seriously, pass the wine

OK.

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

My mother is Miss Manners to the extreme.

Right up there with Martha Stewart.

Not sure where this debutant social grace came from.

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

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

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

Yet somehow, she got this fancy pants personality.

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

2 sips.

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

Which kinda confuses me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Curious.

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

So what!

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

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

That seems like a lot of work!

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

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

I don't need more than that.

It's all I want.

It's my only evil for crying out loud!

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

I have pimples that are rivalling my nose.

Not sure where my chin starts and my pimples end.

Really sexy.

Not the greatest femme look.

Pizza face.

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

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

Things are going to change when I get back.

Except for my half glass of wine.

Fuck etiquette.

Fuck manners.

Gimme my half glass of wine.

I know Papi will pour it properly.

i know i am loved by family

winter wonderland

Cold.

Oh, so very cold, and it's not even the cold spell yet.

Everyone is talking about the cold that is supposed to come through.

Off to Value Village we went, me in my super duper special pajamas that are the only thing warm I have for pants, and layer upon layer of t-shirt and sweatshirt.

Some of my baby sister's friends lent me a pair of boots and a jacket.  So sweet!

At Value Village I got 2 pairs of jeans and a sweater dress, new socks, leg warmers and a toque.

I can't believe the size I am now.

Well, I won't be losing any of my ankle weight on this trip.

Wheat free, dairy free cheesecake!  Jeeeeezus it was good.

After all the chocolate I've eaten in the Dominican Republic, I am officially tired of it.

It sits in the cupboard winking at me when I open the cupboard door, but I immediately look behind it for other food.

Can you believe it?  I'm tired of it?

But yesterday, I saw a rice milk chocolate bar!  I had to have it!

No, I will not be losing weight on this trip.

I'm up so early, because I'm still on Dominican Time.  I thought I'd chat with Papi, then I realized, he won't be getting up for some time.

So, I'll tell you about my flight.

When we got to the airport, I was whisked away with a tiny peck from Papi.

They threw me in a wheelchair and stole me.

The people at the counter didn't understand I had a temporary Visa and over charged me for my 'extra time' spent in the Dominican.

Awesome.

Then they had to pull me out of the waiting area to watch them search my bag, because I had coffee.

Perhaps, I was smuggling something, not just bringing the best coffee ever to my baby sister and family.

Squishing every bag, it was important to feel every inch of those plastic casings to be sure it was only coffee.

Done, back I go up to the top to speak with someone who lost their leg in a motorcycle accident.

Even though our injuries were different, we had similar therapy to learn to walk again.  It was quite fascinating to speak with him.

The plane ride was uneventful, but catching my connection?

Something out of the movies.

I swear to mother of baby Jesús that I need a camera crew to follow me for the thrills life hands me.

They were going to make me miss my flight because my first plane came in late, until Adam O. saved the day!

He ran me around the airport, pushing my wheelchair like we were in a chariot race.

Sternly telling everyone I needed to catch my flight, we budged in front of every dirty look there was to receive.

No matter how much I realized that his co-workers had a lot of animosity towards this guy, I kept telling him he was giving me the best customer service, and that the company would hear about it.

I'll tell you, he got me back to my flight, when his boss said it couldn't be done.  On I went.

Then when I got to my sister's house, she washed my clothes and washed the business card I got from him to give him a rave review with his company.

At least I know he's Adam O.

I'll do some digging and figure out how to do this.

Man deserves a commendation.

When I got off the 2nd plane I was the last one off, of course, because they wanted me in the wheelchair again.

My poor baby sister and family were waiting for me at what was 2 in the morning my time, but late enough for them.

This morning I'm over the jet lag and my baby sister is dragging my mother and I to Banff.

Even colder than it is here.

But I'll see moose!!!!!

i feel good about myself

no steak for you!

edit!  cows are not grain fed, but grass fed in the DR ... thank you for the correction véronique!  i was writing without thinking :)

I'm heading into the cold.

Kinda crazy isn't it?

But it's to see my baby sister, her family and my mother, so it's worth it.

My mom is going to visit my sis in Alberta, so they are helping me with a ticket to have a mock/early X-mas along with them.

It will be so nice.

But it is going to be cold.

I'm going from heaven to hell just to be with them.

I actually don't have winter clothes, so everyone has scraped up some boots, jackets and pants to lend me while I'm there.

Going to be a winter fashion queen I'm sure!

... that was sarcasm btw ...

I'm grabbing my last few moments of warm and sun, drying my hair on the patio, watching the waves.

I giggled this morning when I realized I'll miss the sound of roosters in the village.

Apparently I'm going into -15 or some kinda crazy temperature like that.

My hair better be dry before I get there or it will freeze off.

No point washing my hair while I'm there.

I gave it the good scrub so that it will last the 10 days of mini-vacation.

I'm going alone, leaving Papi to tend to The 6-Pack and workers.

Oooooooh, but how much fun is he going to have with his Spanish!!!

Fortunately, we have my tutor here painting, so maybe Papi will get some lessons here and there.

Poor Prince Papi will have to get up early now.

He will be suffering.

His usual 1 or 2 in the afternoon sleep in is going to be disrupted.

The greatest task he'll have is to deal with the irrational behaviour of dogs missing me.

When he left, they were lunatics.

