Here's your Sunday morning bitch.

Getting a new computer is time consuming.

Not only do you have to make sure you've successfully transferred everything from your last computer, but you also have to play around to find all the new bells and whistles!

I've been sucked into the vortex of the new computer netherworld!

Yet, it's not all fun and games, and I'm sure you'd know I have something to complain about or I just wouldn't be me, now would I?

So, here's a few beefs I have about my new Mac computer.

Why the fuck doesn't Apple have a 'Word Document' option?

They won't even let me use my old 'Word' application from my last computer, because it's too out of date.

What do they care?

Why make it useless if you're not even going to give us another one?  Everyone who uses Mac uses Microsoft Word anyway!

Oh.  They'll give us the good for nothing 'GarageBand'.

Ok.

I guess it's not meaningless for people who can't play an instrument or compose.  It's good for them to be able to use the generic sounds that the rest of the world who doesn't know how to make music uses.

But, to me, it's a waste because I don't want to sound like the rest of the world.

Not to mention 'Photo Booth'.

Have we become so fucking lazy and narcissistic that we can't even take the time to use a proper camera while we take pictures of ourselves?  And do we REALLY need a picture of ourselves sitting at the computer?!?!

Who the fuck needs this?!?!?

When I'm sitting at the computer, I don't want anyone to see me!

My hair looks like a brillo pad atop my head, I've got my coffee stained t-shirt on and no pretty femme make-up on!

No thank you.

No, you don't get to see me while I write my blog.

Still, they give you 'Notes'.  Another impractical item.

You can't send them to anyone.  I might as well use the one in my phone.

Which I don't, because it's of no use!!!!!!

I've now put all my documents into 'Google Docs'.

I will gladly share them with you, if you need them, but only if you also have a Gmail account.

Fuck Apple and their lack of documentation ability.

I don't mind the 'Face Time' option.  It's going to come in handy when we're abroad.  However, not everyone has a Mac computer.

It's kinda futile unless I know someone with a Mac.

Really, the only reason I needed a new computer was so that I could get to work on editing my documentary about our move to Casa Paraíso.

The iMovie app is working out just fine.

People who know how to use the fancy professional apps like Final Cut Pro would probably feel the same about iMovie as I do about GarageBand, but I'm not a pro movie maker.

Yet!

... enter evil 'i'm going to take over the world' laugh here ...

I just wanna get the silliness of choosing to uproot our lives out to the world.

Anyway, to make MY life simpler here's what I want the world to do.

Everyone run out and get a Mac computer so that I can talk to them on 'Face Time', and I want everyone get a Gmail account so that I can share my docs with you.

This will please me.

We all know you don't wanna piss me off.

I'm a cranky li'l bugger.

i love being cheerful and i love smiling

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

Me? Crazy? Never.

I've never been so dissected in my life.  I have to go to evaluations for my legal trial.  They range from physical to vocational to psychological.

The psychological one is the most fun.  Oh yeah, the good times.

I get to read varying reports on just how mentally ill I am now.

I can get the anxiety one.  100%.  P.T.S.D.?  Who wouldn't?!?!  And depression from chemical imbalance?  Check!

However, the newest report is that I'm borderline personality disorder.

Nice.  Papi liked this one.  It made him giggle with anticipation of telling everyone his wife is full fledged nuts.

In all honesty, it's a lot more entertaining than the one that says I'm bipolar.

Listen here fuckwads, I'm just a human fucking being who reacts to what life has to offer.  I express myself honestly, but somehow, that makes me berserk?

As far as I've seen, the more you keep in all the shit that you're experiencing, feeling, thinking, the more deranged you grow.

We're all fucking nuts in one way or another, and once we start talking about it, we find that we're not so alone, and the 'nuts' part loses it's power.

I like how the cleanest of cleanest tidy people are praised, when possibly they could have O.C.D.

I see people who cry at the drop of a hat.  They're demented too?  Nope.  They just have big emotions.  I'd rather have that than not be able to cry because I've shut down.

