Balloons in the Sky

On Tuesday, April 6th, I will be releasing a white balloon into the sky with a letter to Kendall written on it.  I invite you all to join me; to release a balloon for Kendall, or maybe for someone else that you have lost.  You are all here for me during maybe the hardest time in my life, and I'd like to share this moment with you.

More details to come.

Hi, hey, hi.

Hi, sigh. Friends.


I’m not really sure what’s going on with me. I’ve been debating on taking a blogging break for no other reason than I feel so…uninspired.
I do not feel funny.
I do not feel inspirational.
In fact I barely feel like a writer.

But.
I miss you guys.

So keep your thoughts and prayers with me during this time…one week from today, Kendall would have been born.
Thinking about her a lot lately.
Miss her.
Would like to memorialize her in some small way on The Day, but not sure what to do. Any ideas?

And in the meantime
My BFF Steph has done you all an ultimate favor by making her blog public.
You may scarf some blogalisciousness and rejoice in it. Tis quite amazing.
http://www.whenimready.blogspot.com
Love you all.

Brie's Back, Baby!

I missed you friends! My life is finally starting to get back to normal after my little bout of Kay Um Yeah I Can’t Breathe! I left my T’s office directly on Monday and went straight to the ER (I believe her words to me were “Do not pass go, do not collect $200, get your ass to the ER, or I’m calling an ambulance.”) So, naturally, I went. ;) With my heart rate in the 150’s and my O₂ saturation in the 80’s, girlfriend was in pretty bad shape. But after a chest x-ray, steroids, yakkity schmakkity, and now more steroids and antibiotics from home, I’m feeling better. Except for my cough – it’s freak nasty, but really it sounds worse than I really am, I hope, because I sound like one of those chain-smokers who smokes ciggies through a hole in their throat because they’re dying of lung cancer but can’t stop smoking and creep people out with their weirdness. PLUS my ribbies and abs are sooooo sooooore from perma coughing! …I seriously wish I could upload an audio file on this blog just to make you eebie jeebie when you heard me cough! Sigh. Blogger, get on that!

Treatment-wise things are going well. I’ve lost some energy this week but what can you expect? With a heart rate in the 150’s and me breakin’ out in a sweat trying to breathe, it was like going to the gym without having to stare at the other Sweaty Awkwards on the elliptical next to me! I’ll definitely have a bit of making up to do in the next couple weeks, but I’m up to it. Time to get my buttso back in gear.

Got my tragus re-pierced. You like? I had to let the first piercing close up because the dude who did it the first time did it in entirely the wrong place and it was all jacked up. The diamond stud made my heart happy, but my wallet unhappy. (Note: it wasn’t a real diamond, of course, but should have been for what I paid for it!)

If you pray, please keep my lil family in your prayers that Brandon will get a job he has been called in for a second interview for. It would be ahhhmazing if he got it. If you don’t pray, then mull it around in your heart a bit and send us good luck vibes our way. If you don’t even believe in good vibes, then, well, you kinda suck. LOVE YOU.

A real post tomorrow, but

...here's a few photos that have been recently taken.  Enjoysies!

Bowling is fun, but taking pictures?  Cade thinks not so much.

Now he's getting the hang of it...

Bath time!

Pic taken today - me and Teffie Dora at B's and B's.

Sickeeeee

If Asthma and hell mated and made a disease they'd make what I have:  HELLSMA.  Or something.

Okay really I only have Asthmatic Bronchitis but it feels like Hades.  Well, it did till I went to the ER and got Rx Codeine cough syrup that currently is making me higher than, like, Ben Franklin's kite.

Just wanted to check in to let ya'll know why I'm a little absent in Blog Land.  Hopefully I'll be back to my old self soon!

Smooches.

The Unasked Question

Today in therapy, I was talking about the grief I feel surrounding Kendall’s death, as this is a terribly difficult time for me, with her due date fast  approaching. I didn’t know the pain would be so intense and so real and so deep.

The T said to me, “Brie, I know you are in so much pain in grieving for your daughter. You talk about that a lot – and that’s good! – but I want you to talk about Kendall's life  – tell me about Kendall as your daughter, and not just about losing her. Tell me anything about her. Tell me why you love her. Tell me what you miss about her. Tell me a story you remember about her.”

I looked at her, surprised. So I took a deep breath. I opened my mouth. And I talked and talked and talked for the entire session.

No one’s ever asked me that before.

