is, moving up to the bright sunny floor has definitely helped our moods.

The Dungeon Syndrome is leaving me for sure.  Papi actually relaxed last night.

We spent some quality time writing out our 'dream home' list in the Dominican, and Papi had the audacity to laugh at my wishes!

~ land with fruit trees

~ space for goats, chickens, pigs and my donkey

~ walking distance to the beach

~ walking distance to stores

~ gas stove

~ granite counter tops

~ privacy from neighbours

~ a boat moor

Hey!  What's the point of making a 'wish list' if you can't dream big?

That's the point of a 'wish list'.  It's not an expectation!  It's hopes that maybe, just perhaps, those prices will keep coming down and we'll find the home we've always wanted.

One of the houses we looked at when we were there is down by $70,000!!!!!!  It's moved into our price range!

Who knows folks, we just may get what we deserve.

Stranger things have happened.  Remember the time capsule dream list I made in 1999?  I did indeed get a few things on that list.

I wonder what we'll get in paradise?

all the things i want and need come to me

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

here comes the hurt.

There is so much more than just selling things to deal with.

Now come the emotions around and within us.

Papi and I have to be prepared that we're going to find all kinds of reactions, because people are hurt that we're leaving.

This says we're loved greatly, but it still doesn't feel good when someone I would never expect to give low blows, did.

I forgive.

Still, I am hurt.

I understand where she's coming from, because I didn't deal with 'things' in the right way, and didn't think about her first.  I have owned up to my mistake, but she still doesn't see that I'm not abandoning our journey together.

I'm not leaving anyone or anything.  I'm just moving a little further away, which will mean that this big, massive world will seem smaller, knowing that the people I love are still close in my heart, even if they're a gazillion miles away.

We are keeping in mind that we need enough space for my baby sister to come with her family, so that means we'll be having enough space for our chosen family to be there with us as well.

I've never had so much love around me in my life, and it seems so surreal that when I find the most love, it's my turn to leave.

Still, I have to do this.

I have to go live a life in less pain.  I can't really live a life here while I'm hobbling about like an old woman, trying to function with a foggy pain med head, and moaning non-stop about that fucking bitch of a back.

I have to do this for my physical and emotional well being, even if it hurts the ones I love the most.

We have to purge everything that is replaceable and start our new life.

Still, I know that I'll be holding on to everything that can't be replaced, like the hearts in this life that I've collected very carefully, and the music that I've created, and am in the process of creating.

Those are the things that will not be left behind.

So, when one of my besties reacts in a way that is lashing out with hurtful words, it absolutely puts me into a tough spot.

I'm so sensitive, and when someone attacks me with anger, I retreat.

I cry, then I hide.

I forgive, and I love, even while the wounds to my heart are weeping.

I'm so tender right now, and it doesn't help matters that we found out only a few days ago that G'ma is going into the home sooner than we thought.

They called us to tell us her day is this coming Tuesday.

We're dealing with all those emotions as well.

Not to mention, someone informed us yesterday that if The Golden is not fit to travel, they won't allow him to.

His poor old legs are having so much difficulty holding him up now, and he's beginning to collapse all the time.

We embrace him as much as we can, because we know his time with us is short.

We know he has to say goodbye to us, but we thought that we'd be able to bring him with us to the Dominican Republic, and have him pass away with us there.

It may not work out as planned.

There is so much going on in so many corners of our lives.

The last thing I need is one of my closest friends to push the buttons that create more inner turmoil in my heart.

It hurts.

It takes away from the joy of our life decision.

We can't live our lives for anyone else, and we can only do the best we can with what we have.

What we have is a dream that's coming to reality.

Please don't rain on my parade.  I love you too much.

i am a positive and valuable contributor to all my relationships

omfg to the power of 10

So, I haven't been able to talk to you about this yet.

I think I needed to process it out loud with a few friends before I jumped on here to blob/blab about it.

