out to pasture

The cows are in abundance.

The thug thinks they're a toy to play with.

It's a little upsetting.

I'm sure the cows are going to win that game.

The fridge ticks and tacks.

Apparently it's 'doing it's job'.

We should have had cabinets built around our inverters.  Now they are water logged because of the ocean air being full of salt water.

We are without power a lot of the day, every day, but after a year, we're starting to get used to it.

"Oh, you should have the same cabinets around your inverters as your neighbours, then you wouldn't have to buy new inverters."

So, you couldn't have told us that before we went into the hole for 2 new ones?

Ya know?

But back to the cows.

I sing a lot of songs about cows.

Not that I put any away in that locker of music to record.

It's just cow songs.

Like a musical.

While on the road.

Because we're always on the road.

And there are always cows.

So, what else would there be to sing about?

Or for that matter, write about.

So, it's only natural that when we're walking the dogs, after the first river, we'll find a pasture of cows.

Then, being the tyrant he is, it's only natural for The Thug to go torment them.

Off runs Papi.

"Run faster!" I scream.  I don't want our neighbours putting a bullet in our dogs.

I don't want our dogs hurting the cows.

I can now see all the cows running away from The Thug.

But what's worse, is now The Donkey thinks it's time to play too.

She's about as tall as a calf.

Earlier that day, there were the puppies.

It's possible we'll take one.

We miss Pathetic Puppy so much.

It's nice that we have her reminders.  Like my fancy wedding purse with a very special chew hole, courtesy of the baby girl.

It's like she came in the form of a cyclone, destroyed everything, then went back to her angels.

We have her reminders.

But we'll never have that little one eye.

We may have a new little girl to make our lives crazy for a while.

One can never have enough crazy.

Except for the fact that I feel so heartbroken that so many hearts have left my life.

I can live without THAT crazy.

But then, I guess they were never really friends to begin with.

I will keep moving forward.

i choose love

the gift

Papi is gone.

So is our electricity.

Tomorrow, I'll go see about buying a newer, used inverter.

I spend most of my day running to do things while I see the city power on.  "Quick!  Practise a set while you can!  Throw in a load of laundry!  See if Papi sent a message!"

Then in between, I try to find things to do without electricity: a little exercise, fold laundry, clean up dog poop, or just practise those Spanish lyrics over and over.

Today, the water gave out on me.

Back to flushing toilets with a bucket of water from the pool, not to mention a pool bath.

I'll be getting a super duper special 8 a.m. visit from our plumber tomorrow morning.

Maybe there will be electricity so I can get an extra couple of hours practise in.

I definitely need it.

This whole 'translating to Spanish' thing is consuming my days.

My obsession.

It's so lovely to sing all day, but when your memory leaves as MUCH to be desired as mine does, it's a little frustrating.

I feel like I'm forever going to be tied to a sheet of paper with words on it.

Anyway, while I was practising yesterday, I had a special visit.

No, not 20 children at my gate screaming my name in unison to be sure I heard it.

... you think i'm kidding ... don't you?? ... nope ...

It was Housemaid.

It never really occurred to me just how much it meant to people here that we played Santa.

But there she stood, with a bouquet of flowers in hand.

Beautifully wrapped in a pink mesh type paper infused with lines of sparkly gold, and a gold ribbon bow to tie it all in a grand package.

Never have flowers ever looked so beautiful.

2 bright sunflowers, with gads of purple daisies, surrounded by little yellow buds peeking in from the not so empty spaces.

Oh, and a card, which read, "On behalf of the children and families in the village, Blessings."

This bouquet would be a VERY nice gift for someone, when you go to their birthday or any other time people want to bring some love to you, but this one?

It took about 15 people to scrape together the money to buy this gift.

I am floored.

They were so grateful for what we did for them for X-Mas.

When I was worried about dipping further into the credit cards to do this, I didn't really know that it would be as appreciated as it was.

I cried a couple of tears from the pure love I felt.

Papi wasn't here to receive this love, but he felt it from afar.

He could really use love.

His trip hasn't turned out so well.

The family he was staying with didn't quite treat him with much respect.

Imagine being alone at the house of part of your 'family' for X-Mas because your 'family' said you weren't invited to be with them where they were having dinner?

Then get kicked out on X-Mas night with no warm clothes and nowhere to go because you told this 'family' how you feel?

Yeah.  Merry fucking X-Mas to you, too.

Anyway, Papi will get to come home to love.

And hopefully electricity.

One thing is for sure, by not having any electricity, this house is sure tidy.

I've also managed to slim down a little from the ankle fat, as well as strengthen my ankle so much that I can almost get up and down stairs without pain!

Anyway, I better upload this before the electricity goes again!!

i choose to consciously surround myself with positivity

rust and white noise

Did'ja miss me?

We had intermittent power for 3 days, hence, I haven't showered for 3 days.

The pool is a slimy mess, but that was my makeshift bath yesterday.

I'm pretty sure me going in there and bathing is the majority of the dirt they're vacuuming out of the pool right now.

Plumber Friend is teaching Dominican Daddy how to clean the pool again.  He needed a refresher course.

Papi resisted having anyone else clean it, because he's as O.C.D. about his pool as I am about my dishes.

I would rather have my dishes pile to the ceiling, waiting for me to wash them, than have Housemaid clean them.

