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A painful truth vs a beautiful lie

9:23 pm

One day last week–sorry, it’s been SO LONG since I’ve posted a blog; I’ve been buried under work, the kind that makes me not want to read or write for “fun” after the day is over–I came across someone’s meme on Facebook that read: You hate me (haha; only on the ‘book can you feel assaulted and insulted after three words of a half-read meme) because you are a beautiful lie and I am a painful truth.

Ouch. And, huh.

Well, for one, I don’t hate this person (or anyone, for that matter!) and I really haven’t been thinking about it all that much–her life, I guess, and how it’s turned out these past oh, 30 years since she got pregnant at 16 and dropped out of high school (and went on to build a nice life and family, btw)–but, now that you mention it; yeah, it’s kind of true. Not the hating anyone part, but the difference between beautiful lies and painful truths *on social media*.

The sad (to me) reality is, we don’t ever tell or talk about our painful truths. I mean, not really. Not ever, really. And, I guess that’s the challenge of authentic living–how to talk about your painful truths without scaring people away. I am still figuring that one out, but, I will say, social media turns that battle even more uphill because of what it encourages, which are glossy, doctored misrepresentations of a life. It’s not real!

I think I might just need to take a break from Facebook again…

Speaking of real, things are still pretty real here. It’s been quite the trip these past four months/three effing years (haha), trying to “balance my hormones.” After years of dealing with the most disturbing symptoms of perimenopause (which, after going on some Facebook groups, mine have not been bad at all, compared to what some other women go through), nothing really scares me about it anymore. However, I have kind of resigned myself to the fact that, it’s just going to take trial and error, time, and hopefully, not becoming an exhausted lunatic before either *I* get my “hormones balanced” once and for all, or, they balance themselves out over time.

The insomnia comes hard the majority of nights, and I usually don’t get more than three hours in a row–it truly sucks, but there is beauty in those wee morning hours. I see new constellations now–a reminder that a whole season has passed since I was sitting on the floor next to my dying dog, trying to comfort her as she freaked out all night. I find solace in knowing that the light I see is ancient, some of it from sources that have long since burned out; that that light will be here LONG after I am gone. There is immense beauty in getting a momentary glimpse of what is really here, which is so much bigger than me, and my life, and my dog’s much shorter life. I don’t know.

On a different note, today marks ONE year since we flew back here–a place that we lived for many years, left for about two, and then came back to last year (we moved back into the same house, with our old furniture even!?). It’s been a strange year, actually, and not just because of the Covid. It’s been a year of, well, painful truths, honestly. Good truths, but still painful ones. I feel like the vast majority of people we called friends here have either moved on physically/literally or just aren’t really friends anymore. Maybe they weren’t to begin with? I feel like I have aged two decades in two years and am really done with passive aggressive behavior.

Good also came: I was forced out of a job by the Covid but ended up finding well, a better job. I am slowly but surely getting over putting our dog to rest (sweet girl!) and becoming ready to love a new furry best friend again. I would never in a lifetime have volunteered to make the turkey, but–this year, I feel safe enough in my own skin and um, cooking abilities, to have put that into motion! I am heading up the Thanksgiving turkey and stuffing-making! What? Yup! Add a key lime pie to the mix (I swapped desserts for drinking when I first got sober), and we’re going to be very good to go next week. (we are doing a small thing, just a few close friends who practice safe Covid’ing)

Yeah, so, that’s it, in a nutshell. I mean, lots more on the parents front–aging sucks; mental health disorders left untreated over the course of a lifetime suck even more!–but I will save that for another Saturday night. 🙂

Happy sober weekend, all!

Tags: beautiful lie, covid, Facebook, hormones balanced, insomnia, menopause, painful truth, perimenopause, social media, Thanksgiving, you can't go home again

Comments 2 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Cooking, Friendships, Holidays, Insomnia, Long-term sobriety, menopause, Mental health, perimenopause, Psychology, Random, Recovery, Relationships, social media, Socializing, Women's health, Work, Writing

Still here, plugging away

24 Oct

9:39 pm

I just wanted to jump on here and say, hi! I am still here, just plugging away at two jobs (when it rains, it pours; but, I’ll take the deluge after being unemployed for five months after I was furloughed from my job, thanks to Covid). Essentially, I have been working 12-hour days since the start of the month, which has left little time for anything else (especially fun stuff like my blog!).

