silent day

i just realized i never shared episode 38 with you!  here's your sunday sillies a little late

After a few days of grieving heavily for the loss of our little baby-dog, Harley, my time got very busy to help me move on from the sadness and get shit done.

We had to prepare for the village.

It's been an intense week and I have had no time to tell you about everything.

We started off with playing Santa to the children in the village.

But first, we had to drive almost an hour to Puerto Plate to buy the toys.  It was a store Housemaid told us about where the toys are inexpensive and we can get a discount.

That was of course, after the boss finished his chicken.  No talking until his chicken was done.

On the day of giving, we walked out of our yard door to see the entire village of children jumping up and down, arms to the air with tight little fists pumping upon every bounce off the ground.

Of course, Papi and I had Housemaid to help us with wrangling the kids.  As we approached the excited horde of short people, she yelled, "You don't get your presents unless you are at your house!"

Immediately, they ran home to wait eagerly for our arrival.

Later that same day, we were going to give out rum to the adults.  The adults were very insistent about us giving them presents as well.

We also realized we couldn't just give to a few people, that we needed to give a lot more to the rest of the village.

Off we went, credit card in hand and bought a box full of bottles of rum.  Let me tell you, the kids were easy to get back to their houses to wait for their gifts, but the adults?  It was a very insane time.

Grabbing, yelling, frantically wanting their share and trying to get more than we had allotted for for everyone.

Next year, we will be giving out food and care packages instead.

That night, there was quite the party in the village, as we listened to sounds of gunshots.

Well, we thought they were gunshots.

It wasn't until being invited to the party last night that I realized what it was.

Housemaid and Dominican Daddy invited to me the Fiesta de Navidad.

My DR Family fed me a meal, in which they were so generous as to buy special Dominican chicken and rice.

I brought a huge salad, which we topped with the Dominican dressing.

I also brought the grapes, which are like a tradition for the dinner.

Oh, and a few bottles of red wine.

Another tradition is lots of apples.

People are lucky to be able to eat healthy, local, organic produce here, whereas in Canada, these foods are the more expensive of the choices.

Not here.  Instead, junk food is expensive.

Anyway, back to the 'gunshots' I heard.

They have what looks like a bazooka, that is filled with some kind of explosives and they put all kinds of chemicals in and "BOOM!!!" it goes, as I startled with every firing.

Last night, people danced and drank, ate apples and grapes, while sharing their beer with children.

Yes.

Children.

It seems normal to everyone here, but when I saw a father giving beer to his 8 month old baby, it really disturbed me.

What can I do though?  I'm not here to preach about anyone's culture and it seems this is what everyone does with their children.

The party then moved up to the street, where we found the village bar.  Lovely woman serving, who's house is below the establishment.

She invited me in to see her house and while she walked I spoke to her about playing and singing at her bar, reminding her that it would be for free.

It'll be my practise gig when I'm ready in a few months.

Anyway, that has been my week, and rest assured that it was all on video!

Today I settle in for a quiet day, while I wait eagerly to hear from Papi who is somewhere in Vancouver.

And it's a silent day in the village.

The dogs have had nothing to bark at.

i am grateful for the time shared with those who have left to be with angels

just love me

Well, Chantal was pretty calm on this side of the island.

Yeah, I drove through some heavy rain, and the thunder was AMAZING!!!

But there was no wind and nothing to write home about.

However, I guess I do have something to write home about; the lack of entertainment mother nature provided yesterday.

I was anticipating encountering my first true, tropical storm.

People on the south of the island got hit quite hard and unfortunately, one person died.

They had a lot of flooding and no power.

They looked a bit like Toronto or Calgary in Canada this past Spring.

Us?  Well, our gardens got quite the feeding yesterday.

Because Papi and I were not ready for our anniversary, our day was celebrated by lying around in bed, oohing and ahhing at the lighting and thunder, and watching the first episode of Dexter.

Ooooh that new character is a good one, but damn, that show is not the same with the bleeping of every 'fuck', 'shit' and blurring of boobs.

We also looked for our dwelling for our anniversary vacation, but everything is booked.

Talk about leaving things to the last minute.

We suck!

Mind you, things have been a 'tad' hectic around here.

I remembered about our anniversary the last week of June, then of course, stress set in and out the back door went that memory.

At least I beat Papi to the punch of being the first to say it on our day.

I waited and waited for him to wake up, and at the crack of 3 p.m. I turned off his air conditioning and up he was!

I also took the opportunity to yet again, email someone I thought was a friend, who owes us money.

Here is my newest 'rule' of life.

Never, ever, ever, ever, ever, put money between a friendship.

Give!  Yes!

We gave to a friend in need yesterday, when her poor sweet kitty needed medical attention and she had no money.

Yes, we give, and we receive when we are in need as well, no problem.

But selling, renting, or any other 'business' with a friend is now off limits.

First of all, we've been waiting for the money for a few months past when she said she'd pay, but the worst part?

I've lost a friend, because she won't even speak to me.  She won't even return my emails.

Most people, when I tell the story to them, they merely say she was never a friend to begin with and that I haven't lost much with someone who is dishonest.

However, I am sad.

I am always sad when I lose a friend that I love, and go through all the steps of grieving what's vanished.

No matter what it is they do to hurt me, no matter how much anger I feel, I am still sad at the disappearance of someone I considered a friend.