I can do without the chunks of food left on the plates when she 'cleans' them.  I'm pretty sure it's because Housemaid needs glasses.  That's just not something people can normally afford here.

But as for the pool, Papi has given in and allowed Dominican Daddy to have the lessons and be the cleaner.  Besides, Papi is honestly dying from heat.  He could barely move when we had the heat wave last month.

Not to mention, Dominican Daddy will need to know how to clean it when we move, because the next people won't know how to deal with it.

If they're anything like us, this will be their first home and they'll have this dream about living on the ocean, just like we did.

We don't ever want to live on the ocean again.

When we move, I'll have to buy all new instruments and computers.

Even my clothes are disintegrating from the air here.

Seriously!  My sarongs are falling to pieces.

When we first heard the ocean non-stop, it was pleasing.

However, there comes a point when you'd like to just have a word with mother nature and say, "Would you mind turning off the white noise?  It's kinda making me crazy.  Thanks."

It was so beautiful when I first heard it.

I remember opening my door that first day.  I thought the sound was wind pounding against the house in a 'welcome to the DR' storm, but it was just the waves I was hearing.

I enjoyed every morning doing yoga to the sound of the waves crashing.  Papi enjoyed lying in the pool at night listening to the ebb and flow of the ocean.

Here we are, 10 months later, and that sound has become similar to living on a busy street in the city.

You know how you hear continuous cars, honking, sirens, people talking really loud, and all you want is just to have quiet time?

Oh, you get quiet time in the middle of the night.  There is a silence from the drone of the city for a brief moment if you're up that late, or early depending on how you look at it.

But waves?  They never stop.  Ever.  White noise.

They've become white noise!

So, our stint on the ocean has become our temporary home.

In about 5 years, we'll probably move up into the mountains, where the rust won't find us on its daily regimen.

Not to mention, this house is old.

Living without electricity, leaving us with no shower for days on end is really frustrating this femme who is used to being pristine and fancy.

Now I'm stinky and dirty with holes in my clothes.

I lost it the 2nd night of no power and took my anger out on Papi.

There just comes a point where you want the niceties of a developed country.

I just wish the cold of Canada didn't hurt so much.  We would have never left if I could handle it.

Yesterday, when Plumber Friend got our power back on, I took the opportunity to play my piano for an hour without any back pain.  That's the whole reason for being here.  The ability to really live.

For Papi, it's the ability to really relax after so much hard work in his life.

It's fitting that the day we lost our power was our 1 year anniversary of buying this house, and beginning the journey of moving to this beautiful country full of lovely people.

I love it here.  I don't ever want to move back to the chill of Canada.

This is home.

Rust and white noise included.

i am led by my dreams

mañana never comes

This power thing is really getting at me, considering we just spent thousands on a new inverter so we could have power.

I'm at the 'fuck it' point and if I had time to sleep all day, I'd be poppin' clonazepam right along side Papi.

Today, I jumped in the shower as soon as I saw the street power on, and managed to get a shower in mere minutes before the electricity and water were off again!  I'm clean!

When we would have a power outage in Vancouver, it would make the news, "No power!!!!!!!  People living with candles!!!!  Oh the horror!!!"

Yeah.  For a few hours.  Try a few days at a time, ongoing for a few months.

We had a light show the other night.

Power would come on for 2 seconds where all the security lights in the yard would turn on, then off again for another 10 minutes, alerting the bandidos that we were fair game and probably would be sleeping with the windows open, making us an easy target.

If I filmed it and sped it up, it would be like strobe lights.

When I call Mr. Sincere to say it's still not working, I get 2 responses, "Really?  No power?  I fixed it," and then "OK, Mañana."

Everything is 'mañana' here.  Everything.  The only problem is, it seems that 'mañana' never comes.

Somewhere in this is learning for me.

What am I supposed to learn?  Tell me and I'll go on the accelerated classes.

I'd love to have time and energy to just meditate and exercise all day to ward off the depression.

I don't need electrical power for that, and my body needs some release of stress and bad food due to no energy to cook properly.

However, I'm too busy driving around workers to hardware stores and waiting in lineups at the bank for 30 minutes, because we can't take enough from our credit cards on the ATM.

There is no, "I'm just going to the bank.  Be right back."  No, it's more of a day trip.

First, we have to drive forever to get there, because we're rural, then we've waited our turn in the line, the teller counts everything out by hand, because their counting machines will be fixed 'mañana'.

So he counts as I count with him, then he writes.  He counts again, I count again, then he writes.  He types one thing into the computer and then we count again and he writes.  Then someone comes over and approves it something gets entered into the computer, something gets written down and he counts it one last time to prove to me that it's the right amount.

This is all in between the moments people feel that they'd like to have a personal conversation with the co-worker next to them while we're waiting.  It's kinda comical, and I wouldn't care if I wasn't needing to find 'time' for myself instead of waiting at the bank.

Papi keeps saying all this will end.

I believe I'm in purgatory and I'll be in renovation hell for the rest of my life.  The sewage flood has nothing on this one.

It's also really hard to feel so alone in the daytime with all this.  The only people I have to speak to in the daytime speak Spanish and are not here for a hang out or friendship.  They're here to work.

However, while driving one worker to the store today, I did break down into tears when I was asking if he knew a really good electrician, as in REALLY professional to fix this job once, and get it done without having to pay through the nose every day we wait for 'mañana' to come so we have power.

