With all the imagery on Facebook, the interwebs, our televisions, etc I have found myself rarely struck heavily by much. But it happened today. It was this:  

When I saw it, someone instantly came to mind. And it’s the rawest spot inside me. But I felt the pain in my chest, I stopped breathing a second, and tiny bits of water came to the cornea. Because it’s true. Though all too brief, truth. Amazing what the truth does to our minds and our bodies when we see it and feel it. That’s how you know it’s true. 

I can imagine that we’ve danced this dance a hundred times through many lifetimes. In many galaxies. I have caught glimpses of you and your beautiful soul on tens of planets. We’ve seen and done it all. But right now, for this lifetime and this heart, I had to leave you and say goodbye. 

There are two things that bring tears to my eyes: Chloe and you. And so after the tears sprang up, the positive fool inside me said “well maybe that’s not all.” And I thought about my best friends. And the same is true. But instead of tears, I smiled. 

I always had this vision that people who were unemployed or worked from home should have the cleanest houses.  Today, I proved that stereotype wrong.  So wrong.  This is two-fold.  One, I was busy with a resume (and Trivia Crack) and at one point, during a strong thunderstorm, cuddling a very shaky and scared 65 lb lab.  I also ventured out of the house.  I had two meetings, one of which got canceled and the other…it was longer than I’d thought.  And another fact, when you’re unemployed and need work it’s hard to focus on anything BUT that.  It’s pretty nerve wracking.  You feel like you should be doing SOMEthing–however small–to take a step towards employment.

Like I said, I put the “finishing” touches on the resume.  It’s never finished; I will over-analyze and redesign it until I get hired.  And after that, it may be such an ingrained habit that I do it just in case.  And I had to let a couple people review it for me.  And of course, I’ve missed chatting with my friends so I did that.  I also signed up to be an extra on some tv and movies being filmed in the area.  I just threw up a couple of photos and completed the profile.  Nothing fancy at all.  Either they call or they don’t.  But again, there’s a need to do something every day.

Unemployment is stressful.  It’s a battle to keep the anxiety under control.  It’s a faith tester for sure.  I remembered to pray a few times for different people–some names and faces I know but some for strangers–asking the Universe to please show them favor, open the doors so I may come through, and open their minds and hearts.  It’s all I know to do.

And then I read something about people living their dream and not giving up.  From real people I had met recently who had achieved success despite odds.  And I think, “if they can do it, I can do it.”  I have plenty of examples.  But what is my dream?  What is my purpose?  Well, that’s easy:  to write.  But thus far, blogging doesn’t pay the bills.  And oh god, don’t get me started on that “make money blogging” stuff.  No, this is a personal blog from a real (crazy) woman.  I’m not going to pollute it with links and ads.  Bleh!  No.  Call it stubbornness or a misuse of my talent, but this is my place to vent.  Sometimes I post a link on Facebook, but it’s pretty rare.  If you want the address, it’s in my info.  If you want to know my thoughts, here they are.  I don’t want to use my talents for marketing someone else.  It’s the whoring out of writers in my opinion.  Would I do it on someone else’s blog that’s in need of a good writer?  Absolutely!  If I could make money sitting here writing–no matter what it is–I’d do it.  But as for apryl.me?  It will stay real.

OH, and I tried to downgrade my tv.  Those bastards won’t let you do it on their site.  You have to call!  Too bad I attempted this late in the evening because they are closed.  But tomorrow, unemployment gets the upperhand in the battle against AT&T and a bill I cannot afford.  Sadly, I actually tried to watch tv a couple of times.  But I cannot stress enough how the anxiety angel sits on my shoulder and says, “Is that what you really need to be doing right now?”  No, I guess the angel is right.  And if I am feeling super ballsy tomorrow, I will call and cut my package back down to 4 channels a month at $19.95 and kiss tv goodbye for good.  Praise the lord my DVR is full. (it’s mostly Storage Wars and since I’m out of the game that’s 36 episodes of pointless)

Sigh.  Tomorrow is another day.  I’m keeping a couple of notes in my planner.  Email this person, call this one, go see this one.  The printer is out of ink and won’t print the resumes so, Office Depot ($$$…fawk!) it is–unless someone lets me pump a few out at their place.  (I have my own paper)

So, I guess just like I told Sadie a few minutes ago, tomorrow we march on.  We keep on keeping on.  We have to have faith.  Take a few small steps each day until something pops up.  I got some leads, I know a few people.  Networking begins now that the resume is built.  (But I want it to pop and inform!)  We continue this venture tomorrow.  And maybe get the floors and dishes done if we’re lucky.