3's a Crowd

On my break at work today, I decided I’d walk around in the sunshine – it’s so warm; in the low 60’s!! – and amble around a shopping area that’s next to my office building. I saw an absolutely delicious Betsey Johnson watch (I own two of them already, they’re ahhhhmazing!) and here’s the conversation that ensued – in my head of course, lest people think I am beset by the crazies: DISCLAIMER: I really don’t have multiple personalities. At least not that I know of.

Brie: Ooooh! Cute watch!
Irresponsible Brie: I…maybe…could…buy…it…
Shopping Addicted Brie: Maybe could buy it? YOU WILL BUY IT.
Brie: No—
Shopping Addiction Brie: Shutup, SLUT.
Brie: Okay.
Irresponsible Brie: Can you get away with purchasing this watch? Because if you can, then DO IT.
Shopping Addicted Brie: I bet if you buy this watch you’ll look skinnier.
Brie: I LIKE BEING SKINNY.
Irresponsible Brie: Just try it on…
Shopping Addicted Brie: Yes, yes my pretty, just try it on…then LOVE IT AND BUY IT.
Brie: I can feel myself growing weaker.
Irresponsible Brie: Are you okay? Cuz look, I want the watch, but I’m not going to like crap all over your life if you don’t get it.
Shopping Addicted Brie: Life ruiner, SHHHH!
Brie: [Whimpers.] I’m a life ruiner. I don’t wanna be a life ruiner! Life ruiners don’t buy watches!
Shopping Addicted Brie: That watch is SPIRTICHAL. It has jewels and swirlies and awesomeness all over it. What is wrong with you? BUY IT!!
Brie: I am strong. I can walk away. I have no money. Brandon will KILL ME if I buy it.
Irresponsible Brie: But look – maybe you could be buried with it on, then?
Brie: Hmm. Well--
Shopping Addicted Brie: You want me to call you fat? Cuz I WILL if you walk away from that Betsey Amazingness.
Brie: Be…strong…walk…away…
Shopping Addicted Brie: You’re walking away from a killer watch you killer LOSER.
Brie: Love all of you NOW SHUTUP!

I did it! I walked away. Only I’m not sure how I feel about it…clearly, I’m 1/3 okay with it and 2/3 crazy, which equals a 3/3 odd as hell post from Breezy! Math is DA BOMB.

[Pictured today, with a Betsey Johnson watch – though not the one in question…]

Just a few things, bulleted for your viewing convenience:

· She’s got a little time on her hands, obviously. And by she I mean me. I’ve been googling myself for over an hour, and wow. Found a loooot of information out there that I didn’t even know was there about yours truly. Old modeling photos, lotsa Blogxygen randomness, pregorexia stuff, you name it. I’m practically a D-lister. But strangely Girlfriend ain’t flattered. Just creepered out.

· Hell Night begins tonight: putting Cade to bed by 9 pm. The child needs less sleep than ME and I swear on my very valuable life that I’m not lying. But we must BE STRONG and show him whose boss. (Daddy’s the boss; Mommy’s going to bed cuz she has to wake up early and be an adult and go to work – have fun Loser Daddy!) And I know he’s going to keep running out of his room crying and Husband’ll be like OH CHILD NO and he’ll put him back and I’m sure they’ll fight back and forth for quite awhile like this…which is why Big B and I have already dubbed the name Hell Night. Have fun honey and don’t forget to keep your temper in check while I’m slumbering in Benzo Land!
· Hope ya’ll are having a good that one holiday where you’re supposed to wear green. Brandon is so tickled when it’s either St Patty’s Day or April Fools’, because in Breezy’s flusterated brain, they are entirely interchangeable. I’ll pinch you on April Fools’ if you aren’t wearing green so WATCH OUT and when people get all snippity about it I’m like totally bewildered because I don’t get why they’re bugged I mean TAKE A JOKE LOSER. And yesterday at Buckle the saleslady was trying to get me to buy a green shirt for today and I was like Why? So no one will play a practical joke on me? Is April Fools’ an Irish holiday too? What’s 2+2? I…need…help…
· Strawberries are full of Ellagic Acid. So, you know, YOU KNOW.
· I really really really triple dog REALLY want this shirt. I bahaha every time I see it.

· Thinking of incorporating blog posts into my book. What thinkest thou?
· LO♥EST YOU!

