Daily Post 072: Midnight Tears

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It’s 11:15 pm. Everyone else is asleep and so I’m left on my own. It’s quiet. Ox is sleeping in bed, the sound of his breathing the only noise I could hear before I put on his headphones to play Opacus by Arkasia on repeat. I used to play it in the mornings while I strung the machines at work. I’ve listened to this song most likely more than what would be considered healthy, but it’s helped me through so many times where I wanted to give up but couldn’t.

I don’t know how I feel right now.

I know I feel good. Better than I have in a while, but I also know that I feel sad. I feel tired. I feel… I don’t know what.

When I’m asked if I’m ok I don’t know how to reply. I know I’m not “not ok” but I know that I’m not my total normal self either so I don’t know how to answer the question honestly.

Maybe writing will help figure it out, but I doubt it.

I miss Jon even though he and I talked on the phone just yesterday. Plans have changed a little in that regard. Instead of visiting Orlando in August during his school break I’m most likely going to be flying out to Vegas so my brothers and I can be together then. That means I won’t see my home clinic like I had thought. It means I’ll most likely have to tell Big Bad I won’t be visiting until December at the earliest and that brings up the question of do I want to travel to visit people during what seems to be the hardest time of the year for me.

It will be the third year without mom. My third Thanksgiving. My third birthday. My third Christmas.

I don’t want to travel and pretend that I’m not hurting. At the same time, I don’t know how I’ll be if I stay. I don’t want to bring Ox and his family down with my sadness. I don’t want to disrupt the time he has with his kids.

It’s such a long way off and already I’m worrying about it. There’s a large part of me who just wants to stay here where I can cry or go to the woods to be alone. I guess I’ll figure out that bridge when I get to it, but it’s already on my radar.

I start work Monday. I’m nervous about it. I don’t know why. Maybe because I’m not keeping myself busy enough, which I know is a lie but I can’t really think of a logical reason for why I have anxiety over going back.

It will be my first week back at full-time hours. I’ll be in training, shadowing one of the techs. The person I’ll be with the first two days is super awesome. I think I’ll really get along with her. The person I’ll be with the second two days I think I’ll mesh well with once we both get more comfortable with each other. After this initial week of getting me checked off on some of the Nebraska specific policies, I’ll start training down at the Beatrice clinic since that will be my home clinic for the time being. I’m hoping for that to become permanent. I like that location and I would rather not have to learn how to mix bicarb.

I guess I’m nervous about fucking up; about not being good enough.

I had to go in for a few hours yesterday. I actually got paid for those hours so that’s nice. I didn’t really know what to expect. All I knew was I needed to be there around 8 am. I knew my FA was supposed to show up around 11 am, but that’s all I knew.

Well, luckily she was in the front office when I walked in. She had me complete some mind-numbing computer work so I could gain access to a skill checkoff list. After that, I spent a few hours on the floor. For the most part, I sat and watched. Two other people were in training so they were doing most everything to gain experience. One is a tech, the other is an RN who I think I’ll get along with. I mean… she was talking about MMA… finally, someone who I can gush over this stuff with.

Around 10 am I asked if I was allowed to do anything, to which the reply was yes. It took a bit to get me set up in the computer system so I could effectively document for people. I tried stringing a machine, but the lines this clinic uses are different from the ones I used in Orlando. I know with practice I’ll be fine, but right now I’m fumbling and slow. It’s hard to not feel incompetent. At least I was able to clean the machine and chair down without a problem. And once I was in the system I was able to document like the pro I am, so at least it ended on a fairly positive note.

I know I’ll be fine but there’s still the worry that I won’t be.

Worrying is a misuse of the imagination.

I’ve started cross-stitching again.

I don’t think I’ve written about that. I don’t think I wrote about what it was like to actually travel from Orlando to Nebraska, either.

There’s a lot I haven’t written about or processed through, and maybe that’s why it’s so hard to understand what I feel.

I no longer have Scarlet.

That’s how my journey started.

It’s been something I’ve feared for about a year now.

I worried I would come home one day and she would be dead, or that I would wake up at night to her in distress and have to helplessly watch her suffer through her death. I worried my roommates would be there, alone, while I was at work and they would have to call me to tell me she had died and there had been nothing they could do.