Modest Mouse said, “I know that starting over’s not what life’s about” but I am tending to disagree today.  I thinking starting over is exactly  what it’s about.  Sometimes.  Things always end, new things begin.  Seasons change.  People in our lives change.  Jobs change.  When ALL those things change, it’s starting over.  I feel like it’s what I’m doing now.  I’m starting over.

I’ve spent enough time in misery over what’s passed.  I have no choice but to look to the future.  It’s scary.  It’s hopeless at least one moment in every day, but it’s also full of possibility.  I mean, I don’t have work.  I’m jobless.  Zero income.  That’s not cool.  But on the flip side, I can go do anything.  And ironically, I’m wanting to do things I’ve never done before.  Things that will allow time to write, time to go to the Mary C and do lunch, go have lunch with friends, take my dog to the vet.  Night time employment in the service industry.  Who would have thought?  I’m sure it’s filled with BS like every other job but for me, I’m excited!  I want to pursue it.  I want to learn a trade, talk to people, come out of this shell, laugh with people.  I’m pretty enough on the inside and out to make a decent bartender.  I just have to learn to mix drinks.  And even that’s exciting–it’s like chemistry and math and cooking had a baby and we call it drinking.  I’m intimidated by it, but I am going to ask around and see if someone is willing to take me under their wing.  I can promise whoever it is that puts faith in me, you’ll have one hell of an employee.  I’m loyal. Anywho, it’s one avenue.

I have all kinds of experience elsewhere and maybe it’s more profitable to go use that in another office setting.  It’s kinder to the aging body (although I got to admit, my genes are doing a phenomenal job with this aging thing…I kinda like getting older…I get better!).  And if it’s good pay, benefits, and some time off, then I might pursue that.  That’s what starting over is: endless possibility.  I have options.  I don’t see them, but I know that they await me.

Everything happens for a reason.  It’s not much consolation when you hear that in the midst of the crisis–and Lord knows my life got flipped upside down the last year–but looking back maybe the universe was screaming at me to start over.  To be happier.  To let the horrible things go and embrace the great ones.  I don’t have a paying job nor do I receive unemployment, but I got to be the happiest unemployed/going broke person I know.  I’m not going to stress this.  As I gave Sadie her Oscar Meyer chicken laced with pills to strengthen her body, I told her, “Sadie, we got to have faith.”  And we do. And she kissed me when I said it. Just got to trust the universe to keep showing me.  I spent a few hours on the resume and once it’s tweaked (13 years of building a company from a shithole with a gravel drive to a multi-million dollar facility and over 100 employees takes a lot of thought on how to consolidate that into a single page document), I’ll pass it around and start asking for favors and sending prayers.  I just need a foot in the door.  Just like I did 13 years ago, I can prove my ability undoubtedly. Not to get too spiritual here but I am already asking the universe to open the minds and hearts of people to help me.  To show them favor and hope that when my smiling, eager face walks in they feel that I have been sending those thoughts their way. It might be silly to some, but it sure can’t hurt.

So tonight I’m going back to that last blog where I stated I just have to love my life the way it is.  It may seem like a mess but the pieces can all be put together.  And I’m starting to feel grateful.  Lawd, I am so grateful.  It was a shitty situation, but I’m grateful to be gone from the people who didn’t respect or deserve me busting my ass for them all those years.  It felt like a stab in the heart a few months ago.  Now, maybe it was a blessing.  You have to breakdown to breakthrough.  I think Iyanla said that.  Or maybe that guy who does that show Deep Shift on OWN on Sundays.  Hurts from every angle, I got to quit dwelling on them.  They are going to pull me down and wreck me if I don’t.