Papi is so depressed, he just sleeps all day to escape it.

Papi says, "Go online and talk to friends."  You're not listening.  With what magical power will I find that magical internet?

He says, "Make new friends here."  I don't really have downtime for that yet.

When I do, it's at night when I'm so exhausted I can't even find the energy to say a word to anyone.  I just stare and drool.

When I have true time for the work of making new friends, it will mean that all this mania has ended, and I won't really NEED new friends at that point, it will just be a cherry on top.

I need my friends now, while I'm losing my mind from the lack of creativity, exercise and proper eating and loneliness.

I'd also like to feel like the rest of the pretty girls here who always look so clean with fancy clothes, fixed up hair, made up faces and smiles because they got enough sleep.

Yesterday, I seriously walked around with what looked like a Marge Simpson hairdo on my head.  A true fire hazard.

Take me away.

i am highly motivated to exercise my body as i find exercise fun

Gratitude List, Day 8/10
1. I am grateful for electricity and water.
2. I am grateful to keep searching for happiness, even if it's not here right now.
3. I am grateful for anti-depressants keeping me from completely going over the edge.
4. I am grateful for the puppies to make me laugh.
5. I am grateful for the patience for the puppies.
6. I am grateful for the good souls who allow me to vent without judgement.
7. I am grateful to be learning hard lessons, as I know one day they will pay off.
8. I am grateful to have enough food and a stove that works even when power is off.
9. I am grateful for a really good bed to allow my back to sleep.
10. I am grateful to get a few hours a day to spend with Papi.

it's all about learning.

I want to live as environmentally sound as possible, and one day we will have solar energy!  But for now, we do our best here.

I just don't know if I'm ever going to make that recycling plan I wanted to talk to government about, because the government here is just so corrupt.  I don't know that they'd ever listen to a city girl from Canada.

I also need to learn how to live off the land as much as possible.

I found a vendor who wants all my used glass containers.  I wash and save pasta sauce jars, etc., and give them to him to sell his wares!

Today, I am going to grind up my egg shells from my eggs I eat every morning.  I boiled and dried them overnight, and they are now baking.

I found a recipe online to make my own calcium from them.  This way, I can have calcium, not throw away my shells AND cut down on costs.

I also tried my hand at toasting my own fresh coffee beans I bought from our neighbouring city, which is scarier than taking a chance on a gay bash by holding your partner's hand in Whalley back home in Surrey.

I thought I needed a little practise on the coffee, but the way my body temperature has risen and I'm typing at the speed of a cockroach coming at me in the bathroom, I'd say that I did a good job!

I was taught how to do it on the first round, by the Housemaid, but she burnt them to a crisp.  I'm pretty sure she needs glasses.  No matter.  She has a Blackberry phone and fancy clothes instead.

Anyway, my coffee now tastes even more delicious with my cinnamon AND nutmeg.

Yeah, I started adding nutmeg from the advice of the local Dominican, Our Translator.

Am I boring you with coffee talk?

OK.

I'll talk about my garden.

I have so many things sprouting up, but being my first veggie garden, I can't tell what's a weed and what's food.

The weeds are even different here!  They actually look like little plants.

So, I'll have to wait until I actually see the real deal, then weed out the rest.

There will be many trials as I learn.  With my coffee, calcium and veggies and more I'm sure.

We just got taught how to actually sharpen our machete properly.

The Carpenter, who built our bed, our wall, our gargantuan fence and is now installing our roof, showed me.

We now have a machete so sharp, I'm afraid to use it!

Not to mention, the puppies are SO curious about it, I'm afraid they may lose a nose.

Oh, the coffee heat has worn off now, so excuse me while I go put a parka on.

Papi has his air conditioning going in the bedroom.  I'm fucking freezing in here.

Alas, we still don't have a functioning washing machine.  We need to find someone to buy it and we'll go buy one that isn't digital, according to Mr. Sincere.

He told us digital isn't going to work far, far out in the village here.  We need old fashion dials.  Another trial failed.

But we have trustworthy electricity again!

The problem was 45 minutes away, where their inverter died in the 4th biggest city here in the Dominican Republic.

I ALSO learned that I will be able to go play in the ocean starting at the end of May until September.  I was told the water is calmer and won't try to kill me, so I'll have some good ol' floating for my bitch of a back.

Learning.

So much.

Including the fact that the Housemaid took us YET again.

We need massive rocks, or shall I say gargantuan boulders, for the front of our property so we don't wash away, not to mention, we need it to support our wall that is built on sand.

The Housemaid told us we need to pay Mr. Extortion (aka: the 'marina'), but the Jersey Girl told me they're not the ones we pay.  It's the environmental agency.

So, she bamboozled us, yet again, stealing money that we had to borrow from our credit card.

Learning.

So much.

i trust myself to make the best and smartest decisions for me

Gratitude List, Day 6/10
1. I am grateful for electricity.
2. I am grateful for clean water.
3. I am grateful to learn every day.
4. I am grateful to feel loved.
5. I am grateful for friendship.
6. I am grateful for being brave and taking a chance, moving somewhere for my health.
7. I am grateful for the warmth to heal my injuries.
8. I am grateful for a roof that doesn't leak.
9. I am grateful for my teachers.
10. I am grateful to be feeling so much better emotionally.

