This used to be my playground...

With a title like that one might think I was about to launch into some expo on Madonna, may she heal and be well.

I am not. Like most times when I come here, I am disturbed, and I need some place to purge/vent. At the moment, I am an emotional ticking time bomb. I keep swinging back and forth from excitement and hopefulness, to disappointment, disillusionment, sadness and despair.  

 

I don't even know if this is still a safe space for me to vent anymore. I feel as if I must swallow my words. But the more I eat the more I feel my body going septic. Poisoning myself from the inside out.

Tired of throwing myself down on the altar and forever being judged for it. Accused of trespasses and ill intentions. 

I can't breathe. I don't want to breathe.  I just want to be done. I don't even want my ball. I don't want to go home. I just want to go. To be alone and left alone. 

If I am alone, there is no one to be offended or responsible for. There is no not doing enough. There is no constant pressure to keep it all together.

There is no being accused of being a sham or a grifter. Well, at least no longer to my face and behind my back.  I just won't have to be made aware of these daggers.

I want to win the lottery, pay my debts and melt into the ether. 

Maybe someone will think about me every now and then and a smile might come to their face. But I don't care if anyone does. Well maybe just the mini. I want him to always know I am there/here. But otherwise if no one remembers me no one can hurt me. 

and wouldn't that be nice to be pain free?

Allergic to life

Allergic Reaction

As Always click on the title to find the mood music.

I am not even sure where to start. I’ve been struggling with allergies lately. Like, I am about to go to the the doctor and be like “ I ‘on’ e’m care. Write me another prescription to add to the 10 billion I already got because me and all this tree sperm are not mixing.”

I am emotional. I am tired of being sick. I am tired of the drama that consumed my life for the past few months and not to add insult to injury these damn allergies ARE KILLING ME.

My mental state is just all over the place. Its Chaotic and not in a good way. This is not what it do y’all. This ain’t no part of the game I have ever been prepared for. Like, WHERE DEY DO DIS AT?

And just now, it hit me that its not just my seasonal allergies bothering me. ITS EVERYTHING.  And the inability to voice it. That trying to be a different person shit is hard. If I cry I am crazy, If I vent I am a shit starter, If  tell it all—you see where I am going. I don’t get to be the victim. I got to be responsible. Culpable.  

Hell, even this blog is likely to get me in trouble because some body somewhere is going to feel some type of way.

Don’t mind me y’all. I just need an epipen. I am having an allergic reaction to life.

Proof of Life

Been A Long Time

Or

Try Again

It has been such a long time since I have been on either of my blogs. Life; its just been doing what it is that it does.

By now you’ve probably noticed that I deactivated my facebook page. Don’t worry its just sleeping. I’ll be back.

I need(ed) to make some changes in my life to make it better for me and my family. So taking a giant step back from the world and shifting my focus and drive.

Here’s hoping that the positive energy flows and Brings me to a place where creativity equals productivity.

In the past five years I’ve been so focused on what I have lost or given up, that I didn’t give enough energy to the things I still have. 

2019 has to be different, has to be better and I can’t just give it lip service. I gotta put in the work.  So here it is MARCH turning into APRIL and I’m taking a deep breath, filling my lungs with crisp cold air ( wtf why is the air cold it was just summer here last week, why are back in winter?) and taking the plunge.

 My goal is to post this blog so that the fabulous Bama Belle Can get it linked to you and then jumping over to the other blog… and launching a new short serial for you to follow.

I know many of you are waiting for updates or expansions on older stories and series. Never stop believing, but don’t hold your breath anymore. I know that is so blunt and I’m (not) sorry.  I really must leave some things in the past.  I might revisit a few things, but after years of telling you all that I would then avoiding eye contact, its time to finally admit that I’m just probably not.

They are what they are… and while there is room for a larger realm with each of them, my initial intent, was never to give them full on-going sagas. They only ever wanted to let you know that little bitty joyfully voyeuristic part of their world. Besides, what you imagine that they are up to is probably a whole lot more fun/dramatic/adventurous than anything I could ever come up with.

