Goodbye, My Little Heart

About ten minutes ago or so, I found myself tossing and turning in bed trying to get comfortable enough to sleep.

Finally, I just decided to give up on this whole sleep "thing" for now, anyway.

I still seem to be mired in this latest wave of grief . . . and this one is a doozie.

I was so proud of myself, too . . . I thought I had been doing so well ! It kind of reminds me of the game of Monopoly. "Go to jail. Go directly to jail. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $ 200.00."

In other words, many steps forward and now what feels like about as many steps backwards. Maybe Snakes and Ladders would have been a better analogy !

Being the "overthinker" that I am, I've been trying for the life of me to figure out what plunged me into this most recent abyss. I guess I'm assuming that if I can identify the trigger, then the grief will ease a bit because I'll be able to understand what caused it to roar to the surface again.

But trying to intellectualize grief is pretty much an exercise in futility. My experience of this is that grief has nothing to do with our heads and everything to do with our hearts.

I find myself wondering IF and when I'll get another dog. Maybe that's done it ? Maybe it's just too soon ? The thought of getting another dog just fills me with anxiety over the likelihood of having to go through this grief one day down the road again.

Friends have asked me what breed I would choose if I were to get another pup. My answer is always the same. "I would want another Dachshund because I love the breed."

That's right about when they start to bombard me with a zillion reasons NOT to opt for a Dachshund again.

"Oh, Catherine, WHY ? Annie was a very difficult dog. She was a LOT of work."

"She wasn't really a LOT of work. She had a chronic disease. And besides, I kind of cherished her stubborn, little, feisty personality before she got sick."

"Do you want to run the risk of having another dog get Cushing's Disease ? And go through everything that you went through with Annie all over AGAIN ? You're not getting any younger, you know.
( I'm 63 and perfectly healthy, thank God. Just a bit of pesky insomnia of late . . . ) Just think of all those WALKS . . . You're free now !"

Maybe THAT'S what I'm grieving . . . ?

Maybe I really HAVE made my peace with the loss of Annie.

Maybe I'm bereft at the thought of never being able to snuggle with a little warm, furry body again ?

Then again, maybe it's just too soon to know . . . One thing that I definitely know for sure is that I'm really not myself these days.

I'm going to call it grief. It just is what it is. And it won't allow me to try to "explain" it away, either.

I've been knocked on my a** for a reason . . . and if past experience is any guide, these periods of stillness and inertia usually precede a bit of personal growth.

Thank you, Kathy and Sharlene, for your kind words of support. Not only does it help a bit to be able to pour my heart out through my writing, it also helps enormously to know that I'm not alone. . . or unique in this experience.

Now if only I could SLEEP. ( Ugh ! ! ! )

Catherine

Catherine,

You have such a way with words. I'm sorry you're facing a night of insomnia but "This Too Shall Pass" ... never as soon as we'd like, it seems.

My husband asked me today if I'd decided whether or not to get another dog. He doesn't want another, but I had been thinking about it before mine passed, trying to decide if I did or did not want to consider adopting another. But now it's much too soon to think about. Besides, we still have one dog, and it seems he's currently trying to deal with his own grief. I'm thinking we'll do what we can to get through the holidays and see how we feel about it after that. I don't know that I would adopt another doxie though. We'll see.

I digress. I'm usually asleep by now but have been playing a game with one of our sons, catching up with him in the process. But now I need to head to bed, as work will be demanding my attention before long. Hopefully you will be able to get some rest soon, as well.

Shana

Oh Catherine,

I have no words of wisdom to help but I can send you the biggest and most loving hugs. ;) Lori

I can only you give my experience, strength and hope. When my Apollo died, the only thing on my mind was grieving his loss. The memories, the love, the life he had. I would not have changed it. Even through all the illnesses he had with Cushing's I would not change it. I loved him, will always love him. I needed time to deal with my grief and not think of anything else. 4 months after his death, something propelled me to look up adoption sites. I think Apollo knew I was lost and was saying it is okay if you pass that love on to another. We all grieve in the way we need to. Sometimes we just need to withdraw from the world, listening to everyone pushing us because they feel uncomfortable with our grief. Just halt everyone. Making major decisions when you are grieving is to much pressure. You can never replace what you lost.
Love Sonja and Apollo

If my husband had asked me if I wanted a puppy a week after Lena died, I would have hit him. So he did it without telling me. I can't remember the first couple of weeks, I was so overwhelmed with grief. I couldn't bond with Sibbie at all and she learned to take care of herself.

Now of course I am sorry that I missed those first few weeks when she needed me. If he had waited a few months, I probably wouldn't have been so stressed out and could have been happy about it because I love animals.

I still miss Lee every day, all day.

