Wow. It has been quite a while since I have come on here and posted anything new but I've been extremely busy lately. I started my new old job at the college I used to work at. I'm back in the same office with most of the same people and loving every bit of it. Not only that but I started to put more focus on things that are important to me like my partner and my family.
Things have been going amazingly. My love is getting through his classes at National and getting amazing marks on his work. Not only that but we've both decided to cut back on "extracurricular activities" and pay attention to things that actually require our attention. He even surprised me by getting my first ever apple macbook computer and helping to turn his old classic iMac into a huge save drive for my documents. I plan on spoiling him rotten these next few weeks since we couldn't do much for his birthday since he's been working like crazy and I've been broke. Now that things are back on track for both of us I plan on showing him how much a love and value him with expensive material things. We don't do that often but we've both been working very hard and deserve it.
I'll keep this post short since I'm in bed waiting for him to get home from work and I've got an early call time tomorrow.
I promise I'll try to update more often :)
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
Saturday, August 22, 2015
Saying good-bye to old friends and preparing for new adventures!
I know I've mentioned before how I had gone through the most difficult two years of my life from 2013 to 2015 and how I thought that things couldn't possibly get harder (if I haven't gone into details about why I'll make a mental note to explain later) but I'm slowly learning that life never takes a break from throwing out curve balls.
It started a few weeks ago when I noticed that Buffy, my oldest and first ever family dog, was becoming increasingly thin. Buffy was a small English Cocker Spaniel that I've had for 14 years and who was growing increasingly old the more each day went on. My siblings and I all knew that it was only a matter of time before she got really sick and we'd have to deal with the inevitable. Knowing she was pushing the max age for Spaniels (12-15 years old) I was preparing for the worst while dealing with my own personal growing pains and two nights ago the worst knocked on my door.
I came home and found Buffy laying under the pool table in the backyard and something told me to check on her. I got closer and saw that she had a fluid leaking from her snout or mouth area and I instantly called my partner in a panic before he agreed to meet me at the house ASAP. We thought it might have been a reaction from the warm weather and so I gently wet her neck and placed a cold towel on her head but she was unresponsive. When my partner arrived me took her into my room and saw she was barely awake. We then took her to his mom's house to clean her up and decided that she if it was her last night then we'd make it as comfortable as possible for her so that she can go easy. She hardly moved while we washed her and thought it would be best to bring her back to my place to be around familiar surroundings. The entire time I was broken inside and out. Like I said, she was my first puppy and she had been with us through everything and the thought of losing her was a notion I knew was inevitable but still incredibly painful.
I stayed up with her the entire night from Thursday to Friday and tended to her every need. Every time she slipped off her bed in a weak attempt to get up I picked her up in my arms and placed her back on the sheets. When she got sick I cleaned her up and during her dizzy spells I calmed her down with my touch to let her know she wasn't alone. At around 8AM Friday morning the both of us were able to finally get about an hour of solid sleep.
Prior to this I was told that my brother would be taking her to the vet to be put down and during my sleepless night I wondered if it was something I would be able to be present for. It wasn't up until I loaded her into the backseat of my car that I decided to go with him and his girlfriend to the vet.
The first location we tried wouldn't have an opening until today and the other places we called all said they wouldn't be able to accommodate us. I then remembered of a place where we took one of Buffy's puppies years earlier when she was sick and had to be put down so we tried them and they were able to see us in 30 minutes. We all sighed in relief and drove down with Buffy bundled up in my brothers lap.
The vet nurse was able to get us in pretty quickly and while we filled out the paperwork needed they took our pup to the back to check her out and prepare her for the shot. The nurse came back out with Buffy in a blanket and laid her on the table.
"Take as long as you need and just knock on the door when you're ready to have the doctor come in," She said before leaving the room.
My brother and I surrounded our sick friend and ran our fingers through her hair and over her thin, fragile frame. Buffy made no noise whatsoever and we let her know how strong she was for fighting for so long when her body was telling her to give up. I leaned down close to her dry nose and whispered a promise to her.
"I promise that everything will be taken care of," I whispered. "I promise your puppy Squirt and brother Petey (my chihuahua she grew up with) would be taken care of as best to our ability."
Buffy only blinked.