Passive Aggressive Ode to Meds

Dear [Antidepressant],

I am an Über bitch without you – and you know that’s hardcore because I just spent five minutes looking for the place I could insert that legit looking U with the dots on the top. I decided to wean offa you because I’ve been dependent on you for years and Girlfriend wanted to try to be an island – or at least not an infant, completely dependent on the beloved Serotonin you bathe my brain in daily. But noooooo. Noooo more! Diet Coke alone does not give Breezy enough Serotonin with its promising caffeinated bubbles that burn baby burn as they wash down my throat…

Without you in my life, I:

1. Hallucinate and think my cat is missing an arm/leg thingy
2. Throw things at my computer screen when I see YET ANOTHER person has announced a pregnancy on facebook
3. Cry when my alarm goes off in the morning and then mutter things like DIE MY LIFE DIE!!! And then sob IdidmybestIdidmybest guys, Ididmybest OKAY GUYS? Sniffle sniffle moan. Rent clothes, rave, rant, collapse on the floor, groan.

It’s hard to know if you’re turning me insane because I need you to live, or if because I’ve tried to taper you too quickly and my cerebral cortex-o is mad – nay, dear [antidepressant], INCENSED about that.

At any rate, I pretty much hate you, but am resigned to the fact you may play some role in my life until I keel over. You’s a dick.

Love,
Brie

In the Family.

Today, I’m especially grateful for family. (pictured Saturday afternoon in the snowstorm, helping my sister move)

On Saturday, Utah had its (in)famous March Snow that seems to occur every year, and defeats all of us Wishing for Spring’ers that pull out the flip flops a little too early. (But shutup I just bought a yellow and gray and white pair from Nordy’s that are tres cute!) We got a ton of snow and it slushed and rained and snowed and dumped on us alllllll day. It was terrible.

But that couldn’t deter me and my family because we were helping my sissy move. Not my story to tell, but on really short notice, she had to move from her home to an apartment because of a really bad human being screwing her over. She is devastated. And there’s nothing we can do to make her feel better, to heal her wounds that are so fresh and so new. So we did what we could: we were there for her. We packed her things and we cleaned her house and we painted her new apartment. We needed my sister to see that there are still good people in this world, that even though her definition of family has been shaken, she still has good sibs and parents and family who will never disregard her or abandon her. Ever.

And as my ENTIRE family: sisters, brothers, parents, nieces and nephews alike, trudged in the snow back and forth to the trucks, packing and unpacking my sister, this badass chick with a hard exterior secretly broke down. I sat in my car and I thanked God for family as I wiped tears from my cheeks. I thanked God that I have a family who would do anything for me or any of us in need, including doing back-breaking work that had us all freezing cold and soaking wet in 20 degree weather. And we disregarded the physical discomforts because family and the ties that bind us are stronger than any freak storm in the middle of Spring.

It reaffirmed for me again that people are good. There are bad seeds everywhere, unfortunately; yes, but there are MORE good people out there, and every day the ratio of good seeds to bad seeds is getting higher and giving me a little more faith in this world. YOU are all giving me more faith in this world

So here’s to good family. May we have them, may we be them, and may we raise them.
I love you Brookie.

New 'Do

Trimmed off a few inches, got layers and bangs. 

So.  What say ye?

Bangin' or boring?

Just what I needed, today

This morning, I got this text from my mom:

"The only way to take sorrow out of death is to take love out of life."  --Longfellow
...Aren't you glad you had the opportunity to love her?

Yes.  Yes, I am glad.  I love you Kendall.  And I am indeed sorrowful over your death, because Mama misses you.  But I am grateful, above all, that I got to know you and love you and take care of you for the short time I was blessed to have you in my life.  Hope you are having a good day up in Heaven, baby girl.

Lord of the Rings, Brie Style

Okay so nerds might be the only ones that think this blog is funny.

Last night Big B and I were talking about who would play who if my life were the Lord of the Rings series. Here’s what we came up with:

I, of course, am Frodo. From here on out to be known as Brodo.  Or maybe Brie-do?

My eating disorder is the ring/Sauron/the eye.

Brandon would be Sam-wise Gamgee because
a. He’s in love with me, but lucky for him I'm a chick and not really a hairy man-hobbit
b. Follows me everywhere I go in a hopelessly devoted way
c. Would take the ring from me if he could and destroy it
d. He occasionally cooks for me
e. Kills spiders for me

W, the therapist, would be Gandalf the Grey because she’s rescued me from sticky situations before, saved my life even, PLUS I swear, if she had a beard, they’d look just alike (subtract about a hundred years from Gandalf’s wrinkled face first). She’s leading the crusade against me destroying the ring (dun dun dun aka my EATING DISORDER) and knows that I, Brodo, am the only one that can fling it into the fiery depths of Mordor. (I’m such.A.NERD.)