Well, it could have something to do with the fact that I was in a cast and couldn't move much.

I had to segregate them outside or they would bowl me over on my crutches.

Papi is NOT allowed to hurt himself while I'm gone.

I've made him promise.

No more drunk dog tripping concussions.

No falling of ladders and tearing apart his shoulder.

No spraining of fingers leaving him digit-less.

No.

He is not allowed to hurt himself while I'm gone.

I'll have the greatest task of trying to walk in snow with crutches.

Maybe they have some of those pointy things for the bottom to grasp the ice?

Good thing I can sorta walk a bit to help with the balance issues I have.

And do you know what I'm going to have when I'm there?

Steak.

A fucking steak.

The people here don't really know how to cook a steak.  It's really overdone and hard as leather.

Could have something to do with the fact that they're healthy cows that are grain fed.

And no chemicals to plump them up.

Oh wait.

I think I talked myself out of having that chemical, hormone fed steak.

Goddamit!

OK.

Fine.

When I get there, I"ll have wheat free cake or some fucking thing like that.

My sister informed me that this trip is an exercise and diet free zone.

i am the perfect weight for me

fresh.

sunday sillies ... only a few days late ... explanation for my tardiness below ...

It was my birthday yesterday.

The only thing I wanted for my birthday this year was a shower.

It was a long 4.5 days without one.

The worst part about no electricity is the lack of ability to vent on my blog and talk to friends.

I've never realized how much I needed friends until being so isolated.

Today, I'm going to be a tag-a-long to go to the store a half hour away.  It's just something that feels like 'normal' to me in Vancouver.

A tag-a-long is always nice for errands, and the Jersey Girl invited me.

To me, that says, she'd like the company too.

Even though yesterday was my birthday, I was more than happy to be the one to cook, so that we'd have a nice meal to celebrate the few week's drought of income finally coming to an end.

Still, the most enjoyment we had was to pay the people we promised we'd pay on the 20th, when things kicked in.

Two days early is a nice surprise, plus it feels so much better than that looming 'you are letting people starve' hanging over our heads.

With utter JOY we paid people what we owed.

That felt like a nice gift for my day; paying people who were patiently waiting.

Then there was the birthday treat I was presented with first thing in the morning: a dead phone because it wouldn't charge anymore.

Mind you, it was a crappy phone from the dark ages, as we only got the cheapest phone we could get for when we first got here, but seriously?

4 months?

Kinda feels like the knives we bought here that broke just from trying to crush garlic.

Only the best gets shipped to the people of the Dominican Republic, yessirree!

However, we are pretty sure the reason that archaic phone died, was from when we had the power surge of the light show that happened when our inverter room just about blew up.

There is a nice smoke stain on the ceiling that VERY easily could have been a blown up propane tank that stands only a mere 5 feet away.

We could have been fricasseed gringos in an explosion you would have been able to see all the way back to Vancouver.

When we were not online for a few days, we wondered, will people be worried?

I think you only need to worry if it's been over a week.  10 days?  If you don't hear from me here for 10 days send in the reinforcement, otherwise, it's probably just our power being stripped again.

I can't be away from my blog that long.

I miss you all way too much.

Even when I don't get comments, just seeing the numbers on my tracker makes me feel like you're here.

Anyway, I do get to have a special time for my day, eventually.  My mother and my baby sister gave me enough of a birthday gift that I get a haircut.

A haircut!!!!!

I haven't had a haircut in almost a year.  I'm not exaggerating.

It looks like I have a fire hazard on my head.

The sheep in the hood definitely confuse me with their kin.

I suppose a few days off here and there aren't bad.

Time to clear my head for a new beginning.

A new start along with saying goodbye to Mr. Lumpy.  I've been telling him he has to vacate and leave me be.

I've been massaging him out of my life and he's shrinking.

It makes me feel like I can heal from anything.

So that I can start anew without fear.

So that Mr. Lumpy can start a new life some place else, maybe as a good growth, not a sinister one.

Fresh.

Like how I feel about having a shower after 4.5 days.

My bath in a bowl has ceased for the time being.

Happy birthday to me.

i do not settle for a meaningless, boring life

i can do this.

OK.

So I'm a sick puppy.

I never said I wasn't.

Papi said it's not right of me to speak publicly about just how deranged I can get at times.

Hey!

What kind of entertainment would you have if I didn't?

Anyway, I'm feeling a lot less self-destructive today, although I now have to deal with the Anorexia Monster who took over 3 days ago.

Still, this is a substantial start.

We spoke last night, long after his 'normal drinking' didn't lead to doom and destruction, and he told me it's also not right of me to talk about his business.

Fair enough, I apologized.  I'll do my best to keep this to my problems.

However, I'll tell you something.  Someone out there, right now, is going through the same fucking emotions as I'm going through right now.

They're dealing with the same pain.

They need to hear that they are NOT alone and can get through it too, by being honest.

I am not ashamed of my lunacy.

It is who I am.

I was born this way.

Trust me.

I put my mother and my baby sister through hell when my utter unsound mind kicked in at the age of 10.

I was given the gift of music to help me through these times, only I can't use it right now, because my recording system is so fucked up.

So, I have to do what I can to survive these emotions.

My best technique is to write to 'you', who are either here to enjoy the madness, here to see that I'm ok, or here to relate.

