I Don't Care Fer Such Triflin'

What NOW?

I'm taking a break from whoring myself around (a.k.a. sending resumes and networking for employment) and it just dawned on me that my mind is full of thoughts I should probably work through. I have taken many things from therapy over the last several months and one of the suggestions my therapist made was to keep a journal because it's a great coping tool. I wholeheartedly agree with this but I choose not to keep a private journal. I would rather share my thoughts publicly on this blog in the hope that maybe someone else might benefit from them in some way.  It's also my way of owning my successes and failures and learning from both as well as documenting them so I don't repeat the past in some kind of perpetual ass-kicking.

  Merry Effing Christmas

Oh, how the holiday season is upon us...ugh. I've never been a huge fan. Too commercial, too shallow, too materialistic. This time of year I rarely hear anything profound or inspiring--it's mostly just complaints about materialistic wants, obnoxiousness and spite, and a whole lot of lack of appreciation. It's stupid...here we are, hurtling through space surrounded by everyday miracles, experiencing amazing things and people, living in one of the most prosperous civilizations in recorded history and all we can do is whine about the things we don't have or how we wish we had better than what we have been given. I seem to be getting cornholed left and right but I am still able to look at my life and find joy in it. I'll admit that some days it's difficult to find a spot of joy. Just like everyone else, I sometimes posit the question "Why me?" I know that I cannot ask that question without also asking "Why NOT me?" I also cannot question whether I deserve the bad stuff without also questioning whether I deserve the good stuff, too. 

The Good, The Bad, and the Unclassified

Things aren't inherently "good" or "bad;" they only become that way when we place those labels on them. It's a perspective thing, you see--for example, most would describe divorce as "bad." While my first inclination is to agree, my experience with this tells me otherwise. People enter and leave our lives for a reason. I am beginning to view my own pending divorce as a positive change for me and that there ARE valid reasons for it. This is helping me to avoid the pain of regret and shame. At this point, I'm not far enough along in that change to NOT think I would do things differently given the chance. I do still feel that way--I want to go back to the Nic of the past, shake the shit out of her, and deter her from ever embarking on this course in the first place. I want to warn her that her dreams are going to shatter into a million pieces, her heart will be broken, her self-esteem bruised and battered, and she will lose almost everything.  I want to tell her to not bare her vulnerabilities to anyone and to keep the impenetrable wall around her heart intact because it's there for a REASON. Yeah, that would be the old "wish I knew then what I know now" bit. Yet...I find myself wondering what kind of person I would be now if it hadn't been for my actions then. I have learned a lot about myself and a lot about personal relationships from these experiences. I definitely feel that there has been some valuable insight gained from my troubles. So...for that reason, avoiding the tough times would be a cop-out. The easy way. Closing myself off to every bad thing will also keep me from experiencing the good stuff and that would be such a waste. While I still don't know what exactly I "did" and will always have a ton of questions, I have to accept the fact that I will never have any answers. That's not "good" or "bad;" it just...is...

Whateva, Whateva, I Do What I Want!

...which leads me to my next thought process. I'm sick and goddamned tired of others thinking that they know better than I do the manner in which I should conduct my life. Seriously...who knows better than I do how to live my own life? I like to think I'm uniquely qualified for the job. While I deeply appreciate the insights of others, unsolicited advice and criticism is completely unwelcome. Just because certain choices you made worked out well for you doesn't mean they will work out well for me. I'm going to make mistakes, I'm going to say the wrong thing at the wrong time, I'm going to do things of which other will disapprove, and I'm going to choose a path that will lead to nowhere. Those are my decisions to make and when it comes down to it, I am the only one who has to live with the outcomes of those decisions. Think about that the next time you wish to criticize someone for something you wouldn't choose to do or say yourself. That person has their reasons for doing as they do. Don't be a tool; be a good friend/family member and offer up your two cents' worth and leave it at that. Don't try to argue your point on why you're right and they are wrong...I know that with me, that is a surefire way to guarantee I will stop listening and not even take your opinion into consideration. I will not be bullied or coerced. Lastly, don't tell someone they shouldn't be mad, or sad, or whatever it is he or she feels, because there are others who have things much worse. No shit--everyone knows that. Things can always be worse. You might as well also tell that person they shouldn't be happy because there are others who have things much better. That sounds stupid, doesn't it? They both do! So zip it!

In sum: sure, I appreciate another perspective, just don't get all bent out of shape if I (or anyone else) don't agree with what you say or don't do what you think we should. We all have our individual sets of circumstances and that needs to be respected.

If You're Reading This, That Means You're Not Shopping And I Will Still Respect You In The Morning

Ah, the holiday season...that magical time of year filled with the wonder of why we over-consume and under-appreciate. What is it about spending the money we claim we don't have enough of that drives us to do abnormal things like wait in line to spend the money we claim we don't have enough of? The first--and last--time I made an attempt at shopping on "Black Friday" was 1998. I went to Toys R Us in Tacoma to purchase a Furby for a friend's daughter. There were two left on the shelf. They were frustratingly talking to each other. I went to grab one and suddenly felt the pain of a thousand donkey kicks on the left side of my face. This woman totally sucker punched me to grab the last two and ran off before security could get there. I didn't even realize what had happened until the security guy (who was incredibly hot, by the way...wonder if he's still single...) picked me up off the floor. Yep...totally not worth it!! Besides...I have too much junk laying around as it is. But, in case you're feeling generous, I could use another Targus Laptop Chill Mat. That would be one of these:

Just sayin'.