There's so much emotion around it all, that I don't even know where to begin.

Let's start with G'ma.  She's been accepted into a nursing home August 1st.

This brings up so much for Papi.  My love feels immense guilt about us not being able to care for the old bird on our own.

I have to be honest, I feel a lot of guilt too.  Even though, as a couple, we've taken care of the old fart for 4 years while we lived in this dark basement, I still feel bad that it's time for us to start our adventure of married life together.

Most people, when they get married, embark on their lives together and start making memories.  We haven't been able to do this, because our lives have not been our own.  Our lives have been about taking care of poopy pants upstairs.

G'ma is really needing this though.  She's not able to be alone at all and really needs so much more than we can give her.

We have to watch everything she does, lock away the cookies, booze, pills and hearing aid batteries, not to mention monitor her eating.  We have to remind her to eat her meals.

Occasionally, she'll ask for her sherry at 10 a.m. and I have to be the parent and remind her that it's not the right time of day for her to take a nip at the bottle.

It really is a full time job, and I'm not capable of too much when my bitch of a back starts her fucking whining.

G'ma doesn't quite get that when I'm in a state of pure ouch, I'm not able bodied during that time.

Point is, the month after she's in her home, the house goes up for sale.

When the house sells, Papi and I will go home shopping in the DR!

Then I may have to come back and waste away my dream life, awaiting trial for my court case with a bunch of folks who don't realize that I've paid my insurance for years to be protected in the case of an accident.

They feel the need to say, "Nope.  You don't get to be taken care of after being hit on your motorcycle, donned with brain injury and lifelong pain, even though you paid for the security of it.  Nope.  We don't want to give you the support you paid for."

In any other business, this would be called false advertising.

However, that's a different story I don't need to get into, because I'd rather think about the good things in my life and getting better.  All that stuff is up to my lawyer.

My job is to keep working at getting better.  No money in the world will take away what Papi and I have had to go through with this accident.

Anyway, this means that the process of The Great DR Purge has switched into high gear, and I started my Spanish lessons last night. 

I can't be going there with broken Spanish, especially when I try to say, "I'm hungry," but it comes out as, "I have man."

It was soooooo cool to be able to put all my vocabulary into sentences last night.

I know I won't remember most of it, because I need a lot of repetition with this residual post-concussive trauma, but at least getting started will help me learn my grammar for when we get there.

Anyway, back to the purge.

What stays/goes?

What the hell are we going to do with all this stuff?!?!?!  Massive Garage Sale Gala is what.

Yet the whole point of this blob/blab of the day is, it's heart pounding excitement mixed with debilitating fear!

The unknown is coming closer!

The adventure of a lifetime is walking up our driveway, and she's got a basket of thrills to share with us, complete with a saucy smile from ear to ear that says, "Ooooh, Nelly are you in for a blast!!"

She kinda looks a little psychotic to me, but that's cool.  I can handle psychotic.

... and now i know how to shoot a gun in case she gets outta hand ...

Still, it's hard to decide which emotion to feel at which time.

Guilt?  Joy?  Fear?  Trepidation?

Yes.  All of the above.

life is a thrilling amusement park ride

Rub my Tummy?

Wow.

That was a whirlwind.

I lost a day there.

I went on vacation to video land.  I'm actually still having trouble coming home from it.

Every time I eat, I'm afraid that I might ruin my lipstick, but I'm not wearing any.

I'm not sure how effectively I could tell you about the video that took from 8am until 2:30am.

Mostly because right now I'm suffering the effects of too much fun, and the pain killers are doing their best to numb out a level 8 pain. 

I'm pretty sure this body is going to need a good week to recover from that one.

But what I can say about how wonderful this day was, is it was like living in a dream.

I now know why I like playing dress up.

In my former life, I must've been a dog.  Too much of it makes sense.

My loyalty, my goofiness, my tendency to bite first, learn later.

You know, the usual.