Spring is here, time for renewal and things to start growing.  Time for me to renew myself and plant my happy butt somewhere new and develop a new routine.  That’s exciting.  It’s fearful if I think about it too long, so I don’t.  I focus on the future.  The people I might meet who become instrumental in my greatness.  I am hopeful.  I am passionate.  I am not ugly.  I am smart.  I am kind.  I have SO much to offer.  I’m excited to see where I can get in and fit in! Shit, I’m excited to be sitting here at midnight not dreading the next day! So grateful.  Now, Universe, do your thing.  I’m listening.  🙂

March 8–A few times in my life I’ve had profound, life-changing thoughts.  Remember the one time I decided the key to my loving my body was to love it just the way it was at the time?  I was like 150+ pounds (carried well too).  That one thought, and the actions I took afterwards to back it up [those are going to sound silly but I would say, “I love my body just like this” every time I was dressing or getting out of the shower, I listened to “Love Your Body” by Louise Hay a million times until it sunk in, I read the book by Joyce Meyer “Look Great, Feel Great” twice, I started tracking my food with an app, etc etc etc], all were part of the change I made in my life.  And the beginning led to more motivation so I joined a weight loss challenge, used Herbalife products, and then kept it up until now I’m a size 0.  I literally have no size as my BFF pointed out! LOL. If I ever see 150 pounds again it will because of an illness or because (miraculously) I fall in love and get preggers like the rest of you people out there [how did you manage THAT?!].

And today, everything hit me.  I’m feeling overwhelmed.  Just totally lost adrift the sea of life.  I decided I needed to write an action plan.  There are about 10 ideas I have as to what path to take.  And I have no idea which way to go.  I want to do that which makes a difference, means something to me, but I need income.  My house is a friggin mess.  I have to get my resume together.  But what if I want to go back to school?  Deadlines, applications, loans to live off of, sheesh.  And beside me is dear, sweet Sadie –who needs expensive treatment in two weeks (and some food today).  And when you have ALL these thoughts going on at once, just a complete overload, it’s hard to sort through.  But I had an AHA moment as I put my hands in my face and asked Sadie, “Where do we even start?”  You have to start where you are, exactly as it is.  Just like with my weight, I have to take everything I have right now and LOVE IT.

How?  How do you love what looks like a mess? How I don’t yet know [hence why I write], but seems like first place is to embrace the mess.  Before I make a single step towards change, just accept everything the way it is.  Myself included.

I’ve learned the hard way there are distinct differences between living and merely surviving.  You can think that the act of taking in air and having conscious thoughts is the act of living.  It isn’t.  I wonder how many people think that nourishing the body and leaving the soul to fend for itself is creating a life?  [And are they popular people?  accomplished?  do they come in all shapes and sizes? every profession?]  Survival is the act of going through each day.  Living is the act of blessing and rejoicing in the days.  Smiling from a place so deep inside you that it’s even a mystery to yourself is living.  Smiling in an effort of pleasantry and hustling for a dollar [literally, 100 cents] is the act of survival.  Until someone pointed out to me tonight that I was surviving and no longer in the land of the living did I even realize how much I mourned the loss of life inside me.  Every day it’ a struggle.

Lord, hear me now, I can dance in the sprinkles and I can dance in the rain, but I cannot dance in the hurricane.  And last week I had a profound thought: what if some people are just born with a broken heart?  I never reached a conclusion on that nor do I know if it’s related.  I was too afraid what if I found out the answer is yes; and what if I was one of those people?  Just as chromosomes malfunction, what if some souls are formed at an instant as to distance them from everything else in life?  Just what if it’s possible.  And these souls walk among us–forever aching.  Forever seeing the light and running to the end of the tunnel, only to find it is jumping farther ahead.  If the answer is yes, is it a diagnosis we humans really want to face?

I can tell you that survival is facing a decision to go to sleep at night because you want the day to end but fearing the morrow merely brings more of the same; undecided on whether to stay awake as to postpone it or fall into the short but glorious time between the two.  I want to see my dreams.  I want to see what awaits me there.  In my dreams I have found someone I love, and we honeymoon on an island all to ourselves [but like, we can ring a bell and get whatever we want delivered], or I’m a famous author and people line up to get my newest bestseller signed!  In my dreams, I’m traveling.  I’m not skinny–I have a nice rack.  My nails are done.  My hair isn’t falling out.  I don’t smell like cigarettes.  The wine is the best on the planet…and plentiful.  I’m warm.  Maybe I live in a treehouse with dreads.  Maybe I’m imparting wisdom on the planet.  In my dreams, I got married and had kids.  It isn’t too late.

