Well, I hit bottom. About two weeks ago, I thought it couldn't get any worse. And then, my bank account got hacked for $600, when I really was pinching pennies. That seemed like a real annoyance. Bank forms, police report, late fees.... 100 days to recover lost monies.
But, something happened in the bank. Something inside me just 'snapped'. Sorta like it did before, only back the other direction. I felt centered, in control. Tired of being the victim. No one else was going to do anything about this. No one else gives a royal crap that I am in pain, and broke and spiraling down a dark abyss.
Don't get me wrong. I have family, loved ones, those that love me. But no one made such a big deal of all this pain that I was having besides me. And I was letting it consume me, almost literally.
See, I wasn't so much contemplating suicide as listing the ways I could NOT kill myself. I spent three days in this place, like a small shack on the edge of Hell. Treacherous cliffs, burns on my skin from the heat, and a triton in the corner, waiting for it's owner to come and shove me over the high side.
Then, I got hacked. SNAP. Done. I feel completely normal. No deep depression. A tune rolling around in my head over and over. I felt a healing in my bones. No shack, no dark burning abyss, no triton.
A few days later, my 12 year old dog collapsed. He died about 14 hours later. In my lap, in the parking lot at the vet clinic. Just died. After asking a few questions to my house mates about what they had seen in the last few days... it sounded like he had acute renal failure. My best mate, gone from my life. I was in tears for three days. No matter what I was doing, or what positive or negative conversations I was having, my eyes were full of tears and they rolled down my cheeks. Weeping for my lost, beautiful dog.
Don't get me wrong, this didn't put me back into the abyss. But it did give me a place to lay an enormous amount of grief. For patients lost, and partners lost, downed firemen, police and emts from a long past. Near misses, write ups, career shifts. I got to grieve a great deal. I saw, in my minds eye so many things that I got to let go of. Babies, kids, grannies, grampas, moms dads, and an assortment of those who died completely alone. And me. My broken armor and my broken heart. I got to grieve for me. For that I thank that smelly old dog dying in my arms.
And so I grieved. Deep and wide and long. My beautiful dog. Monster taught me more than I wanted to learn, or expected to learn from a dog.
Tomorrow will be two weeks. I don't like missing him. But when I do, I let myself weep, for a few minutes. But I am so fricken' tired of not flipping people shit, being a pain in the ass and generally making sure that I get my bite out of world. I am tired of being in charge of every body else's shit. I can't make it happen for you, I have tapped myself out. Get over it, I am healing.
I feel better, and that doesn't mean I will continue to feel better. But there are things I no longer have to deal with. I am tired of being a victim of my own brain.
So I did some house cleaning. Got rid of shit that was a burden, wasn't inspiring. I reconstructed several things here. Brought stuff in that makes me peaceful. I am done 'owing' strangers my life. My heart. My depth. My energy. I think my family could use more of that.
But first, it's me.