E, the dietician, would be Aragorn. They’re both hot. And Aragorn gives Brodo lots of good advice and what-not and really, Brodo couldn’t have done it without Aragorn. So there it is.  PLUS they'e both hot.

Whit and Steph are Pippin and Meri, the other hobbits. Whit’s Pippin by default cuz he’s always getting in trouble and being a pain in the ass. Bahaha. After Samwise, they are Brodo’s Go To Team. They are my wing-men ladies. They follow me and help me all they can on my quest to destroying the ring, even though half their time is spent frolicking with those giant trees that were boring in the 2nd movie and then getting drunk. Whatevs.


Mom’s Gimli (bahaha Mom you’re the fat squat dwarf dude!) but really that’s a COMPLIMENT because I just love Gimli. He never wavers in his quest to help Frodo and fights hell and hizigh water to make sure he succeeds.

Dad’s Legolas. Legolas and my Dad are both super neat and calculating and Legolas and my dad are both like PERFECT and never miss anything they’re trying to do and what they aim for they always achieve. If my dad has my recovery on his to-do list, then dangit, it’ll get done!

Doc P, my current ED doc, would be Bilbo Baggins, Frodo’s crazy uncle. Mostly because she’s like BAH I want to help you but I don’t really get how to cuz I’m new at this whaddyacallit eating disorder stuff so I’m going to make an appearance and CARE but now I’m going to go to Elf-land and take a vacay good luck!

My old ED doc, M. So and So, would be Boramir because she’s a skanky biotch who went all rogue and like ruined my life and broke HIPAA laws and she started out good, and on the quest with me, then tried to like KILL ME. Poor Boramir. Born a good man, died a plump, ill-fashioned, lipstick smudged WHORE LIFE-RUINER.

And I could go on and on. And…I don’t know I dare tell you who Gollum is…do I dare??
Anyway, stay tuned, tomorrow I’m doing the same thing with Harry Potter characters.
Just kidding!

Everything from STD's to Shopping

Suffering from Writer’s Block is, like, worse than having an STD. Not that I would know. I swear! I promise thee. 
I struggle to write on my blog. Haven’t made progress on my book in a few weeks.
I’m barely even reading. You know it’s bad when I’m not even reading.
I wish someone could make me all better…

I’ll just give you a quick update:

I’m okay. I’m casually looking for a second job, and Husband is still on the lookout for a new job. In the meantime we’ve filed for unemployment and the bitches make you pay taxes. On unemployment. I mean, how does it work to be taxed on money that you’re given because you’re destitute? Yes, Utah, please take my money and re-pave a road or plant a few trees while we have bread and water for dinner. I mean it’s not that bad but you get what I mean. Lame lame lamazoid.

Doing well with my mealplan. We’re tweaking it because we’re trying to figure out exactly how much I need to eat to maintain my weight. Even though I feel like my calories are quite high, I’ve lost a little, but we’re assuming it’s because Girlfriend’s a tall glass of water and I need lotsa, as my D would say, energy. (She acts like the C word – calories – is a bad word, or if I hear it or something, I’ll freak out and be like trigger trigger trigger peew peew peew! Energy, according to E, is interchangeable with the words ‘calories’ and ‘weight.’ E, the dietish: Wow. We need to up your energy, or Wow, you lost energy this week so let’s add even more energy!!) She’s Finnish. Maybe it’s a Finnish thing? Note to self: look into this.

I haven’t mentioned in a loooong time my C Man. I just love Cade. He holds my heart. Bran took this pic last night. We were sleeeeeepy.

Yesterday I went with the BFF’s Whit and Steph (I’d link to their blogs but they, like, for some odd reason value privacy and anonymity and have set their respective blogs to private. Whatever. Pish.) to the mall to try on new pants for the new booty. Whit felt pukey so didn’t have as much fun, but Miss S and I tried on, like seriously, 1203894788 pair of jeans in the Almighty Amazing Store, Buckle.. We were in the same dressing room grunting and squeezing into every size from, like I said on Facebook, 24 to 32, (okay really we weren’t trying on that broad a range of sizes, but cllloooooose) and laughing the entire time. Why not, right? Here’s our designer denim-fied pa-tooties this afternoon in our new Miss Me’s we boughts. Tres delicious, yes? Teff is going for the Winged Bottom look, while I went for the more rustic, cowgirl skinny pair. For some reason in the dressing room, we morphed into talking with British slash Scottish accents and said BAH! and BROWN BEAR! like every other word, and the sweet salesgirl, Elaina was her name, was trying desperately to keep up with our need for new jeans and witty repertoire. She bravely did her best. We’re considering the possibility of opening up a much coveted spot in our shopping expeditions and having her go with us; we must honor this girl’s courage for putting up with our dirty jokes, messy dressing room, and plus I mean she was just DARLING. She assumed we were sisters, which made her golden in our book; that, and she flattered our flat asses. ;)

LOVE YOU all. Have a great day, friends.