Some of those stories are collabs and we all know that the possibility of rekindling those don’t exist. The dissolution of who would own what part of each story is just something I don’t have the energy to even think about. The follow up or retelling wouldn’t have the same energy as the originals. Its best to just let them be the greatness that they are instead of trying to rewrite history. It would be dumb to let a lighting bolt out of the bottle then try to recapture it. Better to ride the waves of a new storm.

Now enough of that, lets get a quick update about two things you really care about: Did I stick to the diet and THE BARBARIAN

 Hell no, I didn’t stick to the diet. I went through about 12 different ones. I dropped the gym challenge I was in and sought a professional and medical help.  The result is that I’ve recently joined a new gym (that I haven’t set foot in since joining and ironically my trainer from the old gym who just stopped showing up to the group sessions works at this one now) and I’m down 30-40 pounds from this time last year. (that being a woman sucks, this ten-pound flux is a bitch). 

It is about the over all health and the long run though so I am okay with loosing weight a bit slower if it means I can keep it off. Ready to lose another 30-40 in 2019.  But yay for being under 300 lbs and needing smaller clothes.

Now about that Barbarian: I’ve always said that as he got older and closer to school age, I’d start limiting what I put out on social media.  That time is here already. And While I am forcing myself to shift my focus from virtual to reality, I am going to be doing the same for him. He might make a few appearances, because face it he has a following bigger than my own.

I am so thankful for those of you who have loved and supported him and us this past 3.5 years.  I’ll try to give you updates every so often, but I also want him to know that his life is his own and he can share what he wants in his own time.

LOL but don’t fret, the way things are looking he might take over my youtube channel and be the next child content billionaire. We’ll see. (Also, He is the main model for Trav’s photography, so you’ll still be seeing him…I mean don’t get all flusterghasted and start emailing me with threats about “y’all’s baby--sheesh.)

Everyone is okay. Wade and Travis are fantastic. The animals are all alive (neighbors had to send titan home…again) and so far, I’ve managed to keep us down to two dogs, one cat, and one fish!

The adventure is still happening, you just have to take it on faith instead of seeing it every day.

Love & Chaos,

Dréa

*all photos are copyright protected and are the property of  Andrea Brickey and Travis Cunningham and can not be copied or reproduced without permission. We know y'all love The Barbarian, please don't use is pictures for stuff that unless we say its ok. Quickest way to stop seeing him ever is for us to start seeing him in places we don't approve of.

Day Two

Start as you mean to go....or follow up and over

I screwed up. I slept through my alarm and missed my entire first class at the gym.

Then like a bumbling bull in a china store, I woke the whole house.


In my frustration, I did make it to the gym and the only thing I could think to do was find some kinda cardio...

But first I explored the gym and its tiny, but that's fine... the shower situation sucks...but what ever...I found some tabata work out music( heavy dance hall and edm with a kicking bass  that counts you down through several BURST work sections)  I sat my ass on one of those recumbent bikes and pushed through 3O minutes of sheer disappointment and pisstivity.

Then I did a ten minute kettle ball routine ( did it through twice) that I found on you tube.

AND THEN I SAT IN MY CAR and fumed.

I came home had my oatmeal for breakfast and facebook lived my shame.
For lunch I had an apple/quinoa salad with avocado and cranberries and .....it wasn't as good as i had longed for but i lived....i didn't finish it and thats fine...
I went to work and my app wasn't working... they kept requesting that I restart then drive here or there then restart. I gave up and went and washed and vaccumed my car. Then  as soon as i could i self turtled ( took off with out repricussion because they hadn't been sending me any orders) and came home... grabbed the barbarian and his uncle and went on an adventure...