These professionals can go on and on about how I'm defective, but reality is, if I'm talking about it, and I'm recognizing and working on my faults, then I'm not so fucking maniacal, am I?

If I get the crap out of my head, through this here tippity-tappity of my laptop blog entry, I feel better.  If I talk to someone about my problems, I feel better.

Most people don't do these things, because they don't want to be labeled as bonkers.  No, they hold it in until they pop, and perhaps go pick up a few guns and shoot a theatre full of people.

Hell.  I know I'm a nutbar, but I am not afraid to say what's going on in my mind at the risk of someone labeling me a whack job.

Just because I'm a little narcissistic ...

... hehehe ... a little ...

... doesn't mean I'm borderline.  It means I've had to find my own way to find self esteem, because I didn't have it growing up.

Just because I get a 'little emotional' doesn't mean I'm bipolar.  I'm emotional because life is hard.  Hurricane Andréa doesn't blow in for no reason at all.

Futhermore, what is so wrong with being utterly happy about the good things in life?  These pros think that being ecstatic is a sickness!

I wasn't suicidal when I was younger for nothing.  There were reasons I was not interested in living through what life has to offer.  I was too young and didn't have the experience to know that everything will get better.

I still have suicidal thoughts when life gets too difficult, but I don't act on it, because I've learned how to deal with the shit life hands out.

I challenge any 'normal' person to try and tackle what I've dealt with since a young age.  I dare them to try!

No, I'm not psycho.

Life is.

If we don't express ourselves, because we're afraid of being labeled, then I believe that's a debilitating way to live.

Label me.  Call me what you want.

But I'll tell you this, I know the key to happiness, and my past secrets aren't going to cause me cancer, because not only have I let them go, I've also found I'm not alone in this fucked up world.

This is because I talk about it.

And by the way, just because you've labeled me with some new diagnosis, doesn't mean I'm going to be hopping on your fucking designer drugs that will give you points to win you your golfing trip to Ireland, and at the same time make me so lethargic that I don't speak about life anymore.

Now, excuse me while I go count my deck of cards.  I guarantee there will be 52.

i possess complete ability to articulate my thoughts and feelings to everyone, and i express myself wisely.

change

I just had such a lovely lunch with a lovely friend.

Like I said, my friends will fill me with as much love as I need.

She also reminded me that these same 'mean girls' haven't learned how to grow up yet and subsequently, don't know how to communicate around adversity.

What if they lovingly told me what I wrote at the beginning of this journey was 'wrong' in their eyes?

Then I would listen to their side and they would never have to be horrid toward me.

When a friend suggested I use a disclaimer, I saw her opinion as a great way to begin my learning.

Her point was completely valid.  These were my feelings, and not everybody feels this way.

It was my way of working out how to deal with such a huge issue in my mind.

I understand that a lot of what I've written in the past, especially at the beginning, could be taken as very hurtful to Papi and others who are in the process, or have gone through the male transformation.

However, my views around everything have changed and are continuing to change for the better.

I understand the I have P.T.S.D. from past assaults and abuse at the hands of bio-males.

I see where all my fear was lying.  I had to wade through a lot of mixed up feelings to get to the crux of the matter.

But hey, I'm starting my therapy for all this pretty soon ...

... although i'm sorry to say i was supposed to already have an appointment and forgot ... brain injury ... so much fucking fun all the fucking time ...

I'll have more healing and learning to share with you.

I also understand that hearing things that are hurtful would place a certain amount of fear in those who now choose not to trust my feelings.

I see that.

I also see that the hearts that surround me have never done too much to really 'side' with my feelings, they just 'sided' with my heart.

They supported my heart until I could support it on my own.

They told me when I was wrong.

They didn't try to hurt me for already hurting.

These are true friends who are familiar with honest feelings, and didn't disown me for them.

They are open honest hearts who recognized when it was time to lift someone up, not bury them further in their hole.

However, the biggest part of this that we needed to talk about was the fact that I really believed I was the only person they did this to.

