The Reason

A Facebook friend posted this yesterday and I saw it and was just like, holy crap, that's me. I don't feel like its talked about a lot why people choose not to commit suicide. Most of the time people talk about why people DID commit suicide and a lot of the time, that talk is very judgmental. I know I struggle when I see the negative comments directed at that person, usually talking about how selfish they are, questioning why they didn't ask for help, what a waste of a life their decision was, etc. I don't generally see many people trying to understand. So seeing a shout out like that, was kind of awesome.

I've been suicidal multiple times through my life, even as recently as two years ago. No, I have never actually attempted, though I have had plans in place. The reason I never went through with it, is because I knew how much my death would hurt my parents and, I assumed, my friends. See, I'm really bad at friendships. I have this tendency to assume that the other person or persons don't actually like me or will start to dislike me or something like that so I automatically hold back. I make my assumption into a reality, I guess. I've had friendships where I feel like I give 110%, always trying to be there, always trying to be a reliable friend, and had those friendships crash and burn. So, I'm reluctant to fully put myself out there, but there are times when I get so desperate for that feeling of friendship that I push a little too hard. See, I don't think I'm a particularly likable person. I'm stubborn, opinionated, and honestly, just a tad judgmental, okay, a lot judgmental. I tend to make snap judgments about people and its hard to change that impression once its made. Frankly, I'm a bitch. I will totally own that. But over the years I've made a few friendships that have lasted and while those friends may not have always known what to do with me when I was going through one of my super depressed phases, they were there.

Never Say Never

Going into a career as a vet tech, I knew that my biggest temptation was going to be wanting to adopt any of the various animals that would come my way. But I figured that I wouldn't have to deal with that temptation until I was mostly done or done with school and actually working. Famous last words.

I've never liked small dogs. They're tiny, annoying creatures who bark way too much, behave ridiculously, and are generally just a nuisance. I've also never been as fond of female dogs. I honestly don't know why, probably just the fact that I've only ever owned male dogs. I always figured that after my current three boys passed away, I would get another medium or large dog, preferably a medium-sized one. But life it seems had other plans for me.

The last half of the semester for one of my classes involved going over to Eastside Animal Services

Our first meeting!

and working with the dogs and cats there to practice our physical exam skills. Naturally, our teachers wanted us to have experience with large and small dogs. However, while there was an abundance of large dogs we could use, there weren't as many small dogs available. On one of those days where my partner and I needed a small dog, we found ourselves with even fewer options than usual. We wanted a dog that would be relatively easy to work with and the one with the sign that said she was shy but sweet seemed too nervous. But without a better option, we chose her. Alice, as she was called, turned out to actually be quite sweet. She was a pug/chihuahua mix and pretty darned adorable. She tolerated all the indignities of going through a physical exam without any complaints. We carried her back to her kennel after we were done and that was that. Or so I thought.

Merry Christmas?

Have you ever had a Christmas where it just doesn't feel like Christmas?  The tree's all decorated, the lights are up, the presents are wrapped, the cards are signed, the Christmas story's been read, etc., etc.  Yet even with all that, there's just no joy, no excitement, nothing.  That's how my Christmas started out.  When I was woken up by one of my dogs licking my face, it felt like any other day.  I knew it wasn't, but that's what it felt like.  It made me think of those Christmases when I was little kid that I would wake up at the crack of dawn and run into my parents room and jump on their bed till they woke up and we would go open presents.  I miss those days of simplicity and of belief in Santa.  Things really were easier in some ways.

When I finally hauled myself out of bed and got out of my room and wished a Merry Christmas to the rest of my family, my grandmother responded with, "Doesn't feel very merry does it?"  I knew exactly what she meant, but saying it out loud just added to the depression I already felt.  It was hard not to dwell on the fact that Grandpa wasn't going to be there.  Thanksgiving hadn't been nearly this hard, probably because about half the family wasn't able to make it anyway.  For Christmas though, the entire family was showing up, including my grandmother on my mom's side who suffers from dementia.  Eleven people, a permanent odd number for the first time in twenty years.

Don't Be Bitter, Be Better

Update:  In the three years since writing this my relationship with my grandmother has not improved.  I'm no longer bitter towards her because of the reasons listed below, but I'm no loner the adoring granddaughter who thought her grandmother could do no wrong.  People always talk about that when you live with someone you get to see everything about them, the good and the bad.  That was certainly the case here, though what became apparent was more bad than good.  The longer we lived together, the more I discovered that I really did not know my grandmother at all and there was a side to her that I did not like at all that drove wedge in our relationship.  The one good thing that came from it all was that it brought my mother and I together.  We'd always had a bit of a rocky relationship, but through the issues that came up with my grandmother we began to talk more and develop a better relationship.  At this point we've become quite close and I'm thankful for that even if it did come at the cost of my relationship with my grandmother.   I still don't like Albuquerque thought I've gotten used to it..  I really am a country girl and anytime I'm able to drive out more into the country whether its back out into the mountains or in more recent times out in Rio Rancho, I'm happy.  I still hate the fact that my dogs are cooped up in their pen and that our cats have never really seemed to adjust to the new house.  I also ended up driving by our home in Edgewood about a year and a half ago and discovered that people who bought our house had gotten rid of my chickens and my rooster which left me in tears.  Despite my love for wide open spaces and a more secluded home, living in Albuquerque isn't completely unbearable and I'm happy with it for now.  I don't plan on living here forever and I still dream of finding some quiet little spot I can call my own.

~*~

Recently I've been struggling with some bitterness towards the last person I ever thought I would be bitter towards:  my grandmother.  Isn't it funny how things can change so fast?  The cause can be directly traced back to my family's move back into Albuquerque.  Now to most people that probably doesn't seem like that big of a deal, but for me, it's been pretty huge.  I'm a country girl at heart, not a city girl.