This time of year always motivates me to remember the things that I am truly thankful for, this year especially. I have to admit that some days, it's difficult to find reasons to be thankful. I know those days are just a part of getting through all of this so I rarely despair...I simply wait it out until I remember that there are still good things in my life. I know that it can't rain all the time. I'm thankful that I'm still even around to be thankful in the first place. It's been almost four years since my rebellious body tried to shuffle off this mortal coil and take me with it. I'm thankful that I laid the beatdown on the Hodge. I'm thankful that my recent health setbacks seem to have been temporary and not too serious. I'm thankful for the people in my life who love, support, and stand behind me regardless of the unfortunate set of circumstances I have found myself in. I have been pleasantly surprised at the people who have not only stuck by me but have also provided support and assistance where they can. I've also been pleasantly surprised at the new people that have found their way into my life that accept me knowing that this is just a slight delay in my journey and have been able to see ME through all the layers of unfortunate situations--the ME I truly am. It all humbles me almost to tears. Yeah, yeah, I said TEARS. If you tell anyone, I will punch you. I have lost nearly everything--marriage, health, job, ability to support myself, my home, my car, financial stability and what I thought was a solid and promising future--yet the people who surround me with their friendship and support are doing so in a big way. I am starting completely over again and without these people, it would be a LOT more difficult than it already is. I couldn't ask for a better support system. Truly. You know who you are--thank you. Even if you think that you aren't doing much, I will tell you that simply being my friend and offering an ear to listen or just continuing to say "I've got your back" after all the bullshit I've been going through is a huge blessing to me.

Thank You.

So...I finally have a confession to make. I know there are those of you who are probably going to be a little irritated with me that I didn't tell you this personally but I hope that you will understand that I am simply doing what I need to do and if I failed to tell you, it wasn't because I was purposely trying to be rude or scandalous or something equally jerk-ish. Things happened fairly quickly and, well, it is what it is. Many of you know that my health has not been that great for the last few months. I was in & out of the hospital during November for various reasons--bacterial and viral infections for the most part but between those and the stress of being unemployed/financially unstable and the whole divorce mess, I was losing the battle for my health in a pretty big way. My landlords--who have also been amazing people and far more generous than they have a right to be--were finally like "okay...it's probably time we found a PAYING renter." Years from now, I will probably feel as terrible as I do at this moment about dragging them into this disgusting situation and while I know that it's not entirely my fault, I am taking responsibility for it because it's the right thing to do.  I should have recognized early on that the other responsible party was going to do everything possible to shirk that responsibility, that justice was not to come at that time, and taken steps accordingly. I failed to do that and that's my mistake--I own that shit. Period. I hope my landlords understand the depth of my appreciation. I know they're not a charitable organization--they have a business to run and their own bills to pay, which is why they are high on the list of people that I am thankful for. I hope they know that. But I digress...

Long story short, I have moved to WI to stay with my family through the winter. I really was having a difficult time health-wise, which was making it difficult to secure employment, and was facing homelessness along with the financial ruin I seem to be wallowing in. My mom finally made me understand that I really CAN'T do this on my own no matter how motivated I am to do so. So...my mom and my grandfather (my dad's dad) came out on the 6th to help pack & move. Took us five whole days to sort through it all, pack it properly, and clean up the house as best we could. My mom rented a U-haul truck and trailer (because I underestimated the amount of stuff that was still left, haha) and my dad found a storage unit here in WI for my stuff. We left the morning of the 12th, unloaded the truck and trailer on the 13th, and here I am now. Everything I own is either in the basement here at my folks' place or in storage here. And in case anyone was wondering, if I had to move it, it became mine. Period. I had a difficult enough time getting him out to unlock the garage and he never offered to help, not even when I asked him to take care of the disaster he left in the garage. He left the mess for me--including all the cleaning and repairs--so the way I see it, he has no more claim to anything that was left. 

So...my plan is to get a job (obviously), save a little scratch, and be back in the cities by spring. I love my family dearly but as I'm sure they are aware, there are multiple reasons why I wish to keep my stay here as brief as possible. If I can't be in Seattle, it seems that Minneapolis is the place for me...so one or the other is going to happen!! FYI, friends--I will be in town next week. Let me know if you would like to get together. I have a bunch of boring/tedious stuff to do and loose ends to tie up but might have some time for a little fun, so let me know!

I think I'm going to get back to my job hunt. Little to be had out here...and what there is doesn't pay well. Wish me luck!!

Warning: The Cake Is A Lie

So...I realized that pouring my heart out on this blog for everyone to see is very cathartic for me. I have always known that but I think I just sort of forgot about it in recent months. I think those of you who know me on a more personal level might recognize my apparent inability to talk about any matters dealing with my heart. I completely suck at it! I never think anyone is even remotely interested in hearing what I think is a bunch of whiny crap. I feel like there are far worse things that could happen and that I simply need to suck it up and keep plugging away. The last six months, however, have very nearly taken the best of me and at this point...well, at this point I feel like there are no worse things that could possibly happen. Of course, life always has a way of showing me that that is not an accurate OR wise assumption to make.