But hey, the crazed cleaning was pretty nice.  I've never had a house so in order.

Judge me and call me crazy if you like.  It's the truth.

I know WHO I am.

I also know I'm married to someone who shares similar mental illnesses.

Having those that are slightly different is what makes it difficult.

I will trust his 'normal drinking' for now.

All he asks, is that I trust him to only want it for hanging loose in the beautiful Caribbean and not for the annihilation of his spirit.

All I ask is that I'm shown he loves me.

I felt that his drinking meant he didn't love me enough, and was trying his best to rid me of his life.

He does love me, and there's no way for me to tell you how he proved it, because you could never understand the connection we have.

As long as I have his love, I can pretty much get through anything.

I will get through this with some trust and a lot of love.

Many people have sent me their angels.

Thank you.

They have been received.

I am out of the Pit of Doom today.

Just because I am loved by mi esposo, I am not crying today.

Just because I am loved by so many friends, I have some peace today.

Just because I begged the angels to get me through this, I am trusting my love.

He had his 'normal drinking' last night and he didn't die.

I will do my best to trust that he can do this.

I know he loves me.

That's all I need to get through this.

For now.

i release any desperation and allow love to find me

i might have to bring out pissy face

I'm quickly grabbing my breakfast before the day starts, now that I don't feel like death anymore.

I was granted 2 days to rest while feeling horrid.  That means that today should be hell.  Putting things off just means more work later.

The Carpenter already told me we have to go shopping after my breakfast.

Or rather, in his words, "After coffee!"

True.  It's mostly about the coffee.

Yesterday, I was sick and wasn't moving much, and the house looked empty despite the dogs running around like the lunatics they are.

Yet, there were children SCREAMING my name outside the gate.  When they didn't get a reaction, because I was lying like a lump in bed, they even tried Papi.

"Andréa!!!!" and a two second break between trying my name again, then, "Hector!!" ad infinitum.  Then there would be quiet for 30 minutes, only to hear it all over again for 20 more minutes.

We had to hide in our bedroom, shutters closed, so dark that when my mother skyped, she asked me if it was already night time.

No mom, we're just in our prison tower, hiding.  Just call me Rapunzel.  Not short of the hair hanging out the window.  That usually gives me away too.  So the shutters were definitely locked closed.

When the time comes that I teach them choir in July, I will teach it on Saturday and drill it into their heads that Sunday, we are to have no visitors.

I'm even going to get a HUGE sheet of material and cover up the wooden slats so they can't just try to be passive aggressive about it and stare at us until we respond.

I will train them yet.

The signs didn't work, but there will be signs on Sunday anyway.

Signs.

A sheet.

Verbal instruction.

If the children don't get it by then, well, I'll have to send in the reinforcement.

Papi will have to put on his cranky pants and be angry with them enough to keep them away.

We moved here for peace and tranquility to heal from so much that has happened in our lives.

There hasn't been any for the almost 5 months we've been here.

When it comes to this problem, we would have been better off in a miserable gated community with stuck up bastards who came to this country, not to be with it's people, but just to use it.

At this point, I'd even weather out being with those snotty people who have nothing better to do than tell me how may dogs I'm allowed to have.

However, if I can train the kids that Sunday is off limits, Papi and I might have a fighting chance.

We might feel like we get to have ONE day a week where the time is just for us.

We deserve one day for fucks sakes, don't we?!?!

Or will this trigger a whole bunch of uber political in Vancouver to call me racist again.  I don't give a shit anymore.

I love these kids, regardless of their class or their colour, so everyone sitting behind their books and computers in their privacy of cushy Vancouver can fuck off before you open your mouths.

You've already ostracized me enough that you couldn't possibly do any worse, so I'm done with all of you.

The point is, I also love my alone time.

It would be the same in Canada.

I like to be alone.

I'm giving them 6 days a week at the Hector-Brown Amusement Park.

Even the locals get one day a week off.

Why not the expats too?

Are we not deserving of that?

I think we are.

They have a month to get it and then Pissy Face comes out.

i take pleasure in my own solitude

what's your normal?!?!

Papi's manic.

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

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

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

It's been so busy.

Really busy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, she doesn't get it.

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

Not too many people understand.

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

I've felt that stress before.

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

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

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

Man.

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

We humans hate change.

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

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

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

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

There is no more 'normal'.

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

We've abandoned our lives for a new one.

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

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

Can you imagine?

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

Hard for me to fathom.

But it will.

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

ah forums. so full of useless crap.

It was either:

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

or,

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

or,

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

or,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, that pissed me off.

Papi, sell your own damn computer.

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

Seriously.

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

Misery loves company and bored people are everywhere.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bring on the morphine.

i surround myself with people who treat me well

grant me the serenity ...

Ah, the holidays.  A chance to be with ones you love, and practise tolerance for the ones you don't.

Alas, both we and them are human, and we can only tolerate so much.  Especially when they say things like, "Why do you have to move all your cats when you go?  Can't you just get more there?"

... love and tolerance andréa ... keep it together ...

The only thing that got me through that one was the grace to give my mother a nice evening and not start an all out brawl.

How do you explain to someone what family is, if they don't have any concept of love?

Every day, I write my gratitude list to My Gratitude Buddy, the Sweet Ex and my MC Guru.

At the end of the gratitude list, we give forgiveness, which most of the time includes ourselves.

