CW: Depression, animal loss
I’m just not feeling very inspired to write. Getting up in the mornings have become a monumental effort. To try and find mental energy you barely have is exhausting. And to a logical, reasonable brain, that may sound stupid. But we aren’t in logic and reason anymore, Toto.
I did suddenly flood some memories last night of precious animals I have lost in the past. Lots of pain from missing them, lots of grief, some guilt. For instance, (may as well press on while I’ve brought it up, even though I barely have the energy) back when I was working or in uni, I thought you had to be there at all times, never wavering from the job. Putting the job, classes, bosses, everything else above all, including and especially, yourself.
(Let me also interject and say that I had a massive breakdown while in uni and had to be hospitalised, and my uni handled it very well. They offered me some support, told me they will explain the big picture to my professors so they know ((not personal information)) and then all my profs were really kind and caring. I would simply like to add that because credit where credit is due for treating mental health like the real subject it is.)
Anyway. Before this I had a ferret who has been through a lot. I’ve had ferrets since I was 17 years old, and this was one of a gang at the time. Named Mordecai. We had been through a lot because basically the vet did a bad job of neutering him and he wound up with scar tissue cutting off his urethra. They did step up and did any surgeries for free, and also essentially “baby-sat” him during the day in case of emergencies while I was in classes. We removed the scar tissue, and then they put a little tube in there to encourage the urethra to regrow together. Apparently they do this for dogs a lot. After a lot of work and care and time, my sweet Mordecai pulled through.
But about 1.5 years later, I sensed something was off again. My then husband (ex now, just to be crystal clear) took him to the vet and turns out he was rapidly dying of liver cancer. I got the call on my mobile, and then returned to class with tears streaming down my cheeks. The professor, a really good one who I’ve had several classes with at that point, asked what was wrong and between him and some other classmates they convinced me to go.
I did go. And I barely reached the vet in time. I spoke to the vet at the situation, trying to bargain my way into saving him when she said “I’m sorry. Your brain knows it’s time, but your heart is having difficulty letting go.”
To put him to sleep they injected something into his stomach. I don’t know. I didn’t ask many questions, time was running out, and I was extremely emotional. I remember kissing him, and telling him how much I loved him and I will never forget him, and singing silly songs I would sing to him.
(One of them was Mordy Pordy kissed the girls and made them cry. Which is a play on that Georgie Peorgie song, and that’s why I had to change the name from George to refer to my sweetheart husband.)
I cried, but tried to hold back, and I stroked his beautiful fur. I watched his whiskers and nose twitch, and then he slipped away.
I’m a very sensitive soul, who also feels emotions very deeply. Add the cupfuls of mental illness and it can be really messy here. It hurts so much to think of my animals. To miss them. To feel like I may have done something wrong, or didn’t do enough. (This is what I like to call Emotional Cutting. My brain loves to torture me with these thoughts because it knows that’s what will hurt me every time.)
I miss all my babies. I’m having a really hard time even looking at pictures of Lethbridge right now, who we lost back in June. Isaac and I do reminisce about him, and I’m glad for that, but it always brings me to tears.
My…I don’t know what to call it…my sensitivity/emotions/mental health/brain can be described as follows: like the skin of a severe burn victim. Thin and easily hurt or damaged.
It can be really rough.