Take Two.

Tuesday the sixth.

I was called back by the surgeons office this afternoon. Woo! 🧑🏻‍⚕️ They were willing to set my appointment for tomorrow, but I can’t do that – I work tomorrow. So I told them Tuesday’s are best for me and I am free for whenever. So next Tuesday it is…

Normally I would ramble on and on about thoughts, worries, etc. But today will be short because I’m using my cell phone to write this. Why? Don’t laugh! 👀 One of my cats, Odis, was asleep in my computer chair && I didn’t want to wake him up. So I left the room to use my phone. ☎️

But I will say this much. My “fat brain” is freaking out && I know that it’s going to take a lot to calm it down. However, I know I need to do this to survive – I’m just, probably like everyone else on the planet that has done this surgery, scared of how it’s going to change me.

The thought of taking an hour to eat one scrambled egg terrifies me. Although, I’m pretty sure by 30 minutes in, I’m going to get bored of eating. 🍽️

I did have a check up with my doctor today. We didn’t do much so I have nothing new to go by. I did tell him that when I eat I sweat, which is weird – asked if I should be worried. He said no – he is pretty sure it’s because of my Trulicity. I also asked for a prescription of antacids because BOY! Woo! All I get anymore is heartburn. Sucks. I have an appointment next month to check my A1C. Hopefully it has gone down. I know my daily numbers are lower. Send a prayer up for me on that.

I will stop on that note && will pick it back up again later on.

Heart Broken.

I talk to a dead cat every day.

January 2021, our cat Penelope had kittens. All of them died except one. I became fond of the little kitten but we had no intentions of keeping her. I was going to find her a new home. (We already had too many cats.)

After she was born I was hospitalized, y’all remember that. When I got home she had a boo-boo on the top of her head. Her mom, Penelope, && Penelopes sister, Benson, got into a fight over her and booped her head. We named her Dotty.

After a bit that spot turned black – not a bad black, she basically ended up with a dot on her head that was black. As she aged a lot of her white darkened. She ended up looking Siamese.

Her and I bonded. We got very close. I fell in love with her when she was a baby. Completely head over heels. She got older, bigger, darker. She slept with me, && would want me to hold her like a baby rocking her as she slept. I called her Babykins. She was my baby.

Two weeks ago she never came home. I waited three days before I really started to freak out. By Friday I needed her home. So I went out looking for her. Walking around our small town I knew she wouldn’t go far. I even asked a Facebook Community page for help.

I found her. 💔

I know people always tell me that they don’t see their animals as animals but as children. I never understood that. Until her. She was special to me. She made me happy. &&& I know she loved me just as much as I loved her. (Even if I did read someone say that animals don’t love us that they only seem like it because they depended on us for food.)

She was down the road. Wet. Dirty. Which was things she hated more than anything. I wish I had went looking for her Wednesday, but I don’t think it would have mattered.

We have a set of aggressive dogs on our street. Mind you, I wasn’t there && at first I thought she was hit by a car. But this past Saturday we found another one of our cats, mauled to death in our back yard. I’m about 100% sure that Babykins was killed by the dogs.

When I found her. A piece of me broke in half. I feel like I’m missing something. A small part of me. A part of my happiness disappeared with her. I picked her limp body up and carried her home with no feelings in my legs. Couldn’t see through the tears. My lungs felt empty. I couldn’t breathe.

I sat on my front porch, alone, crying holding her like I did when she was alive. Close to my chest, rocking her back and forth, crying.

I went to work the next day. I shouldn’t have. For 12.5 hours I sat at my desk and cried. I wasn’t in the correct mindset to be there. I got nothing accomplished. But I went because I had no choice.

Milo, the other cat we found, was our baby. We got him April 2018, and he was solid white && deaf. He was a rescue that we got as a kitten. We raised him. He raised the other cats. We weren’t here for his but I’m pretty sure that Lucci, another one of our cats saw it. He witnessed Milos death. I think this because he has bite marks on his back and side.

Milo had no chance && I fear that Lucci tried to help but couldn’t. Lucci is now traumatized. Any noise he hears he jumps. Stares at the doors. Won’t go outside. You can tell he is sad.

I talk to Babykins every day I walk by her spot. We buried her next to the porch. We put Milo on the other side. They are both there and I see their spots every day.

I really miss them.

To ghost or not to ghost.

When I was fifteen I lost my mother.

The day before she passed her && I spent the whole day together. I had woke up that day to get ready for school but something told me not to go. So I didn’t. I used the fact that my foot was broken, I said it hurt, to not go to school that day. Instead, we spent the day together.

At a point in the day she told me if there was anyway she could come back && let us know that she was safe, and had found her mother and grandfather, that she’d let me know. I joked, of course, && told her I wouldn’t do that unless you want to see me a lot earlier than you expected. We both chuckled.

She was scared that day. I didn’t realize it at the time. But she was. I remember going home that night helping her pack and get ready to go to the hospital. In the bag she had packed were letters she had written. They were for my brother, dad && me. When I found them that day I asked her about them && she said they were nothing && threw them away. A part of me wishes I hadn’t said anything. I have always wondered what it said.