Good Women

You know I’ve been moaning and hissing around for awhile; complaining that my treatment team was MAKING me gain weight, or MAKING me eat or do this or that. But you know what? That’s giving them FAR too much credit, and not giving me nearly enough. No one can make me do anything.

I can choose to eat or not. I can choose to live, or even die. I can choose if I’m going to recover, if I’m going to live a life full of laughter and joy and happiness and peace. No one can take that power from me – that power of CHOICE. And when I think of it from that perspective, it makes recovery and doing what’s right SO.MUCH.MORE appealing – because who wants to get dragged through an agonizing process of weight restoration and straightening out your crazy brain that swims laps around the anxiety pool unwillingly? By choosing to do so, it’s so much more manageable and attainable and appealing.

For so long I made myself powerless. Powerless to food (or lack thereof) and my disorder…and crap I even LOOKED powerless – hell a 13 pound baby with biceps and a loaded diaper could’ve taken me down – and I told myself and the world simply by the way I looked that I couldn’t do life; I couldn’t recover, because I was a slave to anorexia. And I was.

But I’m not anymore. I am powerful. I am woman. Hear me roar, bitches!

RAWR!!

We are women of power. And that’s beautiful. Never, ever forget to own that.
Because that’s something to be proud of.

Not Quitting, Just Questioning

Hi friends. Sorry my posts have been a bit…weird?...as of late. Truthfully, it’s a pretty difficult time for me and my family. You know what they say; life is like a ferris-wheel. Sometimes you’re up, and sometimes you’re down. Right now I’m down. And I’m totally kidding I have no idea who the hell says that but whatever.

You know how they say that in re-feeding, the vast majority of the weight you gain goes to your stomach first, before it redistributes more equally to other parts of your body? Well I’m totes confused because my treatment team has told me that I’ve lost weight, yet yet AND YET even from trying on pants, say two weeks ago, I had to try on a bigger size. So did all the weight migrate from my stomach to my ass? And how in the world does that equal WEIGHT LOSS?

Its times like these, dear readers, when I question weight gain and recovery because it just doesn’t make FREAKING SENSE to me. Weight lossssss=a biggggggger pant size? Someone? Anyone? Bueller?

I’m tired. I’m not giving up on recovery by any means, but I am questioning it – mostly because you know what? People tell you that you’re going to be happy! and everything will be just fine! and blah blah blah yakkity schmakkity! When you gain weight and are “recovered.” But I don’t feel any of those things. If anything, things are worse than they’ve been in a long time: My husband is jobless, there’s a major dickface in my family who is ruining my sister’s life, as Kendall’s due date rapidly approaches, I feel like I die a little more each day – the mourning and pain is indescribable. Would any of these things be better if I were xx lbs lighter? Of course not. I know this. But in my warped brain, I feel like I could handle it better.

Anyway.  Just getting out a bit of frustration.
Time to go eat dinner.

Blast!

Noooooooo! Work cut off access to my blog, and to reading others blogs (I am writing this from my phone). I kind of want to die. And I'm totes shrieking out right now. Any hackers wanna do some illegal work out there and tell me how to get around it? I'M.DYING.SLOWLY.

If I blogged when I was 9, I'd say...

December 7, 1992

I feel sad when it was 1941 for those Japanese people I am glad I was born in 1984 but I'm not Japanese anyway.

January 2, 1993

When I was five my friend came to visit me in the hospital because I got my apendix out.  Anyway my best friend B was so sad that I was in the hospital that she could never stop crying and she didn't go and see me for a long time because she didn't want to see me with toobs in my nose.  So finally when she came to see me she thought I was going to ie.  She was really nice to me - until I got out of the hospital.  The end.

January 4, 1993

For Christmas I got a watch, gymnastic mat, Belle dressup, Beast dressup, makeup, makeup case, backpack, lotsa trolls, See's chocolates, a reindeer carousel that goes up and down and plays music it could break easy and I got it and my family got a Sega Genesis and we got Sonic and the Hedge Hog it's a game.  That's all folks, smile!