It’s sucked, watching her go from walking normally, to waddling because her hips bother her, to dragging her leg. To watch her not be able to jump onto the bed. I placed a pillow on the floor to help her step up, but at the end, even that wasn’t helping as much as it used to.

Roughly two weeks before my move I went to the veterinary clinic to talk with Scarlet’s vet. I knew that the trip would be hard for Scarlet. I knew the house I was moving into had three young male cats. I knew it wouldn’t be a good living environment for her. I knew her health was failing.

I wanted to talk to a professional.

I told her my story. I told her that I didn’t want to make this choice because there wasn’t a way I could talk to Scarlet and ask her, “Are you in pain? Are you suffering? Do you want to make this trip with all of its hardships?”

My vet said moving Scarlet would be very similar to moving a 90-year-old women. Keeping her in a cat carrier for 12 hours, at least, for two days. Taking her out of her home and relocating her to a foreign place where nothing would be familiar.

She said if Scarlet survived the stress of the trip that it would most likely mark a more significant decline.

She said, in her experience, what she has seen with pet owners who face this decision is that they wish they had done something sooner. They wish they had ended their pets suffering sooner. She said very rarely do pets pass peacefully in their sleep. Usually, it’s painful and sometimes can last for days.

Scarlet deserved better than to suffer.

For the 20ish years she has been my companion, for all the times she didn’t have a choice in moving with me, for all the times she didn’t have a choice in living with other animals, for all the times I stayed out late or didn’t come home because I slept somewhere else, for all the times she was alone, she deserved better.

It sucked making the vet appointment. It’s hard to not hate myself. It’s hard to feel like I wasn’t being selfish.

Ox offered to be there for me so I wouldn’t be alone.

I made the appointment, trying not to cry on the phone as I did.

Ox flew into Orlando on Sunday after one hell of a fucked up flight. It was his first time flying. That alone is something I’ll never be able to repay. He flew down so I wouldn’t have to drive the 21 hours by myself. There was a change over on his flight. Originally he had 30 minutes to get to the second plane, but the first plane arrived late, which meant he missed his connecting flight, which resulted in a three-hour layover.

After all of that, he still helped me take apart my computer desk and pack my car. After all of that, he still hugged me as I tried not to break down in the lobby of the veterinary clinic.

They do the procedure in two steps.

The first step is a normal sedative which puts them to sleep. The vet waits a few minutes to give the sedative time to fully take effect. I knelt on the floor so I would be level with the table and wrapped my arms around Scarlet while the shot was administered, petting her the whole time, trying, and failing, to not cry.

Scarlet was my most faithful companion aside from my mom. She’s the reason I survived Warren #2. I couldn’t force her to go through a move that I knew would be awful for her and yet I didn’t want to let her go. I wanted to be selfish but I didn’t want to make her suffer and all of it sucked. Every part of every possible decision sucked.

She was in pain. She couldn’t use the litter box properly because she was almost to the point where she couldn’t walk. She was matted and ratty looking because she wouldn’t groom herself and wouldn’t let me brush her because it hurt her.

She was my little old lady and she was hurting and there was nothing I could do to change it because that’s part of life; growing older, being mortal. Aging. Dying.

It’s all part of this fucking circle that I’m so tired of having to accept over and over again.

I held her as she fell asleep; as she finally looked peaceful. I petted her and told her I loved her and that she would always be my baby cat.

A few minutes later the vet came back in and administered a second shot. I don’t remember the term they used for it, but essentially it over sedates them, causing their heart to stop.

They said there’s no pain. And I so desperately need that to be true and I wish there was a way to know for sure, but there isn’t. It’s just blind faith and that sucks because since I don’t know for sure that it doesn’t hurt I feel like a betrayer. What if it does hurt? What if she was in agony in her final moments but her body was so sedated that she couldn’t express it?

The vet listened to Scarlet’s heart and told Ox and I when she was gone; when Scarlet was dead. They said I could have as much time as I needed and quietly left the room.

I don’t remember how long I cried. I know eventually I stood up and I took out the brushes and lint roller I had brought with me.

I had planned to do this ever since I had made the appointment. I was going to brush all of the mats out of Scarlet’s fur. It was going to be my way of honoring her one last time much the way a warrior’s body is prepared before being taken to the funeral pyre. I was going to brush her and care for her before sending her back to the Universe.