Names have been redacted to protect the innocent, guilty, and potentially retarded. 

This spring, I was getting prepared to return to Clearwater Camp as a riding instructor. I can't tell you how excited I was for another adventure! We had a little hiccup when some staff cabin assignments had to be changed and we were faced with the issue of where to put me and the four dogs. I brought up the idea of purchasing a camper or travel trailer and setting it up at camp; the boss thought it might be a good idea and said she would bring it up to the board and see if it was feasible. Husband and I discussed this pending purchase at length--we decided that it would be a good move even if I didn't use it for work this summer. We could travel to our families' homes or take off for a weekend retreat without having to board the dogs! We could stay all weekend at Rockfest! The possibilities were endless...so off on a search I went. Found the perfect one, right in our price range. It was in fantastic shape for its age--a 1986 Terry bumper pull that looked very nearly like it just rolled off the assembly line. I sent Husband photos and video, we again discussed it at length, and the next day it was ours! 

About a week after we purchased the trailer, I found out that it was not feasible for me to bring the camper to Clearwater, nor was it going to be feasible for me to work there at all this summer with the four dogs. I was so heartbroken but completely understood. I made the tough decision to not go to camp this year; I seemed to have too many responsibilities at home (not only the pups) anyway so it just wasn't going to work out.

Oh, yes. Yes there is. And I will add it for the additional amount of NOTHING.

The next day, Husband and I discussed this situation. He wasn't entirely sympathetic but was supportive. We began to discuss what to do with the trailer--he figured we would sell it. I was very confused at this because I was under the impression that we hadn't purchased it solely for my use. It was paid for with our income tax return, so money wasn't an issue. That sparked off a massive argument that resulted in him leaving me. Yeah, you read that right. I put it in bold so there wouldn't be any mistake, so feel free to go back and re-read that. I just thought he was throwing a hissy fit until he came by later with a police escort to pick up some of his things. Over the next week or so, he continually pressured me--to the point of becoming threatening and quite hostile--to sign a joint petition for divorce. For those of you who may be unfamiliar with the process, a joint petition is used when both parties agree on, well, basically everything. I didn't want a divorce in the first place, so there was no way I was going to sign anything. By the time the week was over, I had lawyered up and was refusing to speak with him anymore. It seemed very much like he didn't understand how the whole process worked--like he figured it was like a girlfriend/boyfriend breakup. He wanted the camper sold, all the money (recall that I was unemployed at the time), and each take their own property with anything joint being discussed or sold, in effect leaving me destitute. I tried to urge him to seek legal counsel several times but he felt that I was making things more difficult than they needed to be and if I would just do as he was demanding, things would be fine.

So...I left out a LOT of details, mainly because I refuse to bore anyone to death but also because this whole thing has been very painful for me to deal with. I have heard several reasons why he left: because I am too selfish and controlling, I was too fat, my health issues were too much to deal with, I was a freeloader stealing his money...ugh, there are so many of these. Let's address some of these, shall we?

1. Too selfish and controlling. I can see where this could have come from. He landed us in trouble with the IRS and the State of Minnesota concerning back taxes and overpaid unemployment compensation spanning about two years. I trusted that he was taking care of the situation because, well, he told me he was taking care of the situation. He lied. Several times. To. My. Face. The IRS levied our bank account for a rather large sum of money; after I found out about the unemployment overpayment, I'd had it. I forced control over our finances in order to try and dig us out of the hole we were in and prevent any further damage. I tracked every penny and made sure that we stuck to a very strict budget. I never once thought that would make ME the idiot. I managed to get things back on track and we even had a little bit of  money saved up by this past spring! We each received an "allowance," with his being a little more than mine because he was away a lot. That was the discretionary money we could use for whatever--after the bills were paid, that was for gas, haircuts, groceries, whatever. I disciplined myself and saved up enough to have my hair colored, which I had been wanting for a while. He screwed up and had to use some of his money for something else and couldn't purchase something he had wanted. It happens...you then start over again. Fiscal responsibility and discipline = you get to buy some cool stuff later. I truly don't think he understood that so he probably saw me as some kind of finance Nazi.

2. I was too fat. Yup...since losing my job in March of 2011 and returning from camp, I had definitely packed on some pounds. Here is what I looked like:

I'm not obese. I'm definitely thicker around the midsection but really? Here's the more "normal" me:

This photo was taken in August of this year; I have lost about ten more pounds since then and I am back to my "normal" weight. I don't feel that the difference is hugely dramatic but maybe it's just me.

3. My health issues were too much to deal with. You know what? Fuck that. Everything I struggle with now, and was struggling with then, were all present before we even TALKED about getting married. We have a few more answers now but the situation is exactly the same. In fact, I'm healthier now than I have been for a long time. I gave him every opportunity to walk away without any hard feelings--when I was diagnosed with cancer, when I found out my physical limitations were going to be permanent and progressive...I understood the level of commitment that would be required and how difficult the road was going to be and wanted to give him a chance to decide whether or not he was prepared to walk that road with me without judgment of his decision or of the reasons he used to make it. He took it all on willingly.