After last night, I've decided that the once in a while forgiving isn't going to work on this guy.  I'm going to have to do it every day to try to grant myself peace concerning him.  Every day, I will forgive this person, in hopes that I will let go of my anger towards him.

It's very hard, especially when they belittle your mother, but you know you have no option but to let her be in that relationship.

She wants to be there.

So, here I am, just on the cusp of learning what it is to 'pray' in my own way.

I won't call it 'pray', because it reminds me too much of my upbringing and makes me wanna toss my cookies.

I'd say it's more like talking to the angels that surrounded me the day of my Soul Activation.

So, I started with, "Please, do you think you could help him be a better person?"

Then it went to, "Please, do you think you could help my mom see that she deserves better?"

And then, it started getting really un-spiritual, "Do you think you could just kill him off?  The world would be a much better place and my mom would be free."

That's when the anger set in and I had to get out of bed and hang out with Papi watching television re-runs.

"I'm having anxiety."

"About the DR?"

"No, about Mr. Homophobia."

Seriously.  Papi stuffed a clonazepam down my yak pronto.  The 'talking' to my spirits caused me to roll out of bed and feel my migraine come back to haunt me.

This morning, I remembered that when I talk to the angels for anything, it should be strength for myself, so that I don't allow my anger to brew.

Anger only hurts me.

I also remembered a saying in that group of anonymous drunks that came into play: the only person I have control over is myself.

I need to be stronger and not allow people's crap to infiltrate my well being.

I suppose my lack of peace also came when I ate my allergy food.

There I was, snacking on ginger bread angels, snowmen, candy canes, then moved on to the shortbread and finally finished it all off with a great piece of apple pie.

That binge had my poor little brain inundated with the poison running through it once more, and Hurricane Andréa was in full swing.

Especially when someone said Papi and I looked alike in a recent photo.

I lost it!  I hate it when people say that, and now that's 3!!!!  How could we look alike?!  Papi's all handsome like, and I'm all femmed out!

But I calmed down after I did a poll and found more people don't see the resemblance than do.

I'm going with the majority.  I'm on their side.

Papi just says, "Well, if we look alike, then I guess we really dig what we look like."

I didn't get it at first, but after it made me chuckle when I realized it means we look in the mirror and we each say, "Damn, I'm hot!"

Then when we found each other we said, "Damn!  You look like me and I'm HOT!  Wanna fuck?"

I guess it's sorta funny now.

Certainly wasn't when I had the evil sugar and wheat pumping through my veins at high velocity!!

Anyway, I'm feeling much better now, and all I want to do is ask my angels for strength.

Strength to stay away from the sugar.  That's really all I need.

The rest will fall into place after that.

i release all anger

We sorta need your help.

OK.

So, we could really use your help.

Our pretty li'l house in the Dominican Republic, aka Casa Paraíso, doesn't have an address.

Nobody there does, really.

There may be a number of a shack you can count on, but really, it's a case of; turn left at the donkey, right at the mango tree and follow through until you get to the beach.

Well, ours is a little easier to find than that, but if I told you where to turn, you'd stalk me.

I am old enough, and bitchy enough now, that I don't have stalkers anymore.

No need for a resurgence.

It's been a cool 12 years since my last creepy person to give a restraining order to.

Anyway.

The houses, shacks or what-have-you, don't have streets or addresses, just names.

We need to name our villa!!

We've thrown a few things around and possibly it will stay as Casa Paraíso, but we're just not settled on it.

Do you think you could help us?

It would definitely start with Villa, but the adjective is what we need.

But for all you who don't speak Spanish, you can just say ________ house.

Or _______ villa.

Or if you speak Spanish, Villa _______.

We're not picky.

Just needy.

Whad'dya say?

The chosen one won't win anything.

Just bragging rights.

And maybe a your picture in my blog if you want.

But keep in mind, that everyone who gets mentioned here gets an alias, so as not to scare away my private friends who would never, ever, never-ever-ever want their name associated with my blog.

Or perhaps if you're an attention whore narcissist, you'll WANT your name here and maybe an option to promote your own blog or some other fancy kinda thing you do.

I'm cool with that.

If you are.

So, once we have our name, it will be painted on our massive wall Papi is planning on building.

Our mansion neighbour has one, so in order to keep up with the Jones' we have to have one too.

Papi's truly a man.

Bigger, better, faster, more.

Now I'm off to brave the weather to have my ritualistic Thursday Lunch with my mother.

We've been doing this ever since I was hurt by not being invited to Easter.

This is way better than having to hang out with Mr. Homophobia and know that I'm not welcome.

Every Thursday, we get to have an hour together of getting to know each other as adults.

It's nice.

And I'm grateful.

i am winning in all my relationships

on track.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so the walk on our path began.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It put her in a place of trusting her child.

I, above her.

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

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

I connected with my Mother.

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

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

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

And this, is the journey.

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

Paradise.

We are officially on our way.  We know this because we just shut off all our data roaming on our cells.

Papi gets so cranky when he's stressed.

I get so clueless.

Not a good combo.

However, now that Papi has his soda fix and I have my store bought coffee, which could never amount to my coffee I make at home, we are doing well.

Papi would like to make sure you know that the reason he's cranky is because he hasn't had his morning coke.

You know?

Papi's soda addiction?