January 12, 1993

Yesterday we got out of school because of a snow storm and it didn't effect me at all in fact I loved it.  I played in the snow for 5 hours all together me and my family made a slide as tall as my sister Misty and that is tall.  And that night Mom took us to Aladdin and then my sister's boyfriend came over.  His name is Stacy and he is black.  (Apparently that was important.)

A Matter of Trust

One of the things I’m still working on in therapy is dealing with the fact that this world can really suck – or, more appropriately, that people in this world can really suck. And what SUCKS even more about that is that there’s not much you can do about it. People are going to be dicks, and you have to accept that – accept that people might be bad, no matter how good you want them to be. People might hurt you, or try to mess with you or your family, and you can’t change what they’re going to (try to) do. There are good and bad people everywhere. For a long time I trusted no one but myself because of that. I am slowly learning to trust the people in my life that it’s appropriate to trust: Husband, family, a few friends, my treatment team, etc, but it hasn’t been easy.

But I was making progress. I was slowly nurturing a little faith in the world.

And then someone had to come along and shatter it. A certain person had to turn from being someone I loved and trusted to a total and complete FAT BASTARD (and that’s only because I’m trying not to use the EFF word on my blog). I am lucky, because I have not been personally hurt by this person. But someone very close to me has, and watching her suffer because Dr. Jekyll turned into Mr. Hyde and shattered her life is maddening. It seriously almost makes me homicidal – and that makes it personal.

And I’m scared. Because if I knew this person I thought so well, and I never imagined them transforming into the monster they’ve become, who or what’s to say that other people I trust won’t do the same?

It’s a sceeery place we live in. Shivers.

#8...check

#8: Try a yoga class with Brandon

Well friends, first item on the list is crossed off! Last night Brandon and I went to my yoga class. Brandon was a noob with this whole yoga thing, so I willed myself to not make fun of him and his hairy-ness. He used my orange mat (I pouted) while I used my old pink one. For the entire 60 minutes, he gave it his all – I did not, for last night’s class was all about upper arm strength and Breezy is bereft of the biceps.

A little Q&A with the hubster:

Me: So honey, did you like yoga?
Brandon: Surprisingly, yeah. It really wasn’t that bad.
Me: Will you ever go again?
Brandon: Sure. Line up a babysitter and we can go every Wednesday night if you want. I guess…well, I guess I just wish the class wasn’t so long. Like maybe only 15 minutes instead of 60?
Me: Did you feel insecure like maybe that everyone was staring at you the way I was staring at you?  And like crying because they were trying so hard not to laugh or poke at you?
Brandon: Nah. At first I was nervous people were going to look at me, but then I realized they’d probably be looking behind me at the giant dude in the belly shirt that wasn’t supposed to be a belly shirt that was even worse than me. If that’s possible.
Me: When your shorts slid up and your freaky-white man thighs were showing, did you feel like a pansy?
Brandon: Ouch.
Me: LOVE YOU!
Brandon: And what was with the whole “May the peace of India be upon you?” And the “Namaste” thing? And now we bow to each other? A little weird.
Me: Whatever. My soul, is, like, connected to everyone else’s in that room. It’s SPIRITCHAL. Didn’t you love our adorable yoga teacher?
Brandon: I know, right? She’s so teensy! I kinda wanna put her in my pocket and take her home with me!
Me: And do what, exactly?
Brandon: Er. Um.
Me: Maybe you should leave Polly Pocket at the gym, okay? Girlfriend’s getting territorial.
Brandon: Love you! Let’s make love!
Me: You wish! Namaste!

On to the next great adventure...

My 100

Brandon and I have each made a list of 100 things we want to do in five years.  Some are big, some are small, but we wanted to focus on our goals and things to look forward to, rather than wallow in the current goo of our seemingly hopeless situation.

I have had SO MUCH (needed) FUN writing this list.  And, I feel inspired.

What do you wanna do?