I just want to be loved, and I swear, it's one of my top missions in life.

Love me.  I just can't handle the rejection.

Yet somehow, not only am I rejected by one person, I seem to get entire PODS and cliques who ostracize me with one word from their leader who tells them to do so.

I suppose, people only do this to people who seem strong, to try to knock them down.

I suppose, people see me as strong.

I suppose, all those who tell me I am, are correct.

I suppose, what I gain when someone hurts my heart, is my spirit is pulled closer to those who are endless with their love for me.  It shows me just how good people CAN be in this world.

Still, my poor little heart aches when I have experienced the failure of a friend.

My dear, you have indeed wounded me.

Maybe everyone was right, that you never intended to pay us the money, even though you wrote us a contract.

Fool me once.

Indeed, your karma awaits.

i receive all feedback about a decision with love, but make the final call 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.

waves crashing

The angels DO have a sense of humour.

I was at the hardware store, yet again, where I'm becoming part of the scenery, and I was waiting patiently for The Carpenter to get his wood, concrete, nails etc. that he needed.

I'm really only there to pay, as I'm just a walking wallet.

Anyway, I was waiting for him to return and was missing my HECTOR cohort, wishing we could play some music together now that my bitch of a back is being friendly.

The ticket to get here is quite expensive, so I can't just see my Drummer Boy just hopping on a plane to come make music.

Nor can I see him leaving behind The Turkey, my first godson, so I was just wishing that someway, somehow, I could have tons of cash to fly him here to the Dominican Republic to play some shows.

My Bluelight ex-buddy has enough cash to come here, and I miss her as well, but chances are that she's mad enough at me that she will NEVER forgive me enough to visit.  Chances are I could never trust her friendship again anyway.

But there I was wishing I had money.

I went into the hardware store to pay, and the first amazing thing happened, that worker that I said I'd win the heart of, gave me a hug, saying, "I like you.  You're my friend."  Accomplished!  Won his heart!  Bad Spanish and all!

Then within moments, the PanMan came in.

He's the one the angels sent me the other day, when I really needed to hear some words of wisdom.

I bought a bunch of snacks for for Papi, as he asked how we were doing.

We spoke a while about the ups and downs, how hard it is to live here.  He understood fully when I spoke about having lost our cat, and that Papi is really down.  Really depressed.

Mostly from grieving, but also because we're both stressed the fuck out about money.

He told me there would be an opportunity for Papi to work for him if he liked.  It would be in sales for the land he has, not to mention, the eco-tourism that he needs promotion for.

I explained that it would be a job for me, not for Papi, that Papi doesn't like sales, but I'm a natural born hustler.  I'll work hard, and try my best, even if I fail.

I told him I'd email him again and look at options for working with him.

I strolled back to the car with my bag of bread in hand, looking to the sky for my angels, saying, "You really are funny, you know that?"

So, maybe I need to ask them to help Papi a bit more.

He's really in a rough state, in his own Pit of Doom.

He knows everything he needs to do to get out of his depression, but he just can't do it.

Not to mention, I'm not able to persuade him to do those things, or he'll get upset telling me, "You think I don't know that?  You don't remember I worked in mental health and told people that every single day of life?"

Yeah.

I know you know that Papi.

I just want so badly for you to feel better.

Just like the PanMan said, "You have to ride the waves.  They go up, they come down, but you are never in one place.  If you're down, the law is you have to come up.  But when you're up, you also have to come down."

Couldn't have said it better myself.

Papi and I had gone to the beach yesterday, because it was the country's day off of work.  A day to celebrate workers and they got a day off with pay.

We went to the beach with the masses.

It was my first time to the Sosúa Beach.  As I floated, I looked to the sky and spoke to the angels, "Thank you for this opportunity to play in the waves.  Thank you for giving me a break today and letting me just float here.  Thank you for the ocean."

I have more to thank than for just the relaxing day we finally got to have.

I have to thank the waves for allowing me to ride them.

Come back up Papi!

Your wave has to come back up.

It's crashing a little.

i am passionate about doing what i need in order to increase my fortune

Gratitude List, Day 7/10
1. I am grateful the angels keep sending me words.
2. I am grateful I keep looking for the angels words.
3. I am grateful I worked to get myself out of my depression.
4. I am grateful for the ocean to help heal my back.
5. I am grateful for people genuinely liking me.
6. I am grateful for people who have been mean, so that I know what good people are to me.
7. I am grateful for friends who support me.
8. I am grateful to feel loved.
9. I am grateful for the small opportunity that may be to make an income.
10. I am grateful for Papi to ride these waves with.

we all fall down ...

It was Papi's turn last night.

The pain of feeling he 'left G'ma behind' is taking it's toll.

Things like this usually happen when we grieve.

Grief tends to bring everything else boiling to the surface, granting us two options: 1) scrape the scum from atop, or 2) stir it back in and eat the filth once more.

I feel very grateful that I'm able to have a visit from the deceased Fuzzy Family member when they go.

It immediately releases my pain to see them so happy.

However, Papi doesn't have that luxury.

So he grieves.

True to any active addict/alcoholic, he needs to escape.

I have to make a choice; either live with him drinking alcohol and possibly killing himself, or live with him taking clonazepam and speaking with the junkie drawl.

I choose clonazepam.

At least he doesn't pass out into oblivion like when he's drinking.