"I promise that it's okay to go now. The house is okay and you've given us all all the love you possibly could. You don't have to hold on anymore and can sleep in peace." My words were cut periodically by a loss of breath as tears rolled down my and my brothers face and with one last kiss on the head I knocked on the door.
The doctor came in and explained what was going to happen and then began to the process with our consent. My brother held his hand on Buffy's side and I fondled her neck while the pink medication was slowly being pushed into her IV. I couldn't do anything except kneel down and cry by her head on the table and watch her side rise and fall, slower and slower, until it completely stopped. The doctor left the room and said we could stay as long as we'd like so we did.
We pet Buffy one last time and nuzzled the top of her head while recalling memories we had of her growing up. We found ourselves laughing and smiling again and received the closure we and our friend needed. When it was all over they took her to the back for cremation and we made our way home to tell the rest of the family who were all waiting with bated breaths. Some of the details were too hard to hear but everyone felt a happy easiness knowing Buffy wasn't suffering in her old age anymore. Everyone went on with their day and I went to work but there was an ore of quiet sadness that filled our hearts and our home and even today, one day after allowing our old buddy to rest in peace, I can't help but feel like a part of me is missing. Maybe it's the piece of my heart that Buffy took with her.
I have one photo of her as she was laying in my room sleeping that no one has seen. I don't think it's the time to show anyone and honestly I don't think it'll ever be that time but it's the only photo I have of her immediately at hand and I can't bare to see it or her disappear.
So this is how I remember her: Young and full of curiosity.
It started a few weeks ago when I noticed that Buffy, my oldest and first ever family dog, was becoming increasingly thin. Buffy was a small English Cocker Spaniel that I've had for 14 years and who was growing increasingly old the more each day went on. My siblings and I all knew that it was only a matter of time before she got really sick and we'd have to deal with the inevitable. Knowing she was pushing the max age for Spaniels (12-15 years old) I was preparing for the worst while dealing with my own personal growing pains and two nights ago the worst knocked on my door.
I came home and found Buffy laying under the pool table in the backyard and something told me to check on her. I got closer and saw that she had a fluid leaking from her snout or mouth area and I instantly called my partner in a panic before he agreed to meet me at the house ASAP. We thought it might have been a reaction from the warm weather and so I gently wet her neck and placed a cold towel on her head but she was unresponsive. When my partner arrived me took her into my room and saw she was barely awake. We then took her to his mom's house to clean her up and decided that she if it was her last night then we'd make it as comfortable as possible for her so that she can go easy. She hardly moved while we washed her and thought it would be best to bring her back to my place to be around familiar surroundings. The entire time I was broken inside and out. Like I said, she was my first puppy and she had been with us through everything and the thought of losing her was a notion I knew was inevitable but still incredibly painful.
I stayed up with her the entire night from Thursday to Friday and tended to her every need. Every time she slipped off her bed in a weak attempt to get up I picked her up in my arms and placed her back on the sheets. When she got sick I cleaned her up and during her dizzy spells I calmed her down with my touch to let her know she wasn't alone. At around 8AM Friday morning the both of us were able to finally get about an hour of solid sleep.
Prior to this I was told that my brother would be taking her to the vet to be put down and during my sleepless night I wondered if it was something I would be able to be present for. It wasn't up until I loaded her into the backseat of my car that I decided to go with him and his girlfriend to the vet.
The first location we tried wouldn't have an opening until today and the other places we called all said they wouldn't be able to accommodate us. I then remembered of a place where we took one of Buffy's puppies years earlier when she was sick and had to be put down so we tried them and they were able to see us in 30 minutes. We all sighed in relief and drove down with Buffy bundled up in my brothers lap.
The vet nurse was able to get us in pretty quickly and while we filled out the paperwork needed they took our pup to the back to check her out and prepare her for the shot. The nurse came back out with Buffy in a blanket and laid her on the table.
"Take as long as you need and just knock on the door when you're ready to have the doctor come in," She said before leaving the room.
My brother and I surrounded our sick friend and ran our fingers through her hair and over her thin, fragile frame. Buffy made no noise whatsoever and we let her know how strong she was for fighting for so long when her body was telling her to give up. I leaned down close to her dry nose and whispered a promise to her.
"I promise that everything will be taken care of," I whispered. "I promise your puppy Squirt and brother Petey (my chihuahua she grew up with) would be taken care of as best to our ability."
Buffy only blinked.