-------
1. Have another baby
2. Go back to school to finish my degree
3. Learn how to change a tire
4. Pay off all my medical debts*
5. Go skiing/snowboarding
6. Take a random road trip*
7. Hike Mt. Olympus
8. Try taking a yoga class with Brandon*
9. Run a marathon
10. Get off all medication to see how I do
11. Learn a trick on my ripstick
12. Visit my grandparent’s graves
13. Get a climbing gym membership*
14. Go to a comedy club*
15. Go on the cruise I earned by gaining weight
16. Build something cool with and for Caden*
17. Go to the Temple*
18. Finish my book
19. Move into our own place*
20. Grow out my hair past my boobies
21. Turn my book into at least 12 publishing companies
22. Get my lung functioning to 85%
23. Go wave-running and drive on my own
24. Try waterskiing
25. Enroll Caden in an instrument class (guitar or piano)
26. Go to Disneyland
27. Cook a gourmet meal
28. Read Entire Book of Mormon again*
29. Sew myself a skirt
30. Go to the beach house with everyone else*
31. Have a real conversation with Brandon’s mom
32. Get 200 followers on my blog
33. Take Caden to Lagoon*
34. Gamble
35. Go to a Jazz Game*
36. Bear my testimony at Church*
37. Play in the ocean*
38. Go shooting
39. Go a week without popping my knuckles
40. Read Believing Christ
41. Be in a live talk show audience
42. Read The Doctrine and Covenants*
43. Get a henna tattoo
44. Give a homeless person a meal
45. Train a dog when we get a house
46. Play tennis with Brandon*
47. Go backpacking at Escalante
48. Try out for a reality show
49. Run half-marathon race with Tawny
50. Go camping with the family*
51. Spend one on one time with each of my sisters and sisters-in-law
52. Have a Harry Potter marathon in one sitting
53. Have a Lord of the Rings marathon in one sitting*
54. Visit Grandpa Dalton
55. Land a free-lance writing job
56. Take Caden on a train*
57. Make a craft with Caden
58. Have a new family portrait taken*
59. Go to Florida
60. Get a Wii again*
61. Try playing Halo
62. Help Caden earn enough to buy a DS game*
63. Make cookies or a dessert for someone*
64. Go see Bryson perform*
65. Plant flowers
66. Write my mom a letter not on Mothers’ Day*
67. Wear an entire outfit Bran picks out for me
68. Smile in more pictures with my mouth open
69. Help someone in need at Christmas time*
70. Have a Mommy/Son date with Cade
71. Practice legit wrestling moves with Brandon
72. Write Mom and Dad a thank you letter*
73. Make a snowman with Cade
74. Start a fire by myself with just matches, no gasoline
75. Hike the Y
76. Go to a Real game*
77. Go to a Grizzlies game*
78. Go to a Bees game with Caden*
79. See Taylor Swift in concert
80. Play the “Penis” Game
81. Maintain a healthy body weight for 3 months - and beyond
82. Watch or listen to all of General Conference*
83. Take Cade to see the lights at Temple Square
84. Moon somebody
85. Go to Las Vegas with Brandon*
86. Get a good printer*
87. Eat for an entire day without feeling guilty
88. Get us all baseball mitts*
89. Inspire someone to recover from an addiction
90. Donate a small amount to charity*
91. Go to my ten year high school reunion
92. Go a week without asking Brandon if I’m fat
93. Successfully have a calling in church
94. Plan a trip to Europe for later in life
95. Start a savings account for Caden*
96. Hold a memorial for Kendall
97. Play a practical joke on someone
98. Be able to quit my job
99. Go six months without having to be in the ER
100. Host a family party at our house

An * indicates something that is on both my list and Brandon's.

Get the Funk Outta Here

I’m kinda in a funk. But I guess I keep plodding along. It’s hard to keep your chin up when your breadwinner ain’t winnin’ any manna. I’m proud of my man and I know he’ll find something soon, but I’ve never been good with stress and this is DEFINITELY STRESSFUL. Psers Thanks so much to all for your recommendations and leads.  You have NO IDEA how much the Bster and I appreciate them...

Might have to get the tube again. I really don’t understand it. I’m only a few pounds away but since I’m not making any progress…but it’s like EMBARRASSING to get a feeding tube when you don’t look like you need one, you know? My hell. I told the D that me having to get a tube is “ridiculous” and she shot back that me having to see her twice a week to even know how to eat is ridiculous too…she then asked me which part of this entire equation seemed “normal” to me. Wait seeing your therapist and dietician twice/week and doing group once/week basically means doing IOP wait that isn’t normal? Damn. Scuffle feet. She’s right. But still.

Really worried about some friends.

Le sigh.

My pal Erin sent me this picture and told me that soon I’ll be THIS STRONG from conquering all of my problems…
Only…

Can I look like this just on the inside? That’s way less gwoss.

Window of Opportunity

“When God closes a door, somewhere he opens a window.”