4. I was a freeloader and stealing his money. Fall of 2010, I found I was having a very difficult time with school. After discussing it with him, I made the decision to take myself out of school for a short time to get myself back on the right track. I planned on working as many hours as possible at the barn, which I did. I think, at the time, I was having a hard time adjusting to my new role as a wife and dealing with the fact that my physical limitations were causing me to re-think my career choices. Husband also wanted me to take care of my health issues and get things progressing towards a diagnosis. I did all of these things, including seeing a therapist to help me figure out what the hell I was having such a hard time with. I had planned on returning to school Fall 2011 but that was the beginning of some of our financial issues and I knew from past experience if I had those hanging over my head, I was going to struggle again so I postponed until Spring 2012. We then had our falling out in December 2011, which put off school again until Fall 2012. Now, I was (mistakenly, perhaps) under the impression that he and I were a team. I am not the housewife-y type but I took care of EVERYTHING at home--bills, yard work, the dogs, household crap--so that all he needed to do was to focus on work and school if he decided to go back. Apparently, he was expecting me to work and go to school while doing that, even though we didn't need the money. At all. As I mentioned, I was painting us a better financial picture and had even managed to save a little bit of "just-in-case" money. Our bills were getting paid and we weren't struggling anymore. We were catching up on our (well, his) debts. I wasn't out shopping, splurging, what have you...I was trying so hard to be responsible and set us up for success later. I HATE worrying about how the bills are going to get paid or how old I am going to be before I can retire. I guess not bringing in a paycheck is a big deal even when it's not needed and I'm taking care of other things. Who the hell do I have to be???

Yeah...I went there. Freaking Wonder Woman with sparkles coming from everywhere. I'll work on that, right away. Off I go to find some WW potion.

In July of this year, I landed what I thought was a perfect job. I was working as an evening caretaker at an up-and-coming eventing/dressage stable. I loved my job, my bosses, and my co-workers. I was appreciated there and I was given the kind of autonomy I thrive under. I was then surprised with a layoff at the beginning of September. Heartbroken? Yeah...but at least I made some new and awesome friends out of the deal. Back to square one. Actually, I was a few steps behind square one since I was out all that money for a rental car (see below).

My car, El Neon, is finally deciding to take a shit on me. Last December, Husband and a mechanic friend of his screwed some things up under the hood. We were going to get all of that fixed this summer because the truck needed some love so Husband could get back and forth from wherever he needed to go; since he was the guy with the paycheck, I made that a priority and pushed El Neon off to the summer. In August, it died completely and I had to rent a car for three weeks. The guys at work managed to get it running again but it was simply a stopgap measure until I could scrape up the money to fix it or buy a new car. Estimate for the work that needs done? Between $2500 and $4000. FAR more than the car is even worth and more money than I have anywhere. It doesn't really matter much because my insurance was canceled for non-payment in August; Husband refused to continue paying the rent after August, and he had the utility bill sent to his new place and is refusing to pay it so the utilities will be shut off shortly. I have to be out of my house in eight days from today--I have nowhere to go, nowhere to put my stuff, no job, no money, no insurance, and no dependable transportation. Before anyone gets too excited and wants to suggest asking the Army for help, I've done that. They won't. I will not discuss that further.

On top of all of that, Husband discontinued my healthcare coverage without saying anything to his attorney, my attorney, or me. How did I find out, you ask? I was in the ER on the 8th for some pretty serious bacterial and viral infections. I went to go fill my scripts and I was told I didn't have coverage. The only way the Army can enforce having him pay any support or to have him continue with the insurance is with a court order and the court has been reluctant to mess with military affairs. Think anything was done about this? Nope! My attorney is pissed, I'm pissed. Since I am refusing to sign divorce papers without a temporary agreement for spousal support, we are now apparently going to trial. In April. He is refusing to settle...I don't feel that I am asking for much. I desperately need to get back on my feet but it seems like at every turn, he is determined to prevent that from happening. I'm frustrated, disappointed, and IMMENSELY negative about this whole thing. I can't even go back to school--I knew the divorce thing would be distracting and now my student loans are in default because I have no way of paying them.

Up until he left me this past May, I felt like I could handle anything that was being thrown my way. Never once did I ask "Why me?" Not once. It's life; it happens! I dealt with it the best I knew how. There were always worse things that could happen but didn't. After he left, my mom came to visit and give me some moral support. A week later, my BFF from WA came to visit and she helped me sort through the broken paper trail of my life and marriage. My BFF from SD also came for a visit and moral support. My friends and family have been very supportive, which is great. But now...you're damn right that I'm asking "Why me?!" I know the universe has to balance out somehow, so my doppelganger had better be happy and successful.

Right now, I am going to talk about something that I haven't talked much about with anyone. My hope is that if someone is reading this and is feeling the way that I felt at the time that they will avoid doing what I did and instead...reach out to someone.

A few weeks after Husband left, I'm pretty sure I lost my damn mind. There were a few weeks where I was drinking too much, getting into bar fights, making some really dumb decisions, and generally making an ass of myself. One night, I was home alone and proceeded to down two bottles of wine in fairly quick succession. I woke up the next morning in my bathtub, no pants on, holding a dry erase marker, covered in blood and looking around at the tub surround and every available space in my bathroom that was covered in writing. The blood had come from my right forearm and my left calf where I had cut myself pretty badly. I assume I took my pants off to get at my leg. The writing all over was VERY negative shit. I scared myself so badly that I marched into my doctor's office the very next day and discussed my options with one of her associates. I used to cut myself as a teenager; the issue was short lived and I hadn't had an issue with that up until this point. There were multiple issues at hand--my physical and emotional pain and depression on top of the fact that I had not had a decent night's sleep for a few weeks. She wanted to admit me to the hospital but I had dogs to tend to and refused. I'm now medicated and in therapy and feeling much less hopeless. I won't go so far as to say I'm follow-the-yellow-brick-road happy, but I'm finding better ways of channeling my negativity and dealing with the pain I feel. I still have bad days but now that I know they are coming, I am a little more prepared to deal with them.

