Excerpt from an article I read on MSN.com this a.m. I don't really worry about this sort of thing, but there was a picture of my car on the teaser for the article, so I took a look. And then I laughed. 

WHAT DOES YOUR RIDE SAY ABOUT YOU?

Nissan Cube

If you're cruising around in a Cube, chances are you're young and social. "The younger generation seems to like boxes to drive around in," McManus says. For instance, in the 1960s and '70s, teenagers cruised in vans outfitted with booming stereos. The Cube serves the same purpose for today's youth. "When I see them driving around, the earth is usually vibrating," McManus says. "[The drivers] aren't rappers, but they're wannabes."

I really think I need to hate you for a little while, just so I can stop thinking about how much I miss you.  I don't want to miss you.  But I don't want to deal with you anymore, either.  Damn you. You've turned me into an Italian love story.

I was thinking this morning, while figuring out how many trays of lettuce, cucumbers, steak, etc. we would need for the day.  As I was counting out what we had on hand, I mentally drifted into Sesame Street mode and began counting like The Count. Then I thought, you know there is a very large population in this country who learned to count from an OCD vampire that neither sparkles, nor shuns the light, nor sucks the blood out of people while we watch.  What's with that? 

Trying for Happy

I awoke this morning in a very sad state, and allowed myself some fall-apart time while I waited for my coffee to brew.  Then I decided that I can't stay in this state of mind.  Yes, I need to allow some of it so that I can wash it out of myself and heal.  But I can't stay like this for too long or I will become depressed and then I will be useless to the people who need me.

So I wiped the tears out of my eyes (and tried to chase down the ones rolling into my ears), and got up.  Since then, I've been on Facebook catching up on people who have good news to share, and rejoicing in their triumphs.

And I've been texting with someone very dear to me, who has excellent news which I will be able to share at a later date, but for now it is just between a few close people.  I look forward to the day I get to shout the news to the world.  It will make me very happy.  In the meantime, I will hold it close to me, and remember it every time I feel like being sad.

Something Else

Driving home from work today, I noticed a house for rent that has a screened porch on the back.  My first thought was, "That would be awesome for the cats!"  Sigh.  Then I cried some more. 


In less than 2 months, I've gone from having a husband and two cats, to having none of the above. WTF? I've been thinking that if this is the Universe doing it's house-cleaning thing to make room for something else, it had better be something damned good, or I'm going to be really pissed.

Binks

Tonight, Binks started having the same breathing trouble that Mr. Bond had the day he died.  Ann and I wrapped him in a towel and drove to the emergency vet with him.  Binks survived the trip, thankfully, unlike Mr. Bond.  The vet took chest X-rays and diagnosed congestive heart failure.  Considering his age (12 years) and the fact that his brother died of the same symptoms, I decided to put him to rest rather than attempt to maintain him. There just wasn't enough of a chance that he would be able to have a good life, even if he made it through the next 24 hours.

So, he is now laid to rest almost head to head with Mr. Bond, out in the woods beyond the barn.  I've still never painted Mr. Bond's head stone, so now I guess I'll paint both sides of it - one for each brother.

I am thankful that this time, at least, I was able to be there with my baby when he went to the other side of the veil.  I was able to hold him and pet him while he went to sleep, and gave him a kiss good night.

I would like very much if now things can stop being taken away from me.  Whatever I am being prepared for, enough is enough already.  Let me breathe, please!

Where The Ring Used To Be

Where the ring used to be, there is an indentation in my finger.  Not a tan line - I clearly haven't had much sun.  But there is a clear indentation all the way around my finger that shows that there used to be a ring there.


It used to be a comfort to me, to feel the white gold band that was always there.  It meant so much to me - I am loved, and I love someone; I have committed myself to share life's paths with someone forever; I have a permanent partner to help me, and for me to help; I have found someone whose happiness is equally or more important to me than my own; I have accepted this person for everything and everyone he is and still, I want to be with him.  The ring meant you.  You.


Now there is an indentation, no longer a ring - a ditch to hold the tears I keep trying not to shed. My hand feels naked, exposed, vulnerable, and in constant danger.  I have no idea what danger I could face simply by removing that ring - it seems impossible that such a simple action can cause such turmoil within me.


I could say that it is because I fear having to stand on my own again, but truthfully, I have mostly stood on my own ever since our world was flipped upside down and inside out.  We had moments  when we were strong together, when our support for each other was clear and strong.  But mostly, I dealt with all my own problems without your help, and you consistently tried to keep me uninvolved in any issues you had.  And I had to fight for any time with you, even when I tried to meet you halfway.


I know I will survive this.  I have survived it before. I do not want to have to survive it again after this - ever.

It is downright exhausting, how hard I have to work to keep from thinking of you constantly; to keep from sending you texts and emails about how I'm thinking of you and missing you.  You should be flattered - but I won't be telling you about it.  

Stregnth

Never assume that because a person appears to be strong, it is not necessary to say things like, "I love you," "You are vital to my existence," "I want to be with you until we are old and frail." Chances are, the person who appears to be so strong is like that because of having lived without those words for far too long. 

It was my decision to leave.  So, why is it that all my attempts to keep myself busy so that I won't keep thinking about you seem to have exactly the opposite effect?  


Sigh.