"I promise that it's okay to go now. The house is okay and you've given us all all the love you possibly could. You don't have to hold on anymore and can sleep in peace." My words were cut periodically by a loss of breath as tears rolled down my and my brothers face and with one last kiss on the head I knocked on the door.
The doctor came in and explained what was going to happen and then began to the process with our consent. My brother held his hand on Buffy's side and I fondled her neck while the pink medication was slowly being pushed into her IV. I couldn't do anything except kneel down and cry by her head on the table and watch her side rise and fall, slower and slower, until it completely stopped. The doctor left the room and said we could stay as long as we'd like so we did.
We pet Buffy one last time and nuzzled the top of her head while recalling memories we had of her growing up. We found ourselves laughing and smiling again and received the closure we and our friend needed. When it was all over they took her to the back for cremation and we made our way home to tell the rest of the family who were all waiting with bated breaths. Some of the details were too hard to hear but everyone felt a happy easiness knowing Buffy wasn't suffering in her old age anymore. Everyone went on with their day and I went to work but there was an ore of quiet sadness that filled our hearts and our home and even today, one day after allowing our old buddy to rest in peace, I can't help but feel like a part of me is missing. Maybe it's the piece of my heart that Buffy took with her.
I have one photo of her as she was laying in my room sleeping that no one has seen. I don't think it's the time to show anyone and honestly I don't think it'll ever be that time but it's the only photo I have of her immediately at hand and I can't bare to see it or her disappear.
So this is how I remember her: Young and full of curiosity.
Good night, little girl!
R,I.P.
Buffy
2001 - 2015
Friday, July 17, 2015
Fulfilling quickie...
I'm going back to work! I received a text and call from my boss asking if I wanted to start today. Just as I posted that previous entry last night, I feel partially whole again! I don't care if that's an oxymoron! Not only that but my diploma finally came in!
Not feeling like myself anymore...
I've been out of work since June 30th and I don't feel like myself anymore. I dealt with being on an "extended vacation" and managed to get some other things done but not having a job has really turned me into a different person and I'm not sure I enjoy it too much. I sleep for hours at a time after I have initially woken up in the morning. I eat constantly. Mostly nibbling on things like chips and candy and drinking excessive amounts of sugary drinks. I knew beforehand that being able to show up to work and trying my hardest was what gave me part of my identity but good lord... I never knew just hot much it played into my day to day emotional state. Sure, it was nice at first to have some days off but nearly a month of being away from the office and my students has put me in a place I'm not too happy about. And even though I'm surrounded by family and friends who I can reach out to I can't help but feel like something big is missing and it leaves me feeling completely alone. I'm not saying I'm going down another emotional spiral into "whoa is me" territory but I can't help but feel like I've lost something that made me equal or at least on the same platform as the rest of the world. I hope this issue is resolved soon so that I can find the piece that's missing from my soul.
XO.
XO.
Saturday, July 11, 2015
Last night I had a panic attack.
It was almost four in the morning when I shot out of bed and started to freak out for no apparent reason. I recognized the feeling as I've had one attack before that was induced by chemicals I'd taken so I was aware of what was happening. What I didn't know was how strong the attack came about and how quickly. The thing about panic attacks is that while your body might become overrun by adrenaline there's nothing or no one you can really fight off in order to make the feeling pass. You're your own trigger. Knowing this I tried to stay as calm as possible but the wave of tingling goosebumps that washed over my head and the tightness in my throat caught me off guard and I was soon running into the main house and B-lining for the kitchen for water. The feeling began to pass but I knew I still had to do something to calm myself down even more so I locked myself in the restroom and called the first number I saw. Unfortunately he was working so I tried the next one and my former coworker actually picked up. I told her that I needed someone to talk to because I was sure I was having a panic attack and she was more than willing to help me out at 4 in the morning.