It's better than that other addiction he frequented this year.

Anyway, my love is getting ready to hunker down on airport pancakes and I'm just trying to get my head wrapped around the fact that we're going to paradise.

The woman who checked us in gave us a great discounted rate for our 5 pieces being checked, which included: 2 MASSIVE UGLY bags, 2 overweight bags and my flight case with performing bass.

She doesn't realize how much of a gift she gave us and what it really means so us.

My Boifriend slept through all the cat meows.  They were honestly thinking that just because we got out of bed it was time to eat.

I don't know how anyone could sleep through that din!

Seriously.

And wow.

The nice people who are sending us off blow me away.

Maybe it's just our happiness attracting the beautiful vibes, but something really seems like it's a new start energetically.

There's a dude sitting behind us singing away like nobody is here, because he has his headphones on and is in another dimension.

It's a lot to take in.  I get really disoriented in all of this.

I feel like a little girl just looking around with wide eyes and curiousity.

Not to mention just wanting to talk to anyone who looks friendly because they are in a happy place too.

When I was a little girl, my mother bought me black patent shoes and I was so proud of them, I walked down the aisle on our public bus showing them to everyone, "I got new shoes!  Look at my new shoes!!"

This was a story my mother told me I was like.

I haven't really changed much.

Just learned how to control these emotions that have been within me.

And now dude behind us has broken out into a more percussion grunting melody, "Da, da.  Da.  Da, da, da. Da."

Not to mention the people frantic to get on their flight to elsewhere in the U.S.  Their energy is panicked, "Lemme on!!!  Fuck's sakes, lemme on!!!"

It's very chaotic right now.

I'm like a child.

Distracted at the simplest of shiny things.

Like how the sun shimmers on the ocean.

Paradise.

i have only positive mental pictures

monkey.

We've got everything packed for our 2 weeks, plus things that will be staying in the home we buy.

My boifriend came by to go over the Hector-Brown Pet PDF, and it seems he is now trained.

We'll be sending him into battle as of Sunday evening.

Poor soul.  I'm sorry.  Wear lots of leather.

Hopefully there won't be a repeat of the newest Psycho Kitty problem, pooing on the chihuahua's pee pad, then spreading it on the walls like a mental monkey.

Oh good god.

I'd love to talk more about the feces festival, however, that just may be too much info for ya.

The way we found the poo pile was because he was pushing around Sir Bark-A-Lot's pee pad, as if it was for him and he was cleaning it up.

We just laughed and thought it was a new silly antic.

It seemed like he was now an O.C.D. kitty who needs to have the place cleaner than clean. 

I was thinking that I was going to be living with a four legged crazy cleaner, after growing up with my mother who was nuts about cleaning and was cleaner than clean.

Maybe that's why I'm such a slob?

I'm still rebelling against my mother's cleaning habits.

Anyway, all morning, there was this odor we couldn't find.

We looked in the poo box and nothing was there.

Of course, we just blamed it on the dog. 

Old Mr. Farty, The Golden.

But then I went in to the washroom to clean out my coffee Bodum for today's cup of joy and blammo!

There it was.

Shit on the walls.

Oh sorry, I told you I wasn't going to talk about it.

How about I talk about the fact that Papi has thrown away my cleaning buckets!

Hey, why not!  He never uses them, so they're not really important, right?

There I was, with one of our FOOD BOWLS filling it full of vinegar and lemon juice, combining that with the organic, earth friendly spray cleaner to get the job started.

Well, as I was frantically looking for things to use for cleaning, Papi actually did the deed himself.

Phew!

Well, that was that.

Done.

The good news is, I'm feeling less stressed, but now it's Papi's turn.  We really do take turns.

You see, now I'm excited!

We are ready to get the last minute pre-trip organizing done, and then away we go for 2 weeks!

To the warm, health and energy.

Paradise in 2 more days.

i have a solid sense of self identity

Goodbye.

Today is the official day where Papi has to say goodbye to the house.

I can't imagine how he feels, because I've been so transient all my life.  It seems I'm constantly saying goodbye and starting anew.

I really don't know what it's like to have that kind of stability torn from me, but I can say, that even as I think about the home I was in with my love, g'ma and all the critters, that my tummy ripples a bit with loss.

I suppose it's because I have to say goodbye the home my love created for me and it's the longest I've ever lived somewhere.

Papi, you showed me love I've never experienced before in that house.  It's so sad to say goodbye to that, even if we have amazing dreams for the future.

I can't imagine how it feels to leave the castle you were born in, not to mention the never ending memory of loss of your mother at the tender age of 10.  I'm sure that's more than a flutter of sadness.

Somehow though, I know that the spirit of your mother, Mr. Moustache, g'pa, and all the other critters I never got to meet, including the hamster buried under the cherry tree in the back yard, are all coming with us to the Dominican Republic.

I feel them with us even in Our Closet.  I swear to god I see movement out of the corner of my eye in this space.  Maybe there's another spirit, but I swear it's Mr. Moustache jumping from desk to chair occasionally.

I sense them, and I know it's because they love you so much, they would follow you anywhere you go.  So would I.

Goodbye, house.

Goodbye to all your growth that brought you to this point, Papi!

Goodbye to everything you learned from your elders.

Goodbye to the tangible feeling of cool doorknobs on your hands and a solid oak floor beneath your feet.