Regardless, at this point in his life, he needs escape.

We decided that he would go home early to be with G'ma.

He was supposed to go for 10 days in August, but the need is too strong right now.

We're going to book his ticket as soon as we are able to so, I suppose in May.

I will be alone for a while.

A few months perhaps.

I have Our Fave's Mom and her security guard husband, the Housemaid, the Dominican Daddy and a couple of neighbours to watch over me, not to mention a handful of men whom I could call and they'd be here in a second to help.

They always tell me they would be here if anything happened.  Just call.

I have 2 guns, a machete and a bat.

I also have 2 dogs that would fight to the death to protect me.

3 more that would just run around barking.

Oh, who am I kidding.  Sir Bark-A-Lot would bite them.  I've seen him give a groomer a split lip worthy of stitches, because the dude wouldn't listen to us when we said, "Please muzzle him, he bites."

"Oh, no, that's ok," he laughed, looking at the small creature that couldn't possibly do any damage.

OK.

So, I have 3 that would fight.

I guess the Pathetic Puppy would get in there too.  She loves me.

And I suppose the Jake-a-Like would do his best.

Anyway, I'm going to be alone.

I'm going to have to ask people to take their holiday here.  Please come visit me if you can afford it?  Please come be my other human in the house.

I'll lend you a gun.

The big one.

I like the 9 mm.  She's the one I can handle and I'm not afraid to use her.

Papi might be gone for about 3 months.

He's worried about me.

I just want him to be ok.

I will do anything to have him well again, and if this helps ease his guilt, so be it.

I would do anything to see him the way he was before the motorcycle accident.

It changed both of us.

I guess I can't ask him to be the same person, just the same as I will never be that girl I was prior, but I can ask the angels to help him be well emotionally.

That's really all I want.

I would sacrifice all to have that for him.

All.

Including being alone in a dangerous country.

i stand firmly in my powerful, positive self-esteem

Gratitude List Day 2/10
1. I am grateful Papi is looking for a solution to relieve his guilt.
2. I am grateful I have people physically around me who would protect me.
3. I am grateful for the friends back home who support me, even when I fall.
4. I am grateful for Prozac.
5. I am grateful to wake to the world's best coffee every morning.
6. I am grateful to be feeling more like myself, and stronger.
7. I am grateful for the angels helping me when I need it.
8. I am grateful for the gift Our Fave's Mom gave us.  They have nothing, yet they gave us a gift to show their appreciation of us.
9. I am grateful to be living in a climate that eases my physical pain.
10. I am grateful I have things to be grateful for.

there's always an opportunity for a new beginning

He already came.

His spirit already appeared to show that he was well and loved us.

He still needs to do a little more cleaning, but give the guy a break!  He's only been able to clean himself for less than 2 days.

Point is, he already came, meowing in full force!!!!!

I went to the garden and placed my hands over his energy.

Then I plucked out all the damn weeds that were invading my happy soil for my veggies!!!!

Today, I will plant more.

Anyway, back to me.

I had a meltdown yesterday, in full force, scale 5, Hurricane Andréa.

It's difficult, because when Papi grieves, he needs to be alone.

When I grieve, I need to be held.

I don't get to have that option.  I have to be alone in my pain, because I don't have friends here I can just call up and say, "Can you come over and just let me lie on your shoulder while I cry?"

Instead, I hold the Jake-a-Like.

True to his doppelganger, The Galloping Gazelle, he is the world's best cuddler.

When I needed him to just let me hold him, he didn't move.  He allowed me to do what I needed.

I was grateful.

I realize that I've fallen.

My depression has left me without seeing anything of worth in my life.

I know this is a lie my mental illness whispers to me.

I know there is so much in life to be grateful for, but when you fall into the Pit of Doom, sometimes, it's really hard to get out.

My Friend of the Angels helped.  She sent energy, and the next day, I had someone who I had been searching for, find me.

I was at the hardware store, like I seem to be every day with one or more of the workers, and he appeared.

He could see the pain in my eyes.

He told me, that living in this country is all about learning, that I'll never stop learning while I'm here, and to be prepared for that work.

He also told me that I have to keep my heart open, even when the worst is happening.

I told him I understood, and that my philosophy has always been, that when you stop learning, you die.

This morning, I want to live.

I have plans in place today to start finding my strength again.

To try to dig myself out of the Pit of Doom.

To find paradise in my soul.

I stopped working on myself, when friends abandoned me back home, then I became so busy trying to care for all the workers who needed me.

I forgot about me.

I also forgot, that when you have a chemical imbalance, a mental illness, it never rests.

It's never really 'cured'.  It lies waiting.  Every once in a while, it tests the waters to see how much power it can pull from you.

If you have enough in place to fight it, it can't come in.

Let your guard down for a few days, and dammit, but you're fucked.

I'm fucked.

But I am beginning again today.

The visit from my sweet little departed soul to tell me he's happy will help me.

He's an angel now, and he will be my strength for my first steps today.

I'm doing 10 days of hard working gratitude.

I do my gratitude every night, but I need to step up my game.

All day long.

Writing it on the walls.

And here.

Will you join me with writing yours here?

