It's been quite a spring. There was the brain tumour, then there was the 20-year old cat who had a stroke, rallied, then quietly died 2.5 weeks later on the table at the vet's office while I sobbed and sobbed over her tiny, frail body.
2016 has been a bit...challenging.
what I'm finding pretty fascinating is that I seem to be handling it
all with a shocking amount of competency (for me, anyway). I'm not sure
if I'm just immune to trauma at this point, or if Therapist Lady was
onto something when she suggested I try EMDR a few years ago. I very
reluctantly agreed, and plowed my way through several agonizing sessions
from the summer of 2014 through to early 2015.
were unpleasant (understatement). But I felt calmer afterward - more
relaxed than I had been in years. So when disaster struck and I thought I
would lose My Beloved, my brain didn't implode; I didn't lose my mind. I
went to the specialist appointments, I went to the hospital, I waited
during the 3-hour surgery, I saw him lousy with tubes and hooked up to
monitors and leaking blood from that precious head. All the hospital
sounds, sights and smells - all those triggers.
And I didn't lose my mind.
did come close to having what I suspect would have been an epic anxiety
attack while we were in the pre-op waiting room just minutes before
they wheeled him into the operating room. But I dug deep into my bag of
"Calm the hell DOWN, Kristin!" tricks, remembered some breathing
exercises I could do without him noticing, and managed not to pass out,
throw up, or run screaming from the room.
I admit I'm
bone tired. My nerves are frayed. If possible I'd like there to be a
nice long break before the next crisis arises (because one always
comes). But I am still putting one foot in front of the other.
And as for
you, Lucy, you were the best kitty that ever lived. Even though you
were, in the end, barely 6 pounds, you've left a huge hole in my heart
and in our house. Miss you, pretty princess.