In any case, I had been having this weird leg muscle and joint pain the last time I blogged, and I had gone to the doctor to seek some answers–and all the tests came back normal and/or negative.

As it turns out, I went off the generic and onto a (much more expensive) brand name estradiol patch and lo and behold, MOST of my leg *muscle* pain went away within a day, or days. I’ve been on it for a week now, and while my joints (hip/groin/lower back, ankles, feet, fingers) still (sort of) hurt, I swear, my legs started feeling better within a day of taking the new medication. Could it be? Well, yeah, it must be, right? I recently read a story about semi-shady pharma manufacturing plants in India and how, the FDA-sanctioned regulatory checks at drug-making plants there leave a lot to be desired in that they let shit slip through the cracks. I have had a similar experience with a generic birth control pill in that I had all the side effects, but the second I went back on my name brand drug, they went away.

Correlation does not equal causation, but, I am like, 99% sure that the DAY AFTER I changed patches, my leg muscles started to feel normal again. That continues to today, where I have gone for a couple jogs this week and have not felt debilitating pain for days after my workout, where I am able to just get up and go for walk and not feel like I ran a marathon. Fingers crossed, it keeps getting better. I will pay the price if it means that I don’t have crazy leg pain! (I will add, with every generic or brand name switch, it has felt like I’ve changed medications and am starting over, so, that kind of sucks)

Today, I got to go for a walk in the morning and a soak/swim in the afternoon–and, it felt like a long-lost luxury. Add to that coffee and the tropical natural world? Cloud freaking nine, people.

On that note, I have missed touching base with this community and my “old” DDG self (am I still her? is she still here?). I hope I find more time soon so that I’ll be able to just ponder and enjoy and be grateful because, well, I miss that and I need that.

Tags: bad side effects, estradiol patch, generic, joint pain, leg joint pain, leg muscle pain, Mylan, side effects

Comments 6 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Life, Long-term sobriety, menopause, perimenopause, Recovery, Sobriety, Women's health, Work

Sunday afternoon ramblings

4 Oct

2:53 pm

As I wrote about recently, over the past few weeks (going on a month now, actually), I’ve had terrible leg pain. I thought I had some terrible disease (of course, I did), so I went to the doctor–a first in that, this doc took me seriously and ran every blood test possible for a complaint like, “my legs hurt”–and, well…nothing is wrong. No Covid, no infectious disease, no autoimmune disease, blood panel good, muscles fine. I also got a blood test done for both my estrogen and progesterone levels, and for where I am at in the process of both menopause and taking estradiol via the patch, those came back normal, too.

SO, I have to conclude that it’s something to do with the estradiol patch (which, btw, is only one method of transdermal application; there are also creams, gels, sprays, probably others). And, that kind of really sucks since, I don’t know if another via-the-skin application will work for me. I am going to keep riding it out and see what happens.

So, that’s one reason I’ve been quiet on my blog, I’m just trying to take care of myself–mentally, it’s really hard for me to accept pain and not being able to work out because of pain. I usually just push through pain, but my muscles seem to take days to recover from even the slightest workout, so I have been obeying my body’s commands. It’s not easy not knowing either; and, I’ll never know unless I take the time to go off everything, let my body readjust, and then, go back on things one at a time. The patch is working for my night heat and insomnia, though, which is glorious!? Still, if I can’t live WITH the medication, then…it’d have to be a dealbreaker.

I am well, and my doctors took me very seriously–so, a huge win. Plus, it appears that I never got Covid, which is a relief as well.

I’ve been working full-time and will start working a new remote contract gig this week, putting me at full-time-plus for the next few months, so…that’s been great! It’s a relief to have work, sure, but even more of a relief to not have to job and gig search for a while.