Which is how I ended up in Carino's nearly in tears.... because I didn't want a fucking salad... I wanted pasta and sauce and lobster... but I muscled through. I order the large cobb...with EVERYTHING ON SIDE...and water.

I ended the day buy getting a new super cool tea pot and getting the barbarian a fresh fresh pair of addias.

 In case you're wondering....here's what I'm working with.

37 years old
5'7"
324.8
52 bust-54.75waist-58hips
and 49.7% body fat.

All I know is at the end of 16 weeks I just want to be smaller. and healthier...

(this is me on SUNDAY THE 8th)

this is me not being happy with my salad but determined to stick to my guns....listen...i love salad... but who the hell wants salad when they can have lobster ravioli and BREAD

Tomorrow I do day two of my detox...And I'm getting getting a massage first thing in the morning( hey it was booked weeks ago).

IT wasn't a bad day really.... Just Keep Swimming

Starting again... inches and pounds

Finding A New Motivation

It’s nearly 10 p.m. and I’m just now getting around to this blog.  I had to have a panic attack and moment of sheer HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING.

I’ve been talking about getting fit for ever. Having lost my friend Laura recently, its just been this thing that’s on my mind more and more. During her battle with cancer, Laura got crazy about her fitness. Now, I’m not going to tell you that she did this 180  and became a guru, but she was at times fanatic about being in the gym, working out, being as healthy as she could be. She still had her ups and downs, but she was in it to win.  Even at the end when we all knew there was just no possible way she was going to get into a gym in this realm again, she was focused on getting her physical therapy and then getting back to working out. There was no waivering about it. She was going to rehab and “I’m going to loose this fucking weight, Drea. I’m gonna bring sexy back….again.”

Like most of y’all, this isn’t my first weight loss Rodeo and as its an ongoing process, its not the last.  I’ve done it all from wraps to drinks, to pills and starvation.  With the exception of going under the knife and illegal drugs, if its out there as a way to loose weight, I’ve tried it.

And I’ve dropped them all just as fast as I started them. Well, almost all of them.  

Shortly B.C.B. (Before Cannon the Barbarian) I contacted a fitness coach and model that I knew on facebook and had him customize me a menu and a plan. Zac was and is a sweet heart. He talked me through everything and was sweet and encouraging. I weighed in 5lbs heavier than I am now. I did a pretty good job. I learned to make smarter food choices, I meal prepped like a five start chef. I wasn’t hungry in fact I was moody because I honestly got tired of eating. 8 meals a day was just insurmountable.  AND ALL THAT DAMN SALAD. DO YOU REALLY KNOW HOW BIG 3.5 oz of salad is?  Do you. DO. YOU.

I doubt you really do. AND IF YOU DO KNOW then your jaw immediately clinched the moment you read those words and you salivated and thought “alllllllllllll the cheeewwwwwinnnnggg. Mussssttttt sssssttttooooppppp chewing”

I didn’t do too heavy a work out…walking on the treadmill that I named “that fucking treadmill”.  I spent more time trying not to fall off of it than I want to admit.  And if you guys remember …I fell off it … a lot.

Anyway, nearly 3 years A.C.B ( keep up, After Cannon the Barbarian), I’m back to being 325 (I am supposed to say 324.8 and give my self little victories *rolling my eyes*) and I need to re group and go again.  I’ve been talking about getting MORE help than I had before since Cannon was 6 months old. I knew that this time the journey was going to be harder.  But I have a new motivation. I’m an older mom. Automatically my time with my little barbarian is shorter than if I’d had him in my early to mid-twenties. I don’t want to shorten that time further by being unhealthy.

I want and need to be able to keep up with him.  You all know very well that this boy hits the ground running every day.  There is no low gear, even when he is sick he is just barely letting off the throttle.  In a few short months he is going to be three years old. Ready to start pee wee athletics and just … everything you know. I need to be there for it all.

So there is that. The whys are just like they’ve always been. I want to be heathier. I want to be lighter and wear fun clothes.  I want to move easier, breath easier, and all of that.  I just want to be happier in my skin.