It took forever. I swear I got another three cats worth of fur off of her. I was also covered in fur by the time it was done, which in an odd way was comforting because it wasn’t any different than when we were at home. Only this time she wasn’t in pain while I did it.

I arranged her head on her paws. I told her one last time that I loved her and then I left the room.

I arranged to have a private cremation so I could have her ashes.

I guess in a way mom prepared me for this. I know that the ashes are not Scarlet. They are the ashes of her vessel, not of her. The energy she was is returned into the vastness of the Universe and what I hold in the small, beautiful wooden box is merely a physical representation of what once was.

I have her ashes with me, sitting on the shelf where I have mom’s urn.

I did what I thought was kind. I don’t know if there’s right or wrong in this situation. Everything is always a shade of gray anyway. I still miss her. I don’t feel like the scum of the Earth. I don’t think I’m the worst person to ever walk the planet, but I’m still struggling with my choice.

Mom had to make this choice a few times with previous pets. I know she had a really hard time when she had to euthanize Cleo.

Cleo ended up having stomach cancer. She would eat, but no matter how much she ate she would lose weight because everything she consumed went into feeding the cancer rather than her body. She was suffering and so mom made the choice to end that suffering.

My situation isn’t so clear as that. Scarlet wasn’t necessarily sick, but I do believe she was in pain.

I will never know what choice she would have made for herself. All I can do to try to cope with my choice is to know that I was her caretaker and that I cared for her for over 20 years. If I could go back and do things differently I would. I would get less annoyed with her when she meowed about her water dish. I would buy more cat treats. I would cuddle with her more.

But I can’t do that. I can’t go back and change anything. I did what I thought was my best at the time. And I made what I thought was the kindest choice for her in the end.

None of us can live for forever. If given the option to continue living my remaining days in pain or to pass into stillness while in the arms of someone I love, I would want the latter.

I don’t know what else to say about this.

It was and still remains the hardest part of my move. There’s still a lot I haven’t written about that I don’t feel like getting into.

I miss my companion even though I know this chapter wasn’t meant for her. There is so little left of the time when mom was alive. It’s hard to not feel like a different person.

I need to go for now. I haven’t fully cried and mourned over Scarlet’s passing yet. Maybe I’ll be able to write about all of the good stuff that’s happened to me in my next post.

All of this needed to be written, though.

All of this needed it’s time.

 

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Daily Post 005: Lab Results and Morals

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Scarlet is doing well. The vet called me around 9 am yesterday morning to let me know the results. Aside from a UTI, she’s in good health. Her kidneys are functioning within proper limits. All her blood levels are normal. For being as old as she is apparently Scarlet is in exceptional health.

The vet prescribed an antibiotic for the UTI. I’ll have to administer the medication once a day for two weeks, but Scarlet does surprisingly well with things like medication and baths.

I was glad I didn’t have to go through the whole day not knowing what the results were. And I was glad it results were so positive. I can be more ok with her walking issues as long as I know she’s not suffering.

I went to the Saturday dance class, only, it wasn’t really a dance class. Since it’s the new year the schedule has changed a bit. New classes have been added, old ones have been moved or replaced, etc. Well, instead of a beginner dance class on Saturday there’s now a stretch class.

I decided to check it out to see if it would be something I would want to keep in my weekly schedule. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t really all that awesome either. It’s basically a yoga class, but I can do better, more focused flows on my own rather than having to use one of my dance tickets for the class. I didn’t really click with the instructor which is most likely another factor.

I guess in a way it’s a good thing. If I’m not going to the dance studio on Saturday that means I can do the jujitsu and Muay Thai class at the dojo instead. I’ll have to see how that plays out, but it’s a possibility. I could also run instead, and then do Muay Thai… or run, then jujitsu, then Muay Thai… so many possibilities. Oh! Or I could bike to the dojo since the classes are during the day rather than in the evening.

Anywho, after the mildly disappointing class, I had enough time to go to the vet to pick up the medication. From there it was off to the dojo.

Muay Thai conditioning was awesome. Paul was running the class instead of Jim. There were more people there than what I’m used to, but it wasn’t intimidating or overwhelming. It was actually pretty cool because Jim ended up being my partner. One of the drills we had to do was keeping our hands behind our backs while trying to tap the other person’s foot with our own foot. If you got tapped three times you had to do ten pushups.