Another thing that’s been going on is that my dad has gotten himself into some physical trouble (think: crashing cars and breaking bones) due to well, untreated bipolar disorder (in my opinion). Long story short, he’s doing fine but he’s still up to his tricks, so to speak. Lesson learned on my part: he will never change until and unless he takes medication; he will never admit anything is wrong; and, importantly, there is nothing I can do for him. I have thought of telling him, I refuse to talk to you until you get meds, but, I don’t quite get how an “intervention” or “ultimatum” would truly work or be beneficial for a mental health disorder like his. He doesn’t believe–refuses to believe–that there is anything wrong. How can you force him to consider an ultimatum that doesn’t really mesh with his version of reality? I don’t know.

On that note, I am going to exhale–my mantra these days–and go for a walk. I can do that at least; it’s funny how much of an “athlete” I am: I have already acclimated to this new level of pain and have found ways around it. I will never stop working out! (maybe that’s what got me here to begin with? lol)

Thank you, one and all, for still being part of my life. This blog-o-sphere is truly one of my favorite places to be on a Sunday afternoon…

Tags: bipolar, covid, gig economy, hormone therapy, joint pain, leg muscle pain, leg pain, menopause, mental health disorder, mental illness, muscle pain, new normal, pandemic, perimenopause, transdermal estradiol patch, transdermal estrogen

Comments 5 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Family, Gratitude, Health, Life, Long-term sobriety, menopause, Mental health, nature, Parents, perimenopause, Random, Recovery, Self-employment, Sobriety, Women's health, Women's issues, Work

Exhale, and believe

7 Sep

3:01 pm

That’s my mantra these days. Exhale, and believe.

Exhale, sure. Calm down. But, believe? In what? Well, that things will change. That, um, I will change. That I will have the courage to just let things be if they’re not working for me anymore. That I will have the courage to just let my thoughts go if they’re causing me more harm than good.

This past week turned out better that I imagined it would, considering that I landed two contract jobs, which means I’ll have at least part-time work through the end of the year. (My “dream job” got back to me, too, requesting an interview, but…I am not sure what’s going to transpire with that, so, I’m just waiting and seeing.) All the work I am doing now came from networking with my existing contacts, not cold calls, as it were. So, that’s a big lesson right there, which is, eff Indeed! (haha)

I am slowly getting over putting our sweet girl down coming up on a month this Wednesday. We’ve thought about fostering a dog (or two) since we’ve now got the time *and* have to be in the same place (now that I am working again, I need to be settled; plus, the only place we would want to travel would be the West, in an RV, and um, it’s kind of literally Hell there right now). It’d be a shame, in my opinion, to not give love when you are able to give love; there are plenty of dogs in need at the local shelter–just like our girl and our boy needed our love, those many years ago. We’ll see…

I’ve sort of been on autopilot the past few weeks, sometimes wanting to give up this blog, sometimes wanting to write more on it; just plugging, getting back into work mode (man, my brain is slow after five months on furlough–haha). It’s been great, though, to redirect my attention to something else, anything else, but trying to work on my book (hashtag fail) and staring at my belly button.

I don’t know if my new hormone therapy is working or not, really; there aren’t any hard and fast rules when it comes to “what is supposed to happen in menopause” and I am not sure if I can expect 100% “back to normal.” However, I know what I want, and I don’t feel what I want yet. Unfortunately, even though I’ve been going through this crap for three years, I probably won’t see the light at the end of the very hot tunnel until the end of this year, considering how long you have to take your regimen to see if it’s working (three months) before you can request a change or upgrade (if that’s even possible, I don’t know). The wait is not as much of a problem as the fact that this has been going on for three years, and it has been really trying, and I just want to feel like myself again. The uncertainty factor has been the most irritating part of this process–you just don’t know how you’re going to feel or when it’s going to feel better.

Today marks three years plus one day that Hurricane Irma hit. Our lives were forever changed. A part of me really misses that time; amidst the chaos there was excitement, and promise–of something new. We lived that “new” and are now back to where we started. Except, there’s a pandemic now and no one can do anything–which, actually, kind of sucks more than the aftermath of a hurricane, mostly because, the aftermath and rebuilding had/has a finite end! Anyway, I wonder, what’s next? What’s going to be new? I am so jones’ing for something new again, aren’t you?