Biting Off More Than I Can Chew

This time, even though its been something on my mind for more than three years, getting fit was a spur of the moment decision. One of those time where the gym was offering an amazing fish hook deal to get you looped in for a year membership.  I knew it was a gimmick, but if not now when. They were offering the kind of motivation I’ve been telling anyone who’d listen I needed. Small personalized classes.  One on one attention. I can do this. I CAN DO THIS.

And then I looked at their customized (generic for everyone) meal plans and recipes. AND THEN they had the nerve to suggest that my big southern foodie ass try a 1200 calorie diet and I literally laughed in their faces. If I hadn’t already signed the contract I’d have walked out with the double Stone Cold Steve Austins in the air.

The regular menu was going to be a pain in the ass, but it was doable. That paleo/keto…no…just no…so many different no’s. GRANDIOUS AND OBNOXIOUS NOS.

SO I started searching for someone who could do the meal prep for me.   I can meal prep with the best of them, but I’d rather do laundry and we all know I HATE LAUNDRY. Through my searching I stumbled across Chef Eboni  and sometimes when spirit speak you leap.

And thank GOD I DID.

Because I’ve been ok until around 7 pm when I realized that I hadn’t eaten my third detox meal and I’m supposed to NOT eat after 7pm.  SUDDENLY I WAS RAVINOUS. I haven’t felt hungry all day. In fact, the only thing I’ve complained about is that I don’t like the kombucha … at all.

I stared at all the food in the kitchen and there wasn’t anything in there that I was sure I could eat. I mean truthfully, there were some options, but I’m supposed to be detoxing for three days.

I literally had a panic attack. I started sweating. I mean I managed to deliver 5 roasted chickens and not have a break down, but now…NOOOWWW I was super starving. I had already tried distracting myself. I had taken nap, drank some water all the things you’re supposed to do to get past the anxiety. SO I text Chef E and she was supper patient. She let me rant and scream about being hungry.  Then she talked me down. Gave me options to help me customize this detox to help get through this week. 

Tomorrow morning is my first day in the gym. So I’ll post all my stats and all that crap  after I drag myself home and cry about how awful it was

feeling a bit guilty

Most of you know by now that when I do remember to blog its pretty free form. I've never been that blogger than had a daily schedule or word count. Yeah, there is a bit of advertising on the page but honestly its never made me a dime and I am not (as of yet) trying to make a living blogging.  I know some professional bloggers. Keeping up with content and et al is hard work. I never really saw that in my plans and even know its probably not something I'm going to commit to.

Having said that, I also read all my responses and emails so I do know I have a bit of a following.  I want to thank y'all for checking even when you know darn good and well there probably isn't anything new here.

As this pregnancy moves into its final leg I'm hoping to be here (in front of my lap top) more.    I know if you follow me on fb and twitter you know I'm the world's biggest pregnant cry baby.  I feel all kinds of guilt about that.

So while I'm here lets talk about it.
Why do I feel guilty about complaining about being pregnant.


I guess to begin with we better start with the begining.  I've talked in some places loosely about our struggle to become parents. This isn't our first pregnancy. Its just our first sucessful one. Each day I praise the Almighty for however many weeks plus days we progress.  We've never made it past 12 weeks before. To be 24 weeks and 1 day...well hallelujah!!! HOLD OUR MULE!

That in and of it self is enough to make a chic fill guilty.  I honestly wish I could eat every complaint I've made.  Really, I do. Even when I'm sitting here mentally bitching about the ache in my back, the numbness in my limbs, the fact that at 24 weeks I'm still puking( and by proxy peeing) on myself.  I hate those complaints. Because somewhere in my heart I know this is what I signed up for. This is the long haul and I'm definitely in it. I wouldn't take the alternative if you handed me a billion bucks tax free.  Every day I tell myself to suck it up butter cup.
and then I complain about whatever else.