The next day we drove to OKC Heart hospital. Waited all day. Drove home that night without her.

A few days pass, not many, just enough. My brother && I were in my bedroom – up on the shelf was a mantle clock that belonged to my great-grandfather. It hasn’t worked in years due to the fact that all of the inside pieces are in the bottom of it. That day the clock chimed three times. I looked at my brother who looked back at me. For a brief second – I was relieved. My brother & I have always believed, && I always will, that was my mother telling us that she found our grandmother && great-grandfather && that they were together.

Every so often I’ll see a shadow out of the corner of my eye – not all the time, and it’s usually subtle and doesn’t stay long. Just long enough, I guess. I’ll stare in the direction of the shadow – I don’t know if it’s in hopes of actually seeing her or just feeling comfort to know she’s there.

I just hope that she is proud of me. Even though my house is a mess, my life is a mess && I’m nowhere near being in the position that I thought I would be at 34. && I hope after my dad passed that he was able to find her. That they are together along with her parents, and his parents, siblings, etc. I hope that in the afterlife you do find your people && you know it. That it isn’t over after you die && there are great things for you waiting.

Traditions.

Lately my mind as been extremely negative.

So much that The Boyfriend has been asking me why I’m so negative && I’m not one hundred percent sure why. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t noticed that I’m a little on the extra side right now. I’m trying so hard but at the same time my spirit is just gone.

I wanted to try && cheer myself up by writing about holiday traditions. If I have written about this in the past, I apologize, hopefully I don’t look like a complete idiot && say something that I didn’t the first time, but I don’t think I have, so there’s that.

First, I would like to admit that I don’t remember many of my Christmases. My memory doesn’t work like most, and I have said it before that some things I remember either didn’t happen or didn’t happen the way I remember it. The last Christmas I remember I was around eleven, maybe ten, I’m not sure. But I remember it was the last Christmas I spent with my grandmother.

Other than that, the only things I really remember is that I did celebrate Christmas growing up with my parents, I just don’t remember them. But I do remember the last few I have had. Like the first one with the Boyfriend. Although, that one isn’t as great of a memory as I wish. I had that planned out && knew it was going to be great! But with unforeseen circumstances, that Christmas was a bust because Boyfriend wasn’t at home on Christmas Day. He had to go do something that didn’t involve me, so I stayed at home – like I did for the next couple of Christmases when he had to go do something else. (I feel salty, but I’m not.)

I got over that.

The last few Christmases he has been home with me, so it’s made up for it.

Now, on to traditions. My mom loved Christmas – it was her favorite time of the year. She loved the tree (which she always wanted a solid white fake tree but was never able to get it. After she passed && I got older I began buying solid white fake trees for her, I felt as if it made her closer to me. I eventually stopped, mostly this year, I have a flocked tree, I believe that is what it’s called.) She loved the cooler weather, even if it doesn’t really get cold, she loved the lights, and the music && the food. Oh, she loved to cook for the family (even if I don’t remember it.)

A lot of her traditions I tried to keep going back as the years go on, I realize that I will never be up to par to my mom, but I’m pretty sure a lot of people say that. I remember that she would put the tree up Thanksgiving evening, && begin to buy presents. She would hide the gifts in her closet (which happened to be in my bedroom) && my brother && I would try to guess what was in the boxes – just like normal children. Sometimes, we would attempt to open the present && fix it before she noticed, but I don’t remember if we ever actually got into them or not.

Christmas Eve she’d have us go to bed super early && then would pull out the Santa Gifts, which were never wrapped, and put them out underneath the tree && fill our stockings with a bunch of great things. I can remember one year in my stocking was a ring, a tiny purple butterfly, I loved that ring, but I lost it. Sadly. That ring meant so much to me because I logically knew my mother picked it out. && anything my mother picked out, I loved. But that ring was something special for me.

Then Christmas Morning, my brother would always wake up first. He’d tiptoe into my bedroom && wake me up && we’d sneak into the living room && just sit in front of the tree until our mom && dad woke up. I know my mom enjoyed making a Christmas breakfast, but I don’t know if it was the day of or the day before.

My brother always says that our mom let us open on gift on Christmas Eve, but I don’t remember that. But I think that was him just trying to get me to let him open a gift.

After my mom passed away, I tried everything I could do keep the spirit for Christmas in the house, but I couldn’t, so I eventually just stopped trying. I know we always had a small tree, but it never felt right so that eventually just faded.

When my brother started dating older woman who had children, I attempted to make it feel festive for the kids. I hope I always did a good job, but for me, there’s always been something missing. When I lived alone, I bought a four-foot tree and decorated it && put up a stocking for myself. But I still felt like something was missing.

I am 34 now – I have no children – it’s just Boyfriend && Myself. When him && I first got together he said he came with children. That part perked me up thinking about all the holidays that I could make fantastic for them. I really thought it would help me find my groove && create my own traditions that they’d talk about even after I’m gone. Or tell stories to their friends or family about the nice things I did.

