Title taken from the old Pink Floyd song. It was one of the first songs I heard when she passed and also one of the first songs that made me feel so alone. (I'm crying just writing this, so I apologize in advance for the words.)
I'm not sure what the songwriter was feeling at the time, but I know what that song means to me now... Loving and losing is the hardest battle. Sometimes I wish I was incapable of love and became this cold-hearted wretch. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depends on the circumstance) over-loving, over-thinking, and over-working are just part of my banal existence.
On Christmas Eve, I was driving to work, this song came on the radio after I dropped my dad off at the bus stop. I wasn't listening to Christmas music, to be frank, I just wasn't feeling the spirit this particular year. Completely and utterly lost it. Tears started to pervade every pore and pooled up just on the top of my cheeks.
I lost it. I lost this sensation to live. I want out so bad... Plus at the place I work there's a lot of hazards and so it wouldn't be that hard. Just think of when a game glitches and you're stuck only being able to jump up, but you get no where. You're unable to move forward, backwards, or to either side. I can only imagine what it feels to be a tightly wound message in a bottle, stuck floating in the ocean. This is how I feel, plateaued, restless, and not at peace. Regardless, I posted a photo on snapchat showing some stupid vulnerable side that was sort of a cry for help by the same token.
side note: My aussie grandmother that passed away this year was a very tough, strong woman. She certainly passed those genes onto me. Both a blessing and a curse. Showing vulnerability is not in my cards. It's not something I tend to do, despite being the most insecure and emotional "softie" internally. Such an internal power-struggle. I fight with myself every day, filtering out a lot of things especially toward friends. I want to fix my problems before anyone has the chance to know what happened. Also, very stubborn. Helping people is easy, helping yourself... not so.
Anyway, a beautiful soul reached out and I completely blew him off. I rattled some pretty hurtful things (of course, in retrospect) because there was still some pent up feelings towards this person that I don't want to delve into. Also, it's what I've been feeling since Riot Fest. You sort of start seeing your "friends" true colors and unsure of where you stand with people. A lot of unnecessary and unresolved drama happened. I should have seen red flags all over that plus all over my birthday and other situations. I'm keeping this part of my breakdown vague because there are multiple people involved. I should put my perspective out in the open and start the 2016 year on a different foot but, alas, no cigar.
I also lost a few individuals in my life this year:
1) My grandfather for all intents and purposes (see Catharsis in death)
2) My Aussie grandmother
3) My "grandfather"- when I first moved out here to the states, my neighbors were this elderly couple, she taught me piano and he was this wonderful beagle-loving human being. Such a kind soul.
4) ___________________________ this one I don't want to talk about. It's way too painful.
5) My beautiful Aussie Shepherd, Sydney
6) Gus- so heartbroken to this day.
8) Perry- traumatic, happened on Christmas Eve that further spiraled me.
9) My bearded dragon, Nullah.
10+11) two juvenile penguins.
Going back to this conversation, this beautiful soul dished it back to me, he told me that people cared. It's still something I have a hard time believing, namely because every time I try to express my feelings or anything, it really feels like no one gives a shit or are so used to giving me advice. I'm so used to never being listened to. Actually being listened to, not talking back or giving judgments. I'm always shut down by family and friends, being told my feelings are irrational, wrong, or stupid.
This is, in part, why my dog was not "just a dog". I'd have these fits and she'd come up to me, rest her head on my right side (which is why I got the tattoo on my right side, in that place). I'd stroke her fur, cry into her shoulder, hug her close. Everything would just divulge profusely. At the end of it all, I'd know what the solution to the problem was, because I had vocalized the troubles. You just can't do that with people. All of it goes in one ear, out the next or little snippets end up gossiped about or judged.
Another facet to losing her was this sense of identity. At the age of 10.5, I was uprooted from Australia to come to the states for better familial opportunities. It was also the same year as the Olympic Games to which the love of my life was participating. I also had family out there which we would visit every 3 years (except 2009 + 2012). Getting Syd 4 years later was a sense of retaining that cultural identity. An Australian Shepherd with an Australian name. Maybe it was a crutch up until this point? I don't know, but losing her and losing my grandparents (the family we had out there), seems like an end of an era. It's a transition phase. My parents are selling my grandmother's house. They already sold their house down there. It's like the cords are being cut... I feel like my sense of home is lost. At the rate I feel with being in the states, it's not home. My dog was my home and wherever she was, that was home. Now it just feels like mere existence and not living.
Okay... bear with me... this is just one part and I'm triggered right now, so this is going to stop until I can get my bearings and trudge through the rest of this cathartic intention.