I’m kind of casually in the process of looking for a dog (again). I had to find another home for my last dog because last year suuuuuuccccckkkkkeeeeedddd. I sat in tears and posted an ad and nervously combed through emails and until I found a family that I thought would make a good home for her and would email me occasionally to let me know how she was doing. I packed my dog up and took her to meet her new family and drove away hoping that I had done the right thing. I probably cried again. She was my super energetic, stumpy pup and she would get on my last nerve but she was mine and I loved her. I hope wherever she is she’s fine because the first and last time I heard from that family was the night after I gave her to them. They never contacted me again. I tried and tried to email them and they were never answered. I have to hope she’s fine because thinking of anything else will probably send me into tears.
Now you are probably wondering why I’m saying all this. Here’s why. During my search I came across a message board and started reading and found that someone had pulled a link to my ad. The members were trading tirades back and forth about what a horrible dog owner I was for even getting a dog “I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to take care of” and “why would someone get a dog when they knew they were going to move”. I almost made an account to reply to all of the negative comments but I realized that I didn’t owe internet strangers an explanation of my life. I know that I did what was best. I spent a year bouncing from sofa to sofa it wouldn’t be fair to drag a dog along. It was incredibly hurtful to read those people say the stuff that I said between sobs to my mom the first night without my dog.
Going through websites for rescues to adopt a dog is incredibly stress inducing. Every single one explains that pet ownership is forever and blah blah blah. I get it. What I need for everyone to understand is that LIFE.FUCKING.HAPPENS. I know that it’s not to be taken lightly. I know that dogs are expensive and love and food and medicine and houses and toys and blah. But life happens. Had my magical crystal ball been working when I first got the dog I would have known that shit was about to go down and I would have held off a bit. I’m saying maybe calm down a bit when a dog owner comes to the stark realization that they can’t keep their pet. They’ve put themselves through enough without having strangerbitches on the internet saying they suck as a person.
I’m going to find another doggy, fur person one day and I’m going to love him or her to death. I don’t see any sudden moves in my future but you know my crystal ball is faulty. If I’m faced with the exact same issue again I’d make the same decision because it’s best decision to make. I plan to give the next doggy fur person that crosses my threshold a home filled with love and as close to foreverness I can provide.
So lay the fuck off, breh. Next time I’ll just come for your edges, StrangerBitch.
P.S. I don’t mean to be ranty in all of these but y’all…
I am doing a horrible job at this weekly blogging thing. In my defense I have been writing…just not here. Which doesn’t really help you all any. Not that I’ve been helping you with anything anyway.
I’ve started two separate posts and they are both sitting in my drafts because I forgot where I was going with them/stopped caring halfway into writing them. Let me just say that it’s a sad state of affairs when you lose interest in what you were typing.
So yeah. Things are happening and not it’s just not awesome Facebook statuses and random Tweets or my (estimated) 436 listen of Hotline Bling.
‘Kay…that’s really all. How y’all doing?
I realized that I hadn’t done a post this week. I wanted to do something so here we are, I guess.
-I. Am. Tired.
-I hurt my ankle again somehow and I’m sitting here with it propped up with ice and that whole deal. My warranty ended on my 30th birthday and it’s been legit downhill from there.
-I had a job interview yesterday. I’d kinda, really like very much to have that job. I’ll tell you about it after I get it.
-I need to stop eating my feelings. Because fat.
-Not as fat as…let me stop there.
-Aside from all the stuff happening in the news and my ankle being stupid this hasn’t been a bad week.
-I need to do a better job practicing self-care because every time I log into social media or read another story I tear up.
-Did I mention I was tired?
-Guess what? I still don’t like small talk. That probably makes me horrible. *sips water*
-That wasn’t a thought. This isn’t one either.
-I want a puppy. A corgi. Currently engaged in a battle with my mom over whether the new dog will be a Corgi or a Labradoodle. She’s team no corgi because shedding. I’m team corgi because stumpy legs.
-Yeah. I still live with my mother. Not explaining that shit anymore either. Argue your Auntie.
-I’m using my Tumblr account again. I’d like to follow you if you have one. I’m sarcasmandcandy there also as well.
-My 8 year old nephew just got up and gave me a hug. He’s real.
Okay that’s me. What’s going on in your world? Tell me something good. I need it.
I shared a blog post on Facebook yesterday. It reminded me of something I’ve been meaning to say for a minute now. This isn’t going to be particularly fun but I need to say it so I can stop trying to explain myself. I hope this doesn’t get too rambly. You have my apologies if it does.