1st world problems in a 3rd world country

Did'ja miss me?

Or were you relieved my cheeky ass was gone from cyberspace?

Well, love me or hate me, I'm baaaa-aaaack.

We had a NASTY 5 days with no power.

No power means no water.

But more importantly, no internet and no contact with family and my dwindling list of friends that is now down to about the 5 people who care to stay in touch that I am grateful for.

Truly, quality NOT quantity.  The rest of them, well, buh-bye.  My Trust List has almost been abolished.

Each day that passed I became more depressed, thinking that this was it.  We will never have clean dishes or clean bodies again.

My hair looks like a fire hazard.

I'm supposed to look all purrrrrty today for Our Fave's Mom's baby shower.

Oh well.

I can do some kinda up-do-ish thing and give it a wrap to hide the frazzled ends that are, by now, turning into dreadlocks.

There's really no time today to try to wash that bitch out.  I'll need a weed eater to get through the mats.

The cockroaches are having a fucking fiesta with all the dirty dishes.

I managed to get one load cleaned while they thought they had the power going.

Then it was gone again and the rest of the dishes sat as a jungle gym for bugs.

The street power isn't working.  Our generators are not working.  And as soon as dusk hits, this house is blacker than black.

Kinda terrifying actually.

5 days.

We have our lanterns we walk around with, in hopes that we'll see the dog lounging on the floor BEFORE we kick the poor li'l critter.

Our guns are secured in the back of our undies when the night comes.

We're not taking any chances.

The bathroom water still isn't at full bore, but at least I can have a wench's bath; wet sponge, and applied to areas that could offend the general public.

I have layers of dirt on my dirt.

When I clean one layer off, then towel dry, the towel shows me that there is yet another layer that is in need of attention as the dirt rolls into tiny little balls on my skin.

How the hell could I ever be this dirty?!?!?!

I have what looks like permanent stains of dirt on my stomach.

No matter how hard I scrub, it just turns my skin red.

No, the dirt doesn't leave.  I think I need a power washer for that bitch.

Well, I woke to power in the house this morning, and the thrill of all thrills that I was able to talk to 'you'.

I don't know how long this will last.

However, there is one thing that I'm grateful for.

A gas range.

You don't need power to cook.

We also have bottled water, so I was able to drink water while I made sure I took my Prozac, to be sure I didn't have a nervous breakdown.

I also chased it down with a happy little clonazepam pill.

That kept me from climbing the walls and possibly going down to the electricity company and opening fire.

It also had me sleep all the way through workers working, and the Housemaid cleaning all around me.

Here in the Dominican Republic, they have a T-Shirt.

I really need it for when I realize that we're not in Kansas anymore.

It reads, "Remember Where You Are."

It's really hard for an East Van Princess.

Prince Papi seems to be handling it just fine.

Oh, but don't you worry, he will have his time where I'll be picking him up off the floor from something that has him in fetal position.

We take turns.

i have lots of friends

peace on earth, well, for me anyhow

I'm doing so much better with my anger toward zealots who use religion for hate.

I really am feeling less angry, and it's a much better way to live.

I'd like to share with you what I found on the internet some time back:

1. Leviticus 25:44 states that I may possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighbouring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can't I own Canadians??

2. I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?

3. I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual uncleanliness - Lev.15: 19-24. The problem is how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offence.

4. When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odor for the Lord - Lev.1:9. The problem is, my neighbours. They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?

5. I have a neighbour who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself, or should I ask the police to do it?

6. A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an abomination - Lev. 11:10, it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don't agree. Can you settle this? Are there 'degrees' of abomination?

7. Lev. 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wriggle-room here?

8. Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev 19:27. How should they die?

9. I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?

10. My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev. 19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them? (Lev.24:10-16). Couldn't we just burn them to death at a private family affair, like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev.20:14)

I couldn't even look at the word g*d without feeling anger to the point of turning red, suffering with my heart pounding.  I would use the above as a way to fight.  Now I see it as a way for my own peace.

The bible was written by mere mortals, pen in hand, in hopes to gain power over people, not love.

My anger stemmed from being exposed to mean nuns when I was raised.  I realized, if these were g*d's people, then I wasn't a fan of this g*d.

Also, as a tiny child, I prayed best way I knew how for my life to get better.  It only got worse.  I then decided there was no g*d and was vehemently against anyone who could ever believe in such crap.  It was my only way to survive this world of hate and anger.

I still don't believe in a g*d, but I'm definitely a firm believer in spirituality amongst astral beings that surround us.

I believe in angels.  Nothing has ever swayed me on this position.

Anyway, my point is, now that I'm starting to allow myself my own spirituality, I'm having so much less anger around that three letter word.

It sure feels a lot more peaceful.  I've spent way too many years seeing the word g*d as a synonym for bad because of all the anger I saw in people who believed.

I can now just put two 'o's in the middle and turn it into something I can believe in:  good.

I believe in good.  I believe we all have the power to reach one another with collective love.  One by one, we can change each person in the world, and change the anger and hate into acceptance of one another.

Last night, I set my alarm and woke up bright and early at the crack of 3:30 am Vancouver time.  This was to meditate with the rest of the people in the world who were celebrating the solstice and asking for peace on earth.

You would never catch me waking from my beauty sleep for anything in the past, but I did it last night.

