43

Published on by A Girl & Her Wolves

I turned 43 last week. I had a meltdown. On my birthday. I have to keep the reason why private because it’s being investigated but yeah, I had a meldown on my birthday.

Then my baby got spayed yesterday and also had a hernia removed.

She looks like a lamp. I ordered her a onesie so she doesn’t have to wear the cone and still avoid licking her stitches. She finally ate and drank water today and let me give her medicine.

We’re also moving tomorrow. We’ll be living with a family in a room in their basement until we get our housing situation figured out (long story). The plan is to stay there until January when a friend of ours is allowing us to stay in their basement about an hour or so away. The house sits on a a half acre and fenced in so the dogs can enjoy themselves. He also has 2 shepherds himself. I’m just ready to start over and get past the mess that’s going on with my life right now.

Butch will be seeing a behaviorist next weekend for his reactivity. Even though it’s gotten better – no more lunging – he still barks but walks away. But, I want him to start being social with other dogs to the extent where he can be around them and not feel like he has to herd them away from me. If I work on his reactivity with a trainer, he will be able to live with the 2 other shepherds in January. Also, the family we’ll be staying with temporarily also have a reactive dog.

I had to cancel my birthday trip to San Diego because of the shutdown. Also, I just didn’t feel like Freya would be ready to fly by then. I’m aiming for late January, early February to actually go. It won’t be tourist season and AirBnB’s will be cheaper.

So yeah, 43 is off to a half shitty/half okay start. I don’t remember a year when everything was actually going well.

It’s A Civic Duty

Published on by A Girl & Her Wolves

I’ve noticed that more people aren’t picking up after their dog’s shit. Why do these people think they’re too good to pick up after THEIR dog? They wanted a dog, they should commit to the responsibilities.

I was walking mine at 6 am this morning and it was dark. I stepped in shit and didn’t notice it until I was cleaning and putting things away. I’m pissed. They’re my comfy sneakers, too. Now my OCD is like “throw them away, buy a new pair.” But I’d rather use these shoes for shit stepping.

It’s a civic duty to fucking pick up after your dogs. If you can’t make that one 5 second effort to pick up your dog’s shit, then don’t have a dog. You’re making the rest of us dog owners look bad.

Not At Rockbottom, Yet.

Published on by A Girl & Her Wolves

I guess I should post on here because I’m paying for this. Well, it’s been a rollercoaster. There are good days and there are bad days. Mostly bad days. My anxiety is getting worse by the day. A few days ago, I was walking the dogs and there were just too many things going on outside, dogs barking, people showing up because it was a Friday and everyone wanted to chill with their friends. Usually, that wouldn’t trigger me but that day, it did. I couldn’t breathe, I had to stop walking and everything got so confusing. I don’t know how I made it back. All I know is that I’m thankful I had my dogs with me. They were probably the ones who walked me back home.

When I got back, I collapsed into the bed and just cried for maybe 15 minutes. It was the kind of cry that hurt – it was like all the insane, fucked up shit that I’ve been through just all got tangled up into the size of a dodgeball and just hit me in the gut.

I honestly don’t know anything anymore. I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing with my life anymore either. I’m just waiting for a stroke of luck that could possibly change my life a little better. But I’m not holding my breath. I just want to get out of this nightmare.

Yes, I’m still in therapy and I don’t even know if there’s any progress. It’s nice to talk to someone who can make me look at things in a different perspective. I like her anyway and I know that therapy isn’t an instant remedy. It takes time. And I’m still at the point where I’m trying to figure out why I am the way I am. I’m trying to learn how to cope with stress and how to try to not let my depression drain the life out of me. Because, lately, the stress and the depression has been slowly taking over my whole life.

I’ll try to post as often as I can. I wish I had better things to share. But, nope. Sorry about that, guys.

Seasonal Affective Disorder

Published on by A Girl & Her Wolves

It’s that time of the year again when my depression takes over and cripples me. I always dread the beginning of September because that’s when I know the gloomy days are ahead. Even though I don’t mind it getting dark earlier, it does something to my brain.

Lately I’ve been so down and feeling defeated. My life is falling apart and I’ve just about given up on trying to pick up the pieces. Sometimes I feel like it’s not even worth it when something else comes along to destroy what little effort I’ve put in.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m trying. I really am. But I suck at coping with stress and every day life issues. When something goes wrong, I feel helpless. I’m close to having a psychotic break.

My depression has defined me. I feel like such a burden to everyone because I’m always angry and bitter. Like who the fuck wants to be around that shit, you know? And with the season changing, any hope I have left just diminishes.

Most of the time I feel lonely. There’s no one in this world who gets me. I keep all my emotions bottled up because no one wants to keep hearing about my depression. All I have to talk to is my therapist but she’s paid to do that. I can’t talk to anyone about my depression because it’s dark and well – depressing. I can’t find reasons to want to wake up every morning.

I wake up anxious all the time. I question my existence, my purpose. Do I even have a purpose other than being a mother and caretakers to my 7 animals? I can’t make myself look forward to anything. Even my upcoming trip is stressing me out because what if Freya doesn’t do well on the plane? A part of me just wants to cancel the trip and take the loss.

Fear is also a big part of my daily life. I’m scared of the fact that one day I would finally put an end to my misery. I’m insecure about my future. I have no stability in my life. I’m terrified that this is how it’s always going to be for the rest of my life and everyday, I wish I were dead.

I know. Dark.

I don’t find any sense to keep going when there’s no end result in sight. There’s no light at the end of the tunnel. My tunnel is just an infinity black hole waiting for me to walk through and then swallow me whole.

When all these intrusive thoughts dominate my mind, I can’t stop them. It makes my anxiety worse. I overthink. I come up with worst case scenarios of events that haven’t happened. Instead of living in the present, I dread about the future knowing that I don’t even know what’s out there for me.

I’m 42 years old and I feel like I have accomplished little – almost close to nothing. Everyone around me seems like they’ve got their shit together and I’m still playing catch up. I’ve been playing catch up for decades now and no matter what I do, I’m always 10 steps behind. The things I want for myself are out of reach and unattainable. Nothing good ever happens to me.

I don’t know what I want anymore. I run on autopilot. I do what I need to do without any joy in it. I feel like running away from everyone because I don’t want to be a problem anymore. I want people to stop worrying about me – if there is even anyone who does.

I just want to disappear.

Perks

Published on by A Girl & Her Wolves

I have been preparing for my upcoming San Diego trip and the most important thing is to make sure that Freya will be comfortable on the plane. So I reached out to the airline to find out my options for her to be comfortable.

So, I got an upgrade to Premium Class and Priority Boarding. Woot!