I went off to college in 2000. I was depressed then but it didn’t really strike me how bad off I was until I realized one day while lying in my dorm room that I had been mentally preparing a note to my mother apologizing for my future actions. Something clicked and I went to my advisor’s office where I couldn’t even explain between sobs why I had to leave the campus as soon as possible. He called my mom and I was home before the end of the week. I’d like to think that after one visit to a therapist and a few weeks in my “norm” that the oppressive cloud of depression lifted and all was good. Instead I learned to mask really well. I got a job, brought a car, spent every weekend out. I lived to be contrary to just about every thought that said “girl just sit down and get through this”. Sitting still meant dealing with the fact that I wasn’t okay. At some point the pain that I was holding inside began to manifest as outside pain and I was eventually diagnosed with Fibromyalgia. I became conscious of my depression and I had to deal with it. I did in time but I know that it’s still a thing that can sneak up on me again so I’m hyper-aware of it.
Here’s where I have a problem: unless you know me personally; meaning you have had several conversations with me or you are a mental health professional YOU CANNOT TELL ME WHEN I’M DEPRESSED. My best friend knew before I did. I don’t know what she identified first but she knew. The rest of y’all don’t get to decide that I’m depressed because I’m a homebody. In fact, let’s stop the false equivalency that homebody=depression. It’s irritating and I’m tired of explaining it to people who want to be the first to say that I am depressed in hopes that their broken clock is right this time. I don’t need you to swoop in and save me from myself. If I decide I’d rather spend the night with a book or netflix and a glass of wine I assure you I’m okay.
Most of you didn’t know that I actually had a problem with depression until I told you. You probably just thought I was boring which is fine. Boring is also a thing that I’ve come to terms with. I’m just trying to live and I don’t need anyone trying to fix me. I’m not broken. Just let me have my glass of Syrah and the first two seasons of Hannibal. If it’s the one or two times during the year I want to go do something decidedly unboring I’ll let you know. My mental health though, that’s gonna be my business (unless of course I want to share with you).
I have a few ideas that could be posts but most of them dissolved into expletive laden rants. I decided that this would be a better use of
time, energy, sanity, words. Yeah…words.
-Don’t come by my house unannounced, breh. I’m currently dealing with a habitual offender of this rule and it’s testing my gangsta.
-Don’t test my gangsta. I will seriously kick you in the shins.
-I had to re-home my adorable corgi puppy last year (or was it the year before?) because of a complicated home situation. I miss my her. My sister either thinks she’s helping or she likes torturing me because she keeps sending me pictures of corgis. We’re averaging like one a week.
-I have developed a bad habit of typing text messages and not sending them. I put my phone down thinking I sent them and minutes (or in one case hours) later I realize I’m the reason the conversation ended.
-I’m finishing Holly Madison’s memoir. It’s surprisingly good. It’s a good, quick summer read.
-If you look at my Goodreads account right now it says that I’m also reading Pride and Prejudice. I am not. It was boring and forever taking so I stopped.
-I probably shouldn’t call literary classics boring. I was bored reading it. Maybe it’s me.
– Preparing stuff for alcoholic beverages is always gonna be more important than food prep. Know this.
-Miguel’s new album is pretty good. Give it a listen.
-I have yet to have a good watermelon this summer.
That’s all the random I could think of. What kinda random is going on in your life?
My thirty day social media break is over. I just thought to myself that now that I have my beloved Instagram and Twitter back I’d probably forget I have a blog again. You know…life or whatever. AND because it’s my birthday I think I’m supposed to get all deep and introspective about the new year of life and blah blah blah.
Spoiler…I don’t have that for you.
Instead I’m just going to try make a better effort to be social media break me. I’m only putting Instagram back on my phone because pictures (y’all cute, hey bews). I’m going to keep blogging at least once a week. You have my permission to call me on it if I don’t. I’m just going keep writing. That’s like Matthew McConaughey’s just keep living, only writery.
Alright, alright alright.
It’s my best friend’s birthday and here I am without social media. So to circumvent the No Social Media rule I’ve imposed on myself I’ll write this and it’ll post to Facebook. This is probably cheating…dah well.
Happy Birthday to one of the best friend’s a girl could ever ask for. Thanks for being the…okay I was going to put a Sex and the City movie character here but I don’t think you fit neatly into one character so…thanks for being the kinda Charlotte and a little Carrie to my (finally accepting this inevitable truth) Miranda. Feel free to correct me on this clearly flawed analogy. Here’s to many, many, many more.