Yeah, yeah, narcissistic, I know.  But I couldn't fathom these people being mean to anyone else.  I think I almost thought I deserved it for a while there.

Yet, it's not just me.  They kick others when they're down as well, so it has absolutely nothing to do with me.

I only hold my own responsibility for my own actions.

Like allowing them to hurt me to the point of tears in public.  Or, allowing my pain of being rejected to grant my suicidal thoughts to start yacking at me.

... nobody invited the suicidal girl to the party!!!!! ...

That won't be happening from their harshness anymore.

Also, I'm responsible for learning from my weakest moments, so that I may heal my fears.

I am really amazed at how far I've come in 16 months.

I know I've changed for the better.  My friends know I've changed for the better.

Anyone who doesn't think people can change, has never had anything about them that they've felt needed changing, and they stay stuck in their own shit.

For their sake, for the sake of all the people who hate me for my honesty, I hope one day they too will change.  I hope they will see their responsibilities in the pain they've inflicted upon myself and others with their bullying.

It's possible.  Change is possible.

i am healing the past, while living in the present

speechless

"Ok.  We're back.  So now we have to talk about it.  These are YOU'RE 'rules'."

I guess Papi's right.

While my love was texting, the woman in the phone that automatically corrects mi esposo's spelling was frantically trying to keep up to Papi's maniacal typing.

It blurts out things like, "Capitol I," and other words, that perhaps it finds a more suitable option.  One word stuck out for me, however.

"Denial."

So, I had to ask, "Why are you writing denial?  Who's in denial?"

My love answered, "I'm talking to **a Trust List friend** and telling her how you're in denial about my top surgery."

is that something like, if i ignore it, it will go away?

Maybe I am.  Maybe I'm just trying to stay on vacation, even though when we got off the plane it felt like I could see my breath.

toto, we're not in kansas anymore ...

But seriously, I'm new to the male transformation gig!  I don't know how to deal with this other than to ignore it!

Alright.  I'm in denial.  But that doesn't mean that I'm not going to accept it when it happens in less than a week.

i think i just threw up in my mouth a bit, or maybe that was the eggs telling me i still have a parasite?

The Countdown is increasingly more anxiety driven.

4 days until Dr. Scissorhands #1 gets his game on.

i promise i will play 'nice'. i promise not to give him the stink eye or the death stare.

I watched Papi get the video camera ready for mi esposo's taping of the experience.  My love eagerly charged the batteries, put in a new tape, and made sure everything was running well.

I also watched Papi go nutty getting ready for the flight to Florida.  My love basically came home, did laundry, had 2 sleeps, and then will be off as a frequent flyer.

Mi esposo leaves today.  I'll be at work when Papi is en route to the airport, and at the end of my day, when I park my bus in the lot, mi esposo's plane will be leaving 15 minutes later.

I will stay in the lot and watch my love go, unless I'm off early.  If I'm off in time, I'll go sit under the plane route on a little bench they've made especially for this day.

the narcissist in me is sure that it's just for me. it's all about me.

Either way I will be able to watch Papi's plane take off.  The airport is basically a 5 minute drive from where we park those yellow 'short buses'.

Work will be difficult today, as it will be my first shift alone since doing my last gradual return in November.  You know the one?  Where I was doing my first return, but fell, then have been off for 6 months again?

Anyway, it's going to be tough, but it will probably keep my mind off things to come.

4 days ... it whispers from the pit of doom ... it's breath is hideously rank

I just sat and stared at the screen for 5 minutes, so I suppose I'm done for today.

I don't know what else to say right now other than, thank you, my imaginary friend, for another day of an open ear, and a shoulder.  Things are going to get tough now.

I'm grateful you're here.

Gratitude.

This planet is getting messy.  The U.S. has a financial meltdown along with fires and flooding. Haiti lives with their never ending disaster.   Libya, Greece et al are revolting.  Japan has a new found reality. Australia is in dispute with mother nature and there's so much more.  I just can't keep up with it all.

I'm sure Canada and Europe must be next.  Every other country is imploding, so I guess it will happen to us too.  We're not exempt.

