I'm tied to you like the buttons on your blouse.
I'm really sad that it took losing Tango to start journaling again. God. Everytime I write that, I cry. It's funny. I'll have long periods of time where I'll feel like I'm perfectly fine, and then something small and insignificant will happen and I'll lose it and start. crying all over again. I still have his bed on the floor. I refuse to move it. I physically can't. That was his place. His security spot. I didn't even have to be back here for him to want to lay on it. Of course, the dog was more spoiled than I've ever been. I made him a bed out of soft material, then I gave him a couple of blankets to nest up, a feather pillow that he adored and that is so fat and fluffy he could just sink into, and then a normal pillow. And when the weather was cold, I'd turn on the space heater for him and set it behind his bed. He would place his little butt right in front of it before I moved his bed by it. And he use to tell me to turn it on for him. He'd come over to where I was sitting and lead me back to my room then sit in front of the heater. Once I turned it on, he'd lay down and sleep. He'd wake me up to do that too. He use to ask for pain medicine, too. He knew where we kept it and he'd lead me over to that cabinet and do his little "I'm so excited and cute that you have to give me what I want" dance. I know he was after that and not treats, because he had to bypass the pantry, where he would go if he wanted treats, and go to that cabinet. He was such a smart boy.
God I miss him so much. I'm ready for my heart to stop hurting.
Bridgeway is hiring again. If I could find out whether or not my old boss was there, I'd jump at the chance to go back. If she wasn't there that is. I don't want to start putting up with her bullshit again. But man did I love that job.
I've been sequestering myself in my room. I know it's not healthy, but I can't help it. I'm so tired all the time, and leaving the house is so HARD. It's just easier to...not go. To just lay here and not worry about getting up. I don't smile very much anymore. I don't laugh much anymore. And I hardly speak to anyone when I'm home. I haven't been like this for a long, long time. I just don't have the heart, or the energy, to bother anymore. Sometimes I miss having my dad tell me to shut up, but mostly, I just don't care. Oh, out in public I can respond and pretend everything is fine. I don't need the world getting scared of me again because of my depression. But at home, where I don't have to care...I just don't. Why bother?
A lot of people use pets as therapy for their depression and whatnot. I think unconciously, Tango and I worked that out together. He gave me a reason to move when I felt so boggeHe gwn that the idea of it made me ill. He didn't push me or come across harsh the way my parents tend to do, but he demanded my attention. He gave me something else to focus on when I really needed it. I didn't truly realize how much I relied on that dog until I lost him. He really aided in pulling me out of my slumps. He was so much more helpful that people ever are. With people, you can tell what they're up to when they talk to you. They have a false sort of forced cheerfulness to their tone, or their tone will have a light, airy quality to it. They look at you differently. I never had to worry about that with him. I could vent everything to him without worrying that smoeone would freak out and think I was going to kill myself. Most people associate depression and suicide and can't understand that not all depressed people feel the need to take that road. I really hope that one day I can recover from that stupid fuck up of a college and what they did to me. I really, really do. I don't get upset about it unless I talk/think about it. I suppose that's normal though, after what they did. You know, from sixth grade on I did not have a positive school experience. Middle school was hell, high school was slightly less hellish, but it had it's moments, and college...well...I haven't even completed an associates degree, I've had bad luck with schools.
I'm starting to realize how much he helped me with my depression, just by being there and by letting me hold him, cry on him, talk to him and by his needing me and wanting me to do things for him. It made a huge difference in my life. He gave me something that I could never give myself. And I have no idea how to make anyone understand this, since most people aren't so codependent on their pets.
After he died, I was drying his body off with a towel so we could bury him. I just sort of cradled him for a minute while he was wrapped in a towel. My mom said "Don't get weird about this". I hardly see how it was weird, but maybe, because he was "just a dog" not everyone sees it that way. How do you make people understand how crucial something like a dog can be to your life? How do you make them understand that they can provide more than therapy or medication ever can on their own? I'm not eloquent enough to ever verbally convey that. I'm a terrible speaker. My mind works faster than my tongue and it comes out all wrong. Add in the human element, and it makes for a terrible mess. I probably sound crazy to a lot of people. I can't let them into my head to feel what it feels like, or to experience the difference it can make to have something NEED you when you feel like the most needless being on the planet. It's huge to have something that needs you when the rest of the world doesn't.