Guess who didn’t have to do pushups? That’s right. This chick. I got Jim three times but he was only able to tap me once. Yay quick feet I guess. It was fun and playful. It reminded me of how Big Bad and I will be holding hands and then randomly one of us will start a match of thumb war. It basically was a game of “keep away”. I enjoyed it. : )

I was pretty tired by the time class was over, but I didn’t relent. I knew if I went home that I most likely wouldn’t go back out, which would be bad. Instead, I went straight to the grocery store to do the shopping.

I stuck to my tradition of getting a sushi tray with a coffee drink for lunch. My reward for being a diligent adult and braving the store full of people. Since it was such a nice day outside I sat in a shaded area on the walkway and ate my lunch. There was a light breeze which felt great since I was still sort of warm from the dojo.

After eating I drove home and put the groceries away. I didn’t have it in me afterward to do much else. Physically I was tired. I napped for a bit. I eventually gave Scarlet her medication. I finally put my clothes away, but really I didn’t do much for the rest of the day.

Later in the evening, I was poking around online. I’ve been looking at jobs more and more recently. I saw another tutoring position except this one is for computer programming. It’s only a part-time position, and it’s for programming languages which aren’t exactly my forte, but holy crap, the only way it could get better is if it was a full-time position.

I would need about a week, maybe less than, to brush up on the languages they would want me to tutor, but all of them I’ve been exposed to. I tweaked my cover letter and applied for the new position. I kept poking around, and that’s when things got sort of dicey.

I saw a posting for a Character Rigging position from Full Sail. Essentially it’s my old job.

I don’t know how I feel about it. And I guess I should go ahead and say that I applied for the job.

I don’t know if I want to go back. At the time when I first saw the post I reached out to my former supervisor, but he didn’t respond. I figured he was asleep, but a few other people were listed as online for the Facebook chat, so I sent them messages trying to get more information about the situation and job listing.

I made a new cover letter and sent my application in. And then I sat and stewed trying to figure out my emotions over the situation. I ended up messaging my blacksmith because my thoughts wouldn’t let me sleep.

As far as a job is concerned I would like a reliable full-time position here in Orlando, preferably utilizing the skill set I already have.

The Full Sail position would give me that.

I could most likely ask for more than I was making when I left and get it. I already have training on the systems so I could skip most of that. I already know the people who would be my co-workers. I’m confident in my ability to run labs because I did it for four years. I would be able to start biking to work again which is actually something I miss. I could stay in Orlando with my companions, friends, and still be near my younger brother. I could still go to the dojo. I might even be able to start working on my Digital Arts and Design degree again.

Theoretically, I would be making enough to live on my own, which is something I’m still hoping works out. I wouldn’t have to go to Californa and spend months waiting to come back to the life I want to live.

However, comma…

I said I would never go back to Full Sail.

So, yeah, there’s all these positive things… but what does it say about me or my word if I turn around and go back?

Part of me feels like it would be a failure on my part. Failing at what I don’t know, but I think I would be upset with myself for going back.

After talking to Clavan this morning the listing isn’t even really advertising the position they’re hoping to fill. It’s more of a “float” position where I would be helping out in the compositing and lighting classes. Neither of those areas are really areas I want to be in.

So even though there are all these positive things, I don’t think I would be happy. It wouldn’t really be my old job. It would be stuff I don’t really like in a place I don’t really want to be.

I haven’t ruled it out, but I think I would rather not accept it. I would need to have some serious conversation during the interview if I got one.

That leaves the tutoring position. It’s part-time for significantly less money. But part-time lets me still focus on me which I would like to do. I would need a roommate, but there’s no telling what could come from the position. Ideally, I would use it to eventually get an adjunct professor position, or maybe I could tutor other subjects and potentially get full-time pay which would be fine even though the wage is lower. I honestly don’t need all that much.

I feel like if I go back that I’m being weak. I feel like I would be saying it’s ok to treat me like crap when it isn’t. I left because I was treated like a cog rather than as a human. Is that really what I want to go back to?

No. Not really. Even though I love my co-workers and even though Clavan was the best supervisor I’ve ever had, and even though I have positive memories of working there, I don’t want to go back.

I said I wouldn’t, so why am I faulting?