Now, let’s be truthful, I could have it a lot worse.  And surviving vs living means thinking of the worst all the time.  I’m thinking what if the bank comes for my house in a few months?  What if my hair is falling out from something major?  Will I be a pretty homeless chick [can you MAKE being homeless pretty?!]?  Surviving means watching your back at all times.  Never fully embracing the moment and always anticipating what evil might be lurking.

Surviving is shitty.  I’m not gonna even clean it up and make it optimistic.  Surviving is madness.  And I look back and try to piece it together [as if that’s part of the 12 steps to sanity, right].  There are distinct moments that led to said disaster.  My heart got shattered last year.  And, before I had time to process that, my Dad was told he had about a third of his heart left.  And when the devastation of that had just about settled, Chloe was gone.  But it was ok.  I had my job–a place in this world that I’d helped built and that needed me, right?  And then THAT was gone.  So in under 8 months all that was meaningful and secure in this world had vanished.  Truthfully, I could have bounced back from any of those.  But the world, it just slipped out of my hands.

I’m blessed to have lived.  I’m blessed to have the memories of a spirit that was so in love with living.  I experienced so much.  I did so much.  Heck, I was in love with life.  I had a cute little umbrella to face any storm.  But now?  It’s….it’s empty.  There’s no music.  There’s no rhyme, no reason.  Maybe I brought this on myself?  Because I questioned faith, hope, and love upside and down during the greatest times of my life.  Instead of seeing them as they materialized before my own eyes every day, I asked questions.  I wanted more proof.  Had I known all THIS shit was about to go down, I’d have prayed.  And thanked the Universe.  All day, every day, nonstop.  I’d not have complained or whined.

Some people are taking it a little too personal when I say 2014 sucked.  Sorry, it’s not about you. It’s about me.  What I had.  What I lost.  And the fact I claw my way through every day now.  Lesson?  Don’t let life pass you by.  Don’t be so busy second-guessing and reconfiguring the equation life has for you that you don’t enjoy the moments while you’re in them.  And I guess I need the kick in the ass.  The friends and family who have stood by me during this mess are prayed for daily.  And the next time I love someone, it will be enjoyed and appreciated.  Well, provided that’s an option.  And when I see myself in the mirror during the moments that are living, not surviving, I’m smiling at that bitch.  Hell, I was always more artsy than not.  Time to see what I can do in my dreams tonight.

Some people pick up a paint brush, some a power tool, and others a musical instrument.  My outlet is through words.  And I’m completely out of practice, so pardon the mess.  But inside me is a mess and so that’s how it comes out I guess.  [Eminem, that rhymes and I’ll let you take it] After 12.5 years, I am no longer with my employer.  It was a change I didn’t see coming.  And honestly, I’m really, really over that happening, 2014.  Take your change and shove it up your ass.  NONE of this year has gone the way I expected it to go.  It’s a true wake up call that I don’t write the story.  Maybe that’s why it’s hard to write nowadays–if I can’t be confident about what the next breath holds how can I be confident about my own thoughts?

It’s a wake up on other levels.  Values, self-esteem, money, time, friendship, passion…too many issues surfacing all at once.  It overwhelms me.  It wasn’t just a job as it turned out.  And I knew that.  I poured my heart into it even when it drained me, annoyed me, took precedence over my personal needs, made me unhappy, and even when it hurt others.  My life went into it and it was held on a dangerously false belief that I mattered a great deal because I gave it my all.  There are moments in every single day I want to cry.  Sometimes I do.  I cry because everything inside and out feels like it was burnt.  And now I’m left with nothing but a heap of ashes and damaged goods in my soul.

I struggled with my faith all year long.  It was fragile, to say the very least.  Now?  There’s a tiny speck of light that I can see–but can’t necessarily get to through all the smoke and flames–and that’s my faith.  And I’m smart enough to know how I handle this and get through it will determine my attitude and quite possibly, the rest of my life.  No pressure though!  Seriously, how we get through life-changing events is what sets the course of our life.  Honestly, I’m not exactly sure I’m equipped to deal with it all.  That’s the truth right there.  If it weren’t for a few people who have reached out, given me the hand in cleaning up the mess, I wouldn’t be here right now.  I try to focus on being grateful, but it’s a really hard thing to do.  Because I really just want to scream, break a lot of stuff, and then fall into a pile on the floor and beg for everything to go back the way it used to be.  What I knew and what was secure.  Where I thought I belonged and how I lived.