So, I come back to my mantra: exhale–what will be, will be; let the planning go for now–and believe–things will change, they will not be this way forever. Exhale, and believe.

Tags: be here now, believe, deep breaths, exhale, focus on the present, foster dog, hurricane, hurricaneirma, irma, job search, mantra, pandemic, stay in the moment, work

Comments 5 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Boredom, Change, job search, Life, Long-term sobriety, menopause, Mental health, perimenopause, Random, Recovery, Self-employment, Sobriety, Women's health, Work

Staring into the distance

30 Aug

6:06 pm

I’ve been staring into the distance lately, unsure of what will make me feel better. My “grief”–in quotes because, I guess I never really fully understood that grief can entail a bunch of different feelings, not just sadness or an ache for what once was–seems to come and go; today, it really came, and I was kind of surprised by how it’s tired me out. Hence, just staring into the distance. (A really pretty distance, too, with the “witching hour” sunset colors covering the sky in pastels.)

I took a long walk today, and well, honestly, I reached a point along the way when my slight crying turned to weeping. It was a much-needed processing of my feelings for my sweet, precious friend (our dog) having passed almost three weeks ago this coming Wednesday. It did not help–or, did it?–that I walked where I used to take the dogs, when we both were younger. I’ve finally accepted that my brand of grieving entails anger and a feeling of “what’s the point” before it dissolves into sadness. And, I understand now that in losing someone–including a pet, since they are someone to me–the sadness and nostalgia that comes along with the loss is as much about you getting older and confronting your mortality as it is about that person or pet having gotten older and died.

(Speaking of grief, there is a lot of loss going around these days, and uncertainty; that doesn’t help either, for sure.)

I feel undeniably older these days, and even before our dog died, I couldn’t help but fixate on how I used to be, how we used to be, what we used to do, what we used to like to do. Of course, this has been made worse by the fact that we literally moved home again when we come back last November. I mean, we live in the same house as we did eight years ago, and we walk the same roads, so to speak, but we are definitely different. And that is jarring. I’m grateful that we’ve come a long way, and generally, I like how we’ve evolved! Yet, it all feels gone, sometimes.

I feel mentally strong enough to handle it, though. And, by that, I mean, let the episodes of grief and feeling brain-dead simply wash over me and then…NOT drink and actually move on from the pain. I don’t dwell, like I used to; I don’t drink, like I used to–both of which just reinforced the other, and allowed me to stay stuck in the moment. It has taken over eight years to get to this point, though; and, it’s been a daily struggle to become able to bounce back more easily from bouts of grief, nostalgia, and other emotional pain.

Deep thoughts on the road today, is all. Hopefully, I’ll be able to sleep this off and wake up, reset, tomorrow morning. It’s a new week–all will be well, I have to remind myself. All will be well…

(and, because my coping mechanisms aren’t that awesome, I spent most of last night making a homemade white cake AND homemade ice cream custard; I mean, if one takes five egg whites and the other needs four yolks…what are ya supposed to do?)

Tags: aging, anger, best friend, death, dog, getting old, grief, grieving, how long do you grieve, how long does grief last, loss of a pet, mortality, nostalgia, sadness, walking

Comments 5 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Death, Life, Long-term sobriety, Mental health, Mortality, Recovery, Sobriety, Sugar addiction

Quiet during lockdown

24 Aug

11:59 am

We’ve had a serious increase in COVID cases in the past month-ish, so we’ve been put back into lockdown mode–all nonessential businesses closed, beaches closed early on the weekends (we have the weekdays, though, for which I am grateful), social distancing and face masks required, of course. And, it feels kind of lame; like, we’re just getting our first wave, and it’s mainly due to increased travel (locals leaving and coming home), tourism (we re-opened to tourists in June and they seem to think that they’re on vacation from COVID, too), and people just getting “COVID fatigue.” I mean, I am fine with it since the lockdown thing looks very much like my life before the pandemic, but…yeah, even introverts need to know that there ARE things to do and places to go, even IF we refuse to do those things and go to those places!

