It’s been a tough few months. I have not been dealing with well. I also have not been honest with myself or seen things clearly. I’ve been irrational and impulsive. Depressed doesn’t even come close to how I feel. Dealing with my dad’s health issues, almost dying myself and not knowing why, losing my dog, my medications not working and physically not feeling well has taken a lot out of me.
I’ve been stubborn and delusional about getting 2 more dogs. I can barely take care of myself most of the time. I know I could probably do it but my dad would have to help. That isn’t fair to him. What my dad and sister don’t understand is my grief. I grieve longer and harder than anyone I know. There was already a giant hole in my chest that couldn’t be filled and aches constantly now it’s bigger.
When I tried to talk to my sister about it today I didn’t even get a complete sentence out. She automatically said “No more dogs!”. I could hear her husband in the background saying the same. They never liked our dogs because when they would visit once a year the dogs would get excited. The Pomeranian nipped my sister’s ankle and she was upset. There was no skin broken, no bruising, nothing. The dogs are used to it just being me and my dad. No one visits us. I made sure they were socialized as puppies and had them around people often. This got harder as my mother became sicker and I was taking care of her by myself. I spent a lot of time with them and so did my dad but I wasn’t taking them places anymore. They were happy though, they had their own little pack. One time my brother in law pushed my Papillon across the floor for begging at the table. I almost punched him in the face. I don’t discipline your kids you don’t discipline my animals.
The other day for the first time in years I wanted to go to the bar. It surprised me. I wanted to be numb. I also wanted to talk to people and not be alone. It scared me. If I drink I’ll die. It’s as simple as that. I won’t have 1 I’ll have 20. My kidneys will shut down or if I do manage to survive I’ll have no place to live. I’m also afraid of what kind of drunk I’ll be. The depression is so bad I don’t know if I would be happy or have the courage to hurt myself. I don’t want to find out. I do want to get better but nothing is working. It’s a circle of “we don’t know if this is causing this or the other way around”.
I’m becoming more and more afraid to leave the house. Then I get agitated and feel trapped. There is no relief. If the doctors don’t figure out something soon I’m going to Boston and letting them use me for a test subject or experiment for everything they’ve got. They can scan me from head to toe and I’ll be their guinea pig. It can’t be worse than this.