In the first post I mentioned my mom went to the vet with me as my Emotional Support Mother. Boycat has dental issues and I needed to get him checked out and prescribed antibiotics, but the last time I took a cat to the vet the cat didn’t survive. I was gunshy basically.
Like statistically I knew it wouldn’t happen again, but emotionally I wanted someone with me. Because on top of the pain I was in and the worry about the cat I was angry.
Esso should have been there. I was incandescently angry that they weren’t here to help — to drive because I was in pain, for the emotional support (although being fair, they would have been much more afraid that something bad would happen), and because that’s what a spouse is for.
Saturday, the whole time I was pacing the ER, I was worrying about the pets. The dog needed to be walked. The dog needed meds. One of the cats needed meds. They all needed feeding. My mom doesn’t drive and I don’t trust my neighbors well enough for any of them to have a key.
I’m angry again.
…
I get angry at myself for being angry that esso is dead. I think about all the time I helped them with surgeries and sicknesses and all the time I took off work for them and the hours and hours of sleep lost and I get angry because I know it’s not a contest. There is no “I owe you one” and I wasn’t keeping score. But I can’t help feeling betrayed that we went through so much together and now I have to do this on my own.
Maybe it’s not really anger and more like heartbroken.
I feel like the friends that did help me are now all judging me. My house is a mess. There are (empty) boxes everywhere because every time I think “I’ll just break down a couple” I get so overwhelmed by it all, and I know it’s not overwhelming.
That’s the fun of my brain. I know exactly when I’m being completely irrational but I can’t get around this invisible wall in the way and I can’t articulate how I can’t get around it, and I spend a lot of time standing in the middle of my kitchen sort of awkwardly flapping and yelling “JUST START” in my head.
Anyhow, my disaster of a house is set up the way I understand it, and it doesn’t make sense to other people. I have to have my doors locked/unlocked particular ways. I have to have things in specific places. And people had to come in and touch stuff.
My old roommate came one day to take care of the pets after work because I couldn’t remember if I’d arranged with the dog walker. He and his spouse came by, fed everyone, and hung out with the dog. After, I got messages from him telling me that “almost everything was unlocked and all the lights were on” and that he locked the deadbolt on the front door for me.
I don’t use it. It’s upside-down and sticks and I lost the key for it. I should replace it with one that’s set the right way (and has a key) but I haven’t. It’s so low on the list of things that HAVE to be done and it affects so little of my life that I honestly never think of it.
There was frantic texting when the dogwalker DID show up (I had scheduled it but in my defense…. neurodivergent memory AND post-surgical painkillers make it hard to keep track of things). My friends came back, unlocked the lock, and we got all the keys sorted out.
But I feel like they’re at home now, discussing the terrible state of the house and my life and judging me and probably pitying me.
But not, you know, helping.
I am feeling very alone and tired and sore and in a couple more days I’ll be back to work like nothing ever happened and have to pretend that I’m not so heartbroken, and I’m already tired of it.
It’s Thursday the 18th about 7:15 pm. I’m setting this to post tomorrow morning to spread out the activity. When this posts, I should (hopefully) be back home from having the drain removed and face down for some more sleep.