But when I'm in that chair and people are stroking my face with cool, soft, little brushes, I feel like I go into a meditative state.

They caress my skin, up and down, side to side in short strokes, long strokes, dabs, puffs, or whatever it takes to make their art on my skin please them. 

However, I sit silently, feeling like a dog having it's muzzle stroked, and peacefully allow the moment to last as long as possible.

Sometimes, I even get that neck up feeling dogs do, when they manipulatively get you to stroke their chin, neck and jaw line.

Slower than a minute hand on a clock, my chin raises, and true to any dog, I've trained them to pull my jaw down again.

Then there's the hairdresser!

They stroke your hair with cushy, rounded bristles, tingling your scalp enough to give you goosebumps.

Even yesterday when my hair was being back combed into manic frenzy, I liked it.

She'd push those little pins in, and they would give every follicle a gentle hold, quite like a traction machine.  They get stretched out and are ready to relax when the exercise is over.

Yeah, it took me an hour to pick through that creation of enthusiastic madness out.

That and half of my conditioner supplies.

But don't worry folks!  My hair is still hangin' in there so that I can bore you with the monotony of it all being about my hair.

... but you know it is ...

Anyway, I'm hoping that this post has stayed on track.  I certainly know I'm having trouble reeling it in right now.

But hey, the pain killers are doing their job.

I will be posting pics and links soon.

Dream a Little Dream With Me.

Well, I did pretty good until last night.

I've been eating healthy, exercising and trying to be nice to myself.

That doesn't stop what I see in the mirror, but I feel better, so if nothing happens to get me into that dress, at least I'm feeling healthy.

However, even though I can talk to myself about being healthy, the Anorexia Monster is nipping at my heels, very much in the same manner as Sir Bark-a-Lot when we have company.

Alas, the Anorexia Monster entered my dreams last night.

I dreamed I was at least 50 pounds heavier than I really am, and when we did the video shoot, the Grand Poohbah ...

aka the big boss lin ...

... stopped shooting and said, "Hold on, hold on!  We have a bit of a problem here!"

She showed me the problem.

Yup.

Great gobs of fat hanging from my stomach.

We had to cancel the video shoot and I had to go lose weight.

Jeeeeeeeezus Christ on a stick!

First of all, even if I was as heavy as the Andréa in the dream, we'd still be doing a video, because this video is not about perfect bodies who have suffered to be this way.

This video is about my craft, my art and my talent, not my fucking ass and stomach.

Second of all, I can get another dress that will flatter my curvacious body and I will still feel sexy, because sex appeal comes from within.

So, I woke up, and what do you think is the first thing I did?!?

If you guessed run to the mirror and lift my t-shirt up to reveal the stomach that doesn't look like the one in my dream, then you'd be correct.

It was actually good for me.

For a moment, I saw that I'm smaller than the person in the dream, even if it did switch very quickly into wayyyyyy too much heftiness on my hips.

That's when I stopped looking.

I'm eating my normal breakfast, and will eat my healthy food through the day, coupled with a gym/physio workout and nice words to myself.

Even if I can't get into that dress tomorrow, I'm trying to remind myself that this was a gown worn in my teens.

I have to remember that I'm a woman, not a young girl.

I have to remember that one of the sexiest women known, was a vivacious size 10, which in today's sizes bring Marilyn Monroe's size closer to a 16.

I have to remember that the fashion industry has started to make clothing smaller, so that we women have even more grief about our healthy bodies.

Fuck them and their fucking ridiculous sizes that make us, with eating disorders, cringe every time we need to buy a new pair of jeans. 

Fuck them and their fucking air brushing to make an aging woman feel older than the stars we see in magazines.

Fuck them and their fucking rants about who's too fat or who's too thin.

Fuck them and their glorifying of mentally ill models, who are starving themselves for designers from hell.

I have had crying sessions in change rooms, where I've had to leave all the clothes I've tried on in a crumpled mess, that which reflects my mind.