But Sibbie and I have formed our own bond...I am Mommy and she is my baby. She's finally starting to cuddle with me and comes to me if she gets hurt or afraid. Sometimes she will stay in my arms for an hour while I rock her like I used to do with my darling Lena...not as much as Lee, who would stay in my arms as long as we both wanted it. I remember my first trip to PA with Lena, I had to hold her in my left arm the whole way. Three and a half hours driving because she just wanted to be closer to me. My shoulder hurt the whole time we were there. But I wouldn't have it any other way.

When and if you are ready to open your heart up to another, you will know...or you won't, and that's okay. There are no rules when it comes to loss or love, it is what it is.

Dearest Joan, Sonja, Lori and Shana . . . and anyone else that I may have missed . . . ( with my sincerest apologies )

I think I may have overdone it this week. I had three busy, consecutive evenings . . . out and about with friends. And I was oh, so PROUD of myself for making the effort to not turn anyone down.

Tuesday evening, I got together with a few women ( also dog owners and their dogs were there, too ) for some dinner and we watched the election results. I stayed until about 9:00 because I really just wanted to go home, get into my gruddy nightshirt and watch CNN on my own.
I had a sense that this was going to be a historical night ( much like the moon landing was ) and I wanted to be a witness to it "as it happened". I pretty much pulled an all-nighter. And yes, I watched as Dana Bash ( on CNN ) announced at 2:40 a.m. that Hillary Clinton had just called Donald Trump to concede the election. I went to bed around 4:30 a.m. or so and managed to get a couple of hours sleep.

Wednesday evening I had theatre tickets to go and see Shakespeare's Richard III here in Toronto. I went with a friend, I did the driving and the play was about three and a half hours long.

This evening, I was invited to an H'ors D'Oeuvres party. Everyone had signed up to bring some sort of "finger food" and I brought mini-quiches. ( store-bought but I had to bake them first here at home )

That's when things got rather interesting, to say the least. As I sat in the company of all these women, all of whom knew Annie, by the way, I found myself getting increasingly uncomfortable. I didn't feel very talkative . . . nor was I rude ( ! ) . . . I was just quite content to sit and listen to the conversations unfold around me. I participated whenever I was spoken to directly, of course, but I gradually became aware of the fact that these women were just talking AT me. Kind of like "downloading" . . . nothing particularly negative . . . but nothing particularly interesting, either. I felt almost invisible. ( Does that make any sense ? )

Before I knew it, and right out of the bloody blue, I realized that my eyes were filling up with tears. I high-tailed it to the bathroom right away to try to get myself under control. The LAST thing I wanted to do was draw any sort of attention to myself. I dried my eyes, flushed the toilet, ran the tap ( had to make it sound like I'd gone in there for a reason ! ) and rejoined the group.

THAT'S when I realized, much to my horror, that I was right on the edge of a full-blown panic attack. I've only ever experienced panic attacks but a few times in my life but I sure as HELL remembered what they felt like.

I had to get the HELL out of there. I could no longer tolerate inane conversations about recipes, home cleaning tips, grandchildren or anything else for that matter.

So I very calmly made my excuses, ( I said that I had some work to do this evening - I run a small business out of my home. ) thanked the hostess ( who was somewhat taken aback at my hasty departure ) and came home.

As soon as I walked in the door, I pretty much exploded into tears.

And I knew that I HAD to reach out to my fellow grievers here at this site as SOON as I could see straight again.

What the hell happened ?

I just really want to be LEFT ALONE.

These friends of mine are PUSHING me to stay connected and socialize . . . after all, they say, it's been two months now.

But all I seem to be capable of is teeny-tiny baby steps these days.

The yard stick that I used to use to gauge whether or not I've had a good, productive day has had to be drastically recalibrated of late.

When I have to be with other people, it feels like I'm walking around with a gigantic arrow sticking out of my chest. All of my nerve endings seem to be on the OUTSIDE of my skin and my energy "reserves" get drained right down to empty when in the company of any kind of group . . . no matter how warm and friendly it may be.

I'll ask it again . . . what the HELL happened ?

When I'm left to my own devices, I can actually take damned good care of myself ! ( lol )

But that's the "key" . . . I just really want to be LEFT ALONE.

For now, anyway.

Is that so unusual ?

Hi again, Catherine. I'm surely sorry that you're having such a tough time right now. I do believe that each person experiences grief in their own way and on their individual timetable. It is not at all surprising to me that you are still experiencing periods of intense grief over Annie after only two months since her loss.

Having said that, though, from what you are describing it sounds as if your grief may now be broadening to involve additional issues for you as time goes on. Annie's absence from your life may be unveiling feelings or reactions that were somehow easier to manage when she was alive.

