I'm okay, really. I can cope but just wanted a place to vent... and this place is really old to me. Sometimes you need a connection with your old self, even if it's something seemingly silly like an internet forum.
Disclaimer: Mention and details of pet death
In April, my dog died. At 2am on a monday morning I signed a piece of paper to agree to his euthanasia. All I had ever wanted was this dog. At eleven years old I paid one hundred dollars for this dorky, yellow, insane bundle of labrador puppy. What is a labrador to a lonely, weird, lost eleven year old living in a daily routine of chaos? Salvation. A family, a best friend, warmth in a house with holes in the walls and floor with no heating. I was not parted for more than 24 hours from this dog for years. I didn't have a genuine human friend until mid high school. The only joy in my life was spending hours out of the house in the bush with this dog, and the depth of night quietly curled up with him on a tiny single bed after all the sources of screaming had passed out.
You always know they will die, but a decade is an impossible eternity to a teenager. Well, there goes that eternity. I was trying to piece my life together last year, I was holding a job for the first time in my life. I was saving so I could afford a place we would be secure in, and so I would have an emergency fund to take care of us. Funny that.
You were only ten, Boof. I told you I wanted a good healthy sixteen years out of you. Only ten. I can't type out the details, but it was cancer, hemangiosarcoma. He lived through an initial ruptured spleen, splenectomy, a miraculous emergency surgery involving two blood transfusions. The vets were surprised I had agreed to pay that much money for such small odds. They told me to go home that day but I was actually waiting in my car in the shopping complex across the road. I'm not religious but I was pleading with something.
So he was with me for another eight months. I think I did a lot of the grieving then, but when you were doing well I fell into some false hope too. I was driving him six hours across the state every third week to the oncologist for scans and chemo. And what a lovely blessing veterinary oncologists are. But it was hard, it was really hard when I wasn't doing well anyway and had to work so much.
I was ridiculed, by people who don't understand the point of veterinary oncology (they do not use chemo in the same was as human doctors), and who didn't understand the value of those eight months. I worked near full time hours in a job I really couldn't cope with for months to give him everything I could, and then I quit to spend every moment I could with him. I hate when people now ask me if I regret it like I surely must do. I'd sell you to satan for one day with him thanks.
My whole life was keeping him alive and keeping him comfortable and watching him. You worry about like, how will I know when it's time? Maybe they are right that what I'm doing is stupid and somehow unfair to him? But you know, and you don't feel the same anymore. That night, he was restless, and when he looked at me I just knew. It was like my purpose switched from watching him to make sure he was fine, to this critical need to make sure he could pass away peacefully, before the pain was too much.
So he's gone. I was lying on the clinic floor with him for a long time, and when the vet administered the final syringe I held his head level with mine as it began to fall lifeless to gravity.
He was also the last remaining... anything of my life beyond the past couple years. I am no contact with my mother(2+years), and as a result the rest of my family cut me off, which causes a lot of pain...
I callously pushed away my former best friend when I was very destructive(2+years ago).
Though it is a wonderful thing, I have now recovered completely from an eating disorder and personality disorder which defined my life for a decade.
My identity now is stripped of all these things... and now the love of my life too.
I do have some amazing friends now, and a partner who I love dearly. Their families are wonderful and kind and very welcoming. But they are not my family. At least, they will not be for a long time. My whole childhood was dense in trauma and pain and just everything else defining about your formative years. How do you just pick up now and go, Well, hunky dory, I'm completely fine and happy with these new people and routines ? How and when does it begin to feel like you, and like your life?
Because it doesn't. Because I'm glad for these friends, my health, my partner... but I'd rather have Boof. I'd rather have my lost friend. I don't know how to heal with that, I know it's not an either or, but I'm just this sort of person. I don't know how to add to my life when my foundations are missing.