Well, today I will be good to myself, even if I do see the dream Andréa in the mirror.

The mirror lies.

I have to remember that the only reason I have a mirror is to see if my outfits are not looking like a tossed salad with way too many clashing veggies.

Anyway, all I really want to say is, even if I can't fit into that dress tomorrow that I wore just 5 months ago, then fuck it.

I'm healthy, and there's another dress out there just waiting for me to slide my sexy booty into.

Gender neutral pronouns please!!!!

I had a day without pain killers yesterday.

Those are some beautiful days when that happens.  I've had 2 in the past week and a half.  I hope this ball keeps rolling!

Papi and I went and sat on the beach.  Same beach we went to for The One Year Wedding Anniversary Extravaganza.

It was difficult for Papi to not take off his top.

When there were breasts there, Papi would always expose them.  I'd cringe because people ...

... creeps ...

... would stare and even sometimes take pictures.

Then there were the mothers who thought that seeing breasts would scar their children, even though that same child suckled her very own bosom.  It was thought of as a beautiful act when that mother could feed her child directly from her body.  How can they see them as offensive?

Anyway, now my love has two massive scars that spread straight across his chest and for the average straight person to see those, they'd probably just wonder if it was cancer.

There was something I read about these scars and that they shouldn't be in the sun.  I'm not sure, but I think it was my Blogger Friend, Vee who told me this information.

i'm too lazy to go find it ...

So, I've been telling my love, "I read it!  If you expose your scars to the sun it will take longer to heal, or not heal as well.  I don't know which one, but just keep them out of the sun!"

Papi has listened to me, but it was very difficult for my love to remain with a shirt on.

My love would sit and stare at men who were just walking around without tops and be envious.

I would sit and stare at the girls who got to move around and play frisbee with a flick of their wrist, or pummel a volleyball.

I, too, was with envy, as I just sit and watch now.

I also compare female bodies to my own.  This is not a healthy thing to do when you have an eating disorder.  It could bring disaster.

I stopped myself and told myself the same thing I have to every time I hear the demon whisper in my ear, "I'm not her.  I am me.  I am healthy."

Afterward, when the self inflicting pain stopped, we went to visit a friend who is having pain of her own.

She's a lovely soul who has gotten herself into a bit of trouble with addiction.

It was really hard to listen to her ask Papi all the curious questions.

My love would just answer with frankness, as if they were talking about a hair regime.

I would fall silent.

I'm sure that if my love were only a friend to me, I'd be just as easy going with it as well, but I'm not.

None-the-less, it was still difficult to hear these questions being answered in a lackadaisical manner.

It's interesting to see how some people see my love as a male and some see a female.

It makes Papi wince when people say, "She," and this friend did quite often.

The strangest phenomenon is happening to me though.  It's also making me feel odd when people say it as well.

Then there's the other day when I realized I wasn't thinking of people as any gender what-so-ever.  I've really stopped using pronouns in every day life, not just with Papi.

I suppose my mind is a pendulum and I'm just swinging to the other side to help myself get past this pronoun thing.

Someone, somewhere, has got to come up with a new pronoun that is gender neutral.

That way, everyone could just be a human, instead of placing a description of their gender.

I would breathe easy if that happens.

Dream on ...

Here I am!

So.

By the end of the day yesterday, I had a lot more insight.

It always happens.

That thing I was telling you about?  How I can figure out faster what I'm having anxiety about?

Yeah that thing.

I'm understanding so much more about my fears.  They have ruled my life.

They sneak in to every crevice of my reality.

I realized yesterday, that I will be taken care of no matter what happens with my job.  I'm always taken care of.  I always have food, shelter and love.

It's really all we need in this world.

some ... they have none of the above ... and that's something to worry about.

I may not have my organic foods that make my body feel better, but I will have food.

I may not have the palace I need to fit all my 'things', but they're just things.  They don't fill my heart.