At 34 and after 8 active years of trying, well I honestly wasn't prepared. Everything I ever read, researched, heard an ancedote about...none of it means a darn thing. Everything is new and scary and strange to me.  THERE IS A PERSON IN MY ABDOMAN.  Ok, that was a mild freak out, but you know he has hiccups right now and he is moving and it feels so gross. No on every once said "it feels really gross when they move around."

Everyone is always like its so cool and you can feel and hear and yeah...... no.  Nope.  I mean yes it is but on the same token...no, no its not. Its gross and its uncomfortable and frankly, its really nasty feeling. like someone is fist...you know what lets not go there.

I know some of  y'all are like " drea, suck it up."  but let me tell you as much as i bitch...I'm still having a hard time with the decision that cwb and i decided to share this pregnancy publically. We've never ever done that before. There has only been one other time that we told anyone.   So even though I'm complaining I'm not putting it all out there like i said I would.  I'm kinda after the fact about most of it.  I've been IN the hospital more than i've admitted. But i didn't want to alarm anyone so I kinda just went stayed came home and gripped about being sick.
 Being in the homestretch I feel like I have a little room to breath (and I mean very little, dude this kid takes up space) so I'm slowly admitting to being sicker than just a whiney baby.

I miss writing, but I promise I am not just being a spoiled (we all know i am) incubator. There are days that I literally slept all day and I couldn't tell you when where what how or with whom anything got done.
In fact, i'm slowly peicing together parts of each month with the hubs and the roomie, because honestly I was just so sick i lost a week or so here an there.

And being stubborn and being a "worker" has been hard for me.  I don't like laying around...ok wait let me correct that. I don't like laying around when it wasn't my idea to just lay around.  I don't like being forced to rest. Even though i know i need to just cruise through this.  I'd just started an amazing work out routine and I can't do it. ITS KILLING ME to see this treadmill standing steadfast next to my desk in my bedroom and I am resticted from it.
In the long run I know its for lil CWB to be the best lil ninja sithe punisher he can be, but I'm still pouty.

I've got several friends who are ftm and btdm ( first time moms and been there done thats moms) who are having babies around the same time as me who are doing things like hiking in the rockies, crossfit,   a stage production of the wiz with three daily shows.  I hate them.
I can't drive to the gorcery store with out puking.

I'm just saying that even though its almsot done and I know the "worst"  and "best" parts are coming...well, yeah... i'm not always a complainer but i've been the worlds worst pregnant chic.

And even though I'm mostly smiling...its because I really can't stop the natural instinct to smile for the camera.  Those smiles are hiding some fierce determination to adopt all of Cannon's Siblings.


And I feel so bad y'all. Because I asked for this glorious mess. I prayed for every bit of this with just as much passion and furvor as I'm sure Hannah Prayed.  If anyone had seen me on my knees the would have thought not only was i drunk but higher than snoop dog eating brownies at willie nelson's house.

I realize that guilty mom syndrome has already set in.  And Even though I'm not the first or the last and or even unique in my situation...i still can't help but be Drea about it. I'm sorry if you've been annoyed with my bitching.... actually i'm not. I worked hard to get here. To this place were I can cry randomly cuz I peed on my self five seconds after leaving the bathroom. I'm not sorry if I've acted like the only woman to ever puke standing in the shower so she can rinse of the inevitable urine.

The only people I think I  am really sorry to is those who haven't or still can not realize the dream of a gift i've been given. I wish I could say with certainty "your turn is coming"  I wish i could promise that it will be just like this for them someday.  For those people. I am sorry if this has been too in your face.  Thank you for being on this train with me regardless.

I love you
Goodnight.

Thinking without my glasses on aka i should be sleeping but i'm staring at the ceiling fan.