In any case, I don’t really feel like I have much to say these days, which is why I’ve been quiet. I feel depressed, I guess. I only have a few hours a day in me, to focus and “work,” and after that, I just want to zone out. The thing is, there’s not much going on externally except, we’re getting over the loss of our dog (we had to put her to sleep about two weeks ago already), we’re going to the beach (floating in the water seems to calm me down and bring me a visceral sense of peace), and I’ve been waiting on a job that might come through (I wish it was for something new and different, but right now, the pandemic has sort of thrown our “new and different” small business and career ideas out the window).

I’ve been thinking, too, about the nature of depression. Lately, I don’t have a lot of oomph, or mental energy to take in and parse that much information. One of the reasons I took a long break from Facebook was that, all that information was just too much to handle. When I talk to my mom on the phone, her incessant analyzing of every last detail doesn’t irritate me as much as overwhelm me; I just have to zone out, I can’t take it all in. It takes me forever to read even 20 pages in a book (which, actually, is a bit scary–what’s wrong with me? Early-onset dementia from all the drinking I did in my 30s, or, burnout?). I don’t really feel excited about much; I mean, I am the queen of “cultivating joy,” especially in these times of menopause, but it just makes me wonder, is it that I’ve been here/done this and just need something new, or is it this COVID crap getting to me like it is everyone else?

On a positive note, I saw the constellation Orion rising along the northern horizon at about 3 am last night (before I went to bed). Wow–it’s the first time I’ve seen Orion since, well, whenever it goes away (it is a winter constellation, in my mind). It was cool. I woke up at 4:45 (of course, I did), and got to glimpse the uber-bright Venus halfway to the sky’s dome–Jesus, it is bright. For some reason, staring at the stars in the middle of the night calms me down, just like floating in the sea. These past few months, I’d be out in the living room with our dog almost all night long–she was too distressed to sleep, and I wasn’t sleeping, so we got to just stare at each other and the stars. I hope she’s up there, shining down on me. The night is, indeed, “dark and full of terrors,” but…not for her anymore, and frankly, MUCH less so for me now that I’m (sort of?) on the other side of perimenopause.

Anyway, just some Monday morning thoughts. Take it easy, everyone. You don’t have to do anything or be anyone. It is OK to rest, to be quiet; to stop thinking, stop doing, stop working, stop wondering. It is OK to just be right now (even if your mind keeps telling you that it’s not).

Tags: burnout, covid, covid-19, depression, in the moment, in the now, information overload, just be, life during lockdown, lockdown, overthinking, quiet your mind

Comments 6 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Binge drinking, Boredom, Depression, Insomnia, Life, Long-term sobriety, menopause, Mental health, perimenopause, Recovery, Sobriety

Our girl is gone…

14 Aug

6:21 pm

…and, it feels like the end of an era. It kind of is, the end of an era. She was with us for almost a decade (8.5 years from the time I met her until the day she died, which was on Wednesday)–during that time, she lived her entire life…and we, too, lived a decade of our own lifetime. I think that’s what’s most jarring right now, is that we aged a decade, too; we saw a decade of our life disappear, too. A lifetime, in an instant–that’s how all those years of fun, growth, and love seem to me. Lifetimes are instants; the mind cannot comprehend, truly, the passage of time.

What did it all mean, I can’t help but wonder? Sure, she was my higher power; she was literally my entire (albeit small, I see that now) world, after I moved here and got sober, but before I got the courage to re-enter the “real” world (of work and friends and all that comes with stepping out). She, along with our other dog and my boo and my neighborhood–they were my world, for years; and there was nothing more I wanted, truly.

I feel a bit guilty that I “outgrew” only needing this dog, this world! As she aged, started to hurt, became more subdued in her older years, um, so did I! I mean, I grew up, so to speak, alongside her. When I looked through pictures of myself from back in her younger day, I, too, looked so much younger then, it seems: brighter, happier, more smiling. I was beaming, probably out of love for her, my new life, my newfound sobriety, maybe just the giddy youth that you don’t realize you still very much have in your 30s. My 40s have forced me to grow up and stop shitting (as many) unicorns, as it were; I still loved her with all my heart up until her very last day. I know she knows that, and I know it was her time, yet, I still feel a tad guilty.