It would really make me happy.

the more grateful i am, the more reasons i find to be grateful

GRATITUDE LIST, DAY 1/10
1. I am grateful for this blog to help me work through my emotions.
2. I am grateful for 'you' being here to support me, even when 'you' are anonymous.
3. I am grateful we now have a healthy bed to sleep in.
4. I am grateful for the hard work I did yesterday, washing laundry by hand.  I now have underwear.
5. I am grateful the heat heals my physical pain.
6. I am grateful I have friends who show me how much they love me.
7. I am grateful for friends who remind me, that if I ever left this planet, they'd be hurt.  I stay for their hearts sometimes.
8. I am grateful for people who stick with me, even when I'm at my worst.
9. I am grateful the angels brought me messages that all will be ok and that they are here.
10. I am grateful that the puppies make me laugh, to counter-balance when I want to kill them for destroying my underwear.

more to learn

Papi and I were given some advice on the DR1 Forum that we're taking.

Best to get everything in place before we do the deed of 'letting her go due to lack of funds'.

We shouldn't say we're 'firing' her.  We need to keep on really good terms with her, because we need our safety.

It's also best not to talk about the theft, or there will be hostility and bad feelings, leading to possible security issues as well.  I just have to swallow my pride and let her think she has one over us.

The last piece of advice, is we need to get a signed paper into the city's books that show how long she worked for, how much we paid her, her hours, and her signature.

To fire someone, you have to pay severance.  I do think that's fair, and I'm glad they have that law here for people's benefit.

However, the other half we did hear about earlier, that is now confirmed, is they'll take you to court and say they worked for longer than you're saying, and that they earned more money that you paid them, and that you owe them more money, ie: another Mr. Extortion.

The locals will win every time.  Expats don't have a hope in hell, unless they get that paper signed before the deed is done.

So, being the crafty, thieving, sly one she is, we'll definitely take these people's experience into consideration and heed their warning.

Not to mention, we couldn't get the locks changed yesterday.  We can't let her go until the locks are changed.

I can't wait for all this to be done.  Seriously.  She didn't even clean yesterday.  I don't know what she did while we were out dealing with dogs again, but it definitely wasn't cleaning.

While we were at the shelter/vet, we also had MORE confirmed information that people WILL poison your dogs here.

It's such a normal occurrence, that they sell poison kits for it.

You see, we're going to pick up another dog today.  Her face is front and center on the AAAS Facebook page.

She's a cranky lookin' mama that we're told is a GREAT guard dog.

She is traditionally an outside dog, and when we spoke to the Canine Quarterback there about keeping her that way for extra outside security, she reinforced what everyone else here has had to say.

If we leave the dog outside at night, they'll throw poisoned meat over the fence, then the next day while you're grieving their death, they'll come back and rob you.

So, mama's gonna be livin' in the lap of luxury.  A Canadian dog, living inside, and probably on the bed.

When we finally get one that is big enough, that is.  We're STILL waiting for our money transfer.  Visa is loving us right now.

I'm still learning patience for the 'Dominican Time'.

Anyway, we're getting her and one more.  We heard there was a female rottweiler looking for a home.  We'll take her!  Sold!

When we spoke to the Canine Quarterback about the new mama and one more, she asked us, "What are you doing here?  Collecting dogs?!?!"

I reminded her, "We've only been here 6 weeks!  We're just getting started!"

If I can't have my goats, because our land is too small, then I'll be happy with the chaos of dogs.

Hopefully that will be an extra deterrent as well.

Dogs, a wall with broken glass on top, a stun gun (and another a little more deadly), a machete (that I am sharpening more every day and practising on coconuts), a bat, and soon to be bars on the windows.

Oh!

And prickly bushes outside windows as well.  The DR1 Forum taught us that one too.

Good info there, once you weed through the morons who are looking for advice on women.

Like, for example, "I've been sending money to a woman here and am finally coming to visit her.  Do you think she is just using me for my money?"

Dude, if you're stupid enough to be sending money to someone you don't know, and are falling for it being 'love', you shouldn't be moving here.

I promise you.

You'll be broke.

Or dead.

i am safe

cringe.

Stress will make you sick.

Grieving will make you sick.

Any kind of emotional upheaval will make you sick, really.

Papi's sick.

One of the best ways to increase your immune, is with ginger tea.

Papi hates it, but I force him.

Then he makes faces.

But to truly get the effect, you'll have to see it up close.

See what I'm saying?

Wait!  I'll have to get even closer!

Much to Papi's dismay. 

At this point he was getting a little upset with me, but hey, we haven't had a good Papirazzi shooting for a while, so I couldn't help myself.

And finally, the pic for the finale!

At least it took my mind off the sadness in the household for that moment ...

i allow myself to feel all emotions

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

educating andréa

So, a Blogger Friend asked if it would have been easier to get through Papi's male transformation if it wasn't intentional.

I think the intentional part is what got me.

If my love was in an accident and his features changed, I would have loved him just the same.

I would not have been a lunatic grieving the loss of my butch.  I'd be too busy taking care of my love, and supporting him while he struggled through a rough time of accepting his own new body.

Which I would understand fully now.

I'm not the same after my motorcycle accident, or so Papi says.

Apparently I was different before the brain injury.

I don't know, because this new brain is all I know now, and I've come so far in three and a half years, that I can't imagine being any different.

Although, I do know that I didn't wobble around and tip over like a drunk, without drinking alcohol, prior to the accident.  I also didn't break as many things and forget so much that I have a permanent list just to get through my day.