Yet there I sat, with anxiety bursting through my blood, because I have to go to a new gym where I don't know anyone.  My stomach turned when thinking that I had to go to a class for yoga.

I am terrified of people.  It's absolutely ridiculous. 

When I got there, I had nothing but smiles from the employees and friendly people in the change room. 

I went to the rowing machine and had my usual rivalry with the person next to me, even though they were not aware of the athletic event. 

i'm faster ... yes!

Another guy came by to try his hand on the machine next to me, and I smoked his ass too.  I outlasted two people AND went faster than them.

Competition.

It's my way of being ok.  I don't have your fancy name brand attire, but I'll annihilate you on the rower in my ratty old sweat pants.

Off I go to the yoga room and insecurely choose my spot near a wall.  I still think I need to be near something solid in case I fall. 

The diminutive red-headed yogini invited me to come closer, "Yeah, it's a habit from brain injury.  I still think I need the wall from my lack of balance.  Today I'll be brave.  Today will be my first day away from the wall."

She was ecstatic that I had a monumental moment in her presence, and noted how well I did.

of course!  i'm in competition with everyone in the room!  and you're my next contestant.

At the end of the class, the only thoughts I had were, 'Life is so fucking good.  I'm so fucking lucky to be me.'

I was so afraid of going, yet I made it, and did amazingly well.

When I watched the news later and saw all that was happening to Japan, I realized that my minuscule fears are nothing.  Absolutely tiny.

The person I love is making a happier existence, yet somehow it makes me scared enough to cry for 6 weeks straight, and fret about pronouns, body parts and hair.

Japan is going to have to rebuild their lives.  Mexico is living in fear of the drug lords.  Haiti, oh Haiti, my heart breaks for you.

There is nothing in these small fears that any ONE person in these countries would look at and think, 'Really?  Try this one!'

I know that it really is all about perspective and everything is relative to our own experiences, but damn!  I am truly narcissistic.

I have the greatest love in the world.  It really doesn't matter who Papi wants to be.  I'm in love with mi esposo's soul.

I am so damn lucky.

Susan Jeffers has a book that I've never read, but I've lived by the title all these years: 'Feel the Fear, and Do It Anyway."

Indeed.

This little light of mine ...

I woke to a clean kitchen.

This pleased me greatly, as it was part of that 'ToDo' list that has grown over the past few days of sloth.

I can at least delete it from the list and continue to beat myself up about the other stuff that needs to be done, that I know I don't have enough energy to accomplish.

I'm still feeling like a bag of doo, but I guess what my blogger friend said is true,

(i'm always rhyming things ... just can't help myself ... a little OCD? or the poet in me? hehe there i go again) ...

"I would allow yourself to sleep, if you need it. Its only an issue if it goes on more than a couple weeks."

I'll allow it, but I don't like it.  No, sir, I don't like it one bit.

Anyway, back to the happy kitchen.  It must have been the kitchen gnomes.  My dear Papi is sleeping off a graveyard shift.

what crazy person cleans a kitchen after working a 10 hour graveyard shift??!?!?! ... oh ya ... my nutbar love.

That crazy love of mine is sleeping in the La-Z-Boy ... the ugly man chair.  The monstrosity of the pit of doom.

Papi likes it, but I feel guilty when I'm in it.  Yet, there lies my love, with puny whiskers of pride.

Proud that there's peach fuzz on that upper lip.  Proud of the tiny hair that you almost need a magnifying glass to see, but to my love it's standing at attention.

Mi esposo is already calling it a soul patch.  I can't help but giggle, then agree with all the people who say that when you're with a transitioning person, it's all about them.

Yeah, well, they haven't met me.

high maintenance much?!

I still get my 'all about me' in amongst the 'all about Papi'.  I just time my moments right.

I do love that my love is having an 'all about me' time.  I have nothing but joy when I see people allowing themselves to delve into raising their self-esteem.

As long as I'm not forgotten about, I'm good.

I suppose that's why it hurt so much when I was abandoned by so many people in my time of need on that stupid Facebook site.