Goodbye to the water everywhere no matter how hard we tried to keep things dry.

Goodbye to the flowers you lovingly planted for our wedding.

Goodbye to the memories of everyone, including the Mariachi band who helped celebrate our lives coming together as one, the wedding cake on the floor, and the silver hearts that we found in the carport and house right up to the last sweep we did on Monday.

Goodbye to the birds, who trusted us enough to eat from our bird feeders, allowing us to witness their beautiful life every day.

Goodbye to our bedroom, which we had to build our kingsize bed into, taking up the entire room.  We didn't care.  It was a true bedroom.

Goodbye to the carport g'pa lovingly built with his own two, hard working hands.

Goodbye to the freezing pipes we had to use a blow dryer on in the winter.

Goodbye to the ceilings so low, that when my brain injured body couldn't walk, the ceilings were my cane.

Goodbye to the oak trees that line the streets, giving us gifts of acorns, falling leaves like confetti, and sap that you have to chisel off your car.

Goodbye to all the house modifications you made, which gave you practise for the home of our future.

Our first home together now has to leave, and our second home together is a proud moment of the first step to moving on.

Our third is the charm, and hopefully, we get to live there until we're grey and wrinkled from the loving, healing sun.

'goodbye' is an opportunity for a beautiful memory

We are not alone.

So, I've had an outpouring of people support me by telling me of the varying diagnoses they've been handed.

That's exactly what I wanted!  I want people to talk about it!

There is nothing to be ashamed of.  We all deal with life's difficulties in different ways.

Every single person out there who has told me their secret can rest assured that I'm not going to judge you.

I praise you!!!!!

The people who wrote in to tell me that they too have been told they have 'this' or 'that' diagnoses have done so bravely, but it also means that they have released a bit of the power that the interpretations of our mental health took from us.

I wasn't really disturbed by the allegations of my 'lack of sanity'.

I don't really care, because I know that I'm happy and my life is good.  That's all that matters.

What I do know, is nobody can say I created these mental glitches on my own.

One of my readers reminded me that it's not my mind that did this, rather the fact that I grew up with difficulty, and this is how my mind reacted.

I grew up with a deadbeat dad/sperm donor/drug dealer who could care less that we existed, unless he had a girlfriend who would convince him we were important, and his phone calls would come in at that point.

Not to mention, we moved around from school to school when we grew up with a single mom.  It was the best she could do, to give us the best home we could have.  She was also very young and really did what she could to take care of two out of control girls.

Still, having to make new friends over and over screwed me up a bit as well.  I'm pretty sure that's where 'performing Andréa' came from.  She needed to put on an act in hopes that people would like her, because she thought the 'real Andréa' wasn't good enough for anyone.

Dealing head on with all of the above, plus a little more I don't feel like blabbing about, made me stronger.

I write this blog without a care that my psycho ex, The Beast, is sitting there, right now, obsessively stalking my every word and literally laughing at my disdain with whichever sick and creepy friend is joining her. 

... hey beast! how's that divorce treating ya? karma's a bitch eh? ...

Now I feel sorry for every person who thinks that this is 'supporting' their 'friend'.

It's not.  I have true support and I know what true friends are.

The Hen Peckers who try to harm me don't even phase me anymore.

I have what is known as unconditional love in my life.

Something I realized the other day, when I looked back at those 2 weeks I gave Papi to clean up his act, was astounding.

Every time I've had to leave the current 'addict' in my life, I had to leave for good.

Time and again, I had to let go of security.

With a new breath, I had to start all over again and begin a new life, searching for new hope.

This time was different.

After the blip, I got to come home to be with my love.

I got to continue with my relationship and didn't have to start over again.

This is a new experience for me.  This is beautiful!

This is, what I call, success.

I don't give a fuck about scrutiny from the bottom feeders who would judge me.

I don't need to avoid life anymore, and I certainly don't need a little doctor's opinion to tell me I dealt with it by way of these mental illnesses.

They weren't there while I struggled through to find happiness on my own.

What I need, is for people to continue talking about mental illness so it loses it's power!

So please everyone.  Keep talking! 

We are not alone.

i rejoice for the success and abundance of others

Is this parenting?!?

I get to have lunch with my mother today.

We're working on our friendship and I'm really happy about it.

It seems to be a regular routine every Thursday now.  I go do my physio, then, while my body is cooling down and the ouch is setting, we chow down on lunch.

And chat.

Having told my mom that I felt she was never proud of me, she seems to be listening to my dreams instead of criticizing them now.

We are all different, and just because we come from the blood of another family member doesn't mean we have the same thoughts, views or feelings in this life.

I follow dreams, while others may follow the norm to feel secure in this world.

I've learned that there really is no security in this world.  Anyone who trusts in the security of this life will be in for a learning experience.

Which isn't so bad, as far as I can see.  Learning is why we're here, and every day is a new adventure!

We can make plans all we want, but it doesn't mean life is going to follow our wishes.

Life has it's own plans.  Life will never be fair.  It will be a balance of good and bad, and our only hope to get through it, is to focus on the good it brings.

Hard to see the good in this one, however.

Here's a jack-off who really believes he can change his son's sexual orientation by buying him anything he wants:

Now I know why all the fags of the world have so many good toys in their lives!