However, having said that, I also wasn't as happy.  I won the lottery of life and I will never take it for granted again.

I can say, that I know that my body is not the same.  My days of rockin' out on stage with my lovely bass guitar are pretty much over.  Thank god I love scoring to film, is all I can say.

Anyway, I do believe that the changes being intentional were the hard part.

I believe it's human nature to want to fight for everything to stay the same.

Also, that decision that made mi esposo happy was truly a misery for me, and I'm pretty sure it's back to that human nature thing again, with having to control the situation we're not comfortable with.

I have no control of my life.  It's chaotic and it's the life I've been granted, no matter how much peace I strive for.

Ok.  That is not completely true.  I have control of my food.

It's about the only thing that I do have control over; what I put into my body.  It's been my way of dealing with the chaos since I was young.

Hell!

When I was a teen, I wanted to die so badly, that I actually tried to eat as many chocolate bars as I possibly could, every day, in hopes that I would follow suit with some of my family members and get diabetes.

Then, I decided that once I had diabetes, I'd kill myself with chocolate.

Yeah.  Even with suicidal idealism I'm creative.  And dramatic.  I've always been a nutburger, but don't worry, I'm cool with it, even if others are horrified.

Anyway, back on track: Papi's male transformation.

I have no control over his or anyone else's decisions.

That's a fact.

If we do try to control our better halves, we're sure to lose them.

We loved them enough when we met them to accept them as they are and fall in love, didn't we?

Why the hell do we get into this place of feeling like we have to control our loved ones after the love sets in?!?!?

What the fuck is that?!?!?  Seriously!!!!!

Whatever.  I don't try to control others anymore, but what happens on the inside of me is disastrous as I try to let go of that control.

I get so scared and jump to worst case scenario.

But you know that by now, don't you?

Anyway, my love is nowhere near my worst case scenario I envisioned 19 months ago.

Mi esposo es guapo!!!  Even with face fuzz!!!

My overly creative mind has been educated once more, and for that, I am truly grateful.

no education is wasted.  drink in as many new experiences as you can

Silence.

The World's Loudest Snorer has been silenced.

Rest in peace.

Papi and I will miss your visits.

She would get so excited when she saw me, that she would pee every time.  My friends really appreciated that.  Especially when it was all over their living room floor.

She appreciated her step brother dogs so much that she also peed in The Golden's bed.

She's one of the few that Sir Bark-A-Lot actually allowed in his space.

G'ma loved her so much, that when I told her last night, she started to cry.

I've never had so much fun going pee.  There wasn't much leg room to sit.  This was me peeing standing up.

You were a really good Bathroom Buddy, none-the-less.

I'm so heartbroken, my little bed hog.

There is a place reserved for you, here in our hearts.  Our strong hearts will beat for yours that couldn't hold you through this life.

Papi and I will never stop missing you.

And I will never forget the lemon cake you indulged in before any of us humans got to it.

I'm so at loss.

Please give love to my Dearly Departed Gypsy, and Mr. Moustache.

I hate crying.

I don't want you to go.

if you want to feel rich, count the many things you have that money can't buy

tears for papi

You know what I think?

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

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

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

We've survived my love going through male transformation.

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

This has all happened in 4 years.

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

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

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

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

It breaks my heart to see him in such pain.

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

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

Alzheimer's will do this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'm also ready to start my counselling today.

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

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

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

i am willing to let go

Butch Tits.

Tranny.

I thought I'd say it again just to piss 'them' off.  If I'm going to be bitchy from insomnia, then the rest of you must suffer with me.

Besides, how could I live up to my shit disturber title, if I didn't poke the hornets nest on a daily basis?

One thing I thought about last night until the sun came up this morning, was why I got on those little pharmaceutical puff pills in the first place.  It was to stop the pain and help me sleep.

Well, tough titties.

I'm still going to search for a way to get through the night.

Oh, and speaking of titties, another thing I thought about last night, was how much I miss them.

I grieve them.

I miss just rolling over in bed and having a palm full of pillowy, plush puppies to paw.

I feel like there's something missing from my life now.

I realized, they're never coming back.

If I want to feel those soft familiar friends, I'll have to play with my own.

However, they're not as fun.

I suppose I could take up Papi's offer and play with other women's mammillas, but they still aren't the breasts I married.

It's those breasts I want.

As I listened to Papi snore away the night, I cursed him.  Not for permanently taking away my funbags, but for sleeping better than me and not doing his evening chore of putting Psycho Kitty upstairs.

I was exhausted enough, that I merely laid and listened to the Tom Cat Operetta till the wee hours of morning.

And no, that has nothing to do with boobs, but I thought I'd throw that in there because I'm mother fucking tired and bitchy.

Back to boobs.

Every Wednesday, I volunteer for Queer Arts Festival for 4 hours.

4 hours of sorting papers that have been thrown into boxes for years upon end of neglect gets a little monotonous, so I look around at the walls of the office.

Basically, I get do this in a gallery of photos taken by S.D Holman.

Butch Tits.

Everywhere.

Some I recognize, ...

... not from personal experience ...

... some that look like they'd be days of funbag fondling, others that are pert enough to cut glass.

But Butch Tits everywhere.

It saddens me.

I sit in my composing room and create music, while staring at the only pic I have of my love exposed in all his prior butch glory.

With Butch Tits.

This is one of the hard parts of this transformation.