Because paychecks are nice. Because if I’m honest with myself the money I have is running low and I need to have something lined up so I can keep supporting myself and not turn into the unemployed slacker mooching off of people I’m terrified of becoming.

I don’t regret how I have spent the money. I paid for mom’s apartment for five months because I didn’t know if I would be moving to Vegas or not. I helped people who needed help. I paid for my apartment for the whole year. I paid for the extended stays I lived at so I could have my own space while I figured out my life for six months. I took the CNA class. I took trips to see people I haven’t seen in years.

I feel like even though I most likely could have spent the money more responsibly given hindsight, that I’ve done pretty well, and being realistic about it now is good. It hasn’t run out, but compared to where it was, it’s low, and it’s finite, so I need to start looking at ways to get an income again.

Warren and I talked about it this afternoon. He’s going to be able to start paying rent in February which will help out significantly, and he’s going to start getting Amber to pay him back for the time she was unemployed.

This is another unknown, however, and so there’s a bit of stress with it. I know I could get a sales position or work in fast food, but after having a job where I was fulfilled I know I don’t want to do something like that. I wouldn’t be happy. I don’t like working with money. I don’t like selling things. I like helping. I like teaching. I want a job, but I don’t want to sell my soul to have a paycheck.

There’s still a bit of time to figure it out. I’m glad I’m looking for solutions now rather than waiting until the very last second.

Today was a low energy day. I wasn’t sad or anything, but having been awake for later than I wanted to be meant that I didn’t wake up until around 10 am. Super late when you’re used to waking up around 4 or 6 am. And I was still tired. And it was cloudy outside…

Arg…

I’m happy to report that even though it was a “meh” day that I’ve gotten everything on my to-do list done. I’ve cooked all the meals for the coming week. I washed my sheets and laundry. I’m back to the task of “put clothes away”… hopefully it doesn’t take me all week to do it this time. I’ve made the bed already so once I’m done having game time with my brothers I can crawl into bed and pass out.

I’ve vacuumed both the living room and my room. I’ve swept up the dog fur. I’ve swiftered the kitchen and hall tiles. I’ve cleaned out my car, not that it was all that bad. Mostly water bottles. I’ve gone through my email inbox and caught up on posts and such. I even ran back out to the store to pick up a few things I didn’t realize I was low on. Can’t make egg roll bowls without soy sauce…

Because I went out to the store I rewarded myself with a dessert cup from the bakery. It was a strawberry shortcake type thing. Most likely awful for me, but I’m ok with it. It tasted dericious, not that I ate it before having dinner or anything…

Carolina actually came up to me yesterday before the Muay Thai class started and whispered to me, “Girl, how much weight have you lost?”

I honestly don’t know, so I told her probably around 30 pounds since I was down 20 in November. I wonder if it’s more than that, though.

Oh. Yesterday was the first day of wearing my new pants to the dojo. They worked wonderfully.

Since tonight is a game night I’ve been thinking about getting a pizza. Since I’m thinking about it I’ll most likely do it. I did well today. I’ve been doing well. I don’t think it’s bad to have a slack night where I relax and enjoy some video gaming and grungy food. I’m not going to let my brain try to trick me into thinking otherwise.

My financial situation is still fine. I’m not a bad person for not having a job yet. I willingly left the workforce. I’m not going to start regretting my decision, and I’m not going to compromise on my morals for a paycheck.

That was something Warren mentioned while we were talking about the job. He asked something along the lines of, “Is sticking to your moral high ground worth not being able to support yourself?”

My reply was if I don’t stick to my morals than what’s the point of having them?

I may make things harder on myself then they need to be, but I think by accepting only what I know is beneficial for me that ultimately I’ll end up ok. Maybe even better than ok. My resolution is to be happy. That doesn’t mean it will be easy, and I’m ok with that.

Nothing worth having is ever easy.

Daily Post 004: Learning How to Girl and Deflecting with Humor

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Today has been a day. And it’s not over yet. It’s only 6 pm. There’s still tons of “day” left. Right now I’m tired, heavy, which is annoying for how well the rest of the day has gone.

I stayed with Big Bad last night. Trust me. It’s not as sexy as it sounds. Mostly due to my body hating me. I still feel awkward when I have to say things like, “By the way, we can’t have sexy time because I’m on my cycle.”

