Keeping my Head Above Water

I’ll let you in on a little secret: even though I know good and well that Kendall is gone, I can still feel her moving. Every day, sometimes several times a day, I feel her kicking and squirming inside me. My therapist tells me that it is a normal part of grieving; to see or hear someone that you’ve lost, and that since feeling Kendall was the only way I ever got to physically interact with her, it makes sense that I can feel her, still. And I don’t understand how something that feels so tangible cannot be REAL.

So I feel her kicking. And for just the tiniest, most infinitesimal split second, I think that what I’m going through is all a nightmare, and that she’s alive, and still with me.

But then the reality of the situation sets in. The nightmare is real. And I am heavy, and drowning.

And then. And then I feel nothing.

And that is perhaps the worst feeling of all.

Scratchin’ Your Back

Okay, so, I’ve still been thinking about my You Scratch my Back, I’ll Scratch Yours post, and I realized that you all scratched mine, and I never scratched yours! So, yes, those of you who read my blog faithfully know an awful lot more about me than most people, but I thought I’d post some funny, quirky, and random things about me that I might not otherwise post – you all did it – so it’s only fairsies that I do it, too. Ya think?

So here are a few:

I once got beat up in a movie theater. I was ten and was seeing Apollo 13 with my grandparents and cousin and sister. I sat in front of a woman and she got pissed that someone took the seat in front of her, because she said she couldn’t see, so she started kicking and pounding on my chair, and then she punched me in the head. And it hurt. And my sister, who was only 14, bravely turned around, and said, “Don’t you ever touch my sister again!” (Which was funny because just before the movie we had been pulling each other’s hair out and scratching each other like wild monkeys.) …So then Crazy Lady was escorted out of the theater. I had a pounding headache afterward and couldn’t really concentrate on the movie. As soon as it was over, I didn’t want to leave the theater because I was scared she was out there, ready to make my ass grass, and my sweet grandma was like, “If you see her honey, just give her the finger!” (I look back on that and laugh.) Fortunately, she had already left the premises by the time the movie was over. I’m thinking Schizophrenia? The paranoid variety?

I started my period on my 14th birthday. Totes not the gift I was hoping for. I remember I debated for awhile on telling my mom, but finally decided to tell her, cuz why would I want to spend my babysitting money on pads? So I told her, and I swear on my life, she said the cliché term, “Welcome to womanhood!” And I was like gross groan moan boo double boo.

Once, during a runway show, I was in the back, changing into my second outfit, and my thong was on backward. (Oh, that’s why I feel all uncomfy down there!) And everyone saw my V. Mortification.

I’ve always wanted a white cell phone. They look so svelt. I always end up going for the pink or warm colored one in the end, though. And then I usually buy a white cover to put over it.

About 5ish years ago, I worked at a makeup counter. The lady next to mine, who worked at Chanel, was from Russia. She was staring at me intently, and I asked her what she was looking at, and she asked me, “Have you ever broken your nose?” And I was like NO, and then she said, “Huh. Okay.” And turned her back and walked away. My nose had been one of the ONLY things on my body I was not paranoid about, and then Russian Chanel had to go and ruin it all. I still look at my nose and wonder what flaw she was looking at…

My first therapist, poor thing, had no idea what she was getting into when she met with me. I was 17. I didn’t like her. She wore plaid dresses and moon boots, even in the summer. And she was so short she was giving me a complex because she like only came to my waist. Our Thang didn’t last long.

I always changed into my gym clothes for PE in a bathroom stall. I was too paranoid about my little boobies being seen, even in a sports bra. I did this from 7th grade all the way until my senior year, even when I was playing volleyball competitively. Now my boobies are big and I like them, but I’d pry still change in a stall anyway…although, after I got my fake boobies, I was at my sister’s house, and she was lending me a tank to wear cuz it was hot outside, and I said to her, jokingly, “Turn around, unless you want to see my boobs!” And she paused, and was like, “I kinda do.” (Seeing the new merchandise, you see.) So I laughed and she watched. I promise it wasn’t as weird as it sounds…suck. It really wasn’t!

And this is the last one I’ll leave you with, because I can’t believe I’m even saying anything, cuz it’s a little dirty no a lot dirty, and weird, and whatever:

So when I was in labor with C Man, they have a mirror above you so that if you want, you can watch the birthing process. Well, you’re not allowed to wear contacts while giving birth, and I wasn’t wearing my glasses, so I couldn't see real well…all I could see was my giant belly and my V…and C Man was low and in the birth canal, and something just didn’t look right, and I was on pain meds, so I didn’t entirely have my wits about me, and I kept saying, “I have pulsating balls! Why do I have pulsating balls? What ARE THOSE?” And then during the contractions, when I was pushing, I kept asking, “Is he coming out of my butt? What is this? Why is he coming out of my butt?!” Strangest, most uncomfy feeling ever. Not only did I think labor gave me balls, but also I was going to be the first woman to birth a child out of her bum bum. Just like Mary, who was the first and ONLY virgin to ever somehow get pregs, I was going to be the FIRST and ONLY to have a child from my anus. I was not very happy about this. Fortunately he found his way out of the right, like, opening.

So there you go. I hope your itch has been properly and duly scratched.
♥'s to you

Updating the Previously Updated

So, this post is going to re-update and explain some things about recent previous posts of mine. Ahem.

