A Fragmented Post

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I started this post two days before Christmas – in the middle of writing, a part of my life changed and I had to go –  I am just getting back to it now. Rather than start all over, I think it’s important to share these changing moments in life. They are real, they are raw, and they can come at you at any time.

THEN: It’s two days before Christmas and all I want to do is skip it. This whole month of December has been the worst December of my life. Losing our dog, dealing with piercing grief, my son not even caring about it, getting a crack in my car windshield from a rock  and finding out it costs $1,000 to fix it which I don’t have right now, having little money for the holiday since we spent so much on our sick doggie the last couple months, and then we get a new dog thinking it will be a blessing and it has turned into a total disaster. So much for the Christmas miracle I so desperately needed.

I feel like I am in a foggy daze. I feel so many different emotions right now. Christmas is the last thing I want to deal with. I have tried to get into the Christmas spirit – but it’s all fake, all on the cracking surface. I am feeling a lot of latent anger coming out inside and if I let that go for too long, I start to hurt myself. I don’t cut or anything like that, I just get so angry that I pound my fist against my leg or hip. It’s rare but it happens.

I think I am obviously still very much in grief over our lost dog. That incident alone marred this month, let alone everything else. In not allowing myself to feel anything for 6 years, I think it makes it even more difficult now that I allow myself to feel. Swallowed feelings and emotions have to come out eventually…

NOW: We had to give our new little dog back – turns out we are very allergic to her. That decision came in a phone call with my husband while I was writing the above post. Off I went and we returned her to her previous foster parents. I broke down in tears that wouldn’t stop. It wasn’t so much for her but rather that she had, for just those few days, filled the emptiness in our house that losing our Scottie boy had left. In giving her back, that emptiness reappeared and my husband and I grieved for our lost little boy all over again.

Christmas itself was tough, our first Christmas without Scottie. It may not seem like much but he used to open his own little presents – toys and treats. He’d rip through the wrapping paper and everything. The loss of him this month and not having him at Christmas was almost too much to bare. He had been with us for 13 years! Sadness was all I felt when I looked at our decorated tree and as I opened gifts. I just wanted it to be over.

Yesterday I took down all the decorations.  We usually leave them up till New Years Day but I just couldn’t wait – looking at it all only reminded me of the pain and loss. But the truth is, it hurt to see it gone too. Christmas decorations will now always remind me of what we went through with Scottie earlier this month. Now that the decorations are gone, it’s almost like he’s gone again in a way. I’m not sure if that even makes sense.

And now, as we head into a new year, with my family drama in the past (as much as it can be anyway) and with trying to live with the new emptiness and loss, I’m not sure what to expect for this year. Big changes are ahead for my family (I will post about that separately) and it could change a lot of things. I will be faced with some challenges I have been avoiding for a couple years now. I am going into it with a sense of strength and maybe a dash of courage – I just wish it wasn’t with sadness and doubt. But at least for the first time in a long time, I am facing the future with a little hope.

I didn’t get my Christmas miracle but in not getting it, I realize I am still here and still moving forward. There must be something in me pushing me to keep going even with all the pain and loss. It’s actually kind of weird – I have been through so much at this point that it’s almost as if I refuse to let anything else take me down! Bring it on – you can’t be broken past a certain point, you just have to start rebuilding.

 

 

 

 

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19 thoughts on “A Fragmented Post

  1. “Now that the decorations are gone, it’s almost like he’s gone again in a way. I’m not sure if that even makes sense.” It makes complete sense to me.

    “I didn’t get my Christmas miracle but in not getting it, I realize I am still here and still moving forward. There must be something in me pushing me to keep going even with all the pain and loss….Bring it on – you can’t be broken past a certain point, you just have to start rebuilding.” So true. And maybe the miracle within us all is that spark to begin rebuilding in spite of pain and loss we don’t deny.

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      1. So great to hear. As I’m sure you know so many mindfulness retreat operations that tap into people’s desire for a ‘quick fix’, at the same time offering something more akin to a spa resort (i.e. pleasurable relaxation equals meditation).

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      2. 🙂 I would add myself to the list of “beginning” to authentically embrace this belief. It has been long road to get here, and many more miles to go, so to speak, but it has been and will be worth it.

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  2. I feel for you. We had a lab that we put through chemo. It was retching experience. No good feeling comes from losing a pet. We have a house full of rescue cats. They all experience the holiday rituals with you. It had to be overwhelming to return the dog. I can see why you needed a Christmas miracle. I hope your miracle is just a little behind schedule! As long as there is hope, you’ll be ok. It may take longer than it should.

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  3. I lost my two dogs, they were brother and sister in this same year, the first one literally had a seizure in front of me and droped, the second one we had to put her down, I´m always reluctant to do that because I feel like “hey, she´s still moving her tail and she seems sort of fine she might get out of it and last a bit more” but after the experience with the first dog that was like watching a human die (unfortunately I´ve seen to many of my fellow humans die) the first dog literally looked at me before the seizure and during before it droped dead on the ground. So I decided to not let the other one reach that point of being in such pain. I can certainly relate to you, not only with the dog thing which is quite strange I still wake up and somedays I look around trying to find them to then realice that I can be looking around all day but nothing is there. But relate to you with the economic issue, bad times here in Spain, a lot I mean a lot of people are going through a very rough patch. But, we are survivors aren´t we?

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    1. You have explained this particular grief so very well. I’m sorry for your pain and loss! ❤ Seizures were a sign that our little boy was near the end, they were terrible to watch but we comforted him through them. But just like you, we thought hey – he sill wags his tail and eats and drinks! But when he had the long fit of sneezing up tons of blood, we knew it was time. It's a difficult decision to make and then live with. We want them with us for as long as possible but we also owe it to them to not let them suffer. And yes my dear – we are most certainly survivors!

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  4. Reading this was so sad. I remember losing our Labrador that we’d had growing up. He was 15 and I was 20, so I didn’t remember life without him. It was awful and I missed him terribly. I don’t think people can understand that until they have experienced it. They are not just a pet, they are part of the family. And I know the only thing that helped us move on was to rescue a new dog. He wasn’t a replacement, it was just so empty not having one around. And there are so many dogs out there who need a home, it felt good to bring our new mutt into our family. I hope moving into the new year is easier for you. Laura x

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I can only imagine how hard that must have been for you! Although mine was not a childhood pet, we had him for 13 of my husband’s and my 15 years together, so we pretty much don’t remember NOT having him as part of our family. It is going to take one hell of an adjustment period.

      Kylie, the dog we had to give back, was a rescued dog. I think we are going to wait a while now and let ourselves process the grief and loss before we try again. Thank you for your understanding – that alone means so much to me. 🙂

      Liked by 2 people

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