Here are photos of my injuries, and yes, they are somewhat graphic. You have been warned. Please don't send me hate mail. You knew this had to be coming.

I am not trying to elicit sympathy, nor am I trying to get anyone to be on my "side." The purpose of sharing this is my hope that if someone reads this and later feels like they are out of options other than harming themselves, they will remember reading my blog and seeing the photographic evidence of my pain. "Cutters" are not bad people. They're not looking for attention. They simply know no other way to deal with their pain. Some people drink. Others do situps until they shit themselves. Still others might meditate or swim. Some harm themselves. I struggle with how to deal with my pain, even still. If you are feeling overwhelmed, hopeless, depressed, or worthless, please...PLEASE...reach out to someone. Anyone. You DON'T have to feel like you are alone because you are far from it. I will post a list of resources that I was given that helped me immensely. Everyone feels these things at some point in their lives, whether it's because of difficult situations or even a medical issue, so please don't think that you walk this path solo. I know it can feel that way. Don't hurt yourself out of frustration...you ARE a good person and you ARE worth something. People care. People understand. People can relate. Not everyone, but there are people who do and who can. Don't deny yourself your feelings of hurt or anger but don't allow those feeling to consume you. I know it's far easier said than done. There is no pill or magic treatment that will miraculously turn you into The Happiest Freaking Person On The Planet. It does take some considerable effort to wrench yourself out of the darkness and try to keep yourself out of there but I promise, when you do, it is SO worth it. 

"Long is the way, and hard, that out of hell leads up to light." (John Milton)

"It's hard to dance with a devil on your back, so shake him off!"

(Florence + The Machine)

No, I'm not getting religion. "Hell" and "devil" have different meanings here than what their common usage is.

I'm going to end this now...guess I need to rouse myself and pound pavement again today. My friends, do me a huge favor...if you have questions, suggestions, or maybe even need a hand yourself, please e-mail me personally rather than leave that kind of information in a comment. I do moderate my comments but I do occasionally miss a few. My address is listed on the right hand side of my blog; you can also use plainsboarder05 at gmail.....com. See what I did there? Piss off, spammers!

Love and sarcasm to my faithful readers,

Nic

#timelyupdatesfail

Yeah, yeah, yeah...it's been a while. I have good reason, though. It has nothing to do with the Hodge, I promise.

I'm going to be a little vague with some of this, mostly because I want to cut the drama out. Drama is stressful and I just don't feel like detailing that at all. It's been quite difficult, which is why I haven't had a new post for quite some time. I just wasn't ready to open up about any of the things that have been happening. I feel I'm ready now, and my faithful readers deserve an updated

Where to begin? Right off the bat: Ted and I have been experiencing some difficulties in our marriage. He is, of course, away a LOT for training and his job at Camp Ripley. Most of what our difficulties stem from is money, my health, and money. Did I mention money? Things between us reached a boiling over point at the end of December. We decided at that time that a separation would be prudent, so he stays at Ripley and I have been spending a lot of time at my parents' place. We are working through our issues; we will both be seeking individual counseling as well as marriage counseling. A couple's retreat is also in the works but we have to wait for a time when Ted is not working or training. Our marriage is important enough to both of us that we are more than willing to work at it. We have a long road ahead of us.

I had to put my sweet Noel down on December 22nd. She would receive a steroid injection about every 2-3 months; this was to keep her eosinophilic plaques (think psoriasis for kitties) under control. It also had the added benefit of easing her arthritis pain. This fall, the time between injections had become shorter and shorter. Around mid-November, she began coughing and wheezing quite frequently and she hadn't been eating much, so off to the clinic we went. X-rays were taken and showed that her lungs were almost completely filled with...something. My best guess is that she had about 1/4 of usable space in her left lung. The right one was completely occluded. The doc and I both knew that this was likely a cancerous process. At that point, all I wanted to do was make her comfortable enough to enjoy what little time we had left. I opted to not biopsy the lung--I didn't want to stress her any more than necessary. It wouldn't change the outcome or how I was treating her. She received another steroid injection which was just shy of one month after the previous injection. She perked up a LOT after that so we added oral steroids and antibiotics. She was, incredibly, back to her old self--even racing up and down the stairs with the zoomies. Sadly, that didn't last very long. Two weeks later, she was declining again. She began to have some moderate respiratory distress  so I opted for another steroid injection and antibiotics. She didn't respond to the treatment and at that point, I knew that our time was short. She declined RAPIDLY. Within a few days, she was again in respiratory distress and she wasn't eating or using the litter box. That was when I knew it was time. We snuggled on the couch all night--she was purring the whole time. The next day--goddam it, I can't even write this without tears. FARK. The next day at 10:33 a.m., she slipped away peacefully in my arms while the doc and I stroked her her tiny head and frail body. We hugged each other, shed our tears and took comfort from the knowledge that my little peanut was now free of her broken body.