I didn't feel anything like I did from my Soul Activation, but my intent was there.  I sent my positive energy out as best I could, and imagined myself breathing with the rest of those who were doing the same.

Even if I can't feel the angels all the time, they're there.  They are fleeting and will expose their energy when they see fit.

The angels are here and I have so much more peace.

i welcome, and am open to receive all abundance that comes

Ah! The Joys of S.A.D.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'm staying off the processed sugar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's starts now.

i choose to exercise regularly

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

oh, MY 'god'.

Wow.  My brain woke up from my coffee and the strongest level of ionized water I could squeeze out of that machine, when I realized what an amazing day I had yesterday.

You see, I've been going to the Shul (or as us non-Hebrew speaking folks call it; the Synagogue) regularly for the past month and a half.

I've been enjoying myself, receiving positive messages about spirituality.

I've been so impressed by the consistent positive revelations I've been seizing, that I wrote to the Rabbi and told her, "I have never willingly gone to a house of worship in my life.  Thank you for your positive wisdom and for being on the path of my spiritual journey."

Afterward, they always have a potluck.  I forget to bring food, always, however, I'm not sure what I'm supposed to bring.  I have no idea how to make kosher food really, or even to find the foods to cook with.

Anyway, they are all nice to me even still.

Yesterday was a little out of the ordinary.  My gratitude buddy had to leave right after the service, which left me alone, to talk to people until my 'short bus' came to get me.

Talk to people!?!?!  Do you know how afraid I am of strangers?!?!?

But something magical happened.  I sat down with two old men and debated spirituality, NOT religion.

I was in my glory!!!

I listened to their belief system and was so happy to sense them being ok with how I believe.

I think that's what attracted me to this house of worship to begin with: Free thinking.

One of the first times I went, I listened to an agnostic verging on atheist speak about her journey in spirituality, and what it means to her.

I couldn't believe I'd found someone like myself in a house of worship!!!

Well, yesterday I was sincerely in my element.  There I was, sitting around the table, talking to those two old men who had gads more religious experience, and I realized, I may not have religious education, but I indeed have very strong spirituality.

I may not believe in a 'god', but my spirituality is powerful and mighty enough that two old men, who regularly visit Jerusalem for their religious journey, actually listened to what I had to say about spirituality, and genuinely cared to hear it.

I told them how I believe that spirituality and religion are completely different, and only very rarely do people actually have both.

Most people feel that if they follow the ritual of their chosen religion, that they are closer to their 'god'.  But personally, I believe some of them are further away from their 'god' than I am.  Religious ritual has nothing to do with spirituality, to me.

These old men listened and understood what I was saying.  They accepted my belief.  They didn't belittle me like most zealots and say, "You're wrong.  God is the only way."

No, they questioned my belief system in such a way that it made me understand theirs a little more.  At one point, a woman who had joined us couldn't handle the debate of 'What is spirituality?', 'Where does our soul actually exist?', 'What is our higher power?' and 'Why do we return to this house of worship?' because her belief is one dimensional.

Not to mention, she feels she had an experience, that to her, trumps our beliefs.  What she doesn't understand, is I've had years of an experience of finding my own path of belief, and mine is just as worthy as hers, albeit completely different.

And that's ok!  She walked away because her's was so strong.  I'm kinda glad she did, actually.  I have my own belief system and I'm finding more and more people that have the same beliefs, and we all know that it doesn't matter 'what' we believe in, as long as we have 'something' to guide us along our spiritual path.

I can't tell you how amazing it was to be able to say out loud to someone there, "I'm not comfortable using the word, 'god'."

It was like a release of every spiritual struggle I've had, when the person across from me said, "I only use that word, because it's easier than trying to explain my belief."

Bingo!!  You got it!!

Truly, I have found my people.  Truly, I have found a place where I can be who I am, yet still be in a room filled with people who believe that positivity, not power, is the path to enlightenment.

It set my day up for even more beauty, and that moment I had of Nirvana a few months back had found me once more.

i am secure in myself

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

Broken Cat Dream

So, there I was, enjoying my coaching for Ladies Rock Camp.

Seriously. 

Really, really enjoying my coaching.  I feel like Momma Bear helping her cubs.

They are amazing!!!!!

I can't wait to see them perform their song for an audience!!!  The audience is going to love them!  The buzz of energy within them reminds me of why I enjoyed music so much from the beginning.

As we become professional, sometimes, we think too much about what we're doing.

I saw that I can calm down a bit and just enjoy myself.  I don't need to worry about being the best.

All I need is emotion.

... lord knows i have enough of that to spare ...

Anyway, as the gregarious singer sang this one line, "You're just a fucking man!!!!" I giggled at the voice emoting the angst that so many women feel.

Yes, this line was sung with the most feeling.

It was a bit silly and angry, yet bonding with the strength of super glue for all the band to sing along to.

A short while later, it was time for quiet practise.

We left the dark, dank bar to the outside picnic table to hash out formula and lyrics, and I immediately had thoughts of what I started to deal with recently.

You see, right beside us, there were about 10 men building a skateboard ramp.  While it was pretty cool to see their creation, I was grateful I wasn't a young, 20-something, pretty, young girl alone amongst them.

I have been thinking about things I avoid because of fear, anxiety or P.T.S.D.  One thing I avoid?  Being around a group of strangers, who happen to be bio-males.

