Still, like air, I rise

For many years I've told everyone I know I'd need a week off when my dog died. I thought I would be a saint-style stoic person until the moments surrounding the actual death, then lose my shit and take a week off of work to ramble around my house like Miss Havisham.

It happened in reverse. I lost my mind over a declining dog for over a week, remained stoic while my dog was dying, found peace in the moments after, and needed to go to work the next day for some semblance of normalcy.

I am working consciously towards my new normal. That tag is on that tattoo for a reason. I'm here. I'm okay. I can bend, stretch, be compressed, withstand. I am resilient. If I think honestly about who I am and what I'm made of, I realize that resilience is what makes me the most me.

I heard from so many people after Geege died. People I know, but also a lot of people I don't know. Broken hearts over dead dogs brings people out. All the dog people were so great in letting us know we were not fucking nuts for feeling so bad over a dog. Amanda told me that many times leading up to it and I am so glad I had those words in my head because I felt legitimately insane for reacting like this. I pride myself on moving ahead with dignity, and doing so quickly. There is not even one fuck to give for appearing put together in this incident.

Grief is one of the great equalizers, and it exposes us in a way that allows real connection. But man, it's uncomfortable, showing your pain to the world. And it's really fucking uncomfortable for the world to hear about it. Have you ever listened to or read someone express their pain plainly and cringe a little, inadvertently turning away from it, like it's something you need to shield yourself from? I have. You just want them to stop talking about it, to get over it, to move on. We do not want to sit down to a plate piled high with raw emotion because it requires us to respond and it's easier not to. Just pass the ketchup and let's eat in silence.

Throughout this I kept asking myself why the fuck I was putting this all out there, not once or twice or on one medium but on many. It's showing more of the man behind the curtain than I am usually comfortable with. I have no answer aside from the fact that writing is a great purge. Even so, I certainly do not share everything in this space that I write. I don't know why I shared this grief stuff. I don't know why I'm still sharing it. I'm not asking for permission or forgiveness, I just truly have no idea why I refuse to write about most things more than once but this I've theme I have let have free rein. If it wants out it gets out and it gets published without getting a re-read so good God please don't let there be grammatical errors.

Maybe someone will need it in the future, and here it will be. I don't know.

Grief is weird.

Here are some pretty frank descriptions of my thoughts this week. These are not solicitations for sympathy. In fact maybe there's something that makes you laugh. Grief can be ugly but it can also be funny. In my world nothing can get better until things can be funny.

Sunday: 

-Attempt real things after Geege's body is taken out but end up on couch in basement where I never go because it sucks down there hiding from MFD, Gus, Mae, life. 

-Spend afternoon obsessing over ordering a Geege bracelet and painting my toenails because what if I die from a broken heart and people see my toenails like that?  

-Leave house simply so I can return to a home without Geege for the first time even though that means subjecting my family to my surly company. My husband is much nicer for them to be around, as always. 

-Fear hugging my niece because I don't want her to feel my sad. 

-Interrupt mourning to receive phone call from Dunkin Donuts owner in an effort to secure social justice for her workers, succeed, go immediately back to sulking

-Tired of life and in bed before 9

-Talk to Geege before bed like he's still there

-Ignore all phone calls, 9/10 facebook comments, and some texts

-Survived

Monday: 
-Wake up and cry because I immediately remember Geege is not here.
-Forget sunglasses which makes crying on the train awkward.
-Cry twice in the office before 8:30 a.m.
-Exhausted to the point of propping myself up by 9 a.m.
-Tell one coworker so she can spread the news. Most people avoid me, which I prefer, except for those who have put dogs down, and we whisper in my office because we can't speak and cry together four different times like a secret club no one wants to belong to.
-I eat literally all the brownies that come with the staff lunch and since I work with great people no one says a fucking word or tries to take one.
-I fantasize about acting out all of my small, mean thoughts on people who do not deserve it then worry this will happen on public transport. Contemplate working from home for the rest of the week/my entire life.

-Should I wear a my dog just died sign to explain possible erratic behavior?
-Try to care about things, fail.
-Wonder why the fuck I am so upset when I know dogs don't live long and I have never been so upset about a human dying
-Have to face the wall when I tell my boss who is a huge dog lover and who has been there, it is really awkward because we are both almost crying and that is totally not what you want to be doing on a Monday afternoon with an employer
-Consider contacting TOMs and telling them a pair of plaid shoes in my size that are no longer in stock might help heal the heart of a woman who just lost her dog, realize I am opportunistically insane and refrain.
-Spend time looking for myself in the mirror because my face feels physically different from crying so much for the past seven days
-Begin to identify with a straw person someone puts on a bench as a fall decoration because I am lacking human response today.
-Answer most people but avoid one on one interactions like the plague.
-Spend the evening lost in a book.
-Notice Mae is really in distress and vow to do better tomorrow.
-Survived.

Tuesday:
-Wake up certain I am in a different stage of life as I no longer physically feel like every part of my body is a nerve ending, nor do I feel sunk into myself. I feel lighter. The bags under my eyes do not. Yikes. Eye cream applied.
-Still talking to Geege like he's here, realize I might do that forever, realize I am fine with that
-Mae goes to the vet and as suspected nothing is physically wrong with her, just the loss.
-On the train I am angry about something on a neighborhood facebook page. Self? Is that you?
-Post some feminist post on Instagram. I know this woman. 
-At lunch I am angry over the shitbox healthcare burger they're attempting to serve up again so I call my Senators. Self! That is you.
-At work I listen to a coworker complain about her husband without thinking shut the fuck up don't you know my fucking dog is dead! I actually feel sympathy because seriously why can't they just fucking call someone to fix something instead of pretending they are going to fix it
-I make a list for the weekend. I'm back. 

