Life is Beautifully Fickle

I have had an extremely challenging week. Everyday was full of challenges in different realms. Tuesday and Wednesday challenged my relationship. Thursday broke my family and my heart. Friday shook my health. Today, I feel as though I have opened my eyes again. I don't know exactly why or what element of this week shook me awake; but it did.


Halloween has been my favorite holiday since I was a child and I found myself lacking in enthusiasm this year. I had been stoked on it for weeks. I knew what my daughter's costume would be and how I would pull it all together. I thought I knew where I was going trick or treating and who with. Then, the conversation I had with my boyfriend the night before came to haunt my psych ninja mind. I couldn't drop it. I had to investigate. Which never leads me in a good direction. Yet, I tend to have this problem with being stubborn and bullheaded.

The end result?

I was drained of all life force before I even picked my daughter up. I did my best to rally my enthusiasm and push through it. Unfortunately, my health was already beginning to falter on me. My head ached and my mouth wasn't far behind. I just floated through the evening. My daughter had a good time. Yet, I know that I should have done better. I didn't prioritize appropriately.

Thursday morning I had to get my daughter to the optometrist. Just as I was getting into the "let's get dressed" portion of the morning, three kids knocked on my door. They didn't look happy. They didn't have See's candy bars. Shit....

Sure enough... My precious kitty had been struck by a car. Right by the curb. Sometime between 1 and 8 am. I saw her playing with my puppy the night before. I could almost swear that I had seen her early in the morning but it was all a haze. I walked out to make sure it was her.... My heart just shattered. My daughter didn't understand. I just sobbed.... for about an hour and a half.

My sweet sweet little girl did her best to calm me down. She reversed roles on me. I don't handle loss or change or grief very well. I am a bucket tipper. I couldn't keep the floodgates back. I felt responsible. I didn't want her outside. We couldn't prevent it because of our dog's need for a doggie door. Yet, I still felt like it was my fault... our fault... that I should have been more insistent about my wishes for how she was housed. That I wanted my wishes respected. That my knowledge had been under recognized. That I had bowed my head and accepted circumstances rather than fought for what I knew was right. I paid for my cowardice.... Rather my kitty did. She would have been a year the day she was killed :(


Thursday night my mouth started aching... I woke up two or three times in the middle of the night. It was excruciating. I called the nurse hotline Friday morning... practically in tears from the pain. Long story short. I went from a Parent Teacher Conference to the Oral Surgeon's office.... I got all four of my wisdom teeth removed yesterday afternoon. I was scared and in pain. I'd never been under anesthesia before. I gave my daughter a big hug and kiss and went in. My amazing father was there to pick me up. He took me home and then went out to get my prescriptions and hunted down matzo ball soup for me. I barely had to ask him. He knew that I needed the help. He was there. Like always. Yet, I know that won't last forever.


Last night I was sitting on the couch. I was suddenly struck by the one thing that I felt would help me tie everything together that was lacking. I need purpose. I need something to do with my daughter. I need something to show my knowledge and my opinions. I need something with endless love and affection. Something stable and dependent upon me that is not unhealthy. I need a puppy. My own puppy.

The dog that is currently in my home is my boyfriend's. I didn't train her. I didn't make the final decisions when it came to anything for her. Be it her food or her crate training. I will with this puppy. I started hunting last night and woke up this morning emboldened to search the local rescues. I reluctantly woke my sleeping boyfriend and convinced him to go with me before he went to work. I found him. He is a lab/collie mix. He is black and has longer hair. Not long, just enough to have a little wave with it. His chest is white with little black and grey specks. He is tiny for a lab mix. About 9 weeks and maybe 5lbs. His paws are pretty small. I think he will be around 35-40lbs. He was mellow and comforted the more worried pups in his litter. He has big sad black eyes and little eyebrows. He is perfect. They got him from a high kill shelter. I will make him my final recovery dog. Go figure....

My sister obviously thinks that I am nuts. That I am being spontaneous. I am not. I have wanted my own dog for years. I have helped two boyfriends with theirs and taken a back seat. I will foster my daughter's sense of responsibility and teach her how to care for another. I will have someone who will always be glad to see me. That will take some pressure off of my human loved ones. I need a companion. My own companion. So, I will pick him up Friday after work.

I feel as though I have opened my eyes to my own needs. That I have stopped caring about practicality or playing it safe or what others want. I need to take what I want out of everyday. I have done all that I can to ensure that I have the love of those in my life. I need to sit back and wait and see. That is all that is left.


However, I am someone who is constantly in need of a project and a challenge. So, I will look to my darling puppy for that. I can't wait until Friday :)