The temperature here has begun to dip. It finally feels like fall. The season long chill has set in my body and I will remain perpetually cold until the spring. Even the fiery rage in my head as cooled. I am numb. I feel nothing. My fingers and toes are frozen. No pain. The only saving grace is that the cymbalta has numbed every other part of me, dampened it down. I just am.
I’m stressed. I can feel the muscles in my neck tense, twist into tight coils. They do not spring but just tighten and tighten. My nails are chewed down until they are sore and bleed. My cuticles ripped to shreds. It’s quickly becoming too much. I need a moment to breathe.
I have this great big golden retriever and I’ve had her for years. Her name is Justice, she’s 14 and I don’t know how much longer I’ll have her. I have stolen more years than I should have with her. With the nights becoming colder and her age finally catching up with her, she has trouble getting up and climbing the stairs. I have to pick her up in the morning, get her on her feet. Someone else has to carry her down the steps, I’m not strong enough. I’ve been spitting for years, “if you want anything done, you have to do it yourself.” Now I can’t. I can’t help her. I have to rely on the men in my house to carry her up and down the five steps for me. Her back legs have started to collapse when she tries to walk up the single step at the front door. I apologized in an email to one of my proffessor’s for my scattered brainness and generally mental absentness. She asked me if she could help. Her father just died. How am I suppose to tell her I’m stressed out when my dog is dying when her father just passed the week before?
I need to remember to breathe. I need to realize what I can change. My grades, I can bring them up. I need to realize what I can’t change but can adapt to. The weather, while I can’t make it warmer, I can dress warmer to be comfortable. I need to realize what I can’t change. Justice is 14 years old and while I’ve had her for so long, I know that we’ve seen each other grow, spent nearly every night together and that I gave her the best life I could. Her hips are not a death sentence. She is still doing great, she just can’t get around like she use to.