I knew months ago that this was going to be difficult for me. To lose both Harley and Noel, in the same year, a mere few months apart (and both on the 22nd of the month) was just too much for me, I think. I don't feel that I have been dealing with this well--or really, at all. I know that I need to face this but every time I try to do so, my brain just shuts me down so I don't or can't. My coping skills are pretty much non-existent. They always have been. I don't know what to do with the pain so I just smash it all down inside. YES, I know that this isn't the way to go about things but my brain feels that shut-down mode is the best way. At times, it has been--when Harley passed I poured all of my energy into my work. I felt that I had a job to do and that it should take priority. I simply took it too far, I think, and even when the job was done I didn't do anything about the pain in my heart. I feel like I will deal when I'm ready to.

7/12/2012: I wrote this post ages ago and will be posting again shortly with the rest of the disaster that is my life. Stay tuned!!

must...bitch...or...head...will...combust...

I feel a mix of bitching and bragging coming on. Figured I would at least hop on and throw all of that into a blog post before the ridiculous amount of caffeine I have consumed today wears off and I end up with a full QWERTY keyboard on my face. Hell, QWERTY wasn't even a word until computers began to consume our lives...whoops, totally off topic.


So, today I trekked down to Nerstrand Big Woods State Park in Northfield. I'm a volunteer field assistant for a field biology course at the junior college I attended before transferring to the U of M. It's exactly what it sounds like--checking out all the cool stuff Minnesota's natural landscape has to offer. I always, ALWAYS have fun helping out with these trips--this one in particular. I never thought that I would get a kick out of teaching, but I guess I have to do something with all this useless knowledge or my head is going to explode. My desire to help other students has its limits, though. I bet those of you who know me fairly well can see where this might be going.

Here is how this works:

The students prepare for the trip by researching a group of species in a list assigned to them by the course instructor. They are then supposed to create note cards for the species they are assigned; they should detail everything necessary to help them identify the species. It is strongly suggested that they draw themselves a picture. Yes, inevitably, one or two or seven students "forget" to complete their note cards and therefore know absolutely zip about what they are supposed to be identifying. No prob; shit happens, we get that, which is why we spend two or three hours doing the equivalent of a nature walk. I will point out the plant species they should know and ask them to identify it and explain the properties of the plant that helped them come to that conclusion. After that, the groups are mixed up so that there is at least one member representing each species set. They are then supposed to teach each other. This works best if every student is adequately prepared--meaning, done the proper research and created decent note cards. The little part of me that hasn't given up on humanity entirely and isn't permanently cynical also works best if everyone is adequately prepared. That part stops functioning when someone gets snotty about it. Oh, you're not prepared? You couldn't spare one whole hour out of your busy week? And then, OH, you're going to get testy with me and toss a smartass comment when I ask you a question! How delightful! You're on your own, buddy. This isn't public school--YOU (or your parents) are PAYING to be here! If you don't want to be here, we won't hold your hand and guide you back to reality; we are not going to sit and have a heart-to-heart complete with a demolished box of chocolates and six boxes of wet tissues. If you wish to separate from the group that actually wants to hear what I have to say, no problem. I won't chase you down. You don't care? Okay, then...NEXT!

I took little Sae Dee with me today. I was excited to see how she was going to do at the state park--LOTS of people, kids running around screaming, tons of other dogs, and stimuli everywhere. I found a little red bandana and used BRIGHT yellow puffy paint to stencil on the following sentence: Therapy Dog Evaluation In Progress -- Please Ask To Interact. I am looking for a very specific set of behaviors under a very specific set of circumstances. Part of my evaluation does include observing her reactions to other people, other dogs, and other unpredictable things that may be encountered. Several times, I would step aside into a clearing (off the trail) to observe her reaction to passers-by or to see if I could convince her to only focus on me. The back side of that bright red bandana with fluorescent writing was plainly visible. Most people were fairly good at asking if they could pet her; however, there were more of the type that would see what we were doing and holler out "awww, good girl! Good dog!" or talk in baby talk to her. AND...the one child that ran...yes, RAN...straight up to her and had the idea that giving her a pat meant smacking her right between her eyes. It wasn't hard, but ARRRRGGGGHHHHHH FOR F**K'S SAKE!! The parents did nothing and when I confronted them and advised that for safety's sake their children should always ask permission before petting someone else's dog, they acted like I had just asked them to light the kid on fire and make me some s'mores. I bit my tongue (yeah, amazing, I know) and just walked away. Hey, winner--if your kid had scared her enough to make her snap or bite, it would be all my fault, I'm sure. I don't mind the interaction; in fact, I WANT it, but because this was her very first evaluation I wanted those interactions to be as controlled as possible. I know, it's a stretch, and I did expect that kind of stuff, but that doesn't stop me from being annoyed. Then there was the jackass that brought his dog hiking with no leash. His very energetic, young dog that could not do a recall if his life depended on it. Sae Dee is a bit on the possessive side (something we need to work on), so the closer the dog came to us the more defensive she became. Not only is there a leash law in the state of MN--especially in state parks--but it's just good etiquette to leash your dog for everyone's safety, including his. I was sort of testy when I told him that his dog needed to be on a leash, and all he said was "oh, I'm sorry!" Took him and his girlfriend ~20 minutes to catch him and leash him. Part of the trail network cuts through an ecologically sensitive area that is the only home--anywhere--for an endangered species of lily. Guaranteed that his dog pissed all over the place, even though I didn't see it. Jackass.