But I also feel relieved. Her final night was really hard, and I woke up convinced that neither she nor I ever wanted to see her in so much pain ever again. So, we called the vet out to the house, and, surrounded by our loving arms, looking out at the water in her favorite spot (dating back almost a decade)–our girl passed, very peacefully.

It’s been quiet around here, that’s for sure. I am relieved that after about 1.5 years of tending to her needs 24/7, I don’t have to worry about what she’s doing and if she needs me. The final few weeks were really painful to watch, wondering with every passing second if she was in pain, if she was now deaf, if she was overmedicated or experiencing some kind of dementia or just in distress. Now that I have all my time and energy back, it’s like, what do I do with myself?

I was thinking that, it’d be a shame to not get another dog. You hear people who have gone through this say, Oh, I can’t do that again. Same thing with humans who lose a spouse–there will be no one who can replace him/her. Yet…we are made to love. And, to spend the rest of your life not doing what you were meant to do–I can’t see it.

I mean, what do we have to show for our lifetime together? It’s like, we’re back in the same house, the same place, and I feel like nothing happened; yet, it all did, right here. It all went down here, years and years of love. Is that all there is, really, is the love, the act of loving–and there is nothing tangible (unless you have babies or create art) to show for that, and there shouldn’t be. That’s the nature of love; that’s the nature of life. We come, we love, we go.

So, why do anything then? Are all our pursuits outside of loving each other and our animals simply neuroses, compulsions that propel us to work, strive, achieve, accomplish? Who knows?

Anyway, I’m glad she’s no longer struggling, and, I’m joyful, truly, that she got to live out her fierce, fun-loving life until the very end.

Tags: all you need is love, dog, dog is higher power, euthanize, higher power, love, love is all there is, pets are family, put dog to sleep, to love is to live

Comments 10 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Death, Family, Higher Power, Life, Long-term sobriety, Recovery, Sobriety

Another day…

11 Aug

11:53 am

…and, I am simply grateful!

Our beloved doggay has lived to see another day–in fact, she’s sleeping peacefully (?) in “her spot” in front of the door, and has only been between there and one of her beds since 3 am (when I finally stopped eating mac and cheese, used my slow-breathing technique–in for 5 seconds, hold for 10, out for 5–to cool down, and went back to bed to fall asleep). She actually stayed down for four hours, according to my boo, who got up at 7 to let her out.

(Btw, the bonus of being up at 3 in the morning is that I get to see Venus rise. If you haven’t seen Venus right now, rising above the northeastern horizon in the pre-dawn hour, you are in for a treat: it is shockingly bright, beaming from the sky like another moon, and huge. It’s a HUGE spot in the sky. I saw a shooting star–the Perseid meteor shower is going down right now–and noticed how high Mars was in the sky compared to the moon, rising later and later every night. Finally, I was also able to watch my girl doze, her head slightly illuminated in the waning moonlight, thinking, gosh, she is sweet. Fierce. And still here.)

Granted, all this sleeping on her part has been made possible ONLY by the trazadone we dosed her with around 9 pm last night. I have to accept the fact that she will likely exist in what I believe to be a drug induced-haze from here on out (maybe erroneously; I just hate having to med her up so much), but, it’s SO much better to sleep from 3 to 9 than to have her waking me up every hour on the hour, yelping for help to get up to switch beds.

So, she lives to see another day. And, I am grateful.

On another note, as I am inundated again with daily COVID news, I have to wonder: Have my aching, burning joints and body parts (entire feet, not just ankles) and frequent headaches been caused by COVID? Like, is this my experience with it? I am not going to get any tests (I don’t see the point in either an antibody or virus test, right now), so I guess I shouldn’t bother myself wondering, but… It’s been weeks, actually, since I’ve had joint pain, and I’ve had these headaches (usually in the mornings, but not always) on a somewhat regular basis. I never get headaches, so, they make me go, hmm/wtf, ouch, this hurts!