Maybe that’s because most guys seem to have issues with healthy, functioning females. I can’t really blame them, though. I mean… come on… from a survival standpoint, would you trust something that could bleed for seven days and not die?

All joking aside I didn’t want to send a text message admitting that yeah… I’m actually still a girl and even on birth control I still have that one week where I’m out of commission for fun time every so often. He’s been ok with me coming over in the past. Actually, Big Bad makes me feel normal and unjudged and accepted. Even without the sex we still hang out and have fun playing video games or cuddling, or whatever it is we do to enjoy our time together.

I don’t know why I still get nervous about it, but I do. I was less anxious last night than the first time I had to bring up the subject, so maybe I’ll eventually get to the point where it’s a non-issue, but last night was not that night.

Me: Can we still spend time together?
Big Bad: I suppose.

In my heart of hearts, I knew it was a joke. In my head I could hear the playful tone he would have used had we been talking face to face. I know in the eight-ish months we’ve been together he has yet to do anything to even hint at being mean, rude, or malicious towards me. I feel like he goes out of his way to make sure emotionally I feel cared for and safe.

Irrational Right Brain: He hates you. You’re an awful person for going through something you have legitimately no control over. Feel shameful and as if you are unworthy!

Fuck you, Brain. Like, for real, can you not for once just chill the fuck out?

I was silent for a while, though from a technical standpoint text messages are always silent… I didn’t know how to reply. I couldn’t think of something cute and witty. I was hurt even though I knew it was silly to feel that way. I knew my reaction was a result of past sensitivities, but knowing all of that didn’t make the emotions go away.

As I sat thinking about how to respond Big Bad sent another message.

Big Bad: I didn’t give you permission to have your period. I’m really going to have to beat your ass now.

And instantly things were ok again. It was a silly, playful, outrageous comment that had me laughing out loud because it was so ridiculous.

Me: If I could kick my own ass I would. Stupid body being a cock block.

So, I still went over to his house. We still wrestled. He still kicked my ass and choked me out with my own arm because he’s lame. We talked. We cuddled. It was actually the first time I’ve showered at his place.

When we woke up this morning we did a strength training workout video. Body Beast I think it what it was called. We both had a lot of fun with it. While we were having our coffee we actually talked about scheduling morning strength workouts. So Tuesday and Friday mornings are our strength days since he always has those mornings free.

We talked about how it would be nice to stretch afterward, which brought up my yogadownload.com membership. I’m supposed to look into flows I think would be good to do after our workout as a way to cool down and stretch out our muscles.

Overall it was awesome and a fantastic way to end the evening / start the morning.

When I got home I changed then hopped on my bike. I went to the gym and ran. Shaved a few more seconds off my time. Woohoo.

It was the first run in my new compression pants, which the shopping adventure of yesterday is a whole story in and of itself.

I had originally gone to Target at the suggestion of the Internet, but I didn’t see anything I really liked. Not enough to spend money on anyway. I tried going to Dick’s Sporting Goods, but they’re crazy expensive and I didn’t feel like spending that much money on something when I wasn’t really supposed to be spending money in the first place.

I was on my way to test my luck at Walmart when I realized I was hungry, which sucked because I was out and about with no food on me. I stopped at Arby’s for lunch and while I was there I realized I was in front of a Ross.

What the heck? Might as well check it out, right? Since I’m here and everything.

Well… best idea ever. I found a style of compression pants that I super liked and instead of paying $48 for them I only had to pay $13.

Cue shopping adventure where I go to four different Ross stores trying to find more pairs. So now I have six in total. Enough to get me through the week with a rest day.

I was super pleased that instead of the XL I thought I would need I was down to an L. That’s right, who’s a sexy badass? Me, while I’m standing alone in a changing room and not in front of a whole bunch of people because introverts would rather hide under rocks than be the center of attention. At least this introvert would rather hide under rocks. But yeah, sexy badass when alone or typing to the Internet. /flex

And thrifty.

Did I mention thrifty?

Sexy, thrifty badass.

I also happened to stop at a Lane Bryant yesterday. I wasn’t finding anything good in the way of sports bras. I figured I could get sized to see what I actually should be wearing and see if they had anything that would work since they have an athletic section.