I know there's a few, but most of it has calmed.  I suppose with any loss, there's a certain amount that will never really go away.

I guess I'm no different.

Butch Tits.

I miss them terribly.

i release all fear ...

Schmooze-0-Rama!

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

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

Last night was the BigWigs.

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

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

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

No biggie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2008 was my motorcycle accident.  'Nuff said.

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

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

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

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

This year?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charmed life?

Indeed.

And now, I'm back in the closet.

The Papirazzi was in full swing yesterday.

You see, this blog of mine is supposed to be about me.

It's called: Andréa's Healing Journey.

However, it seems that the majority of my posts are about the Tranny Terrorist, or the DIY phenomenon I occasionally experience.

Yeah, sometimes I hijack this blog and actually make it about me, sneaking in a little bit of wining about my bitch of a back, or ghosts.

Well, the point is, it's still much more entertaining to talk about mi esposo and the amusement he brings.

So!

I'm getting my article published on Thursday, and the paper didn't want a picture of only the actual writer.

No!

They want Papi in there too.

Why?

Because it's alllllllll about Papi.

And that's ok.

Takes a bit of the heat off me.

Anyway, we got these pics done and the sweet photographer we met yesterday will choose the best one.

Hopefully, she won't choose one of me that looks like I'm in trauma.

Or worse, choose one of me that looks like a beaming, braces infused, bucktooth grin that only a mother could love.

I tend to do these things with my mouth:

nobody said the brace face was going to be sexy ...

So, we'll see which one makes it into Xtra on Thursday.

After our photos were done, we didn't celebrate.

No.

Papi drove me around the city, and changed all his I.D.

You see, my love received a birth certificate that has been changed to a male gender.

It has been quite the process for Papi.  All his ID has to be changed; driver's license, SIN card, medical, you name it.

However, there is one that I'm not happy about: Our marriage license.

It now says I'm married to a man, and I begin my first step to becoming an invisible queer.

I can't really accept that part yet, and I'm still grasping with all my strength to the butch I married.

I don't want my marriage license to be ambushed, so I did something slightly wrong.

I kept our old marriage certificate, and we told the lady at the counter that we lost it in the sewage flood.

Right now, it's sitting beside the sexy picture of the butch I married.

Pretty much looks like I'm starting a shrine to remember my dearly departed butch.

is that so bad?!?!

It's right there in my composing room, so I get to see it every day as my eyes wander around the room, listening to my musical mind about what note, sound or feeling I need to find to portray the essence of a film.

I keep my love frozen in time to keep me company.

one day at a time.

And a big ol' 'Fuck You' to you too.

My braces are too tight to eat and the Brace Face is in full force this morning.

Not to mention my coffee is weak.

But hey!

My love gave me $40 allowance, because I haven't received a penny in 5 weeks.

I thought of finding out the woman's name who hit me almost 3 years ago and asking her if she could spare a little.

Today I'm not feeling very forgiving.

Papi has a ton of new 'friends' on Facebook.  The majority of the 'new' friends are transgender.

Makes sense.  People like people that they can relate to.

Well, yesterday, one of these 'new friends' posted on their status about how the partner in the relationship should keep their mouths shut about how hard it is to see their partner go through a male transformation.

This person's words were something like, "To all you people who are having a hard time with your partners transition, get over it or leave.  It's not about you, it's about the person who's transitioning."

Really, bitch?

Papi and I were pretty sure that was this weasel's response to my blog.

go ahead and hate me, i don't really give a fuck, but thank you for the page hit.

Good thing I'm in a malicious mood today, or that might've hurt my feelings.

Instead of being hurt, I'd like to say fuck you.

You're young and have absolutely no idea what it's like to find your soul mate who is the perfect butch, fall in love, marry them and then find out 4 months later that your butch is being replace with a balding, pot bellied, hairy, middle aged man.

When you're in a marriage, it's about both parties.  You don't get to be selfish and say, "It's all about me."

Well, you could do that, but you'd find out pretty quickly that your marriage is ending and you're left alone.

I'm pretty sure you must be single and bitter, and this is the reason for the pungent taste in your mouth after reading my blog.

I didn't leave my soul mate because he's changing genders.

No, I had to grieve because she was leaving.

The person I married is dying, and I'll now be married to a different body.

So, no.  It is not all about you.

In a relationship, there are 2 people.

One day, you'll grow up and find out what that means, and you can let go of your self-righteousness.

I'm grateful that I've had 10 months to work out my grieving and find strength.

Those words that you spoke are the very words I was afraid people would say when I was first hit with the bomb.

They are hurtful.

However, I'm feeling pretty fucking feisty after finding out what the root of my fear about in this transition, and I'm not hurt.

I'm fucking pissed.

You are the very people that we as partners are afraid of and the reason I started this blog in the first place.

We matter.

Others out there are having difficulty with this, and they're afraid to speak out, lest you say those acrid words and make us feel bad for having natural feelings.

Papi 'unfriended' this immature person, but there are more out there.

We find this defensive attitude everywhere.

How about you remember that we're all in this together?

And again, fuck you.

The Princess and the 'T'

"Honey guess what I'm getting?!?"

i'm afraid to ask ... so i won't

"I'm getting sideburns!" Papi said and jumped onto the bed.