In answer to your question, I don't think it's at all unusual that you are still feeling greater solace in being alone rather than participating in social activities right now. What I do worry about, however, is your description of being on the verge of a panic attack while being in the simple presence of friends. I would not want to see that reaction escalating or generalizing. As a result, and especially if it happens again, I'd encourage you to locate a counselor with whom you can talk about your grief, your loss, and your path forward.

Of course, we will always remain here alongside you as well. But I just think you might additionally benefit from talking to someone who has specific expertise with resolving the anxiety that can accompany a major life change or loss.

Marianne

Hi Catherine,

Feeling like you are walking around with an arrow in your chest describes how I feel. My heart hurts...today Lee has been gone 38 weeks.

You're not giving yourself enough time to mourn...and you may need help dealing with it. Sometimes I think I should call my old therapist and make an appointment. I get panic stricken very easily since Lena got sick and left me.

Yesterday Sibbie was throwing up and had diarrhea all day. When my husband texted me at 4:00 that she was still throwing up, I started to cry. I left work, went to his office and stopped at the vet on the way home. Before Lena's illness, I wouldn't have worried as much. I would have figured she just ate something and waited it out. Not anymore! I am petrified that they will die on me. I know that is not normal behavior, especially for me.

Sibbie got some shots, fluid under the skin and meds to take at home. My vet said it was probably something she ate, which of course my rational self knew all along.

My point is that we all react differently to stress, and having lost a beloved pet is stressful. I feel panicky when I'm not home or at work. At first I thought I was getting agoraphobic, but it has lessened and I am calmer, especially when I take Sibbie with me (not that I will ever admit that to my husband, who still won't admit that he should have waited!)

I think you have to allow yourself more time to grieve and if it still is too much, then talk to someone. Your friends mean well, they just want you back...and they can't feel what you are feeling.

Hi Catherine, you aren't alone in the panic attacks. I too had them, more so in the days following molly's passing. Mine was hyperventilating and not able to enter the house, or hyperventilating and just wanting to get out, but what I didn't want to do was talk about it, or talk to anyone at that point about molly either. I just didn't want to talk. Sometimes, I still don't.

My husband was afraid I was going to pass out a few times and I could not get it under control. I think I stayed outside the entire day after molly left us because I couldn't go in the door. It was just too much. That is what emotion does to us. It takes us over and overwhelms till nothing else exists just that panic of the moment.

I was lucky to have some girl pals that stayed with me through the worst moments via chat online. All having been there and understand exactly what I was feeling. They are all members from this forum and we had extended talk sessions. They literally got me through the worst of times. I think that worked better than someone actually with me in person would have been. That I don't think I could have dealt with at all.

We just had a first real out lately with friends. It was good, it was fun and it also just 'was'. And I know that probably doesn't make much sense. I laughed, ate, made chit chat, and felt despair when I walked in the door afterwards.

Luckily there are people and events going on me all the time right now, so it doesn't have that chance to hit me and overwhelm near as often, but then there are those moments, when I too will go to the bathroom, wiping the tears from your eyes, praying you don't collapse on the bathroom floor in great gasping sobs and tears and that someone comes knocking asking if everything is okay because you just want to be left alone.

I was thinking about it as I read your post, and I think it is because we are forced by life to go on and do the things that need to be done, when deep inside we aren't actually ready for that. It's just that there is no choice and being responsible people we do what we have to do to get through it and are proud that hey, we are handling this really well. Productivity is up and things are being accomplished so we must be okay and not really having a hard time. Then those moments occur and remind us that we have lost something very important in our lives.

I don't think it hurts any to take that time to ourselves, to Demand the time from those who profess to love us most, to let us be sad, to miss our fur babies, to remember and smile at the things we loved so much about them.

I think maybe not enough gut wrenching cry sessions or whatever works for each of us, when we need it, is the culprit to the emotions finally Demanding that we pay attention to our inner soul and give it a hug from our outter person. Embrace who and what we are and what we feel and not put it aside to be looked at later.

I am trying to do this myself. I don't know how successful I am or will be at it, but I do want you to know. You aren't alone in how you feel.

Hey Catherine, just wanted to come back to clarify that I surely don't think you're falling off the deep end or anything! I just happen to be good friends with lots of "helping" professionals, and I have personally benefited from counseling sessions at various points in my own life ;). So when I see people having a hard time, it's a recommendation that I often make.

As you can tell by the loving support offered to you by Joan and Sharlene, you are definitely not alone or unique in your feelings. From what you wrote, though, the thing that struck me was that it sounded as though your feelings of isolation and anxiety are actually developing or worsening now, two months down the road, rather than abating. And that's just what made me wonder whether some other "stuff" may now be entering in and complicating your grief process.

I may be totally misunderstanding things, however, and if so -- just ignore me. You are in good hands here, among our family members, that's for sure. And I hope that will be a continuing comfort to you!

Marianne