I still don’t have any traditions. I buy gifts for a few people. I put up a tree. I try to decorate outside (we got half the porch done this year.) I used to make a big dinner for Christmas, but I don’t have the spirit for that anymore either. I’m trying so hard – to the point that I wanted to leave for a vacation to a town that is known for Christmas so maybe I could find it.

Christmas has always been my favorite time of the year, but lately, I feel as if I am doing it all wrong && just making everyone’s life around me miserable. I feel like sometimes I force Boyfriend to buy me gifts && I force others around me to enjoy the holiday season because I feel like I should be – but I’m not.

This year has been extremely hard && I was hoping by November && into December that maybe my spirits would be up. But just a few moments ago I was thinking that I probably need to make a will – yes, a will. Just in case I die && there won’t be any issues when it comes to my stuff. Not that I have much. But what I do have I would want to go to specific people. Which this all makes me even sadder && more negative. Because I don’t want to think about death at 34, but it’s a realization I must come to terms with, because I have already tried to die once this year. Then all this talk takes my brain into a whole different topic.

I have been watching a lot of Christmas movies this year. Every year I buy Hallmark Movies Now && try to watch them. Last couple of years I didn’t really, but this year I have watched so many. Boyfriend && I sleep differently (he works nights && I work mornings) so when he is asleep, I’ll watch Christmas/Romantic movies. When I’m asleep he plays video games, lately it’s basically been Diablo 2.

I wanted to start a tradition where for Christmas Dinner Boyfriend && I go have Chinese (my favorite food), then go home && open gifts. Or even just go get the food, take it open, eat && open gifts while a corny Christmas movie plays in the background, like The Santa Claus. We did that last year on December 24th. We went to the next town over && dined in, eating Chinese before going home && opening gifts. it worked out well last year.

This year I have no idea what’s happening.

Concentration is hard.

I want to write.

Writing is all I think about. I think about writing more than I think about food && when you’re a foodaholic, that’s a lot. But when I sit down to write nothing seems to come out. Nothing seems to make sense && nothing seems to work our properly.

I cannot seem to concentrate when it comes to writing, or editing. My mind start wandering && I begin thinking about something else. Lately, I’ve been thinking about playing Fallout 4 – again. (Side note: I’ve already beat it once, but I have been working on beating it again where I side with a different side of the game. Last time I sided with the Institute && had to murder the Brotherhood. Now, I want to side with the Brotherhood.) Or I start thinking that maybe I just need to read more. Maybe that’s what is clogging up my brain, but at the same time, I can’t concentrate to read either.

I recently bought every book written by Harry Dolan (I really enjoyed his first book). I have them all sitting beside my bed just waiting. I began reading his second book but I cannot seem to concentrate long enough to read through it. When I start reading I begin thinking, maybe I should be writing && not reading. Then I pull out my book && start editing just in time for my brain to start thinking about Fallout 4.

It’s just a big old circle I would love to get out of.

Oh! Let’s not forget. When I’m sitting around doing nothing, writing, reading, or playing video games, my brain is screaming at me that I probably should be exercising. Speaking of, I told Boyfriend on Monday that I wanted to go for a walk. My right foot has been hurting ever since. But what makes it weird, I never went for my walk because just talking about it my foot started hurting && now I can barely walk on it without it hurting. Can someone tell my body to stop so I don’t die at 45?

So here I sit in front of the computer typing words into a white square so I can say I at least write something. I woke up the other day after having a very vivid dream. I went straight to the computer, sat down && pulled up a blog to write. I had decided that I would write something new, once a week, that would be a story that could be read like a television series. Something new every week. It’s still saved in my drafts. I never wrote it – which is the story of my life.

I have some great ideas when it comes to writing && then I just…. can’t. Maybe it’s I don’t. I have figured out that I sabotage myself. Maybe I do that with writing too? All I know for sure, 100% – if I don’t finish something I will never be published. Whether it’s self-published or published through a company, it’ll never happen if I don’t do something now. I feel like I’m running out of time.

Although, that’s not true. Some of the writers I read don’t get published until they are in their 40’s or older. There’s never a stopping point. You’re never too old to do something different. I read a story once about a romance writer (mommy porn) that didn’t write her first book until she was in her 80’s. But then I hear stories about writers who write && publish their first book at 14. I think it just depends on the person && how much time they dedicate to writing.

November will be 9 years of writing/editing this book. I have been writing this book way too long.

I didn’t start one back when I was 19. Then my computer crashed && I lost everything. EVERY. THING. I swore then I’d never write another. But in 2012 (25 years old) I was overcome with the inspiration && just started writing. Like I can remember the whole time line. 2015, January, I finished the rough draft. I can remember because I was at work && I wanted to scream. But I calmly told my supervisor && co-workers which they told me to scream. So I squealed. Three years of writing, finally done. Now, I had to edit. It’s not 2021 && I am still editing that stupid book.

I know I talk about this a lot. As much as I talk about it you’d like I would just finish it. How hard is that for me to understand && grasp?

JUST. FINISH. THE. BOOK.