Daddy tried to bribe them with money!

All daddy is going to get is a hefty credit card bill and a son who really knows what love means, and it probably won't be for his father.

I had to dig a little to figure out if this was a joke.

It's not.

This mother fucker deserves all the strife he has with his son.

His anger and homophobia will eat him alive, cell by cell, while he rots his spirit to blackness.

Hopefully it will happen before his son matures, so that his son can live a life that is peaceful without having to deal with his fuckwad of a father in it.

Anger can really do a number on us.  If we live with it so deep, it truly will kill us.

Heart attack.  Cancer.  Stroke.

You name it, your homophobia will get'cha.

This is the only hope we have for these 'humans'; that they will die off like the dinosaurs.

Hopefully they'll die off before they brainwash too many youngins to think that they're horrible people because they love someone of the same gender.

I was 13 when I started to realize that I had feelings for girls.  I cowered in my fear for years before I could bravely tell my homophobic family members the truth.

If we're lucky, there comes a point when you can't scare us anymore.

This kid who's being coerced by his father by way of financial gain will find his strength.  I'm sure of it.  He's seeing the fun of getting anything he wants, plus seeing his loves on the side.

He'll lurk in the shadows with his lovers and collect all daddy's shiny gifts ...

... dude, i'd be asking for a porsche and a house before you out yourself!  get the good stuff! ...

... until he's realized that he doesn't need the security of his father's wishes.

It will come.

When it does, let's hope to hell this kid posts a Craigslist add about how fucking hard his father took it.

it's not about getting a chance, it's about taking a chance

Honky 'Fro Head

Day of hell!

I get picked up by the 'short bus', then off to the doc, then off to buy tights, ...

... that's the most exciting part of the day!!!! ...

... then off to the gym to do my daily physio, then off to have lunch with my mother, then visit a friend in the hospital, then the 'short bus' picks me up to get me home.

Or, so they say.  Please, please, please get me in the time you promised today, MVT!!  Please I beg of you!!

It's raining really hard out there, and the wind is blowing it sideways, so that it will travel under your umbrella.

I don't own an umbrella.

My hair is my umbrella.

Today, I'm going to have the craziest Honky 'Fro.

Big hair.

Totally.

I'd tame it in a ponytail, but then the rain might be creeping down my neck.

I wish I had an excuse for not going out, but I don't.

I won't be in pain for another 4 hours, so this is not an excuse.  I'll just bring my pain killers with me like I usually do.

Anyway, I gotta run.

Well, not literally run.  Just the cripple run.  Kinda like a normal walk for others.

Anyway.

Yuck.

i am calm

this kid's alright.

P.T.S.D. ... If you've never experienced it, you could never understand it.

I didn't understand it either when a friend had it, but now I do.

However, I'm now experiencing that some people don't understand it with me and really, it's ok!

I just had an email from a friend who genuinely cares and has a very sweet, pretty heart.

She says that I have to let go of pasts.

True!!!  100% agreement.

This is why I'm here sharing.  This is why I write about it.

I find that when I say it out loud, it loses it's power, and at the same time, I find support from people who have the same feelings.

A lot of the time, when I jump on here, I let the steam out of the kettle.

If you don't let it out, that whistle is painful!!!!!!  Good god that sound!!!!!  I can't handle it!!!!!

When I put the kettle on in the morning, I only put enough water in for that one magical cup of coffee and morning pouring.

That way, I can watch and be close by to snuff that offender before she screams.

Shhh.  Please.  I mean it.

I was raised to be ninja-like quiet in the morning because my mom was a light sleeper, and I am too.

Similarly, I'm bitchy in the morning, especially when woken up before my allotted time.  So, sometimes, I let my emotions rip and out comes everything true to my feelings, because my coffee hasn't kicked in yet.

I'm not the only one with big emotions.  I'm also not the only one who's continuously learning how to cook at lower and lower temperatures to keep emotions at a simmer.

One thing I can say, is that I'm happier now than I've ever been in life.  Really.

I might come on here and rant about the emotion du jour, ...

... who knows ... i may have gone on about something as boring as how my sinister stomach woke me up growling at 7am ...

... but you know what?  I know they're only emotions, which is why I feel safe to share here.

I feel safe, because I know that I'm not the only person out there who has maximum emotions.

I'm meeting so many people now that have big open mushy hearts that live every feeling with passion.

We feel everything bigger!  Love!  Anger!!  Lust!!!  Hurt ...

... yeah ... some feelings are better than others ...

Anyway, when I rant and go on about shit, most of the time, I press that happy orange 'publish' key with joy, because I know I get to tell the world I got another nugget of learning experience extinguishing fears.  No pain, no gain.

I share with everyone who can relate.  If I didn't have readers, I may not have kept going.  Honestly, I began by talking to 'you', my imaginary friend, but I have to say, you're going to have to let everyone else in now, too. 

I love my readers too much, because we learn together.

I also allow those who haven't lived this life to understand, that as much as it hurts like hell to walk through releasing another layer of that uncharitable onion, as soon as I cut that bitch open, I add a little curry and make a meal out of my triumph.

I know that overall, even though I stumble through learning how to let go of bullshit pasts, I do it the best way I know how.

But honestly?

Being happier than I've ever been in my life, I have to say, that whatever I'm doing seems to be working.

 it's often hard to tell just how close we are to success

I'm Sorry.