Speaking of miss Sae Dee, she is doing VERY well. She is settled in and has definitely asserted herself as the boss of the 4-leggeds. Since she has now been well cared for and received adequate nutrition for almost five months, she is finally blowing her coat. Damn those double layered coats! I have her a very thorough brushing and imagine my surprise when the tiny bit of light brown-looking fur morphed into what might be tan (or even reddish) on all four legs, a bit of hue on her face, and a little on her belly. She is so fricken' cute!

Well, I am exhausted so I think I will leave this here for now. Hope you all are still reading!

I'm meeeeelllllltttttiiiiinnnnggggg...

So, Minnesota weather has been cooperating quite well for the last few days. Much nicer to play Frisbee and ball when it's not hot enough to melt the toys (and the dogs!) to the sidewalk. Today on the other hand...not so much. I remember when I LOVED hot and humid weather. That was before chemo screwed up my internal thermostat. I am now quite happy with upper 60s and don't mind when it's chilly enough for hoodies. I still ABHOR our freezing winters, and as such am looking forward to the time when I will be back home in WA! There is just something so freakishly unnatural about chipping multiple inches of ice off of your sidewalk and being warned by the National Weather Service that being outside with any amount of bare skin will result in frostbite in less time than it takes one to say "It's f***ing cold out here."

I don't have any new photos of Sae Dee to share. This one was taken the same day she came home. I know, I know...I can hear it now: "Well, WTF have you been doing then??" I have been slowly but surely cleaning the house. One might be inclined to say that a hurricane tore through here, but I assure you that is not the case. In fact, it's something far less dramatic and newsworthy: when I arrived home from WI, I was so horribly sick that the only thing I was able to do was bring in the dog food and peel my clothes off before collapsing in the recliner. My week + recovery did nothing to minimize the mess I was creating just by being gross and sick. Ted heroically brought in my luggage and sundries, but I did not have the energy to put all of that away...and there it still lies. Don't worry, my love, it will all be nice and clean by the time you arrive home; I will then be back to my usual obsessive behaviors that consist of me following you around, turning off lights and pointing my finger at things that you leave in your wake such as pens, Post-Its, and junk mail, saying "Pick that up!" I will also obsessively move your important papers to stacks in your man-cave and not remember which stack is the most recent nor will I recall where the handwritten note with an important phone number or date or address made its way to. Love me, love my OCD coupled with chemo brain. I write myself reminder notes all over the house, but forget what they meant. Ignorance is NOT bliss, I can assure you!

So...had better get back to this mess before I lose motivation and decide to order pizza and watch a House marathon. I will leave you with this fabulous picture my friend took of Cody and I after I tossed him into the water tank.

I am also accepting ideas for the re-naming of my blog. I simply cannot come up with something that is catchy enough to attract new readers, is not heinously sarcastic, and encompasses the message I wish to convey. Comment or e-mail me with your ideas!

The End is the Beginning is the End

So...it has been a while. Again. There is a purpose to my absence, however. Some things have happened that took me a little bit to wrap my head around.

The position that I interviewed for was a position as a riding instructor and caretaker for a riding program in Wisconsin, at a girls' summer camp in Minocqua. A few days later I was offered the position! I accepted on the condition that I bring Harley and Cody with me, and they were just fine with that. A few days before we were to leave, I brought them to our new vet to have Cody's vaccinations brought current and to evaluate Harley's soundness to make the trip. Dr. Mead and I both agreed that she would be okay, and we decided on a medication protocol for her. Tramadol 3x day to control her pain without making her too drowsy, Pepcid AC for her reflux, and mirtazapine as an appetite stimulant. She made HUGE strides in the following 24 hours; enough that I was confident that she would be okay. I sure was looking forward to sharing this wonderful opportunity with my pups! We left on the afternoon of the 21st.

The trip itself took a little while because I made frequent stops to check the pups and give Harley her meds. It was really hot that day. They were making the trip pretty well until we were almost there. Harley began to pant and look uncomfortable, so when I arrived I had my new roomies help me give her some fluids. With that, meds on board, and a little bit of food in her, she seemed to come around. She curled up in bed with me that night and she seemed SO relaxed and content--more so than she had been in a long time! I was awoken the next morning by a loud thud. When I sat up, I saw that Harley had collapsed on the floor, gasping for air, with gums and tongue so pale they were white. She used what little strength she had to walk outside, and collapsed again. She never got up again--she passed away right there. I actually panicked; I hadn't expected that and I tried to look up veterinary clinics on my Android while keeping an eye on her. There was a part of my brain that took over and forced me to realize that I would never be able to get someone there fast enough; I wouldn't have even had time to place a catheter myself. The whole ordeal was over in less than 20 minutes. She passed at 6:33 a.m. on the 22nd of July. The details of those 20 minutes are only for me to know.