The desire to go on isn’t inside me but I feel like I have no other choice.  People have told me more than once, “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle,” but I have to be honest here and tell you that I think it’s bullshit.  I can’t digest that right now.  If I could book a meeting with God, I would walk in his office screaming “WHY?!!! WHY!? WHYYYYY?????” and I’d probably throw a punch.  Just because.  I’m angry, sad, shocked, hurt, and feel betrayed.  On top of that, I’m 36 now.  I had to get older and none the wiser?!  Really?!

But I can’t book a lunch with God, I can’t break anything (fuck, I might have to sell it to pay the electric company), I can’t waste time in a heap on the floor, and I can’t let down the people who love me find me so….so…broken.  I have to dive into the next chapter.  The page is turned.  It feels like a divorce.  And I always held I wouldn’t go through a second one of those, but here I am again.  Everything I held sacred is washed away and gone.  The days are no longer what they were.  The people I love aren’t there everyday.  Everything I knew is no more.  And the pressure of “now what do I do?” is weighing on me every second I’m awake.  They say there are 3 responses in nature: fight, flight, or freeze.  Can I simultaneously do all 3?  Maybe, I’m super good at multitasking.  (I just sneezed and vaped at the same time as if to prove the point)

The thoughts I used to get me by before are no longer applicable.  And it’s a damn sad day when the image of being Mrs. Eminem no longer makes me smile.  However, some of his lyrics run through my head randomly when throughout each day and I guess that’s the power of art.

Is every moment dark and painful?  No; please don’t take away that impression.  The majority? Meh, maybe.  It’s a toss up.  There’s a fighter inside me.  There’s also a reasonable individual who knows it could always be worse.  Sadly, I live in fear that it WILL get worse. [the refrigerator motor (?) just made a loud clanking sound reminding me it’s dying] And I guess that’s what it boils down to: I wonder when it will stop, how much more I can take, and what is going to fall next?  And damnit, I hate that.  I fucking hate people who are like that… and now I’m one of them.  I’m a scared, pessimistic, hurting creature.  Thank goodness I know to be grateful, frugal, and stay focused on that tiny light of faith coming through in the dark.  I just have to sort through the mess inside me to get to it.  And hence, the blog.  I pour it out to make room for the light.

I don’t give enough love to those who try to help me up right now.  I know that.  You know who you are and bless your hearts.  I love you.  And I don’t thank God enough for giving me one thing at a time (although the fridge is an issue I can’t handle right now).  I don’t give enough praise to my friends, family, wine, pajamas, my BFF hooking me up with vape supply, tv, and my boyfriend who is doing all he can (& then some) to comfort me and pick me up when I cannot walk.  Believe me, I’m SO glad I bought in bulk so I have laundry detergent, toilet paper, paper towels, dishwasher cubes, and wine to get me through a month.  I apologize for not being in the spirit of Christmas.  I apologize for the absence of my humor and my laughter.  Believe me, I miss these things too. Focus on the light…focus on the light…focus on the light…

Eminem coined a line, “trying to process this loss is making me nauseous” and today I get it.  I think a person can only take so many blows before they physically become ill.  Maybe it’s just that the older I get, I feel I should be able to take the blows more gracefully.  Accept them easily.  Make peace with what is.  But it’s not coming so easy.  Parts of me have been fractured in 2014 and I don’t know that I still have any faith left that they will heal.  The people I trust are few; and especially if you have a penis.  And I know it’s unfair, but sorry, twice bitten in one year.  And MAYBE that wouldn’t be so bad, but I lost my Chloe too.  I look over at her pillow and I just wish she were here right now.  It wouldn’t make the pain go away, but it’d be bearable.  She’d listen and though she no longer was a kisser the last few years, she’d know.  Dog always knew.  And when she didn’t know, she needed help getting around, or fed, or let outside.  So at least my body would have something to do.  The silence now is deafening.  The defeat in the ring has left me with parts of me wide open and bleeding.

