Wednesday, October 22, 2008

I have no title to put here so just make one up okay? Thanks.

I've been really down lately. The kind of down where you're at your wits end, kind of hanging on to your normalcy by one tiny thread that's getting pretty slippery from the snot and tears. As my friend Crazy Aunt Purl (okay, so we're not really friends and she doesn't know me from Adam, but she has a fantastic blog and if she lived in Connecticut we would totally hang out and talk about our cats and knitting and how you keep putting one foot in front of the other day after day. Go check out her blog when you've got a minute, she's awesome:, anyway where was I? Oh yeah, as my buddy C.A.P. would say I've felt like I was thisclose to directing traffic in my nightgown with my bra on my head talking into a Pepsi can. Except I don't wear night gowns. And I don't really like soda.

Why do I feel so down you ask? My poor little Maggie beagle still cannot walk on her own. She can't hold her back end up at all. She's so unhappy and uncomfortable and that breaks my heart. I cry every time I hear her whimpering in pain when I lift her to carry her outside to pee which is often since the prednisone makes her thirsty. I cry harder when she screams at me in pain when I lift her to take her outside to pee. She pants and won't settle down because she's in a lot of discomfort. I don't know what else to do for her. I can't fix it, can't make it better and I'm falling apart because of it. Everything in my life feels like it's a mess right now. I haven't vacuumed in oh, probably a month. My kitchen is a complete disaster which is not like me. You can gauge my mental/emotional well being by how clean my kitchen is. On a scale of one to it's time to send the nice men in white coats to come take me on "vacation" I am probably at a seven if you're judging by my kitchen. I haven't changed my sheets or towels in an embarrassingly long time. My bathroom, we just shouldn't even talk about my bathroom. I like to think that my shower is a "mood shower" and that the pink film is just a reflection of it's mood and not the water mold that it really is. There is cat fur and dog fur and my hair and oh my god the leaves! all over my floors. And I just don't care. All I can bring myself to do when I'm at home is sit on my couch and surf the net or watch tv or movies.

Todays lyrics are from the late, great Roy Orbison. The song is appropriately titled Crying.

You, you couldn't tell
that I'd been crying over you
crying over you

This song is appropriate for me on so many levels. But first let's go back to the dog and the crying. Yes, I cry over my infirm dog. And mostly I cry in my car so my dog does not see me crying. That's right, I hide my crying from my dog so she doesn't feel bad or maybe so I don't make her feel worse. Is this normal? I tend to think not. I mean really, I get in my car after work and the first thing I do after I pull out of my parking spot is start crying. The tears come on and off until I pull into my garage. Then I wipe them away and put on my happy face and go inside. To my dog. I put on my happy face for a dog. I even use my happy "isn't life so great and happy and exciting!" voice when I talk to her. I can't tell if it helps her at all, I think I do it more for me than her. Like if I can fake the happy with her then everything will be alright.

And by everything I mean EVERYTHING. Not just that she'll get better. Because she will and I will do everything in my power to make sure that happens. She's a young and otherwise healthy dog and by god she will get well because I NEED her. She got me through the worst time of my life. The only reason I was able to drag myself out of bed last winter was because I had to take care of her. My cats could take care of themselves. They have their litter boxes and their food is out all the time so they were good to go. They would have let me stay in bed with the covers over my head for days, until their bowls needed to be refilled or their boxes needed to be scooped.

But Maggie needed to be let outside. She needed to be fed twice a day. She needed to be walked and given attention and loved. She is what saved me 10 months ago. This tiny silly little girl was my reason for getting out of bed in the morning when I could barely remember how to put one foot in front of the other. She helped me more than I can ever repay her for so now it is my turn to help her. And it's killing me that I can't just fix it for her. Killing me that she's been in pain and uncomfortable for so long now. It is simply heartbreaking.

Also by everything I mean that I will somehow soon be able to just f'ing let go of the past and move the hell on. As I sit here on my couch in my pajamas (which, hi, are really not flattering, how many different shades of gray can one person wear at a time? It's a damn good thing that I don't get visitors who just pop in to say hi) with tears rolling quietly down my cheeks (so my dog doesn't hear me crying, I am maybe not quite as sane as I used to be) not having eaten any dinner and unlikely to make anything for dinner I want only one thing. I want to know she cares. Okay maybe I want two things. I want to know she cares about me like I care about her and I want a hug, from her. And I am not a hugger. At all. I avoid the hug if at all possible especially if I don't know you well. I do miss that feeling of coming home when her arms were around me though. I miss the comfort of knowing she was there. I miss her. I could list all the things I miss about her, but I'm sure you'd fall asleep well before I got to the end of it.

So, the song lyrics fit for this aspect of my life too. Because I am crying over her. She of the five months of happiness. She who got under my skin when all I was looking for was to figure out the whole dating thing, to get back on the horse. She who showed me what it felt like to be treated the right way in a relationship. I am crying over her. Grieving for what could have been, should have been but she was too afraid to allow it to be.

I don't believe in Hollywood love. I don't believe that anyone rides happily off into the sunset. Relationships are give and take and they do take work to make them last. I don't believe that I need to be "completed" by another person (hello Jerry Maguire did you hear that? you do not complete me, only I can complete me). I do believe however that humans are pack animals and that all of us need that special person in our lives, especially when we're down. And when that special person doesn't exist we often turn to our pets for comfort. But when the down times coincide with the time that your pet is ill it kind of feels like a double wallop.

And so I cry in my car so my dog doesn't see me crying. I swallow my tears as she's screaming in my ear in pain as I gently lift her and carry her outside to do her business. I swallow my tears when she's panting in discomfort and nothing I do eases her pain. Because I know that once I start crying I won't stop. The floodgates open and I become a dripping mess who wants to curl up in a ball in the corner and stay like that forever. And I can't do that. Maggie needs me and I need her to get better because I need her too.

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