Quarterly Check In

So far the ups and down of this year are, well, a rollercoaster doesn’t cut it.

This year started out with me being at my wit’s, emotion’s, and general-ability-to-cope’s end at a horror of a job that was taking all of me to continue being. I left the job in question and began my journey of trying to climb out of the emotional hole that I had dug myself into. I tried therapy which lead to journaling and I decided to increase my hobbies while trying to improve myself- I picked up podcasts, some of which instruct self-help.

I opened up about my struggles to my boyfriend, while I was having my worst days at work and when they didn’t subside in the weeks after quitting. He opened up to me about some things on his end and we were both supportive and understanding of each other and we’ve grown a little stronger from it. I still struggle, but he’s more of a rock than I deserve and I’ve told him as much.

I got a new job and started training, and it was going well. Weird ups and downs in whether or not my coworkers liked me and whether or not I was catching on as quickly as I could. As the weeks went on I felt I was fitting in and the training was proving my abilities. I felt myself changing outside of work, too. A little more motivated to get out of bed each day, a little more spring in my step with each stride.

Then Cameron came to my work in the middle of the workday. He looked sad, in a pitying and empathetic kind of way. I knew he was going to tell me something I didn’t want to hear.

He took me into one of the quiet rooms at work and told me the bad news, that my dad had passed away. I was a wreck. My coworkers and boss were amazing as I left that day and in that followed. She even called 3/26, the day before my first day back, to tell me that they’re glad to have me back, to check in on how I was doing, and to let me know that if I need breaks during training or a minute to collect myself that it’s okay. I told her how grateful I am and that I know how lucky I am to have the support at work that I do and that I am more appreciative than she’ll know.

Four days of work in a row, feeling like I have my sea legs a bit but also still feeling blurry and wobbly here and there. I’m stressed, putting on blinders, and lash out when there’s an interruption. There aren’t many interruptions and it’s a lot of work, not hard but definitely time consuming. I regret some of my attitude at work.

I haven’t been sleeping well. I mean, I’ve been a terrible sleeper for a while but it’s been even worse these last few weeks. The lack of sleep is definitely affecting my mentality and attitude. I can’t fall asleep, takes me hours, and I end up playing catch-up on weekends, sleeping in as late as 11am and losing way to much of my day. I’ve made a doctor appointment in the hopes of helping with sleep and I’m finding a new therapist to help tackle some other things.

So here I am, checking in at the quartermark of the year. I was cracking, shattering, doing my best to hold myself together by the seems. I had begun mending the cracks, refilling that which had spilled from me. I had almost restored myself when a huge chunk of me was chipped away and taken. I’ll plaster. I’ll paint. I’ll never be the same, but I will make myself whole again.

*If you enjoyed any part of this post, please consider liking it. If you loved it, please consider following me on WordPress. I also love comments including questions, advice, or a review of the post itself. Thank you for reading and best of luck in your adventures.*

The Bad Thing

The bad thing happened.
We all knew, all of us, that it would happen someday.
But not today.
It was too soon.

The bad thing, it ripped through us.
We weren’t ready.
None of us were ready.

In its wake are tears and sadness and emptiness and anger.
Hollowness abounds with questions unasked and unanswered,
memories unmade and plans unfulfilled.

People came from all over to help recover from the bad thing.
They feel better being there, believing they’re helping.
Wallowing with us, empathizing.
Maybe burying themselves in the devastation helped them.

I just wanted to be alone.
And now I am alone and I can’t breathe a little.
I can’t stop crying and I’m so tired.
I can finally feel all my feelings and I hate it.

I thought the bad thing would happen in fifteen to twenty years.
I thought there were would be warning signs, something on the horizon.

My dad passed away and it’s the worst thing to happen in my life.
I’m not the only person this has affected, I know that.
But I’m the only me.
The only person who feels exactly how I feel.

Everyone says they’re sorry, or that they’re proud of me for being strong,
or that I can feel however I feel and grieve however I want.

But I don’t want to grieve.
I’m so sad and I miss him so much.
I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

I just want him back. I just want my dad back.

To my usual followers: My dad passed on 3/15. I appreciate your patience while I grieve.

*If you enjoyed any part of this post, please consider liking it. If you loved it, please consider following me on WordPress. I also love comments including questions, advice, or a review of the post itself. Thank you for reading and best of luck in your adventures.*

Loss of a Pet

I got home from the gym in a great mood. I went to the bird room, took Max out for some pets and to make lunch for the day, and then went back in to refill waters and food bowls.