We’ve all heard this quote a million times before. Basically what’s being said here is that when one opportunity ends or is lost; somewhere, somehow, another blessing or prospect is waiting for you if you just have faith blah blah blah YAKKITY SCHMAKKITY.

Thing is, though; getting through the window, if you think about it, isn’t nearly as easy as walking through a door. Like, you might have to scrunch up to fit through it, then leap to your oak tree 5 feet away to shimmy down to the ground, or maybe your ass is too big to fit, or maybe you can’t get the screen off – I can never get the screen off!  And don't even get me started on finding the right window in the first place.

I’m being pessimistic today. Just a little.

Friends, Brandon and I found out yesterday that he lost his job. He has until the end of the week. They blame the economy, but I remain suspicious, but unfortunately on a forum as widely read as my blog, I cannot go into details. But we’re scared. We can’t survive off of my income alone. We’ve looked into a couple leads, but so far nothing has really panned out.

So I’ll just ask for ya’ll to be our window. If ANY of you, however remote, have leads or ideas on a job Husband could perhaps look into, you’d be a godsend. Because right now, the best I can do with a window is either jump out of it, break my back, and be paralyzed from the waist down and have people change my diapers for the rest of my life, or fart out of it and wilt my Begonias.

Liar Liar Pants on Fire

I was tagged both by the oh-so-amazingness of Cammy and Sprinkled with Cinnamon for this fun little somethin' somethin'.  Have fun!

1. Thank the person who gave this to you. --> THANKS.
2. Copy the logo and place it on your blog.
3. Link to the person who nominated you
4. Tell up to six outrageous lies about yourself, and at least one truth.
5. Nominate seven "Creative Writers" who might also have fun telling outrageous lies.
6. Post links to the seven blogs you nominate
7. Leave a comment on each of the blogs letting them know you tagged them.

So let’s start! Six lies and a truth somewhere in there: (in the comments, take your best guess…)

1. I started wearing capri’s in jr. high school before they were cool. I had one especially snotty girl tell me she “wasn’t sure if they were cool.” Never wore ‘em again.
2. My greatest food weakness is cookie dough.
3. I wear flip-flops in my shower to avoid germies.
4. My highest bowling score is a 178.
5. I hate sleeping with mirrors so much in my room that I made Husband take ours out.
6. Husband turned me into a skater. Along with Ripsticking, I can also skateboard.
7. Before I switched to publishing, my major was sociology.

I nominate...
1. Dianne
2. Old CFC whipper-into-shaper Erin
3. Bananas
4. Maeve
5. David at Eat for Fun
6. T Tea Tee
7. Teffie

Masquerading

Holy oh my moly today is an ugly day. I haven’t washed my hair since Friday (I’m so sorry) and when I tweezed the brows yesterday, I messed up on the one that by default looks uglier anyway, and I look all lopsided and sad. And I’m not wearing a bra. Holler!

Well, the weekend was the weekend, and they’re, like, notoriously hard for me. I’ve talked with the T a bit about why weekends may be harder for me than the regular work week, and here’s a bit about what we’ve come up with. Let’s explore:

1. On weekends I don’t have a reason to wake up and get dressed in the morning and go to work
and
2. I don’t typically blog

This is interesting to me. At work I am always smiley! and happy! and obnoxiously so! And even when it’s obvious I’m desperately ill or sad or both, with a feeding tube for example, if someone were to ask me how I am, I always smile reeeeeaaaalll big and say I’m so good. Thanks for asking!
...It’s really hard to get to know me at work.

So, to put it more succinctly, I am performing.

When I blog, I tend to hide in my humor. I’m not too shy to tell ya’ll when I’m having a crap day, but it’s always followed with a joke and enough sarcasm to keep you sated for the day until you come back the next morning for more. Make no mistake, Readers, that while you know the real Brie Breivik on this blog, there is also a lot about the real Brie Breivik that you do not know – and what you know and what you do not know is meticulously thought out and mulled over before it is put Out There.

So what’s the pattern here? Can’t figure it out losers? --Okay, all at once now…BRIE’S PERFORMING!

And…on the weekends, I’m not. It’s like I’m left sitting around watching Animal Planet and making out with my pretzels and just being with myself…not pretending, not masquerading…and…I really can’t tolerate it. So I get all anxious and weird and don’t wash my hair and then I tweeze my FACE OFF and itch myself everywhere till I’m all nerdy and hive-y and then HUGESIGH breathe a sigh of relief sighsighSIGH when it’s Monday and I can don the Just Fine Mask and put on my show.

What’s so scary about the Brie Unmasked?
I wish I knew.