I miss my dog

 We had to put my dog down due to a condition called “bloat”, where their stomach twists and cuts off circulation and digestion.

My partner and I went on vacation a short while ago, and when we got back I went to pick my dog up from the boarders.  For context, my dog was a large mix breed, about 130 pounds, and he was about 10 years old.  I don’t believe the boarders did anything wrong, this is just something that can happen to big dogs.

When I got there to pick him up, they told me my boy wasn’t wanting to eat or stand up.  I went back to see what was going on, and his belly was very distended.  I called ahead to the vet and got him there as fast as possible.  The vet confirmed my fears: it’s bloat, he probably wouldn’t survive even if we operate.  Even if he did survive then he’d have months of misery recovering from it.  I made the call to let him go.

They got some pain meds in him.  My partner was able to get there, and we both spent a while just telling him how good he is, and how much we love him.  We sat with him as the vet helped him pass on.

I wish I’d known that week was his last.  I’d never have left him.  I wish he was still here looking at me when I stand up to take a break from work.  I wish he was at the top of the stairs when one of us comes home.

I miss my dog.

Origin

In his mind, he builds a straw man,

to shout his angst, and knock it down.

To take the edge off loneliness again,

because the cause and solution is not around.

There was a time when their hands entwined,

and they whispered their souls into the dark,

air kissed with perfume, breath full of red wine,

discovery, excitement everywhere they embarked.

One fateful day, his adoring eyes fell

on a lapse somewhere deep in her pensive gaze.

A forced smile, or a silence long held

weaved doubt into his carefree days.

Doubt grew to be worry, and soured to regret,

not for her disdain, but for his own love.

There was no way to fight it; you get what you get,

and he gave so much more for a glance from above.

Thus the phrase came about, awful, yet true:

"The person who cares most will always lose."

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I wrote this while I was feeling down, and I don't necessarily believe every word as I sit here now.  I do think that there's an inherent risk to loving someone; there's always the possibility that it won't be reciprocated, and that is one of the most painful parts of the human experience.  I'm fine right now, though, so don't mistake this little bit of doom and gloom for anything more than the product of a shitty night.

-RAD

What I Feel

Not depressed. That's a decent start, considering the past few months. Not good either right now, because I've started worrying about something I can't change. I've been taught several tricks to stop myself, and they work well in slaying my mental dragons. This concern is a strong one, because it deals with my relationship with Erin.

Some of you know about Erin, others don't. What you need to know is that she's an amazing person, and I care very deeply for her. I fear losing her, I fear that I don't really have her to begin with. I fear, which is not common for me. I often feel worried, I often feel anxious, but I don't often feel afraid.

The cure for this is to redirect my thoughts elsewhere. That's a challenge, because I like thinking about her, but I've recognized with the help of some therapy that there's a line these thoughts can cross from helpful to harmful. I've crossed that line, and so I redirect. The method by which I do so doesn't matter; there are many ways.

A harmful thought pattern can be derailed and replaced forcibly by one's internal monologue. I find a better method is to do an activity which requires thought and planning. Creating something, solving a puzzle, rather than allowing my mind to run circles in an unwinnable maze. A redirect can be something as simple as a blog post.

Now that I'm feeling better, I think I'll go play games for a while. Thanks for your help.

-RAD

Progress

I've been feeling pretty bad about myself for a month or two, with no good reason. That changed a little last night when I was called to do an impromptu speech for a large group of Toastmasters leaders and organizers. For a few minutes, I had control of that room full of very talented speakers, and I held their attention and made them laugh. I came out of that room feeling powerful, something I haven't felt in a while. People cared about what I had to say, and enjoyed my ideas.

I know why I've been as low as I have: it's partially because I feel I don't get enough positive attention from someone I care a lot about, and that makes me feel like a failure. It's also because I have anxiety, and that feeds into my need for validation from others, particularly the aforementioned individual. It's not her fault that I feel this way; I feel it because I get my self-esteem from interaction with others, and I've probably expected too much from her.

Last night made me feel hopeful again. It made me feel powerful. It made me feel all the things that I am and should be: competent, funny, intelligent, empathetic, and above all, confident. I need to hold onto that feeling of self-assurance so that I can more effectively spread positivity to others rather than negativity. I'm going to seek out more projects and experiences that bolster my view of myself, because only then can I share happiness with others.

Resolution

In previous years, I've shied away from making new year's resolutions. I feel that they limit a person by making their goals too narrow. You can't cram a year's worth of growth and joy and pain into a paragraph. Suffice it to say, my resolution will not be my only aspiration for 2015, but it is an important one. 

I'm going to cook more, sleep more, be healthier, all those cliché things that everyone wants to do. I fully intend to accomplish better physical wellness in 2015. The real focus of my resolution, however, is mental health. I know I've got some problems. They're not anything that makes me a danger to myself or anyone else, or I'd have handled them long ago. They do make it very difficult to be happy being me at times, though, and that's an issue. I should be happy. I'm a decent person who knows how to do a lot of things, and does them well. I help others whenever I'm able.  I should feel good about being me. 

That's my goal: I want to learn to be happy in a room by myself. I want to look in the mirror and see my strengths, not my shortcomings. I want to overwhelm anxiety and sadness with self-worth and joy. The first step on that road is to talk to a therapist. I've avoided it like the plague until now, but it needs to happen. To hell with the consequences. By the end of 2015, I will be a much happier person, no matter what it takes. 

This is not to say that I'm never content. I'm happy any time I've got something or someone occupying my mind externally. It's not possible to distract yourself all the time, though; sooner or later, you will listen and hear only your own thoughts. I'm going to learn to accept that.  

Question

I dug this up and edited it because I was bored. I don't remember exactly when I wrote it. Sometime over the summer. It turned out pretty decent! 

Out of sight and out of mind,

I sit and half-escape into

some gripping tale, or pictures kind

which hide your face from view.

I find some solace in my flight

away from time and memory,

and thoughts of you, for any might

awaken loneliness in me.

All stories end, and fantasies

are crushed beneath the weight of all.

My thoughts turn back to you and me,

and I am forced to face my fall.

I said I'm yours, and you agreed.

I fear that I have been remiss;

you never have belonged to me,

nor been as thirsty for my kiss.

Now I sit and wonder when

I'll have the courage to defect,

knowing I cannot defend

against your impish smile's effect.

Knowing that I'll love you still,

realizing that I'll hurt within,

I see now that this fate is ill,

and either way, I cannot win.

Are solitude and one more scar

less painful than to hear the lie

that you are mine, then seek your star,

and find only an empty sky?

When you tell someone what a relationship should feel like, or what it should be, what do you say? How do you clearly define or describe something that's different for everyone? I took a stab at it a while back, by saying "a relationship is two people who want to be close to one another mentally, emotionally, and physically, making that desire a reality as often as they both want to".

You call when you want to hear their voice. You make plans to meet when you want to see them. Sometimes you lay in bed, side by side, and fend off the cold and dark together, as people have done for centuries.

I sat at home Friday night for a good reason. I stayed up til 3 AM next to my phone for a good reason. It didn't ring until the next day for a good reason. I walked away from dinner that night feeling confused for what I hope is also a good reason. I sat at home again and again the next two nights for some reason. Today, thinking about it stings. It remains to be seen whether that's for a good reason or no reason at all. I hope for the latter.

Guess we'll see.