That was an eye-opening experience. I guess I’ve lost two inches and have either gone up two cup sizes, or I’ve been in the wrong size for the past… four-ish years? Not sure. A long time, though.

I originally got two sports bras while I was at the store but later that night I was thinking about the size discrepancy of what I should be in versus what I’m currently wearing. I decided the workout tops I have are still fine┬áso it would be a better investment to return the sports bras and get a set of regular everyday bras instead.

So, that’s what I did after biking back home from my run. I showered then headed out to return my purchase.

The sales associate I talked to today was super kind and actually explained all of the different styles and helped me expand on my girl knowledge. I really feel like all of the things she told me today were things I should have learned in high school or even middle shool as simply, “This is how you human,” information. I mean… maybe my mom “should” have told me. And maybe way back in the day she did and I just don’t remember it, but honestly, all of it was useful information that actually impacted my life in a positive way.

So currently I have what basically feels like heaven woven into fabric wrapped around my chest. Not even exaggerating.

With the shopping adventure finally at its two-day conclusion I decided to go to my sports bar for lunch. I had thought I would work while I was there, but that didn’t go according to plan. The inauguration speech was taking place. I sat and listened.

I didn’t like either candidate and I don’t have a problem admitting that. I do hope that Trump does well and that he makes smart choices because regardless of how I feel about him, he’s leading the country now. By wanting him to do poorly, or wishing him ill, I’m wishing the country ill and I don’t want that. I do want changes to be made. I’m just hoping they’re the “right” changes for the right reasons.

I was able to meal plan a bit, but the volume was so loud for the speech that I wasn’t really able to focus on anything else, like the design work I had been hoping to do. I was pretty tired anyway, so instead, I paid for my lunch then went home. I had scheduled a vet visit for Scarlet for 5 pm before I had gone out. With so much time before the appointment, I decided to nap.

I woke up feeling pretty good. I puttered around for a little bit then put Scarlet in her carrier and went to the vet.

It was hard being there. I didn’t want to be there. Scarlet didn’t want to be there. Being there is admitting there’s a problem and I don’t want there to be a problem. I want her to be healthy, and happy, and to always be there even though I know that’s now how life works.

I had the same vet I had the last time I took her to be seen. I’m glad I had her. We talked about how Scarlet’s walking as worsened. We talked about a few other behavioral things I’ve noticed.

We’re having lab work done. It won’t be in until tomorrow.

We talked about the quality of life and what the best option would be depending on what the labs show. I know one of the possible outcomes may be that she’s suffering and that ending her suffering would be humane and merciful rather than prolonging her pain simply because I’m too selfish to say goodbye.

I wish I could ask Scarlet what she wants. She’s essentially a 90-year-old human. She’s my little old lady. All I can do is observe how it seems like she can barely walk. How she doesn’t move unless she has to. How she seems to have issues with the litter box now.

It breaks my heart to see. It hurts to know that she’s aged and that even without human intervention, her time is limited. But, if she had the choice, what would she want?

I can’t ask that. I can’t know. And so I’m left waiting. I should know tomorrow, but tomorrow is so far away.

I know there’s not enough information to go on. I know that I should just breathe and wait and see what happens. It’s going to be a long night, though.

It’s going to be rough going to dance class tomorrow and then the dojo for Muay Thai and waiting, the whole time knowing that I’m supposed to be getting a phone call, and knowing that one of the outcomes could be that the “higher” road would be to be humane.

Big Bad and I have actually been talking a bit since I got back from the vet. I told him about the visit. He asked what my thoughts were and I deflected with humor. I know that’s what I do. I can have┬ásuper deep conversations with people. In fact, I love having quality conversations. But when it’s about my emotions, when it’s about me hurting I try to deflect away from it.

Right Brain: So here’s this deep dark confession about fear and OH LOOK A DISTRACTION! : D

I still feel like I have to be ok for everyone else. I have to hold it together even though right now I want to be held and to cry even though I don’t even know if there’s a reason to cry. Everything might be fine and it’s just old age and arthritis.

I don’t want her to suffer. I don’t want to lose her. She’s been my companion for seventeen-ish years now. Over half my life. She’s been through so many of my life events with me.

It sucks. And until tomorrow I won’t know. So tonight I’m going to cuddle with her and enjoy the time I do have because just like with everything else, all we have is this moment.