My weekend didn't really end after being so pumped with Broken Cat Dream and their fucking amazing performance.  I only got 3 hours sleep from all the excitement!!!!!!!

Wow!

Learn an instrument Friday night and perform an original song they've written 2 days later.

How many of us would do that?  Insanely brave.

I know Papi wouldn't do it.

He says that's his worst nightmare, and occasionally, he actually has that nightmare.

He'll dream that I can't perform and he has to take over for me.

To my love, this is fear.

To me, fear is confronting my mistakes and fixing them, with the impending doom that hovers over me.

I'm always too afraid to tell people how much they've hurt me, because I didn't have that opportunity to practise as a child.

I'm afraid that people won't care if I tell them how I feel, and they'll just tell me to fuck off, because to me, when they hurt me, it's because I'm just not good enough to be in their life.

Speaking of which, I apologized to my mother yesterday.

We spoke about the fact that if she's not honest with me, then I can't be honest with her.

I told her every single little feeling I had.

From feeling that she's never been proud of me, to feeling that she won't see me because Mr. Homophobia tells her not to.

Feelings that she doesn't call because she doesn't really like me all that much, and that it hurts that she calls my sister every day.

These are the thoughts that come into my head when I am not honest about my feelings.

That's really all thanks to my 'father' who really is a glorified sperm donor.  Goddam, he really fucked me up good from ditching his family for drugs.  I'm seeing this now.

My mother has never been able to be open about her feelings and I told her I need that if I'm going to have a relationship with her.

So.

I gave her an apology card.  On the front it had a cute cartoon bunny that had her head hanging in shame.

The caption read, "I fucked up."

My mom laughed and opened her eyes really wide when she said, "YES!  You DID!"

I smiled, knowing that such is my life.  I screw up all over the fucking place, because I didn't have the opportunity to learn from parents.

My mother was a child when she got pregnant with me.  My mother, my baby sister and I, we all grew up together.  Three kids in one house.

There was no room for my mom to learn communication, because her mom didn't communicate either.  Her mother emotionally ditched her when she got pregnant with me.

I've decided, that I will be my mother's surrogate big sister.

She really needs that.  Well, actually, we both need that.

I'm going to be honest about my feelings from now on, and then that way, my side of the street is cleaned up.

Papi asked me if perhaps, this will open the door for me to tell the 'mean girls' how much they hurt me, and in turn they can tell me why they did what they did.

Not bloody likely.

I have other messes to clean up.

I'll stick to cleaning up my side of the street.  There's enough to do here.

for the most part, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks.  follow your own truth.

Well, THAT was an interesting 24 hours

I understand more today.

I had a really emotional day yesterday, with getting my psych evaluation for the insurance company.

Remember?

After flying 15 feet through the air and landing on my head from being hit on my motorcycle, they honestly believe I'm imagining all the pain I feel in my back.

Yeah, people tumble over the hood of a car that hit them when they were going 50 km all the time and never feel pain.

... end sarcasm here ...

Anyway, I found out more about myself.

I am indeed that strong person people have tried to convince me I am.

I have overcome so much in my life, and the motorcycle accident is only a small part of the 'so much' I've overcome since being a child.

I also learned that I have to be even more careful about humans.

Only a half hour after the long day of reciting my life's events that caused me trauma, my mother called.

She proceeded to tell me that a certain person I opened up to, went running back to her to tell her how upset I was about the Easter dinner I was excluded from.

She told my mother every mean thing I said in hurt.

I said some mean things, because sometimes, it feels better to get angry than to cry non-fucking-stop.

I have an apology to make to my mother.  My intention was never to hurt her, but I was hurt so bad, I lashed out here on my blog.

This person not only repeated the things in my blog, but she also prodded more information out of me in a private email so she could gather more information from me to share with my mother.

I've taken this person off my Facebook 'friends' list.

I'm learning that it's not always good to give everybody the benefit of the doubt.

It's sad, but I'm learning to be more guarded.  One more person to add to the 'don't trust' list.

... by the way, if 'you' are reading this, i don't care for any contact from you, thank you very much ...

She is included amongst the deluge of people who cannot be trusted in this world.

My trust is broken so often, yet it's also built by good choices in good people as well.

Today, I awoke to a beautiful email, where I was asked to be someone's person.

I'm privileged, honoured, and my heart is filled with beauty, knowing that this person I love so much, and has helped me more than she could ever know, would trust me to be her person.

Then, as writing this, I realized that Papi comes home at 1 a.m. today!!!

God, this has been the longest fucking week in history and it's not over yet.

I have to go through the stress of meeting a whole bunch of new people today.

I am so nervous around new people that my stomach turns.  When I get nervous, I say stupid things.

I'm not looking forward to saying stupid things.

However, I am going to be looked up to for musical advise.

I'm being a coach for Ladies Rock Camp.  All weekend I'll be hanging out with women who want to create and play a song, and some of them have never played an instrument before!

I'm so impressed with their desire to play music.

Still, I'm nervous about being 'liked'.

My whole life, I've been nervous about being 'liked'.

I'm learning that this has to stop as well.

I'm learning that not everyone is going to like me, just like I don't have to like everyone else.

Especially those who hurt me intentionally.

we can learn great things from our mistakes, when we're not too busy denying them