I may have been hen pecked by the evil of the world, but they don't matter, because the love I receive from those I've chosen to be around me is so sticky sweet, I could fall into a sugar coma.

Last night I realized just how much love could take away fear.

Papi and I were invited to a fireworks party by a friend who's becoming more and more of a kindred spirit as time passes on.

so we sat and made every excuse as to why we shouldn't go because of our social anxiety ...

The happiness she showed that Papi and I were there made my timid heart swim in warmth.

She has no furniture, as she's just gone through the end of a messy relationship.  However, by the end of the evening, her room was so full of love that those white, bare walls didn't even miss the chairs, tables, book stand.

It was abundant.

So much so that it seemed like there wasn't even enough room at some points.

That empty room was furnished with laughs, serious conversations, opinions, understanding of one another's pain, joy and future ventures.

Then, one of this world's finest authors that we are so privileged to enjoy, informed me that she reads my blog.  Her words swelled my fragile ego into strength.

"Honest."

"Well written."

These were just a few of the words she chose to tell me what she thought about my work.

It dawned on me then.

When I was reeling from the healing of my motorcycle accident, the only way I could creatively employ my feelings so as to benefit my mind, was to begin writing a novel.

I couldn't play my instruments.  I couldn't do anything but type.

Write I did.

goddamnit i really need to get that fucking thing finished!  **frets**

When I was broken with the news that Papi would be going through a male transformation, I couldn't speak.

The only thing I could do was write.

Write I did.

Here I am. 

"If you observe nature at work, you will see that least effort is expended.  Grass doesn't try to grow, it just grows.  Fish don't try to swim, they just swim.  Flowers don't try to bloom, they bloom.  Birds don't try to fly, they fly.  This is their intrinsic nature.  The earth doesn't try to spin on its own axis; it is the nature of the earth to spin with dizzying speed and to hurtle through space.  It is the nature of babies to be in bliss.  It is the nature of the sun to shine.  It is the nature of the stars to glitter and sparkle.  And it is human nature to make our dreams manifest into physical form, easily and effortlessly." ~ Deepak Chopra

Here I am.

Healing, learning, understanding, safe and loved.

In other words, fuck it.

It's all going to work out just fine, as did my life leading up to this very point.

Here I am.

This time was meant to be.

i also figured out i need to get the fuck out of this house, because lying around with a bitchy back in a dungeon does no good to one's psyche.  i mean really ...

I love ya, tomorrow ...

It's always better 'tomorrow'.

I'm feeling a lot more 'human' today, vs. perfect.

A few of my blogger friends reminded me that I am hard on myself, and that it's important to remember I'm human.

I'm pretty sure that my recent back injury flare up is responsible for the weakness that let the demons in to play.

I had a dream last night that the G'ma left the house and Papi and I were free to paaaaaar-tayyyy!

wooooohoooooo!!!! **fist pumps the air**

I think that's what the demons do.  When my brain can only handle so much pain, they come on in like rats searching for a meal, and I am the morsel they have a food fight with.

None-the-less, I am feeling much better emotionally today.

time to jump the next hurdle?

Papi asked me if I want to go to something called Gender Odyssey.  They have closed workshops for the spaz of a spouse/partner/lover who just can't find 'happiness' during a gender change, yet is secretly a Tranny Lover.

yeah ... that's me all right

Everyone in this particular workshop must be the gender they were born with.

So, while Papi will be out flashing The Great Breast Disappearance with all the other F-Ms, and everyone is patting each other on the back, "Way to go bro!" I'll be wallowing and sobbing with all the others who have healing to do.

I hope they're ready for me.  Oh, I'll be there in full force.  I'll more than likely be the loudest one there, but if there's one who is as frantic as I, then I will have found a new BFF.

I will also gather more people for the Trust List.

I really have a great Trust List going now.  It's actually to the point where I was confident enough this week to tell people on Facebook just what it is I've been going through for 7 months.

