(no subject)
With as often as I don't post, there are times I think I should just delete my journals and move on. And yet, there's still a part of me that hangs on. Blogging is familiar, comforting. Kept me sane when my life wasn't sane at all. Was an outlet for those times when I had any measure of creativity at all. Was a place for me to share when I felt I needed to share; about life, the cats, my experiences.
I haven't been on in a while, not necessarily because I no longer wish to be here, but because a lot of things were moving around, both inside myself and in the world I live in. Some of it is still moving; still shifting.
Right now, other than a light headache that will go away as soon as I have the wit to go and take an allergy pill, I have no complaints. I'm still finding my compass, but my life is going well enough.
Ironically, my new job (I switched jobs in June, for those who missed that) is actually the ex's old one, and is also the job that got me into the door of the hospital in the first place fifteen years ago. Other than being able to share a view of the woman that others never saw, my boss and I get along very well. She's glad to have me; I'm glad to be in a position where I no longer dread going to work, or being lamblasted(SP) for doing my job...or having to fight just to get a few days off.
In truth, the woman has worked very hard to ensure I won't lose any of my hard earned PTO this year, to the point that I am actually off more days this month than I am in the office. It's pretty disconcerting. Some part of me feels it might be a reward of sorts for having put up with so much wrong in my life before. That could be my ego talking, but you know what? I'm going to indulge that. I've crawled in the dust of shame and hurt long enough, thanks.
I seriously doubt I mentioned this here (or I did and forgot; like I said, haven't been here in a while, and haven't really been paying attention), but I had to send Lucy on over the rainbow bridge a few months ago. The abuses to her health had finally caught up with her, and even though she still ate, drank, and loved anyone who got in range of her with a strength you can only attribute to the tensile strength of Velcro, she was also waking herself up crying, not sure of where she was until I'd call to her, she was weak and shaky when she walked (which the arthritis in her hips did nothing to help), and she could no longer tell where the end of the litter box and the beginning of the floor was. When I took her in after a long night of keeping her locked in the bathroom due to...well...messy bowel movements, I was pretty much told all the good I had managed to do was undone again; her blood levels were worse than when I had brought her in, fresh from animal control, and the only way to keep her steady was with daily subcu drips, and extensive dialysis treatments. Some may not agree with my decision then, but I decided that she didn't need that kind of torture; she'd been through enough it was time to let her go home, while she was still somewhat happy.
She went to sleep in my arms, content, purring, and at peace. Hopefully with very little comparative pain. Her ashes, along with Shiea's and Shiimi's, will make that last trip to dad's back yard when I go to see him early next year. Until then, her cat shaped urn, which has managed to have a face shaped like hers, stands guard on the end table next to the front door. I still rub its ears, in case she can feel it.
There's been a lot of bad news in the world lately; I won't say much about it here, because other people have said much more, and with better grace. I've done my mourning, and I will keep my comments to hoping that tomorrow will not find too many people succumbing to the whole 12/21 thing. We've had our fill of madness for the year; let the powers that be deem it more than enough and let the day, and the rest of the year, pass as peacefully as human nature can allow.
Stay safe; please have a peaceful and beautiful holiday.
I haven't been on in a while, not necessarily because I no longer wish to be here, but because a lot of things were moving around, both inside myself and in the world I live in. Some of it is still moving; still shifting.
Right now, other than a light headache that will go away as soon as I have the wit to go and take an allergy pill, I have no complaints. I'm still finding my compass, but my life is going well enough.
Ironically, my new job (I switched jobs in June, for those who missed that) is actually the ex's old one, and is also the job that got me into the door of the hospital in the first place fifteen years ago. Other than being able to share a view of the woman that others never saw, my boss and I get along very well. She's glad to have me; I'm glad to be in a position where I no longer dread going to work, or being lamblasted(SP) for doing my job...or having to fight just to get a few days off.
In truth, the woman has worked very hard to ensure I won't lose any of my hard earned PTO this year, to the point that I am actually off more days this month than I am in the office. It's pretty disconcerting. Some part of me feels it might be a reward of sorts for having put up with so much wrong in my life before. That could be my ego talking, but you know what? I'm going to indulge that. I've crawled in the dust of shame and hurt long enough, thanks.
I seriously doubt I mentioned this here (or I did and forgot; like I said, haven't been here in a while, and haven't really been paying attention), but I had to send Lucy on over the rainbow bridge a few months ago. The abuses to her health had finally caught up with her, and even though she still ate, drank, and loved anyone who got in range of her with a strength you can only attribute to the tensile strength of Velcro, she was also waking herself up crying, not sure of where she was until I'd call to her, she was weak and shaky when she walked (which the arthritis in her hips did nothing to help), and she could no longer tell where the end of the litter box and the beginning of the floor was. When I took her in after a long night of keeping her locked in the bathroom due to...well...messy bowel movements, I was pretty much told all the good I had managed to do was undone again; her blood levels were worse than when I had brought her in, fresh from animal control, and the only way to keep her steady was with daily subcu drips, and extensive dialysis treatments. Some may not agree with my decision then, but I decided that she didn't need that kind of torture; she'd been through enough it was time to let her go home, while she was still somewhat happy.
She went to sleep in my arms, content, purring, and at peace. Hopefully with very little comparative pain. Her ashes, along with Shiea's and Shiimi's, will make that last trip to dad's back yard when I go to see him early next year. Until then, her cat shaped urn, which has managed to have a face shaped like hers, stands guard on the end table next to the front door. I still rub its ears, in case she can feel it.
There's been a lot of bad news in the world lately; I won't say much about it here, because other people have said much more, and with better grace. I've done my mourning, and I will keep my comments to hoping that tomorrow will not find too many people succumbing to the whole 12/21 thing. We've had our fill of madness for the year; let the powers that be deem it more than enough and let the day, and the rest of the year, pass as peacefully as human nature can allow.
Stay safe; please have a peaceful and beautiful holiday.