day in the life

In Which I Bitch

…(and then attempt to repent)

die

ironic image courtesy of PostSecret

I was brushing my teeth last night and feeling sorry for myself. I have one of those Oral-B battery-powered brushes, and as its harmonic buzzing lulled me into a trance-like state, one clear thought popped out of the white noise of self-pity: we have had more than our fair share of sadness these last three years.

And immediately, I felt ashamed. Our fair share? What’s a “fair share” of sadness, really? It’s not like either of us has lost a limb, or each other. Neither of us were in a tall building when it was hit with an airplane. We don’t have debilitating diseases or foreclosure looming. I mean, we just bought a storm door! We’re really fine.

But, if you tilt your head and squint, it would seem that things have had a way of not working out for us ever since Kokoro was diagnosed with an aggressively progressing cancer in 2006. It would seem. After all, three months later (to the day, minus one) we were on the road back home to tend to my father-in-law’s last three weeks of life. But you know that story. And really, who doesn’t have a true life tale of extraordinary hardship? Life is a roller coaster of overused metaphors. It jerks us around.

I am not proud of my funk.  Having been told all of my life that I am a brat, I tend to want to hold my adult self to certain standards of gratitude. Namely, I want to be grateful for every shit sandwich life hands me because, after all, isn’t it fortunate that I have a mouth with which to eat them? Some little children in Botswana don’t even have mouths. So, I torture myself with self-pity and then torture myself some more with guilt.  Which, when you get down to it it really just more self-pity.  Brat!

I know this, yet losing a little dog last week that we’d so recently adopted has thrown me into an inescapable existential loop. The little pleasures in life leave me flat, and I’m questioning the very reasons for stars to be in the sky. In philosophical terms: Why am I on the edge of this cliff? Am I more scared of falling or of throwing myself off? Or is what I’m really scared of the more frightening possibility that there is no force in the cosmos that can compel me to do either because the universe is an empty, cold, dog-less void?

I guess the real question here is do I get a dog, or not? If not, can someone explain this decision to me, maybe in writing?

I know you probably have a different question in mind: what happened? In short: the sweet little dog could not stay in our family. The situation was bad for her and for Lanty.  Sometimes the best decision for your pets is the suckiest one for you. Doing the right thing is as simple and as pissy as that. So, I have no dog. And dear, darling Lanty is sick again. Angst.

But, we’re going to see Rifftrax Live on Thursday night, and we now have a Wii. Conspicuous consumption makes everything better.

8 Comments

  1. Corrie

    OK, honey….
    The only way out of the darkness is to walk towards the light. Feel your way around the room to find the handle on the door if you can’t see the light cause the door is closed. Crawl around on your hands and knees feeling for the door if you can’t walk to it. And call a friend. Really. Friends never think your bitching is nearly as bitchy as it might feel to you. And go get yourself some husband hugs. Bunches of them.

    I understand the pain of loosing pets, for sure. For sure, for sure. They are our little people in furry suits that we are absolutely sure would unzip the costume, step out, ask for a scotch and give us their side of things if they only could. They don’t judge, criticize or laugh at us. They cuddle us and love us and give all they have no matter how many times we forget to change the litter. And when they leave us, sometimes they leave us wondering if there is more or was more we shoulda coulda woulda done. They would tell us they love us and that you are the most amazing pet owner. Ever.

    Be good to yourself. Sometimes it’s harder work than being kind to others. OK, a lot of times it is. But you are a freaking beautiful woman, Meg. Inside and out. And yeah, I think I could round up a whoooooole bunch of people who feel the same way.

    Further more, don’t think for a minute that you didn’t earn every shit sandwich ever handed to you, just like all the rest of us! You are good enough, you are smart enough, and doggone it, you earned ’em just like the rest of us!!! And you sure as heck are no brat. No way. Just put that thought away, m-kay?
    *hug**hug*

  2. Sissy

    I don’t have any words of wisdom. But please know that I love you and know how you feel.
    It’s ok if you do not feel like talking right now. Just know that I am here to listen whenever you are ready.
    Love you
    Sissy

  3. strawberry jelly

    Lost my dearest Abby (my first, and certainly will always be the best bunny-child ever) nearly 6 weeks ago. I cried for days…and still cry often for the loss. I have no words of consolation other than the old cliche – time does heal all wounds. Certainly there’s always a scar, but it does heal…so I’m finding on my end. I’m terribly sorry to hear of your loss. I am certain of another long-eared friend in my future – maybe in time you will know if a little four legged canine is in yours… Hugs friend.

  4. Mavis

    OK I know this is a month old post but still I wanted to say something.
    It’s okay to feel sorry for yourself, even if you have it better than a lot of people. That’s cold damn comfort when there is big sadness in your own life. And big sadness is relative! It’s not as though you’re whining about a hangnail as if it were an amputation.

    That’s all I got. I am glad to see the recent stuff on LantyCat. And I love his posts, too. You’re sweet and sassy and I love you for it.

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