invincible summers

in the middle of winter I at last discovered that there was in me an invincible summer. (albert camus)

two weeks later April 12, 2007

Filed under: acupuncture,antipsychotics,depression,life — clementine @ 1:46 pm
Tags: , , , ,

it’s funny, i had no idea losing kinsey would be this difficult. it’s been two weeks and i have cried every single day since. last weekend i had an acupuncture session and it helped, yes, it did. it cleared up some of the depression that seems to always linger but it didn’t take away the pain of losing my cat.

i found an online grief support group and soon found out those that have lost a pet are not welcome there. we must go to the pet grief support group. there were angry comments about, it’s not the same. it’s not the same. well, i’m here to say, it is. all pain is the same. i’ve lost 3 grandparents and a cousin in the iraq war. i know what it’s like to lose someone you love.

some people like to say, pets aren’t human. they don’t feel. they don’t understand. they can’t talk, they can’t smile, they can’t laugh. and it’s bullshit. have you ever overslept? and your phone rings and you must take the call and you don’t want the person on the other end of the line to think they’ve woke you. you know, it’s 2 in the afternoon, you don’t want them to think you’re some jerk that sleeps all day. and so you answer the phone sounding as chirpy as possible. HELLO? Oh hey!!!! I was JUST thinking about you…..

i would be out running errands, come home, unlock the front door, walk in and kinsey would come running out of whichever room she was in. i could tell she’d been asleep but she was trying her best to pretend that wasn’t the case. she was trying to get to the front door as quickly as possible to make it appear she’d been there all along waiting on me. it was so sweet, really, when i think about it. as she got older, i would unlock the door, open it and i would call her…and then she’d come, walking a bit slow but still pretending she’d been awake waiting on me all day. even though her eyes were sleepy she was still trying to tell me, i’ve been here, waiting for you…

we’ve been together since 1991, she was 6 weeks old and i was eighteen. she’s been with me throughout my entire adult life. and i’ve been through a lot during those years. much more pain than joy. she was my rock. no matter how bad i felt life was, no matter how many times i wished it would end, she was there. on some days she only had to look at me a certain way and i knew everything was going to be ok. i miss those eyes. those big blue eyes. i miss her “kneading bread” on my stomach, my arms. i miss those purrs. i miss everything. i miss her.

i’ve thought quite a bit about this pain and wondered many times, why can’t i get through it? i’ve wondered, why is it so difficult? and then one day last week, it hit me. when i lost my grandparents and my cousin. when my sister miscarried her twins and when she went in for her 50th surgery…i was medicated. those lovely antipsychotics. or the older antidepressants. you know the ones. i like to call them the zombie drugs. i rarely cried. i hardly laughed. it was like i was living underwater and everything was slow motion and drowned out. today docs like to prescribe them to children and to the elderly to, um, silence them. are they psychotic? most of them, no. i no longer take those meds, i found one that works without the zombie side effects. without the danger of diabetes, etc. but the trade is, i’m feeling everything.

and that is ok.

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