Having An Existential Crisis
I’m sitting at the gate at the airport waiting to board my flight to San Diego. I’ve been planning this trip forever and I’m just so excited to finally go. It’s been almost 3 years since I’ve gone.
I brought my Canon and my 3 lenses so I’ll be able to take really great pictures of the places I’ve saved on my Google Maps. The zoo is on that list and I finally get to see a polar bear. A. POLAR. BEAR.
This is my first time traveling solo for fun. The best part is that no one is hijacking my week with their random itineraries. However, my aunt found me a playmate who will go everywhere with me bevause apparently, I need a friend while I’m there. No big deal. It’d be nice to have someone to talk to while I’m driving.
Surprisingly, I’m not having a panic attack right now. I was really worried about having one while traveling alone. But, I did take my Xanax. I plan to nap hard on the plane.
Here are the places I’ll be visiting in no particular order.
Please don’t stalk me.
Stay tuned for pictures by the end of the week or next week.
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.
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.
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.