If you've never had a panic attack before then there's no point in trying to explain what it feels like because it's like nothing you've ever felt before. The first one I had wasn't this exaggerated yet this one lasted for a much shorter time. But, for thee sake of this entry let me try to paint a picture:
Having a panic attack feels like the most foreign feeling you've ever felt. It starts off with your heart kick starting into overdrive for no apparent reason. You start to feel it beating in your chest and instantly wonder if this is the moment when you will drop dead. It doesn't matter who you are or how many attacks you've had, that initial feeling of "is this going to be the one that takes me out?" is the most horrifying thing you can ever feel. You don't know if you're going to drop then and there. But then you start to flip through the Rolodex of information in your mind and begin to feel a little better when you realize you're not having the typical signs of a heart attack and stop there or else you'll misdiagnose yourself with some other illness and make yourself worse. So I try to relax and think about anything else and slow my breathing as to not make my heart work any harder but then the spikes of smaller attacks come on until I actually dump the glass of cold water down my throat. That's when I really start to breathe again and my throat loosens up enough to feel comfortable. You know that even though you're talking to yourself in an attempt to get your mind on something else you're aware that you need just a little more help. You call the person who can help you take your mind away from the hyper awareness you have of your body and luckily they answer and just like that, as soon as you open your mouth to speak, the panic attack starts to cease. Do you breathe a sigh of relief? Sure, for a little bit but you're still paying attention to the feeling in your chest to make sure it doesn't escalate again. Your throat opens and closes a few more times but you know that the feeling is passing. It doesn't matter how much adrenaline is flowing in your system, do not try to fight the feelings from coming on because you will only make it worse. I've come to find that if you start to suspect that something is wrong then your head will make the situation all the worse for you. So go through it and ride it out as best you can but whatever you do, don't think or expect the feeling to get worse because it will. What now? Standing is uncomfortable because your legs and feet are still tingling and somewhat numb yet the action of lowering yourself to sit down makes your head spin and your heart start to race again though not as badly as before. You close your eyes for a minute so that you don't get motion sickness and force your mind back off the feeling in your chest. Avoid the temptation to get up and move around. Control your trembling hands and take a breath and after a few minutes you're feeling good enough to apologize to your friend for waking her at 4AM and thank her nonstop for her time and for the help and you get back into bed.
That's what it's like to have a panic attack but, you know, worse because reading this doesn't compare to actually going through it.
XO.
If you've never had a panic attack before then there's no point in trying to explain what it feels like because it's like nothing you've ever felt before. The first one I had wasn't this exaggerated yet this one lasted for a much shorter time. But, for thee sake of this entry let me try to paint a picture:
Having a panic attack feels like the most foreign feeling you've ever felt. It starts off with your heart kick starting into overdrive for no apparent reason. You start to feel it beating in your chest and instantly wonder if this is the moment when you will drop dead. It doesn't matter who you are or how many attacks you've had, that initial feeling of "is this going to be the one that takes me out?" is the most horrifying thing you can ever feel. You don't know if you're going to drop then and there. But then you start to flip through the Rolodex of information in your mind and begin to feel a little better when you realize you're not having the typical signs of a heart attack and stop there or else you'll misdiagnose yourself with some other illness and make yourself worse. So I try to relax and think about anything else and slow my breathing as to not make my heart work any harder but then the spikes of smaller attacks come on until I actually dump the glass of cold water down my throat. That's when I really start to breathe again and my throat loosens up enough to feel comfortable. You know that even though you're talking to yourself in an attempt to get your mind on something else you're aware that you need just a little more help. You call the person who can help you take your mind away from the hyper awareness you have of your body and luckily they answer and just like that, as soon as you open your mouth to speak, the panic attack starts to cease. Do you breathe a sigh of relief? Sure, for a little bit but you're still paying attention to the feeling in your chest to make sure it doesn't escalate again. Your throat opens and closes a few more times but you know that the feeling is passing. It doesn't matter how much adrenaline is flowing in your system, do not try to fight the feelings from coming on because you will only make it worse. I've come to find that if you start to suspect that something is wrong then your head will make the situation all the worse for you. So go through it and ride it out as best you can but whatever you do, don't think or expect the feeling to get worse because it will. What now? Standing is uncomfortable because your legs and feet are still tingling and somewhat numb yet the action of lowering yourself to sit down makes your head spin and your heart start to race again though not as badly as before. You close your eyes for a minute so that you don't get motion sickness and force your mind back off the feeling in your chest. Avoid the temptation to get up and move around. Control your trembling hands and take a breath and after a few minutes you're feeling good enough to apologize to your friend for waking her at 4AM and thank her nonstop for her time and for the help and you get back into bed.
That's what it's like to have a panic attack but, you know, worse because reading this doesn't compare to actually going through it.
XO.
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