I’ve thought many times about having Pumpernickel as an emotional support animal, but after the other day that has gone to the wind.
First off, we bought her a harness so that when we had the doors open to cool the house off in the summer, we could put her on a leash. That’s not needed now. I did put her in it however, to see if she liked being outside. She did great in her harness! Even with the leash on it! When I took her outside though she did a full nope and walked back inside the house. Twice. So now I don’t have to worry about her trying to get out.
Second. She had diarrhea for just over a week, and being to worrying mother I am I took her to the doctor. (She had had too much dairy at once and it basically killed the healthy bacteria. She got some antibiotics and probiotics and within 24 hours she had nice hard poops again.) She wore her harness wonderfully, but she hated the car ride. I felt so bad for her. She was in such distress until she got back into the comfort of her own home.
After those two things I realized she would never be able to come with me places. And that’s ok. I don’t go out often anyways, and even though I do miss her when I do go out, I look forward to her cuddles when I do come home.
And now our bubble has burst. So far we’ve had a fantastic year. That was until we were told yesterday that we have to move again.
I was actually happy. For the first time in years, decades even. I was content and happy and had found joy. All that has crashed down and gone away.
We have just under four months to find a new place, so hopefully ample time to find somewhere with what we need, but time crunches are always fretful. To put it lightly, we’re a bit devastated and I’m still processing.
Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in my comfort zone. It’s nice and cozy and non threatening. I basically stay home, mostly by myself, and clean, cook, and binge Netflix.
Then I get the feeling that I should step out of my comfy bubble and do something scary. I reach out and try to make a plan with someone and they shut it down. They don’t realize how hard it is, and it sets me back, and I never want to leave my bubble again.
This time, I’m not reaching out. I know what the response will be. I don’t want to be rejected again. So I’ll stay in my bubble and everyone else can go fuck themselves.
I can see the light at the end of the tunnel right now, but there’s so many things in the way, that I haven’t been sleeping and everything seems worse because of it. It seems to be that way, things always get worse just before they get better.
Right now, things are not great.
As I’ve gotten older, as possibly crazier, I’ve realized why I’m not meant to have children. I don’t think I could handle having them. I think the stress and anxiety would be too much for me to deal with and I’d probably break. I’m glad I can finally, and logically understand why I shouldn’t have children, and I’m kind of ok with it, because it is what it is, but I’m still not really ok with it.
Three days was too long to go away. The first two days we were gone it was great. I was tired and didn’t want to do much, but my anxiety was down and I was feeling good. The third day was just terrible. I was so tired and worn out and anxious that I could barely get off the couch. There were too many people around and too much noise. Thankfully husband was there to steer everyone away from me and to give me some space and quiet time.
Now we’re home in our own space, where it’s clean and there’s no bugs crawling around, (I don’t understand how people can live like that), I’m doing a bit better. Except for now we have husband’s brother and family in town, and two family dinners scheduled for today and tomorrow. I really want to see the kids, but I really don’t know if I’m going to be able to do it. I hate that this happens. Especially since I had been doing so well before we went away.