I don’t know. The symptoms seem so varied now, considering the descriptions of more and more COVID survivors; I guess I’ll just assume that my chikungunya (the mosquito-borne viral infection I got six summers ago) has resurged because my immunity was affected by lack of sleep, or stress, or heartache (my doggie!); and, hope that I am not infected with the coronavirus.

Tags: burning joints, canine, chikungunya, coronavirus, covid, covid-19, dog, feet hurt, headache, joint pain, long-term infection, Mars, night sky, osteroarthristis, pain in feet, Perseid meteor shower, symptoms, symptoms are different, Venus

Comments 4 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Gratitude, Health, Insomnia, Life, Long-term sobriety, menopause, perimenopause, Random, Recovery, Sobriety, Women's health

A prisoner in her body

10 Aug

2:59 pm

I wrote this yesterday, but, last night was the same and this morning, it’s been the same, so, it still applies. I guess the only difference is that, while our dog is still alive, she’s struggling hard–and, I realize that we’ll probably have to put her to sleep within the next few days.

From yesterday:

Well, that wasn’t a fun night. I went to bed around the usual time, 2:30 am, and was woken at 3, then at 4:30, then probably around dawn, then finally at 9–by our dog, trying to get comfortable in a body that has seemingly become a prison overnight. I mean, over the past few days, she’s gotten much worse: she can’t get up, she can’t walk, she can’t get comfy in any position (as in, no position seems to take her pain away). Granted, we just started her on two more meds, both antibiotics, and I sort of want to “blame” those for messing her up, but…I haven’t found anything linking lameness and back legs crossing and giving out to a sulfa drug and doxycycline!

It just sucks. We had our neighbor over–she’s like family, and silly as it sounds, if our dogs were our kids, then she would have been our dogs’ aunt–and, as a longtime owner of many different dogs and other animals, she was urging us to just get it done. Take her in, she’s suffering.

It sucks.

What’s more? Not that it bothers me, but it sort of makes me chuckle, ironically (we’ve spent so much on this dog over the years, from endless pain meds to laser therapy!): it’s going to cost us about $700 to euthanize her and then, have a private cremation here. Everything is more expensive on an island, I suppose.

Writing about it, talking about it–I guess it makes it more real.

I was thinking, would I get more dogs after this? I moved here about eight years ago, and our two dogs were such a huge part of our early life together, as a couple; of my own early island life; of my sobriety. The one died a painful (horrific, actually) death from lymphoma over two years ago, and this one has been a bit lame all her life (she has had hip dysplasia since she was young, as long as I’ve known her), but has been getting progressively worse for the past 1.5 years.

Anyway, these dogs were the loves of my life. I’m not sure there are any other dogs out there that I could love as much, that would compare to these dogs. We gave them everything, and they gave us their all. What more could you ask for? Is the pain of their long, horrible deaths worth the joy that we exchanged over the years, the nonstop love? Probably. Doesn’t feel like it right now. Would I be able to love other dogs the way I loved these two? And, would I even want to try? I guess we’ll have to get through this and see…

I wonder, do others consider their dogs more like humans? This is my third dog, and each one suffered a drawn-out, painful end; I mean, maybe the end is always painful, no matter what species, if you’re experiencing old age or an age-related disease.

I don’t even know if words will cut it, but I will miss my best girl, my fiercest friend; a found (discarded) object, beyond precious.

On that note, yeah, not a great morning, but, it’s still sunny and I should get outside to absorb some of the light. Good news is that my hormones are settling down (going away, drop by drop–haha), so the night heat and insomnia have improved (not the heart palpitations, though). Bad news is that our area has seen a significant increase in positive COVID cases, so we’re probably going to see some sort of enhanced lockdown again soon. Fingers crossed a few job leads pan out and/or I can keep collecting a bit of unemployment–this week is going to be a wash if we have to put our dog down. I’ll need at least a day or two to zone out and collect what’s left of my shattered heart.