And, I’m human.  So I fall into the “what did I do wrong” trap.  The trap where you analyze every day, every message, and say, “What made me fall out of his priority list?”  And while it’s human, it’s stupid.  I know that.  My big girl panties are saggin, but they are still there enough for me to know it takes two to fuck a good thing up.  But it depletes my energy.  And then creates insomina.  It’s nearly 6pm.  I will have been awake for 17 hours soon.  17 grueling hours with nothing but my own thoughts, the messages, and then the images showing me what a fool I was [again].

Not to brag, but in spite of my terrible habit of picking emotionally unavailable men or those who want to screw around [or both], I’m like, really cool.  And Mr. Recent was plagued by the still fresh memory of those before him who abandoned me without explanation. Or tried to change me.  Or cheated.  So in all fairness, I got issues from that which linger like a public restroom.  And in previous cases, for whatever messed up reasons I still can’t explain, it was easier to be gone.  But I shielded myself and Mr. Recent wasn’t completely let into my life.  I thought some private examination of my feelings [knowing they weren’t all justified but needing to feel them out] and working through it on my own would be fruitful.  Twas not.  In fact, I’m giving him the benefit here when I say it didn’t help.  At all.  I was hypersensitive to comments that may or may not have been 100% serious, but they raised red flags inside me.  I should have asked for clarification.

Maybe I hold people to a much too high standard.  Chloe would tell me if she could.  But I pretty much hear the conversation in my head and she’d probably say, “Mama, he’s a retard and you straight up asked for boundaries between this lady & Mr. Recent and got none.”  Still helping me though gone.  Doesn’t change the breaking pieces though.  Maybe one day I’ll heal that.  Dear 2015, don’t be such an asshole!

Writing–my THING–doesn’t come as easy these days.  For one, there’s too few hours in the day and I am depleted of energy.  A pinched nerve is no joke.  In fact, for weeks the left side of my body was achy but not the right.  Now, it’s the right and not the left giving me trouble.  I go to physical therpy twice this upcoming week so maybe I can ask what’s going on.  Hell, could be a good sign that it’s letting up.

Other changes are that I’m constantly bouncing back and forth between Ocean Springs and Gulfport.  I live out of two bags a few days a week.  It wears very thin after a while.  And no place can feel like “home” except home.  But that brings up a good point.  After Chloe died, this house didn’t feel like home.  Not at all.  Today I woke up and before I was fully conscious I was missing her.  Then I realized she’s not here to rush to and I was kind of sad.  But I wanted to come anyway.  Because it’s my home.  My stuff is here, I have stuff to do here, I’m comfortable here.  I tidied up a bit, ate leftover Olive Garden, watched Big Bang theory episode, and now I’m curled up in my bed.  I guess a person could do that anywhere, but nothing can replace the feeling of peace of doing it at your own home.  It makes me extremely more sympathetic to the homeless.  Regardless of circumstance on how someone can end up homeless, I cannot imagine not having a place to call your own.  Where you are at peace.  Where you can be yourself, talk to God, talk to yourself if you want, sweep up the dirt.  Just bouncing back and forth makes me miss it so I cannot even comprehend what it would be like to not have a place to go like this.

2014 is proving to be far more difficult than I’d also ever imagined.  It truly is testing my faith.  I used to have faith in the universe, in a God, in the way things unfolded.  While it’s completely unfair to blame any single person for the shifts of 2014, I sorta kinda do.  Again, an unfair accusation.  Maybe it’s the easy way out of my feelings.  Maybe it’s easier to say I no longer have faith or trust because of this specific event as opposed to just simply saying, “pretty much everyone has let me down and events that transpired outside people’s control have fucked me up inside.”  At times I have come home and look at my “Wall of Inspiration” I made and literally said, “I don’t believe a fucking word on that wall anymore.”  But I know there is hope because despite those times, I look today and believe at least a few of them.  Chloe’s death shook me up more than I thought it would and I have battled the depression again since.  I refuse to go back on medication so I’m taking steps once again to right my mind.