But to try and say that to someone, face to face, without feeling foolish? That's a hurdle that's so hard to jump, I don't know if I ever will be able to. It's something I've just now been able to explain to myself. It was a revelation I think I've always somewhat known somewhere in the back of my mind but never fully acknowledged. It's shocking to openly realize something like that. He truly was my lifeline. I owe him far more than I'll ever be able to say.
God I miss him so much. I'm ready for my heart to stop hurting.
Bridgeway is hiring again. If I could find out whether or not my old boss was there, I'd jump at the chance to go back. If she wasn't there that is. I don't want to start putting up with her bullshit again. But man did I love that job.
I've been sequestering myself in my room. I know it's not healthy, but I can't help it. I'm so tired all the time, and leaving the house is so HARD. It's just easier to...not go. To just lay here and not worry about getting up. I don't smile very much anymore. I don't laugh much anymore. And I hardly speak to anyone when I'm home. I haven't been like this for a long, long time. I just don't have the heart, or the energy, to bother anymore. Sometimes I miss having my dad tell me to shut up, but mostly, I just don't care. Oh, out in public I can respond and pretend everything is fine. I don't need the world getting scared of me again because of my depression. But at home, where I don't have to care...I just don't. Why bother?
A lot of people use pets as therapy for their depression and whatnot. I think unconciously, Tango and I worked that out together. He gave me a reason to move when I felt so boggeHe gwn that the idea of it made me ill. He didn't push me or come across harsh the way my parents tend to do, but he demanded my attention. He gave me something else to focus on when I really needed it. I didn't truly realize how much I relied on that dog until I lost him. He really aided in pulling me out of my slumps. He was so much more helpful that people ever are. With people, you can tell what they're up to when they talk to you. They have a false sort of forced cheerfulness to their tone, or their tone will have a light, airy quality to it. They look at you differently. I never had to worry about that with him. I could vent everything to him without worrying that smoeone would freak out and think I was going to kill myself. Most people associate depression and suicide and can't understand that not all depressed people feel the need to take that road. I really hope that one day I can recover from that stupid fuck up of a college and what they did to me. I really, really do. I don't get upset about it unless I talk/think about it. I suppose that's normal though, after what they did. You know, from sixth grade on I did not have a positive school experience. Middle school was hell, high school was slightly less hellish, but it had it's moments, and college...well...I haven't even completed an associates degree, I've had bad luck with schools.
I'm starting to realize how much he helped me with my depression, just by being there and by letting me hold him, cry on him, talk to him and by his needing me and wanting me to do things for him. It made a huge difference in my life. He gave me something that I could never give myself. And I have no idea how to make anyone understand this, since most people aren't so codependent on their pets.
After he died, I was drying his body off with a towel so we could bury him. I just sort of cradled him for a minute while he was wrapped in a towel. My mom said "Don't get weird about this". I hardly see how it was weird, but maybe, because he was "just a dog" not everyone sees it that way. How do you make people understand how crucial something like a dog can be to your life? How do you make them understand that they can provide more than therapy or medication ever can on their own? I'm not eloquent enough to ever verbally convey that. I'm a terrible speaker. My mind works faster than my tongue and it comes out all wrong. Add in the human element, and it makes for a terrible mess. I probably sound crazy to a lot of people. I can't let them into my head to feel what it feels like, or to experience the difference it can make to have something NEED you when you feel like the most needless being on the planet. It's huge to have something that needs you when the rest of the world doesn't.
But to try and say that to someone, face to face, without feeling foolish? That's a hurdle that's so hard to jump, I don't know if I ever will be able to. It's something I've just now been able to explain to myself. It was a revelation I think I've always somewhat known somewhere in the back of my mind but never fully acknowledged. It's shocking to openly realize something like that. He truly was my lifeline. I owe him far more than I'll ever be able to say.