I honestly looked with all the bleary eyed vision I could, but I didn't see anything.  Then Papi continued, "You'll have to get a magnifying glass to see it but it's there!!!"

I rolled my eyes and laughed at my love, and I was immediately reproached, "Don't try to say you can't see it!  Don't lie!  Honey can you see it?!?"

I finally spoke, "All I see is mole hair."

"HONEY!!!!" Papi yelled and the bed seemed to be having it's very own earthquake as mi esposo crawled up close as possible to be sure there was a cheek stuffed right in my face.  Even Sir Bark-A-Lot felt the fear and his eyes widened in fear of the possibility of a giant human trampling him.

No.

I didn't see it, but all of a sudden, Papi was at an angle that enabled me to see something else.  My eyes must have bugged out of my head, because my love could tell what I was looking at.

"Yeah!  See!  Under my chin, I've got more hair!!"

Indeed.  There was more hair under my love's chin.  Coarse, black hair that was definitely the beginning of my fear of the beard.

I couldn't deny this one.  There was definitely hair there, "Yeah, I see it," I said with not as much enthusiasm as my love wished for.

I just can't be happy for it.

Shaggy, stubly, smelly, dirty beard hair is not on my list of 'likes'.  We all know that by now.

My love only wants a soul patch, and it seems that's where it's not growing.

i still don't see the sideburns

A soul patch is much different than a full on man hair beard.

I get reports daily about the various people that will either call my love a girl or a boy.  It was the same before all the poisons started being injected into my love's body.

I still don't like the hormones.

I still don't like that stuff careening through Papi's blood.

I still have moments where I feel like bargaining.

I guess this means I'm still not past the 5 stages of grief.  I'm definitely in a better place than I was in December, but damn!!!  I have yet to find utter peace at the end of the path.

rainbows and puppy dogs and my butch back in my arms ...

I know that everyone who has followed my journey says I'm doing well, moving fast, being strong, but I just don't know if I will ever be out of denial.

all i see is my butch

I still don't have pronouns down, and I'm not sure as to when I will.

Well, other than when we get to the Dominican Republic.  I'll be speaking in Spanish, so I will be using the proper pronouns there.

But here?

Nope.

I just keep repeating my love's name.  I sound like a teen who can't stop talking about her first true love.

And I'll tell you, saying Papi's name over and over, in front of every sentence, non-stop is a bit aggravating to me, so I can't imagine how annoying it must be to others!

None-the-less, I continue to work through this.

My bargaining stage flows in and out, and I never speak it out loud.  I just think it, "Maybe you could just be without breasts and forget about this male transformation thing as a whole."

No.

I never say it out loud.  I just imagine it.

I envision my love saying, "These hormones aren't giving me a soul patch that I want so there's no point in being on them anymore."

i am a princess in a fairy tale land ...

One eye open.

A beautiful thing happens when you're willing; your eyes will open a little bit more at a time, granting you visions of skylines you wouldn't normally see.

What I saw yesterday, was compassion for the transgendered person behind the counter.

From me.

Yes, me.

A Blogger Friend, Dirty Cowgirl, had me thinking about the reversal of the transformation.  As example, if I was in a straight relationship and I had a husband who was going through female transformation.

The support would all be for me.  My spouse would then be the one being ostracized, and quite possibly harassed to a state of depression, fear or even suicide.

I'm not being shunned to my face, but I have lost a few faces off Facebook.  Which is fine by me.  Those who don't understand my grieving over the loss of my butch can go elsewhere and keep their eyes closed to my side of the fence.

this moment brought to you by the strength of my trust list

Here's where the compassion came in though ...

We were out getting a last minute wedding card for this upcoming weekend, and I was having a sugar crash.

this moment brought to you by not taking care of myself by remembering to bring water and a snack.

I went into the nearest store to buy some protein of some sort and the line I chose to buy my chicken leg was being tended to by an obvious F-M.

However, I say obvious, because I have gaydar.  It's possible that the straight folks might not have caught on to this one.

and ... i digress ... sheesh ...

As I listened to this transgendered person speak, it made me realize he has what Papi desires; a lowered voice to pass as a male.

papi is also getting that in between 'teen' voice that sounds like helium ... o good gawd!

At the same time, I saw this person had a caterpillar moustache.  It was about the same fuzziness as Papi's when it's all grown out.

I stared.

I dissected.

I compared.

And after all that, the only thing I saw was a person who is on the same path as my love.  I immediately felt this warmth of caring and wondered, does this person have the same support as mi esposo?

Does this person have family members who would disown them?

Is this person being ridiculed by people in public, because they're going through their male transformation and they're in that 'in between' stage?

I adore people in my life who are F-M.  I love their hearts, and that's all I see.  I've never really cared that they were F-M, I just know I love their souls.  Hence, I've never asked what difficulties they may have had to endure while trying to find themselves.

I felt I needed to be extra sweet to this person, because I just don't know what they've been through during their transformation.

Then as I was leaving the store, I was so grateful that even though my love is going through the 'in between' stage, Papi is so damn handsome.

My love's personality shines through any 'imperfections' mi esposo may see in the mirror.

Occasionally, Papi will express the feeling of insecurity that I might leave because I'm going through such a turbulent time during the transformation.

I now know, and verbally confirm to my love, "Well, if I've made it past the worst of my grieving through this, I think it proves that because I'm still here, I'm going to stay.  Don't you?"