I won't go into details as to why, but being a girl, I am sure you can figure it out.

Well, here was my band, outside and oblivious to the men beside us, growling 'You're just a fucking man!!!'

I started laughing and they really didn't get the punch line, until I commented, "Seriously.  I can't even tell you what this means for me right now.  You have no idea how this is making me feel."

Ladies Rock Camp is about empowering women.

If there was a woman who needs reminding of empowerment, it's me.

I'm always looking for more strength in this world that seems to be a man's world for so many of us.

Not today.

These girls reminded me that we have so much power.

We can sing together and enjoy ourselves.

These women really made my heart feel elation.

They made me part of their journey of music.

They made me feel like I was a big part of their experience.

Really, they don't get that they did everything on their own.

All I did was lead them there a little faster with my experience.

They did it all.

Never having picked up an instrument, they started Friday afternoon to learn their chops and wrote their own song that they will be performing today.

This.  This is worth my time this weekend.

This has made me see the power of music and the simple, pure joy it brings us.

Oh!  The name of the band I'm coaching?

Broken Cat Dream.

Very serious.

Very, very serious band.

... taking my tongue out of my cheek now ...

we are only limited by our own imagination.  let it fly!

you stole my happy, bitches!!!!

So, you know how yoga is supposed to be relaxing?

It's meant to be a place where you have intention of healing for yourself or others, or spiritual growth, or emotional wellness.

The perk is that you get strong physically.

The point of yoga, is to be nimble enough to sit in meditation for as long as it takes for you to find your place of peace.

We humans can lose sight of this and bring our 1st world 'problems' into our space that's meant to be positive.

When we walk into a yoga class, and people are fighting about who's spot is who's, it sets off really bad energy from the get go.

What the fuck people!??!

Who cares what fucking spot you have in the class?!?! You made it to the class!!  That's all that matters!!

It's rather difficult to get back to a place of peace when people are bickering about which spot is 'theirs'.

I'm just not sure how these people stole my happy.

My greatest job right now is to recapture that feeling of nirvana I started experiencing this month.

I need to keep that connection with energy that I've tapped into and found.

However, when I get to a class and adults are acting like children, well out of my mouth will come, "I don't think yoga is a time to be arguing about who's spot is who's."

Then, it is I who looks like the negative one as people chuckle at because I lost my cool.

All I wanted was the fighting to stop so I could keep my good energy.

Well, after my class, the bad energy followed me outside while I waited for my 'short bus'.

It didn't arrive.

An hour later, HandyDart decided to send me a cab.

There I was, bitchy from losing my positive energy to yoga fighting and being stranded outside the gym with a seizing bitch of a back.

This was supposed to be my place for healing, but instead, I was sulking outside the gym from pain and from being left stranded.

I had no ability on this day to walk from the bus stop if I wanted to ditch the Dart and head home, so while waiting for an hour of an Angry Birds level I couldn't beat, I pouted.

It all comes back to the power we possess.

We are so damn responsible for our own happiness and that fucking sucks!

Where's my magic fucking wand bitches?!?!?!?

Yeah.

There really is no such thing.

All that positive energy that I found came from me.  If I want to find it, I have to work for it myself.

There is no yoga fighting that can take that away.

There is no back pain that can take that away.

There is no company who ditches disabled people at the side of the road that can take that away.

It's all up to me to keep it within myself.

Do I want to allow myself to lose my positive energy?

No, I will just have to work harder.

But isn't that what life is about?

We get out of it what we put in.

today's mantra from my gratitude buddy

we are what we think.  with our thoughts we create our world.

Love-Able

Cherry blossoms.

Their fragile petals bloom with immeasurable power.

"It's spring!  It's time for the winter demons to leave," they say.  Their pillowy strength reaches for the sun, cleaning the air for a new season.

They take over the streets with happy sights as I drive these pink enveloped tracks.  A renewal of vitality with their injection absolving my veins.

It's time for spring cleaning.

It's time for our belongings to be returned to us.  I clean in preparation.  I'm readying myself for the purge.  I say goodbye to pieces of myself that I thought I needed.

I don't 'need' them.  They are filler.  Items meant to satiate.  Ironically, all they do is make a room more confusing.  Too much to look at in one sweep of view.

Upon opening a bewitched box that hasn't been visited in 5 years, I brace myself for a goodbye to my spiritual past.  A time when I tried so very hard to believe in a 'god', 'goddess' or any kind of 'higher power'.

All I could come up with was molecules of energy.  There is energy in this box.  I could feel it's past attempts speaking to me with liveliness.

Positivity.

This magical box carries a time of immense healing.

This enchanted box also contains words to myself from the past:

On Sunday, March 15, 1992 @ 11:30 at night, you cried.

You envisioned yourself with a love and that beautiful thought was replaced by being broken up with.

You cried.

You wrote 2 poems.

You thought you are not the one to ever have a relationship.  You don't believe love could enter your life.  You believe that you are destined to be alone forever, because you are terrified of being hurt.

It's much easier to be lonely than to be rejected.  You realized that all those times you cried because you were 'lonely', were really because you were too frightened to love and be hurt again.

And again, and again.

Your eyes were swollen and you realized there was no way you could get up the next day at 5:30 a.m. to go to your aerobic class.

So.

How do you feel today?
 