I thought he was sleeping, then I went to refill his food and water and Max yelled and he didn’t move. I pet him and he didn’t move. I yelled for my boyfriend, “Cameron!! Cameron there’s something wrong with Pico!” he came running, started prying him off his doughnut, I started crying, and told me he was still warm. Pico was moving so slow, something was so wrong. I called my coworker and told her I’d be late that something was wrong with one of my birds.

I thought maybe he needed water so I filled a cup to the brim and we put his face in it, then we ran the shower and I put Max in a safe place and I called an animal hospital, where the automated message said to call “this number” for emergencies and I had to re-dial because I didn’t know I needed a pen. Still crying. Got the number, rinsed off, put on clothes that didn’t smell, and started driving with my baby in a hand towel.

Six minutes in to my ten minute drive, Pico stopped moving and he felt so hard and so cold and his eyes weren’t blinking and his tongue was practically laying out of his beak and I knew he was gone.
I started screaming and bawling and I called Cameron. I called him on the phone and I screamed his name and I begged him to pick up. No answer. Again. No answer. Again. No Answer. Crying, screaming, feeling hopeless stuck in traffic wondering how my bird could just leave me like this. We were so close, and he was already gone. He called me back, I yelled at him that Pico was dead and I didn’t know what to do . He said I still needed to go to the animal hospital. I did, and after about a minute they came back in and confirmed my worst dread; he didn’t make it. Cameron finished putting Max’s cage elsewhere and was on his way. I texted my coworker that my bird had died. I cried harder.

A nurse came out with Pico and I looked at her, looked at him, started crying and asked her if she could just keep him back there “‘Til my boyfriend gets here. I can’t, I’m sorry, I just can’t see him like this again right now”. And then another nurse came in and gave me a hug and told me that we had at least given him a good home. And then the doctor came in and I asked if she knew what happened and how we could find out why he was gone. She said we could do a necropsy and I told her that I’d make decisions when Cameron got there.

Then another nurse came back in and asked if I wanted his ashes back. I told her I didn’t know, that Cameron would decide when he got there.

All these people and all these questions and I just wanted to curl in a ball and hide and cry and I wanted Pico back and I wanted to be alone and I wanted Cameron and I couldn’t stop crying.

Cameron got there and I told him I was sorry and I cried a lot and he was so much stronger than me and he made all the decisions and we paid for the shipment for the necropsy and gave them our address for billing and then I cried some more. I went home, told my coworker I couldn’t come in, made an appointment for Max to be checked out, got in PJ’s and just sulked and cried. Cameron came home, we took Max to the vet, he was okay and I was so happy and still so worried.

A little less than a week later we got the necropsy results and they were inconclusive. We don’t know why he passed but they said  it wasn’t anything contagious or environmental; which meant Max would be okay. Except I have no closure. I don’t know why Pico was taken from us and without an answer, all I do it worry about Max.

I never saw Pico again. Then, a few days ago, Cameron came home with some packages. He lifted up a small brown box and said, “This is Pico.” and I cried some more. Then, yesterday, I looked at the 3″X3″x3″ cardboard box with postage stamps, picked it up, held it tight, and started crying again.

When Cameron got home I told him we couldn’t keep Pico in a box anymore.

He told me he was going to open the box and I told him I was sorry but that I couldn’t be there when he opened it, so he took it in the bird room, came out with a small silver thing and I asked what it was. He said, “It’s an urn. I’s Pico.” and handed it to me slowly. I took it and I started crying. He held me while I cried for a bit, then I looked at him and cried some more and I said “It’s so small. He’s gone.” and cried some more. I told him I don’t know what to do with him and started rattling off everything you can do with ashes from burying them to turning them into a diamond or a firework. And then I handed him back and he said “I think for now I just want to set him with his doughnut in the cage”, I said okay and he took the doughnut down from hanging, laid it on the floor of the cage and set the urn in the middle. I cried some more.

Even as I’m writing I can’t stop crying. I just miss him and I hurt and I’m sorry because I don’t know why he’s gone and I didn’t get him there fast enough and I could’ve checked on them before I went to the gym and maybe he’s be okay. I can’t stop blaming myself and missing him and being scared for Max and I’m just sad and miserable and depressed and I know it hasn’t even been two weeks but I don’t know when I’ll feel reminiscent instead of miserable.

I just hurt.
Maybe letting this out will help.

I love you, Pico. You were a good bird, a great big brother to Max, and a twinkle in Cameron’s eye. I miss you.