emotion hangover

The last few days have been kinda surreal and numbing and scarring and all the emotions all at once.

I’m totally exhausted.  Down for the count.  Just trying to get through today and then through what surely will be a helluva week.

The good news: Fogg is getting better and might actually be home tomorrow–which is fantastic in oh-so-many ways.  She started eating last night, after my visit, so hopefully it continues.  She’s tolerating new meds, and her electrolytes are good.  Roomie started his new job today.  Work is going super, and my teammates are so supportive.  I feel strong and healthy.  I’m alive, and it’s spring.

The not so lovely news: Holy crap does my bank account hurt.  I have some more hoops to jump through before I’m able to actually pick up Ms. Woman, but that’s what loans are for, right?  And it doesn’t end there.  Every month, there’s going to be a pretty big price tag and lots of daily work to do to make sure she’s okay and stable.  I worry about upcoming stressful events that she has to be part of, but the vet seemed like it should be alright–as long as we can get her to a good place before then.  Needless to say, this one’s going to bruise.  I’m still kind of nervous and probably won’t be calm until the bills are fully paid and she’s home and happy.  Oh, and did I mention Cleo died two years ago today?

It’s totally fine.  It comes with owning an animal, and I’m not actually bitching about it.  It was just a lot of stress this week–which has leveled with this great update.  The only reason this was even difficult in the money area was because all my money was basically grabbed by the other crap she had.  We can’t insure her now, and she was never sick before, so we never saw a need.  So, we’re on the hook.  It was just the worst timing.  Had it happened a week later or before, it would have made such a difference and I wouldn’t have spent my entire weekend figuring out how to pay for the three additional days in she might have ended up needing.  But Fogg is a trooper, so hopefully, we won’t need to think further about that.  And I have decided to become aggressive with saving up for such crazy in the future.  Good thing I’m kicking ass at work.

I’m really not looking forward to tomorrow though, if she’s coming home.  I’ve got to do a lot before I can pick her up.  Once I’m there, they have to teach me how to do injections.  Now, I know…I know…I was a science major.  I did an externship in phlebotomy.  I have been in medical setting professionally.  But I am still a total wuss about needles.  I can’t even poke myself.  I could never be a drug addict (ha!).  And hurting her–even if it’s just a prick–just destroys me.  My roommate tried to teach me infusions with Cleo, and I just never could do it.  Maybe it was because Cleo and I had this relationship where she wasn’t afraid to shred me if I pissed her off.  No politeness there.  Fogg and I have a different relationship.  Namely, she’s manipulative and makes me feel bad.  I had such a hard time with giving her meds when she was ill.  I have to do it.  I have to learn how to check blood–and I’ve already actually studied up–but doing it may be rough.

That said–I’ll get over it.  I’m just kind of freaking out.  Especially since she’ll still be on pain meds for a while, and she’s completely high/insane right now.  I’m definitely not getting any sleep any time soon.  I know this from past experience.  I know it’ll just be for a little while.  I know this.

But all of this has really made me question my ability to finish my damn thesis.  It’s like the neverending saga.  I’m so close, but I know it’s just going to be a shitshow.  So, I’m deciding to withdraw and retake it this summer or fall–depending on when they’re offering the online version.  I figure I’ll just keep working on it, and I’ll be in a great place once it’s time to finish.  It actually pisses me off, but I don’t need to have a breakdown while trying to keep my cat alive.  I can do anything, but that’s just not shit I want to deal with.

I need some things to be simple right now, and that’s a sacrifice I need to take.


I’ve always felt like the people who should be there for me never are.  My roommate may be the exception, but he has his own crap going on right now and isn’t as supportive as he usually is either.  He tries, but I’m still mostly alone in all ways.  It’s hard because I know people care and love me.  I do.  But for some reason, they just don’t think I need them.  It’s probably because I don’t freak out to most people.  I keep things contained, mostly, unless specifically asked.  I figure it out.  And for the most part, I actually don’t need people.  For the most part, I CAN fix whatever is going on.  Or, if not, move on and be alright.  I might be upset, but I get through it.

That said, it would be nice if people actually checked in and actually asked how I am.  I would, of course, tell them I’m fine.  But maybe I’d tell the truth if they actually kept asking.

I’m not fine.  I will be fine.  But I’m really not fine right now.  I’m exhausted.  I’m scared.  I’m worried about 100 things that could do wrong.  But mostly, I really just need a break from all this bad news and all this caring for everyone else.  I help everyone in my life on a regular basis, never asking for one thing in return, but it feels like no one is there for me when I actually need them.  And it just really gets old.  It makes me not want to reach out or keep trying.  I makes me really want to isolate like I always used to–and maybe that was a smarter way to be.  Because it’s certainly far less frustrating.  I’m just tired of being forgotten–or worse–ignored.  And I’m tired of being understanding about it.

Yes–that’s whining.  I’m allowed.  Did I mention someone used my info to open a Verizon account this weekend?  Did I mention I had to file a police report and it’s probably related to the thing that happened last year?  I really try not to get down by people’s shitty antics, but I feel like the Universe is beating me up continually these days, and I’m just really sick of it.


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