Today?  I feel a hell of a lot better than when this note was written.

Life can still throw adversity my way.  I'm not sure why this path is so rocky for me.

It just is.

But I'll tell you, my heart is much stronger than when this note to myself was penned.

I am lovable.  I am capable of being loved and that relationship I always imagined is here.

I'm living the dream.

Yes, I cleaned out the house from the flood.  I cleaned out items that are not necessary to this new world.  I'm ready for more healing from my past.

I will continue to keep this note.  I will read it again in another 10 years perhaps.

I will keep these words as well.

Exorcism

Taking a road trip to Bellingham was not the smartest of ideas while I'm still recovering from a recent back spasm.  I had to take so many pain killers last night that I woke up to those same swollen eyes that percolated as a result of 6 weeks of crying.

I was supposed to get a photo done for my new passport today.

Uhhhh ...

Ain't gonna happen.

This femme is adamant that there will be a pretty face in that booklet to be studied by embassadors of countries other than my own.

I felt my love slink into our temporary bed at 8:30 a.m., spooning my dopey, drugged body.  Therefore, I know Papi will be sleeping all day and not hijacking my newest plans of a gentle repair day, filled with back care stretches and eating of healthy veggies to clear my system out of the carb overload I indulged in, that was oh-oh-oh daaaaaamn good.

The pain I'm feeling today is forcing me to walk with a cane, but it was worth the fun I benefited from.  I had a full, bustling with cheer day with Papi.  It really doesn't matter what we do together, there will always be deep belly laughs.

Well, now that I'm out of the pit of doom that is.

I'm in a safe place where I can listen to the excitement that Papi is overflowing with.  There is exuberant joy from something as simple as chin hair.

I have to admit, I stare at it all the time now, but doesn't harm my heart.  It is simply a phenomenon of, 'how the hell did I wind up here'?

Papi's tuft doesn't look like beard hair, it looks more like Shaggy from Scooby Doo.  It adds to the character of my love; the goofy soul mate that I adore.

On our day together, I finished my love's sentences, answered questions that Papi hadn't finished asking and commented before mi esposo had completed a mouthful of an observation.  All of this walked me to an opportunity of strength to realize; the male transformation isn't stealing everything from me.

I still get to keep this amazing heart along with those gorgeous eyes.

I suppose I should make a nice shelf for this trophy to sit upon so that I may look at them when I have another rough patch.

Another prize I have earned?  A spontaneous soul that wakes me before my sleep is finished, and replaces my Saturday layout with a spur of the moment change of plans.

A person who, while we're on a mission for cupboards, happens to find the 'right' tattoo artist to do touch ups of a tattoo that was received during our honeymoon.

Papi tried to convince said tattoo artist to permanently imprint a heart with our wedding date embossed for the world to see.  A tattoo that would make people ask, "What's the date for?" giving Papi an opportunity to gloat about our grand day.

Unfortunately, mi esposo didn't get to have this declaration visible to the masses.  The artist was on an apprenticeship and didn't feel comfortable working with neck skin.

However, it truly was the thought that counts.

This is my love.  This is the person I stood hand in hand with, eyes locked on one another, in front of 180 witnesses who blessed the union of our bond.

The conclusion that I might not make it through this marriage is a venom that is gradually evaporating through my pores.

Good riddance demons.

Oh, I know there's a few of you hanging around in there.  My suggestion is that you leave peacefully before I kick your ass.

How to be weak

The sewage flood reorder of disorder has begun.  They're rebuilding our home from the barren house that has been gutted from the kamikaze toilet attack.

If I continue to compare the house wreckage to that of my love's male transformation, it could very well be that the reason it took 2 months to get someone here to begin to rebuild is because I needed to take 2 months to be able to speak first.

They took everything away from us, including our safe floors and walls; I was stripped of myself, left lying in the padded La-Z-Boy cell with only tears and swollen eyes to replace my words of agony.

The insurance people had to 'speak' to different contractors to find the right fit financially to put things back together; I had to find a way to 'speak' to my love in the right way that works for me.

Oh, there have been some rules; a) no reference to 'T' or testosterone.  Please call it hormones, b) shower away the 'man stink', and c) when speaking about those surgeries, please don't use words like 'ripped', 'hacked', 'torn' etc. when referring to that perfect body you're taking from me, please!

My poor love.  Married to a deranged dictator!

But, I suppose the only way for me to be able to speak is to have a safe place to do so.  Lord knows right now it's not a quiet place with all the hammering and immature male banter going on below me.

Thank god they've given us a floor to walk on, so I can now pee without the paranoia of possibly being watched from below!

Anyway, I digress with the distraction of development.

We must compromise.  We both must do our part in this tango, or one of us is sure to hit the ground.

I was able to speak to 2 more people on my dreaded public Facebook site.  2 more eggs to add to the basket of trust.

I'm feeling braver and so far I haven't encountered what I fear the most in people's capabilities to crush my spirit further.

At this point, I don't know that I'll hear one of the 'fearful phrases' I've been dreading; "If you're so unhappy, why don't you just leave."  I'm managing to have the rationale to be able to choose who I allow in to my Trust Page wisely, not sacrificing myself to potential predators who would say such a thing.

