Problematic

Isis is ready to come home. It's such a simple and innocuous statement, I would never have thought it would weigh so heavily on my heart. I would never have considered that this thought would cause me so much pain. I'm still not sure to what degree and for how long this is supposed to hurt- but I think tomorrow will be my last sequential post on the subject. Tomorrow I go get her. And I am not ready. I still hadn't completely adjusted to her being gone. Although the photos I have of her on my phone have become somewhat cathartic. As has writing about this. I think people are a little disinterested in the fact that I am in mourning for a creature so small, whose life was so short. This is likely a projection. I think I judge myself and the way I spend my energy quite harshly and I assume others are just as unkind. People are probably quite sad for me as well, and understanding that it has been little more than a week since a very prominent presence in my life left abru...

At some point Gene Wilder died. I stayed home from work today because I lost my voice. I have considered several times that the weight in my chest might mean that I will join Isis soon. I am mostly ok with this concept- although I am still frightened by the idea that there is no further existence. I suppose I am less frightened by that option than the idea that we might all be stuck doing these things repeatedly on the time loop that is existence. I will live and die the same way I have always lived an died. The original engraving of the world is so far gone that there is no hope to change subsequent impressions. Now that the kitten is here there are small pieces of litter all over my bed. I am trying to sweep regularly to keep the appearance of normalcy that my best friend helped me to cultivate in preparation of the cats' move. I wanted to greet them with a clean home. A fresh start. Going to my ex's house is somber now. The environment is so quiet. There are little...

The feeling of loss is duller. It’s just a new awareness that travels with me. A constant buzzing that’s more annoying than painful. At times it feels on the cusp of overwhelming, but it rarely spills over. I feel higher functioning today. I have her photo as my home screen and lock screen wallpapers. I look at her often. It's a coping mechanism, but I'm not sure to what end. Sometimes it feels as if I am trying to convince myself she was always a memory. Sometimes it feels like flagellation- penance for allowing this to occur- trying to keep the wound open. I realize now that I did a weird and probably cruel thing when I got the call reporting her gone. I asked if he was sure. I wanted to believe this was some sort of bizarre joke. Or a mark of his stupidity that he couldn't tell. Or maybe there was still time to save her. I wanted to believe that last one until I picked her up and was alarmed at how rigid the thing I was holding was. I was explaining to a friend ...

Back to work. It's hard some days not to take the grayness of a rainy morning personally. Although, I suppose, I am not sure how a sunny day would be better. I guess it is more accurate to say that it is hard some days not to take the continued existence of the universe personally. I know others have suffered arguably greater losses within the last few days. Human life should typically outweigh that of an animal, I guess. But is it my fault that my best friend was a cat? Probably. I don’t know what the proper time frame to grieve would be…I am torn between trying to convince myself she was just a cat and dedicating so much emotion is becoming a spectacle (I knew she would no longer be here one day, even if I apparently hadn’t accepted that fact) and the urge to hold onto this pain like her body. As though trapping this tightness in my chest for the rest of my life will slowly regenerate her over time and bind her to me for eternity. That would be cruel, though, wouldn’t it?...

The kitten is terrified by the noise of her new neighbors. I can't stop thinking that Isis might have helped her transition better. Or maybe Isis would have been equally scared and confused, but now in a much smaller space. I took some of my medication and inactivated all of my social media outlets with the exception of Twitter. I pulled the kitten out from under the sink. I realized in doing so that no one will try to pull me from under the sink. No one will try to help me navigate this new scary reality in which the things I love can stop being. People give their condolences...but these are platitudes. They apologize for my grief but don't want to look directly at it and pass on into the wider, brighter, ocean. I can't blame them. I have never known how to react to the sadness generated by the loss of other's loved ones. I had no idea what it would feel like up until now. I wonder how long this will weigh on me. I can only imagine that this will burden me fo...

Isis died this morning. Or last night. I'm not sure. I wasn't there. I have been drinking. And my day has been filled with tears. Sobbing, really. About every half hour. I still can't fathom that the world has changed. Life is going to continue for me without her. I got her for Christmas somewhere around 2009. When my ex and I first started dating we saw a kitten outside his apartment complex that we were not able to catch. Then during the winter some time later there was a cat at the stairs. We were living together at this point. I approached it and it let out this very peculiar and off-putting screech of a meow. I can't believe I will never hear that sound again. She was kind, though. She didn't run. She let me approach and pet her, but we went upstairs without bringing her in the first time. She stayed there because it was a particularly cold winter and I think she wanted someone to let her in...the next time I saw her I picked her up and carried her insi...