Needless to say, I was completely heartbroken. My new roomies helped me get Harley into my car, and I drove to a local clinic--Northwoods Animal Hospital--to have her cremated. They were GREAT and even though I wasn't a client, they treated me with as much respect and sympathy as if I were. They were also very respectful of Harley. When I returned to pick up her ashes, there was an employee standing by the entrance with a beautiful Border Collie on a leash. As I walked past them with the tears streaming all across my face, the BC looked at me and wagged her tail in such a manner that I couldn't help but smile through my tears. The woman then asked me if I wanted to adopt her. I looked at her, and she was serious. I couldn't help but think that this situation was more than coincidence--I was originally supposed to pick up Harley's ashes the previous day but I was held up at the barn. The fact that we were all at the same place and at the same time was uncanny. Long story short, I asked to take her back to camp with me for a few days to see how she fit with me and with Cody. Everything went VERY well, and I was all set to take her in...but her owners changed their minds. Sigh...so back she went.

My time at Clearwater Camp for Girls was amazing!! I shared a cabin with two other women, one of whom was the Head of Riding, and the other an instructor and caretaker as well. They were SO awesome--they had barely even met me when Harley passed away but were very sympathetic and helpful. They urged me to take the day off, and later that afternoon they brought me a sympathy card and some flowers. I was completely floored. I feel like the three of us got along pretty well and made a great team. I mostly tried to observe how things were run and stepped up to help teach during our lessons as well as participating in the care and cleaning. The riding program consisted of 14 horses, 3 instructors, and a decent but small arena. We taught English riding skills to girls between the ages of 8 and 16 and would go on the occasional trail ride. The girls are scheduled for at least one lesson a week; some girls want to take on more so they sign up to be an "extended" rider, which means they ride 3 days a week. Those girls had the opportunity to participate in a Gymkhana event, which was a LOT of fun and something they were pretty proud of! The entire camp consists of two sessions running from the end of June until mid-July for the first session, and mid-July until mid-August for the second. Many girls stay for the full 7 weeks. I happened to come at the start of the second session, and returned on the 18th.

Everyone I met there was completely amazing. They all feel very strongly about the camp and its intended purpose to provide the girls with great experiences. No one there was harsh or judgmental, and embraced the myriad of things that make us all unique. Ideas and thoughts about the camp, the girls, the program, the staff, each other...all were warmly welcomed. I received a LOT of sympathy from everyone about Harley, and everyone seemed to LOVE Cody. He kind of has that effect on people! I do hope that I am afforded the opportunity to return next summer--this was the first job I have had in a LONG time that didn't feel at all like a job. I felt like I belonged there. I had a TON of fun as well! Well, with the exception of the first day, and the last. I picked up some kind of nasty bug somewhere; the first day I was nauseated and vomiting; the second I was coughing and running a fever; by the time the morning of the 18th rolled around, I was heavily congested, feverish, and coughing so hard that I was gagging and vomiting and even made myself pass out a few times. I stayed in bed the entire day, and finally was able to leave late in the afternoon on the 19th. I have been laid up for the last eight days--went to urgent care and had a chest rad to rule out a fungal infection, and a culture for whooping cough. I haven't received the culture results yet. I'm feeling a lot better, but if I over-do things and try to do too much, I pay for it. Slowly but surely, I am recovering!

So...two new bits of news that are exciting for Ted and I. Ted took an active duty position with the Guard again. He is working in Range Control, which means he will be working to manage the safety and organization of training and live fire operations at Camp Ripley. Unfortunately, this means that he will be staying up there for the next year...again. The bonus: active duty benefits and pay. That includes 30 days of paid leave, so we will be able to see each other more than just on the weekends. Need I say more?

The second little bit of news: we have welcomed a new member into our little family. Her name is Sae Dee, and she is a six-year-old blue merle Australian Shepherd. I had been perusing through the herding dogs (like Border Collies, Collies, Shelties, Aussies, and others) posted on Petfinder for a couple of weeks, and I saw her photo and thought she was just stunning. I have always loved the blue merle variation in the herding dogs. When I had the little Border Collie girl staying with me at camp, it kind of showed me that while I am still grieving for Harley, there is enough love in my heart to give another buddy a chance. So...I e-mailed the rescue group that was caring for her and set up a "meet and greet" for Sunday (yesterday). Ted and I both fell for her, and she came home with us that day and she is now officially part of our crazy household! She and Cody are getting along; I am not sure that he is going to bond with her as he did with Harley but at least he is now beginning to come out of his depression a bit. He has seemed so lost without Harley. Sae Dee and Scooter are for the most part aloof from each other; she doesn't like Mickey so much but tolerates him as long as he keeps his distance.

For those of you who might criticize me for adopting a dog so soon after Harley's passing, don't. I am in NO way trying to "replace" Harley; that is impossible. I am still grieving for her, but I feel very strongly that wherever she may now be, she has been facilitating these "chance" encounters. The universe has aligned in such a way as to show me that in helping another pup have a chance at a happy life, I will be helping myself through the grief and sense of loss I am feeling.

I think this is where I will stop for now. I'm looking at this post and thinking, "Holy shit, no one is going to want to read all of this!!" If you do, you do...if you don't, you don't. I won't be offended either way, but I do hope that you will share my life with me through this blog. I am still considering changing the name, but I have yet to figure out an appropriate one. I will try a LOT harder to update more often so that I don't post these fricken novels all the time.

I hope everyone is having a great summer!! Seems like it is over way too quickly...I am dreading winter as I always do. Keep in touch, y'all!