But the other fear?  The pendulum could still swing.  The 'rah-rah-rah everyone should transition, it's the new black!' people and their political pompoms, armed with intellect of phrases they've collected in their photographic memory, could still damage me with words that would echo my upbringing, "You've got nothing to cry about!" or, "You're selfish."

I suppose I've proven that we do indeed grow wiser with age, as the people I've hand picked have allowed me the freedom to be weak.

I've been strong through too many experiences in the past 4 years.  I can't be strong anymore.  In this case, I can't hide behind a persona.  This one is more robust than my frame and mind that have been psychologically and physically impaired by the motorcycle accident.

My armour of protective friends, who enclose me like walls of a palace, have granted me with a powerful buffer for the plausible piranhas that could tear me to the bone.  I feel them standing strong, facing forward saying, "C'mon!  I dare you to try!"

I am 2 friends closer to wellness, heartiness and personal power.

It's finally my time to ask for help and not to do this on my own.  What I've found, just like the past 2 days of gargling salt water (oh my poor throat!!), is that it's not so bad and it actually makes me feel better.  It's not so horrible to fall to the floor and have loving hearts help pick me up.  It's really ok to be delicate and allow tears to fall in front of the right people.

Dammit, I've got some fucking awesome people in my life.

When I think about all the difficulties I've encountered in this science experiment of life, each collision has taught me one more lesson.

After all the assignments in life that tore my muscles to create sinewy strength, is this finally my lesson in weakness?

If so, thank you my soul mate, for giving me a platform to learn, as you're the only one I'd ever allow to teach me this lovingly, and truly, it is something to be grateful for.

What I'd like to know is, do I get a prize at the end of the maze?

C'mon!

I'd even take a cookie.

Day off.

Well, more like an 'off day' in terms of feelings. I had one of those days where you can't even spit out the poison that's making you sick.

My mission was just to find some power in myself. Being the magical person I seem to be, when I ask for something, strange things happen. It's not always what I want or have asked to happen, just that 'things' happen. A simple road trip to a warehouse to get our stored clothing proved this certainty yet again.

Because of the sewage flood situation, we don't have enough clothing to choose from as they took every belonging away from us to be tested for contamination, then cleaned or written off. So, my love and I have been living with a tiny wardrobe consisting of one outfit change to choose from.

We went to the warehouse where they do all the testing and cleaning, and we walked up the front stairs to reception. On the door was a poster that read, "You have the power." The picture was of a child in a superhero costume flexing his muscles with all his might. I laughed so hard! Here was the child that I'm trying to toughen up showing me their power!

It gave me a moment of strength seeing that child. I felt that I was able to take some of this child's force just from seeing this enchanting picture. It was absolutely what I needed.

From there the day was wonderful. We went and picked through clothing and had shrieks of joy in finding the gems that pleased us. Underwear, socks, sweat pants so we could finally get to the gym, jeans ... it was like going on a shopping spree. I've never been so happy to see my favourite pair of panties!

We had a beautiful day together enjoying each other's company including a moment to physically share our love. But that's when our beautiful day crumbled. Things have changed in our marriage as my love no longer smells like the person I married.

Taking testosterone is putting a chemical into your body to make you more of a man. My love now has a 'man smell'. It's not that I'm cringing with disgust over Papi, it's just that mi esposo no longer smells like the person I married. It was like having a stranger in my intimate moment. It brought back memories that I can't share here right now. Memories that made me feel stressed in our moment of intimacy.

I was quite silent after that. Until my love wanted to talk. That's when all hell broke loose. My emotions got the better of me and I had to tell Papi. I had to let it out that my love no longer smells like the person I married.

I want my love to be happy. I don't want to hurt Papi in any way. But the next day, the 'off day', I had a melt down like none I've had since hearing the words that confirmed Papi wants to go through the male transformation. My feelings of wanting to disappear became stronger. Really, I just want the pain to end and I don't know how to accomplish this. The only way I can think of is to disappear from this planet.

I had written to 'you', my imaginary friend, in regards to this topic. I had told 'you' that if I had thoughts of suicide that I would go for help. I failed to keep that promise in my therapy session yesterday. The feelings felt so strong that I feared that to speak them out loud may result in me being thrown into a psyche ward. However, I did share them with my love because this is the person I trust more than anyone in this world.

This terrified Papi. The tears started to stream down my beautiful love's face. I hurt Papi. This was never ever my intention. I would never want to do anything that would hurt mi esposo. But, I did.

Papi meekly asked me if I was conjuring plans and I admitted I was. So, while I was out with one of the friends that I took the chance to expose my hell to, mi esposo removed all the potentially harmful pills from the house with love. It is indeed an act of love to do your best to keep your soul mate from potentially harming themselves.

At the end of the 'off day', I broke down and told mi esposo how our love making affected me. Again ... tears streaming down my love's face. I have hurt my love so bad just by telling the truth. I wonder sometimes if speaking the truth really is the best thing? Could I just keep those two monumental issues of my dark journey to myself? Could I just find a way to deal with them on my own just to save the feelings of my love?

No.

I have to tell someone, and the person I trust with my state of mind is Papi. I have to tell my love how I'm feeling. I have to be honest. Whether it destroys our bond or not. I suppose the pain that I'm suffering through has to be shared with the person who is changing my life, marriage and their own self.

I suppose I had to share this with my soul mate. It was a brutal day off from speaking to 'you' my imaginary friend. Thank you for listening. You do have a good ear.