I am actually grateful for this experience to have allowed me to weed out the artificial friends.  I've never done that before, I'm usually the one to be spewed from people's lives when I'm the weakest fledgling in the nest.

It used to feel like defeat.

how could you not like ME?!?!  i'm lovely dammit!  ok a little self centered, narcissistic, selfish, ad infinitum, but lovely!

It's a great time in my life amongst this mayhem, grieving and anger.  A time of genuine love.  A time to let go of needing everyone to like me.

I am of the camp of 'everything happens for a reason'.

I have enough love from those that matter; my Trust List, Papi, and new friends that I've met along the way who don't judge me.  They just accept that I'm as loony as them.

Our darkest times are there to teach us how to enjoy our brightest moments.

I'm shining.

Vicious Circle.

I've been told I'm too hard on myself by many people in my life.  I have obviously never really truly learned what that means, because here I am striving to understand it again.

When I jumped on to the 'coffee shop', a forum here for bloggers, a person I don't know at all told me it wouldn't do me any good being hard on myself for not being 100% on board with Papi's male transformation.

In another question asked to the forum, "What's the worst thing that has happened to you?" I replied with, "for me it's a toss-up between a motorcycle accident that left me with brain injury, an ex becoming a heroin addict, another ex kicking me out and making me homeless by having a packing party while i was at work and right now my love going through a sex change."

Then, funnily enough, another asked, "Andrea, how is it that two of the four things that you mention as being the worst that has happened to you, are actually things that happened/are happening to someone else?"

I think he was just poking around for my emotions, so I admitted, "i suppose because i'm a narcissistic person :) i don't know if you've ever experienced someone you love die before your eyes from addiction, but man it hurts.  it sticks with you forever.

and as for my spouse?  i said "i do" to my wife.  not my husband.  so now i have to buck up and accept my love for who they are and i'll tell ya, it's not easy. 

so yeah ... i guess my fault in both of those experiences is that i love too deeply.  worst thing that has happened to me is loving?"

Later on he softened the conversation and admitted he knows the pain of losing someone to addiction, then said, "And no, Andrea, loving too deeply is never the worst thing that can happen to someone. Not loving yourself deeply enough is."

There it is again.  Someone telling me I don't love myself.  Common thread in my life.

Later on yesterday, I thought about my feelings of Papi leaving the not so safe cocoon, and exposing the monarch inside, changing forever what we see in our wedding photos.  I believe I have come up with a way to deal with that case of contention I struggle with.

In about 30 years, or even 20 depending on how poorly I take care of myself, I am on no accounts going to look like the 'youngster' that I see in those photos.

I won't be frozen in time, so mi esposo doesn't have to be either.

I now have 3 ways for the teenager, who has gads of self-loathing to heal from, to rationalize this scary process.

Interestingly enough, yes, 2 of them are ego-centered.

'My' embarrassment of Papi going bare breasted will cease, and 'my' face will also change in those photos.  I suppose we could also look at the the 3rd as narcissistic, considering it would be a loss for 'me' if that uterus was not taken away, leaving my love to develop the cancer that has threatened in the past, leaving me a widow.

Yes folks, it's all about me.

But I'm pretty sure that if you have been following this journey, you've figured that out anyway.

I was told by my mother that it's 'all about me' since I was a child.  She made it clear that it was a horrible personality trait.  She really looked for every crevice she could find to smash my confidence like someone breaking a horse.

This, I believe, is why I'm so hard on myself.

I really do hate it when it's all about me.  Through my tears, I've expressed that I deeply wish I could just be happy for Papi, that I could be of support for one of the greatest times of my love's life.  Yet, I lie in fetal position, grieving from the pain of losing my wife.

I am self-centered.

Typically, most musicians/artists/etc. are, but when you really look at the definition of a narcissist, it's about self-love that is beyond the scope of confidence.  I'm not so sure that narcissism is my personality when I really look at how much healing I have around learning to love myself.

Even the self-loathing is all about me.

This could circle forever.

Oi vey.