I posted a note inviting people to come here and ride the roller coaster.

It is mostly to reach out to people who are in the same place as I.

7 months ago, I was completely alone searching for someone, anyone who had been there.  I received closed doors and it caused me to shut down emotionally.

and perhaps burn a few bridges ...

I'm truly hoping that there is someone out there who is in need of support, and I want to be the one to give it to them.

unlike the 'support' line i called who didn't call me back for a month

However, something else happened.  Not so close friends started reading, and now it's like I've come out of the closet all over again.

hello ... i'm andréa ... and i'm a tranny lover

Here is where I realized that breaking the silence has done more for me than the aching soul I was reaching out to:

Now I don't have this green ogre of a secret to hide.

Now I can speak freely and actually tell people what the hell has been going on with me for 7 months.

and why i've been such a maniac

Now I have support in the most unlikely places.

Now I can breathe.

now i can weed out those who are beyond trans-political people who will hate me for feeling this pain, the religious zealots who already freak out about me being a lesbian, and transphobic who will delete me off facebook

The only reason I was able to do this was because of my Trust List.

I have the feeling my Trust List just grew faster than the heart of The Grinch.

The Dream

Sometimes I have to wonder what my thought process provokes in me.

I had a dream that Papi told me, "I'm going to go shopping for hooves."

"What?  Why on earth would you need hooves?"

Papi replied with all seriousness, "I no longer feel like I'm a male.  I feel like I"m more of an animal, not a man."

My love then turned into a bull type of animal-ish 'thing'.

Papi had horns and a ring through the septum, along with hairy paws and hooves.

Presto!

Instant animal.

In my dream I had also said, "If you do this, I'll seriously divorce you.  You've put me though enough with the male transformation."

It was at that point I woke up.

I woke feeling that my love being a male would be better than mi esposo being an animal.

I don't really know what's going on with my drawing in of energy with this whole journey either.  It seems I can't see anything on any TV channel that isn't Chaz Bono going on about his sex change.

He's fucking EVERYWHERE!!!

Even in the goddam Dominican Republic he's there with Spanish subtitles.

really?!?!  i don't even get reprieve here?!?

They showed pictures of his top surgery.  I just wanted to crawl into a hole and expire.

Today, Papi said with sincerity and love, "I know you don't want to talk about this honey, but I need to.  I'm really scared.  I'm afraid I'm going to get put under and never wake up."

I assured my love, "That is not going to happen.  It's very rare that this happens, so it's not going to happen."

Damn right it's not going to happen.  I just made it through the worst of the hell of this journey and I'm not going to lose mi esposo while under the knife.

nope ... not going to happen.

My love asked me if I was afraid of the jaw surgery, and I giggled, "No!  I'm looking forward to getting it done so that my teeth match better and I can open my mouth properly."

Mi esposo also said, "I'm not sure I want to get a hysterectomy now.  That's serious and it's going to be be hard."

Papi asked me if I'm going to be ok with measuring the liquid that comes out of the tubes ...

oh god, am i 'ok'? ... 'ok'?

... then proceeded to tell me that I won't be there for when the tubes come out.

I felt very sad that I wouldn't be there.  I felt Papi's fear, sadness and knew that my love really needed to have me there.

I wish I could be there for Papi, even if it would pain me to see the end result.

I think that I am going to make this journey a video blog.  I believe that it needs to be something that I can look back on and see how my thought process could change over the years.

It's also a chance to have my love be there alone and get Papi's video blog on record.  We'll both be apart for the last part of it and it would make for a good visual for me to see what my love will be feeling while I'm not there.

the countdown ... it's biting me again ... sharp teeth ... talons in my back impeding my escape ...

Maybe I could put a nice little cover on it like the one we just received from the front desk, "Memory of my Vacation in Dominacan Republic," including the palm trees, starfish and ocean ...

the dream ...