-Watch Geege videos and smile. 

-Hug my Dad without crying

-Observe Gus sniff the entire house relentlessly looking for Geege without crying 

-Re-engage with people 

-Go to bed at 11 and realize I have not cried all day for the first time in eight days

Today? Today is a new day and my hair stylist will remove the 314159 grays I have gotten over the last week which will bring me great joy. I will return to the shore alone and that might be hard. I will miss Geegie boy forever. I will be in real pain for a while. I expect to burst into tears at inopportune times. But I will do those things while laughing as much as I can and feeling joy. Joy and pain can co-exist in me if I allow them to. I don't have to choose one or the other. 

I had an idea in my head not only of how I grieve compared to others, but how and for how long I grieve period. I gave myself a hurdle that I then had to get over when I had no strength to do so. I think we have an idea of how we should properly grieve and that holds us back from grieving how we need to. Fuck proper. Grieve in your own way, every time. Even if it's different from the last time. And look for the laughs because they will move you forward.  

L'shanah Tovah, friends. I'm ready for a new year myself.

A Comedy of errors

If you need a detailer in the Philly area, Chris from Hunter's Finish Line is the man for you. I am happy to pass along his info, he finished the clean up and got it back to looking how I never dreamed it would look again. 

I've had good practice admitting defeat lately as I have been involved in a series of unfortunate events that have me throwing in the towel at the end of the day, secure in the knowledge that a new day dawns tomorrow. Admitting defeat allows me to test if the resilience I pride myself on is still intact. 

Between the paint fuckery in my car last Wednesday (entirely my fault, I still shiver when I think about it), two sort of broken toilets and one actually cracked toilet at the shore this weekend that may or may not have leaked into our efficiency apartment (I'll find out the extent of the damage this weekend, no one's fault), and a 12 day old new storm door ripped out of the frame on the porch down there (probably someone's fault), I've been putting out fires like a fucking boss. 

When a series of small shitstorms happens in quick succession and it begins to feel like a larger problem, I don't ask why can't I catch a break because I've caught a million breaks in my life and I don't need or deserve one right now because it's all still small shit. Throwing pity parties is so not my style either, because I fucking hate pity parties especially when I'm the hostess and sole attendee. It feels self indulgent and boring. I do throw a mean tantrum though...which is also self indulgent but rarely boring, hahaha. In the grand scheme of things these are mosquitos on the skin of life.

The first thing I do is deal with it because the only way through it is through it. I do what I can to put the fire out or call who I need to call to fix it. The second thing I do is find the humor because honestly my first instinct is never cry - it's always laugh - unless I am stuck somewhere in a travel related hell. The third thing I do is try to spin it funny. If I am dealing with some pain in the ass thing, I can at least attempt to entertain others with the tale. So when I share a WTF/ugh moment, never feel bad laughing at me. Life is messy and messy is good material for laughs. 

I don't think I'll be able to top the fact that I drove home from Pier 1 with green dog poop bags on my hands after the paint incident for quite a while. That mess will live in infamy. Thank God for dogs. And the fact that they need us to carry bags for their poop.

Linking up with Kristen & Gretch

Resilience

We all know exactly where we were, what we were doing, the things we thought, and how we felt eleven years ago today. We'll never forget the images we saw of towers and planes coming down, dust in the streets, first responders on the scene. What we heard, read, and learned in the days and months following: of the last phone calls, the missing notices, the flag raised at ground zero, people converging on New York City to search, "Let's roll" from Todd Beamer on Flight 93, a nation sharing its grief in candlelight vigils, on the radio and Internet and tv, through music, in newspapers and on street corners.

We also saw a nation showing its strength and unity; its desire to help each other, heal each other, and protect each other.

Thinking back on all of that, the feelings of loss, grief, disbelief and sadness seem as fresh today as they did then. Our hearts remain heavy for those who lost their lives, for families and friends who lost loved ones, for heroes who died or returned forever changed from desert lands in the years that followed. We still tear up seeing images of that day, hearing tributes, listening to Miami 2017 (Seen the Lights go out on Broadway) and remembering Billy Joel performing it for NYPD and FDNY.

Perseverance and resilience have always been cornerstones of this nation. They were reinvigorated with a vengeance by a terrible attack on innocent people that will forever haunt us.

In a politically polarizing time where there's finger pointing and lots of talk about what's wrong with America and how bad things are, let's remember that out of a terrible day in our history, a renewed sense of patriotism as well as a fierce appreciation for and protective feeling of the American way came about. We stood together. This is a day that renders politics useless and lays waste to party lines and rhetoric. Today is purely and simply a day to reflect, remember, and honor together as citizens.

Every year we say never forget, as if we possibly could. Those who lost someone never will, and those of us who watched our fellow citizens and our way of life come under attack never will either. As construction continues on the new World Trade Center site, we see plainly that we are built of strong stuff, individually and collectively as a people. They are a symbol that America is resilient, and she rises.

The attacks of September 11th were intended to break our spirit. 

Instead we have emerged stronger and more unified. 

We feel renewed devotion to the principles of political, economic and religious freedom, 

the rule of law and respect for human life. 

We are more determined than ever to live our lives in freedom.

 --Rudolph W. Giuliani. December 31, 2001