Today I had a long conversation with an old friend and its been on my mind every since.
He was telling me how he'd broken up with his wife... again...wait let me clarify : his third wife in fifteen years... third seperation from said wife in two years.
While he was talking I was thinking "dude, you sure can pick 'em"   but tonight, laying here trying to decide if i want pickles and pop corn or pickles and ice cream ( hey hey i'm pregnant i get to want wierd shit) I was thinking... "meh, what if its not the women...what if its really just him?"

I mean honestly, you're having nearly identical problems in three different marriages to three very distinctive women. It can't all be them right?

I'm mean granted he tends to go for a certain type of "golddigger" but HEY he has a type.

So it made me think of all the times I broke my own heart.   And by that I mean it really wasn't a situation of me changing or that person changing  or growing but of me faking like something was ok when it wasn't.  We get so excited about the instant attraction and lust. We get wrapped up in the archetype of forever monogamy and love.  We forget the possibility of fleeting joy and momentary happiness and try to make a fling last forever.  Some times things just aren't meant to last.  They are one or maybe a few time uses and then you're supposed to trade 'em in for the next model. Its like trying to use an analog phone on a digital network... yeah the call might go through, but can you hear me now?


Honest to goodness, sometimes in life we break our own hearts.

Its easy to say that someone did or didn't' do, but at the end of the day if you can look back with a hundred percent open hearted honesty, its really not so much about the other person, but about you.

we have these expectations and we forget that expectations are just about as useful as  opinions. Everyone has them...expectations and opinions, its just rare that they are the same..and even if they do match up there ar those tricky lil grey areas where one might vary just slightly from the other.

Most times those slight variances are bigger than we want to believe. they are huge like..grand canyon wide chasms.  For one person  its a shruggin matter  "meh, ok" bur for another person its a hard line. no crossing no "meh" about it.

Whats that got to do with breaking your own heart?  Well, that's the thing  some times in order to get a long we "meh" about things that aren't really "meh" able.   We want the end result, so we cave on things that actually we probably should have drawn a hard line on.   Its not that the other person didn't live up to our expectation..we negotiated our expectation or "hard line" with ourselves in order to "fit" with the other person. our hard line now has a splinter and the more we rub up against it the more that splinter irritates the shit out of us. It becomes infected and it festers. Forms a boil full of puss and when that sucker explodes-- KABOOOOM!  Mount Vesuvius is Jealous.  But is it the other persons fault that our hearts are broken?  Did they take a tiny chisel and start chipping away, fissure-ing little lines of demarcation on our spirit or did we, in our quest for the fantasy, do all of that?   Did we smile when and giggle, batting our eyes in a coquettish manner to cover the tears when we really wanted to let them fall and yell "mother fucker what the hell..."?

Yeah...we often break our own hearts by not at least acknowledging the little thing...we thing we've hammered out the big stuff so hey don't sweat the rest... and maybe the rest isn't sweat worthy. But what if it is... what if aaaallllll those little things add up and then become big things?  What if we didn't hammer out all the big things: " are we  exclusive, fuck buddies, getting married, playing house, having kids" and so worrying about the little things is just a distraction from the fact that the elephant is not only pink...NOT ONLY in the room, but is getting its dick sucked by two politicians and a flamingo in leather?

There is a whole circus of shit going on but WE keep sweeping it under the rug and when shit goes to hell in a hand basket we start tossing the blame:  "he she they did said didn't"

But do we look  back and say...i should have spoken?  I should have said or done?  I should have drawn a hard line and accepted that what i expected verses what was happening wasn't matching up.  I sacrificed. I gave up on or overlooked.   Some times we are so focused on the BIG PICTURE, the END GAME... that we aren't even aware how horrible the battles really are.   We often hear "can't see the Forrest for the trees", but sometimes you gotta take a look at all those trees. Are they really trees or are they weeds that have gotten out of hand?  Is the garden really thriving or is it overgrown?  Is that pimple really going to heal on its own or do we just need to pop that sucker and flush it with some peroxide?   Did so and so really break our hearts or did we just fail to meet our own expectations.