So you, ALL OF YOU – where have you freaking been all my life? All of the comments I received on my last blog post; I’ve totally been shrieking out and just LOVING all of the stories I’ve been reading. In fact, yesterday I was at the mall with a friend, and I was literally doubled over laughing in American Eagle, and embarrassment for me on her behalf was eeking out of her pores – but I couldn’t help it! The period stories, the ED stories, and the quirky things you used to do as kids…I love that I know these small pieces about you, my Anonymous Readers. We are connected in some way, however small, through Cyber Land, and it’s been total radness getting to know you more. I hope that you will come out of hiding more often, and I look forward to perusing through your blogs, too.

So I’m like A Guitarist. Ozzy Osbourne or Led Zepplin or whatever, totes get out of the way, cuz here comes BRIE! Whammo.
...And I think I’m turning into a hippie. Like, look at my right hand. Would you say the finger nail polish and ring combo is too much? (I wouldn’t.) However, I’m worried that it is making me look either 1) too emo or 2) like an eclectic sex therapist. What say ye? ...OH wait - back to the inner guitarist in me! So I’ve named her Francesca, and we are in love. Her strings are a little hard to finger, and we’ve been having some issues, but we’re working through them, and I really think our relationship is going to blossom. I’m starting lessons with a bunch of 10 year olds just after the New Year, and I look forward to the humiliation. It’ll be humbling and character building, right? ;) I can now almost play Brick without going too slowly or too awkwardly. I’m having fun. [insert happy emoticon]

So I’m trying not to be a “spoiled little princess” anymore. I’m, like, trying to clean, and though I haven’t cooked anything yet, other than my Hot Pockets in the morning, and popping open a can of Diet Coke, I’m kinda sorta counting that as making progress, haha, bahahaha. So I kinda like being a princess though, because I like fashion and clothing, and who doesn’t like a good back rub and having palm tree fronds waved near them when they are too hot? I also like being fed grapes. So what, right? ;) So I think I’ll keep some of the inner princess, but try, to, like, fire a couple of my maids and join in on the housework. Life is all about compromise, right?

I f i n a l l y got a new phone upgrade last night – I got the new Sidekick LX 2009 or some shizola like that; whatever. But she’s purplish brownish pinkish and I really really think she’s a neat broad. I have as of yet to name her. I’m thinking I’ll go with something feminine and obvious that just tickles me – like Violet. Yes, I like that. Violet and Brie, keeping up with friends; social networking; stayin’ cool, keepin’ fresh. We make a good team! Here’s a pic I took with her last night on my way home from the T-Mobile store where I adopted her. The camera phone is so much better than my previos phone's, so I may be taking a lot more, who knows, stay tuned! She has a greeeeaaaaat flash, cuz mama was seeing bright lights for about 5 minutes after said pic was taken.

I love you all! Even you lurkers out there – I don’t know you and I hope you’re not creepy, but I still like you and I hope you come out of the woods more. I like making new friends. :) Have a fun day, peeps!

PSers I'm so behind on blogs but I promise I'm getting to them. Don't be mads or sads, okay?

My name is Brie and I approve of this message.

You Scratch my Back, I'll Scratch Yours

Dear Readers,

I know there are a lot of you out there that I don't know, or have never commented.
Yet.
You know so much about me. And that not be fairsies, right?
So.

Leave me a comment, and tell me something - anything - about yourself. It could be about that one time you started your period in 6th grade and you had to stuff toilet paper in your unders cuz you didn't know what else to do, or it could be about your first kiss, or hell, even your natural hair color. Tell me anything, inane or scintillating or both.

I look forward to your comments, bitches.

With gratitude and warm regards,
Brie from Blogxygen

Strings

Big B got me a guitar and guitar lessons for Christmas. My vain hope is that I will be better at this stringed instrument than I was, at, say, the cello.
When Bster took this pic, I was playing Brick,by Ben Folds Five. Don't get too excited, apparently it's like the easiest song to play. But still. I am playing (something other than anorexia, cackle cackle). I'm soaking in my potential wondefulness right now.

My street cred has (once again!) been raised a couple notches, because guitar players are like the coolest people I don't know, and I am feeling good, because I’m hardcore, and I've decided to try it on for size and play with it a little. Look at me. Look at the hardcoreness! Bask in it, baby.

Time, Inevitably, Passes...

October 2007 , C at 14 months old --> December 2009, Cade 40 months old (luuuurve this new family pic, by the way. It's totally blow-upable material. Mama's gonna get on that.)

/nobr>

Cade and Mommy at zoo, June 2007, C Dude 11 months old --> C Man making friends with Teddy. Teddy is old and gross and like passed down by moldy generations, but C Baby is 40 months old.
N/nobr>
Wow.
Life passes quickly. Let's live it to it's fully extent, 'mkay?
Anorexia, Schmanorexia, be gone! Poof!

(still a little ^highwith the benzos. Insomnia blows. But the blowness
factor does not even rival the whole nightmare factor. So I prefer Door 1, as opposed
to Door 2, please and thank you.)

A Romance Sparks a Remembrance of a Relapse

At Target the other day, while perusing the books, I saw this:

[Holy alliteration of fury in the title of my post! And you KNOW how much this broad luuuurves alliteration!]

...and I laughed. I scoff at smutty sex novels, and the title only affirms the scoffability factor:
Tall, Dark, and Hungry? Really? I mean really?
And then I cackled to myself as I thought that Hey, Brie, that's exactly what you used to be:

TALL, DARK, and HUNGRY. Really, really hungry.