Unless you’ve been there, it’s hard to describe to someone the battle of depression.  I won’t waste my precious little energy even addressing those people.  Instead, if you do know or you have been there then I’ve realized one step is being kind to yourself.  I didn’t want to be here without Chloe but I told myself to stay that first night without her anyway and that it was ok to miss her immensely.  I didn’t try and talk myself out of being sad.  Sad isn’t a weakness, nor is depression.  Weakness is not acknowledging the presence of such emotion and not going into the battle against it.  So while it wasn’t easy and I haven’t been successful every try, I finally look forward to being here in the serenity of the home I call mine.  On the flip side, I am utterly and totally alone now in life.  Never been on my own without Chloe until now.  It’s all part of the 2014 life change I guess.

Maybe that’s the point–evolution doesn’t come comfortably.  It’s a slow and agonizing process.  Embracing that fact is probably the hardest and yet most progressive solution of all.  I hold a lot in and I have to let it go.  There’s a lot of confused people out there, I’m just one more fish in the sea.

I’m extremely blessed in that I’ve had to make few hard choices in life. Part of that has been because I’m half-hippy and I rode the waves of my teens and 20s decently well. My 30s have been less nonchalant, but I’ve focused on more important things. The other factor in not making hard decisions thus far is that unlike those people with tragic pasts, I’ve been spared. So the decision I made to put little Chloe to sleep and hold her in my arms as she peacefully exited this world with me has been by far the hardest I’ve ever made.
I’m glad I read about “what to expect when you lose a pet” just before I made the decision. As we waited for the doctor visit that morning, I curled up in the bathroom floor–where Chloe wanted to be and wouldn’t leave–with my iphone and a blanket and I read some online articles from vet associations (sobbing). I didn’t know what was going to happen until the vet said anything else would be a bandaid and there wasn’t much he could do for her. At that point, I had to live up to a promise I made that dog a long, long, long time ago–not to let her suffer. Some people thought I went too long on that promise but I would look at her and know her spirit was not giving up. That Monday morning in the bathroom I looked at a dog whose spirit was weak and tired. And I knew. Well, I was inclined. Like I said, I wasn’t 100% ready to let her go until I knew I couldn’t do any more for her. But something in the days that led up to it and something in her eyes told me she might be ready.
A lot of guilt follows that decision. Could I have done more? Did I do it to make my life easier and not hers? But I came in the house today and after I did my feel incredibly sad and cry thing–as I still do everytime I come here–I realized she would be here today having trouble walking and not able to stand long enough to eat a meal and I know I did what I had to do for her. It’s having someone by your side every day for 13 years and then having them gone that is hard for me. That little dog kept me grounded and sane. She made this house a home, gave me a purpose, and in the last few years my schedule developed around her needs. To have that suddenly end, well, it’s just hard to process.
She was a substitute for a child and I treated her like a baby until she became an old lady. That was the hard part. Watching her decline and everyday making sure my baby was as comfortable as possible. At the end, I could no more to make her comfortable in this world. Her legs were giving out, her bladder has zero resistance, and she’d stopped eating. I seriously believe that dog and I lived for each other at many, many times during those 13 years. She knew when I needed pulling up and vice versa. Many tears were licked off my face and many, many times she knew I was hurting and curled up to me. And in the end, it was I who had to lift her up and down, make recipes out of her dog food so she’d eat, and cheer her along so she’d walk to pee and back inside the house. Looking back, I knew the day would come I just don’t think any amount of knowing time is ticking away can make an absence of someone any easier.
Dealing with grief has been made easier thanks to my friends and family, especially the boyfriend. That’s the thing about your 30s, you’re confident you can get through anything alone; but having those few people who step up to make sure you don’t have to is the greatest thing in the world. I can’t praise everyone enough. The bf is the one person stuck with me nearly 24/7. When we aren’t together, he gets the texts. He takes my mind off it when I get down, reassures me, comforts me, and just loves me through it. Every single day.
I can’t wait to get to the Acceptance stage. Not quite there yet. It feels like I may forever wonder if I did the right thing. And when I come home, it feels like she should be here. I look at the box with her ashes and I almost can’t comprehend that’s where she is now. Again, lucky me, I haven’t been in many hard spots. So, as trivial as it is compared to some people’s lives, this is has been the hardest month of my life learning to live without her.