My brain is in a fog. It might be the lack of nourishment in my body. I realized as I ordered my cup of tea tonight, that I've only had liquid caffeine today: two cups of coffee, a coke zero, and then a bag of chips. Totally unhealthy. But I'm not hungry. I just wanted the chips because they were Bugles. My fingers have grown. They don't fit on them as they once did.
I have my headset on, but I can't get my music to play loud enough. I feel if I can just flood my ears, maybe my brain will stop trying to think. Last year was so much easier. School was totally consuming. I continually felt 20 steps behind where I needed to be. Honestly, I don't even know how I made it through my first year as a teacher, except I know I had a supportive team who made sure I had what I needed to survive.
This week, one of the few remaining tether lines to my past was cut loose. Lily, our fourteen year old, diabetic cat died with me close to her side. I thought about calling my daughter. Lily came into our household as a reward for my daughter being able to stop sucking her thumb. Lily was six weeks old when we got her. My daughter had been 7. My daughter lives in town, but I couldn't call her. I didn't want her to witness the death of her beloved pet. As soon as Lily passed, I did call her and my son, to share the news. In the divorce, I "won" full custody of the family pets. Mostly that was by default, he moved out and left all the responsibilities from his past life. It really didn't matter though, Lily was exactly where she needed to be...with me, the animal lover. For ten years, I made sure that she received insulin shots twice a day. Every vacation, every weekend away, I arranged for someone to come and care for Lily. I taught many friends how to give her shots. My kids knew how, and could do it if they needed to.
The next night I dug a grave in the backyard. I said a few prayers over Lily. I know she lived a good life and is at peace.
Today I took two years of used needles, safely tucked into self-locking containers, to the hazardous waste site in town. Then I drove the unused bottle of insulin to my vet. It felt right to make that donation. Pet insulin, needles, and special diabetic food are very expensive.
I went into my classroom and worked for six hours. I tried to numb my brain with work. It helped for a bit. But I needed to go home.
As I pulled up to my house...I had a very dark thought. If I was gone...no one would care. I called my sister and cried. My sister is my life line. I'm not suicidal, but I am at such a dark place in life once again. I thought I was through this stage. My sister tells me I need to be patient. I need to give it time. I need to heal. Love will happen again. My response is, I'm scared, I'm angry, I'm alone, and how can it happen? I'm so busy just trying to manage doing all those little tasks, and those big ones when they get shuffled into the mix, that I need to do. I don't really have time for anything extra, and I feel unlovable. Besides, I don't know how to love any more. I don't know how to let someone get close enough to me to even let a spark ignite. At times like these, I don't think I even believe people can love one another. Have I become jaded? My outer shell has become tough and I don't think people like to work that hard to break other's shells. Tears, and tears, and tears flow. Tears for Lily. Tears for my marriage ending. Tears for the responsibilities I have in my life. Tears for being alone. How can a person have so many tears?
I realize the road in front of me is just blocked right now. I need to stop. Breathe. Put my life into reverse, and try another path.
My life line advised I go do something just for me, so I did. I went and had my nails done, and then I went to write. I think a massage is in order tomorrow. I need to feel human contact. Maybe it will bring me back to life.
I went home last night after writing, and reheated some food in my refrigerator. Berlioz and Winston were so happy to be near me as I ate my very late dinner. Exhaustion has become a partner I live with, and I am more exhausted than I even realize. I have learned that exhaustion messes with my brain and my moods. Looking down at my fingers...my nails are cute this morning. Looking at my 'to do' list, I realize I don't have time for that massage. A massage is a good thought, but it didn't make the short list.
I don't think I'm on a different path yet. Maybe I need to cut those last two cords before I can take the alternate route. In time...
~Lisa Kroll, a superwoman who cries but is still working on eating, praying and loving
|RIP Lily Olé|