Through all of this, the great news is that I haven’t even thought about drinking. I haven’t once even considered it. I made a cake last night, kind of in preparation for filling myself up with, well, something, when she’s gone; but, eh, my binge eating days are long gone, and I most likely won’t feel like eating at all when we finally do make the call to our vet.

More soon. Thanks for listening, friends.

Tags: best friend, canine, dog, dogs are family, dogs are human, euthanize, osteroarthristis, put dog to sleep, put down

Comments 6 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Binge drinking, Change, Death, Life, Long-term sobriety, Mortality, Random, Recovery, Sobriety

Whose mental health are we talking about?

4 Aug

1:58 pm

Lately, I’ve been sort of offline; I just haven’t had the time or ability to wrestle with my thoughts too much these past few days…

A quick life update is that, no, I didn’t get the job I applied for–after a long series of interviews (gah!)–but, that’s OK since there are other jobs out there. I’ve been on the hunt in one way or another since mid-June, and um, I am at the point where I feel like it’s OK (slash, necessary for my mental health) to sit back and let it be for a while. Let it percolate. Enjoy the fact that I was fortunate enough to collect a bit of unemployment, remember that this is just a phase and the economy will rebound, and put some faith in my network. I have worked with a lot of great people over the years, many of whom are still looking out for me, I have no doubt.

Anyway, I’ve got some time to re-focus on this blog and my “e-book project,” which is simply, to compile my posts and self-publish a version of this blog. It’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a while, and it’s a way for me to sort of close one chapter, as it were. A lot of what I post these days–and will continue to post–isn’t really related to getting sober, and I want to re-read some of my past posts in order to get more of a grip on who I was then and who I am now. It’s a process–and there are probably a LOT more “important” things I could be doing right now and/or thinking about–so I will keep you posted!

What else has been going on? Well, as I think you all remember, I have posted about my parents’ mental health a few times. And, I remain committed to not writing that much about it and them on this blog since it’s not my mental health I’m talking about. However, not writing about it does not mean I don’t think about it a lot–especially as I watch my father devolve, as it were, into what seems to be a worsening mental health “situation.” I mean, if I knew nothing about his past and his personality, and was confronted with only his behavior today–I’d probably avoid him, and then I’d forget about it.

I know from my own experience with alcoholism that MOST people don’t want to know (or admit that they know) about your mental health disorder, or they oversimplify it because they can’t (and don’t want to) delve deep. I like to wonder, I like to ask questions, I like to look for patterns; MANY folks do not.

That being said, I just don’t know what to do about or for my dad–and, if I should do anything? He’s a grown man–in his 70s–yet…from what I can tell, he’s just getting worse. I have to assume that untreated mental health disorders only get worse as you get older. I fear that it’ll all come crashing down, sooner rather than later. Yet, you can’t convince him that there is anything about his behavior he should change–and, a lot does need to change. Lately, I’ve come to the conclusion that there isn’t anything I can do at this point; he won’t hear reason, he won’t hear truth, and even if he acknowledges that things need to change, he won’t choose to change. Yet…there is this feeling of, If something happens to him, well, it’s my fault, I should have done more.

It’s probably the feeling one has trying to get an addict into recovery before they’re ready to get sober–and then, who dies from an overdose or suicide. It’s my fault for not forcing them into recovery. I should have done more.

All I can do is let it go, let him go, let his mental health be HIS mental health. What more can one do? I probably think more about his mental health–and how he’s hurt me and others–than he ever will, which is sad, but probably true.

On that note, it’s time to get outside and enjoy some of this sun!

Tags: Boundaries, dad, family dynamics, father, guilt, how to help an addict, how to help someone with a mental health disorder, Intervention, mental health disorder, Parents

Comments 7 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Boundaries, Change, Choices, Family, Long-term sobriety, Mental health, Parents, Recovery, Relationships, Sobriety

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Drunky Drunk Girl

Still here, plugging away

Sunday afternoon ramblings

Exhale, and believe

Staring into the distance

Quiet during lockdown

Our girl is gone…

Another day…

A prisoner in her body

Whose mental health are we talking about?

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