I still have some work to do around acceptance ...

and the 5 foot clitoris!!!

... but overall, I do believe Papi's joking of, "Ah, she'll get over it," does have some truth to it.

It also doesn't hurt that I got my hugs back from mi esposo now that there's been more healing from the top surgery.

I have one eye open and it's really enjoying the brightness of this day.

Grow baby Grow

Here's what I'm learning.

I was petrified during The Countdown, because I didn't know what to expect.

I was terrified when Papi told me there was a male transformation in my future.

I was paralyzed with fear of seeing the 5 Foot Clitoris.

I shook with nausea when hormones started, because I thought my love would change into the hideous person I had in my mind's eye.

All of it was fear of the unknown.

This is what I'm afraid of.

Now, in 2 more sleeps, I pick up mi esposo from the airport.  I'm feeling as though I may pass out from the fear of what I'll see now that the bandages are taken off, and the tubes are gone.

I have to face it head on.  I have to actually see it now.

I'm sick to my stomach, I'm shaking, I'm not dealing with it very well.

I'm at my threshold.  This right here is my limit.

This is why I couldn't handle the flight from hell.

This.

Will all be fine after I witness my love's transformation.

This I know.

So far, the ground hasn't opened up and swallowed me whole.  So far, I haven't died from fear.  So far, I've dealt with every single blow and got back up swinging.

I can cry all I want right now, because I know that it's only fear of the unknown.

does that make it any easier?

I'm pretty sure that I'm going to be sick.

I just wish that my logic would tell that part of my brain that's disturbed to calm down.

I honestly feel like that possessed child on the plane that was out of control.

minus the thrashing about ... i really could though ... nobody would know

I'll maintain my composure like I always do.  I'll fool everyone around me that 'I'm ok'.  I'll get busy at work and distract that horrid brain wave that is telling me I won't make it through.

breathe ...

My day today should be MUCH better than yesterday.  Today is tomorrow.  I love tomorrow.  It's always so much better than today.

Here's a tiny bit of positive though; I actually had a moment of joy for Papi.  A moment where I could feel happiness for my love.  I had a moment of allowing mi esposo the glee, and in turn I felt it for my love.

Possibly excitement for Papi?

Whatever that feeling is that I was experiencing, the nasty part of my brain that still wants to act like a teenager stomped her feet, clenched her fists and stuck that lip out further than it's ever pouted.

"NO!!!!  You may not feel those happy thoughts.  You're pissed off dammit!"

Gawd she's a pain in the fucking ass.

When the hell is she ever going to grow up?!?!?!?!?

I suppose I should give her these next few days of grieving and anger.  She's going to have to deal with it when the unveiling comes.

shock, horror

I'm a mess.

And I thought The Countdown was for the surgery.

Nope.

It's still fucking going.

Pardon me while I go ralf.

that was a waste of a good coffee.

Hello new day ...

You know when you wake yourself up snoring?  It's always that quick honk and then you're thrown into consciousness.

I get to watch Papi do this frequently.  It's pretty funny.

I love the shocked look on my love's face and that gaze of, "What the fuck just happened here!?!?!?"

My love is getting better.  More coherent.  More energetic.

Papi's eyes are focusing better now that mi esposo's blood is getting used to the pills that are being administered.

another snort

This is good for both of us.  My love feels stronger and I get to have moments of support.

I was a real mess yesterday.  I think that was the worst of it.  Either that or it will just come in waves.

Yesterday I feared that the demons were pulling me into the Pit of Doom for an extended holiday.  I had visions of crying for 6 weeks like I did when Papi first dropped the male transformation bomb on me.

However, today is a new day.  I'll look for some strength today.  I'll need to pull it out of the nooks that it's hiding in.

It's the only way to combat the demons with their sharp talons around my heart.

I was able to chat on Facebook with a couple of Trust List friends, and one who had some reminders for me.  One of them is that I'm not in a familiar environment and that it could be adding to the anxiety.

I think we all know how well I adapt to change.

I'm like a fucking cat.  But unlike The Bastard Prince, I'm not about to go pee on the bed to show my disdain.

no ... i'll just cry perpetually ... it's way more classy

I'm just grateful Papi had enough zip so that we both were able to have emotional support.  We both got to talk about our side of the pain.

My love is also having adverse feelings, because most of the people Papi knows has a wife/partner/lover who is a Rah-Rah-Tranny and is thrilled to have their person go through with this.

I just can't understand the way these people think, because I'm so far on the other side of the pendulum.

Papi wishes I could be that person, so that my love would feel excitement and joy in the room.  I can imagine how it feels to be living in a perpetual funeral, because I've been living in it myself since November.

i'm so sorry my love ... i'm just so fucking sorry

None-the-less, we had a good hour of processing before my love started to drift off to Never Never Land in a Vicodin haze.

snort ...

Between my chats online and my chat with Papi, I woke up feeling a tiny bit less teary eyed.  I can still feel the pain in my chest as it inches it's way to my eyes to expose itself to the world.  I'm holding it back as much as possible.

The last thing I need is to fall into another depression.

I've got too much to work on with all the shows coming up to be fucking around in the Pit of Doom.

Hello day.

Let's see if I can make it through today's grieving without tears.

We all know crying makes you look fat and ugly.

The video of this experience is definitely proof of this.

Oh gawd.  Do I really want to show the world how bad I can look?