And so I try each day when I wake up, to feel "okay" about life in general. But ever since my sweet "Lizzie" (my cat I had since she was 6 weeks old) had to be put to sleep on Nov. 27th, just about a month ago now. I feel such a sadness. I feel somehow it's my fault. That 12 years of a life wasn't "enough" for her, her life should have been longer. But for all I went through all these years, she went through also. Then I begin to blame myself for her also having PTSD just like me. My life made her life nerve wracking and so stressful. She went through all the things I went through all these years. I am so so sorry my sweet Lizzie. Please forgive me. But deep down inside, I know that I didn't ask for all the things that have happened to me. I didn't ask to constantly be put on "alert" or "survival of the fetus" or "watch your back because no one has it but you) and so I sit here typing thinking "why"? I think I'm okay for a day or two and though I tried to give away or throw away all of her things, so I wouldn't have to look and be "daily reminded" of her not being here and then I start crying again. You were like my "kid" you were my "family"!.......there is such a void, the "void of my Lizzie" who is "gone" now. Wham! Just like that you were "gone".
At times I turn around and start to talk to you like I always did. Then one day I start to think it's time to feed you and I go in the kitchen and no bowl of water no bowel for cat food! Every time I come home from the store or whatnot, I "still" expect you to be laying right near the door, as you often did, and you would "greet" me...and I would talk to you. It's so strange when I open my front door now and look and realize "your not here"! 12 years and your gone!
So I finally vacuumed today. First time since you died my sweet Lizzie. Your long black hair filled up my vacuum cleaner, and as I took the long cup off the vacuum cleaner, I saw all your black hair and I burst into tears, sitting on the cold kitchen floor. Now I know why I put off vacuuming for so long. I kept putting it off, because I knew this is the "last of you" I would be seeing. Sounds so silly doesn't it? Yes, I know, but I understand why I fell apart today...acceptance of your passing will take me some time. Time "heals all wounds" they say. How strange that a week after your passing, that I marked on my calender the day you died. Then I realized that it was Nov.27th the very same day that my very best friend in the world died 10 years ago. What does this mean? Why did I not realize this the day you left this world? I keep writing in my journal that you are on "your soul's journey" to a better place? But I don't know. I want to think this. Often I will "feel" this is true.
I've lost so much through death for so many years. My life seems to be going nowhere and I don't know what I am doing. I know after walking away from my sister (after two years of being sucked dry by her complete and utter selfishness)and her life and trying to take care of you in the last two years also, my dear sweet Lizzie and your Dementia, and your were going through I don't know how much pain. I did all I could to help you, to pick you up and take you to the kitty litter box, to meet your constant needs. To hear you cry and meow and cry and I tried so hard to "make it all better" but I couldn't. I couldn't "fix it". I failed. My way of life destroyed yours. I know you never adapted to the way of "apartment living", it spooked you so. I've still not adapted to it well either. Our privacy had been taken away. So much noise pollution, neighbors yelling, loud tvs. people talking loudly right at our apartment door. You just hated that it scared you so, made you so jumpy and nervous. I can almost remember thinking sometimes you looking at me so "spooked" and it was like your saying to me "Mom, how come we don't live in those little houses you used to rent, our own "little homes"? I know you didn't understand why. I am so so so sorry that what I had to do in my life, affected your life so much, that you had to leave this planet sooner.
Yet as time goes on, I realize how I have been "there" for my sister and worked so hard to make sure she was "safe" and food to eat, and a place to live (still just down the hallway from me) and then watching my sweet Lizzie become so weak and not "herself" and I never had any time anymore, to take care of me. it was a constant, "jump take care of this or help you sister, or "now you need to help Lizzie"...You couldn't jump on the bed, or a chair or even the low couch. I had to pick you up and carry you around from place to place for so very long. I know I kept putting off what I didn't want to face. Now I am faced with more "reality". That somewhere along the last two years, I really did "lose myself". I continue to ask myself "where did I go"? I don't feel like myself, I don't have the "creativity" there was never any time. My health has gone down a lot. I have not eaten enough or eaten "right". So many things, so much stress. No wonder I kept having dreams of someone coming to pick me up in a nice new car and they drove me wherever I needed to go. For the first time in years and years and years, I felt what it was like to be A PASSENGER in my dreams! I felt it in my dreams, along with being "served" a meal and waited on hand and foot! I have not known this feeling in any way shape or form for so long in "real life".
Things are getting better I guess. My dear friend "Paul" who is legally blind so he can't drive a car, yet he has been so "there for me" and I didn't think I could be "vulnerable" with him. I am still scared to be "vulnerable" with him or anyone. I had to be strong for so long and still must. Maybe my body, soul and mind have just had enough. It's too hard I don't want to keep pushing myself onward anymore. To where? Has the "dreamer" in me given up?