My dogs are dying. (Yes, I know "we are all dying..." My dogs are terminally ill--with cancer that's rapidly advancing.) It feels unbearable. I could go on and on about how they are the most bonded pair I have ever met, how they were diagnosed with the same (rare) lung cancer exactly two weeks apart, the expenses and guilt of choosing palliative care for this senior pair, the rollercoaster of the past four months, the lack of sleep, the INTENSE anticipatory grief that won't let up and the fact I know the grief to come will be even worse, the fact that these dogs saw me through over a decade of military wife life as my constant companions in a world of chaos... I realize that many people are struggling and I am fortunate to have so many privileges (like the financial ability to do all that I can for them and a flexible work schedule to spend time with them). But these dogs are my family--they have pulled me through some tough times. My time and energy have been dedicated to them in so many ways (especially recently) and my self-worth and comfort, I realize, are largely wrapped up in that bond. I am so lucky their lives have been spent with me--we've had so many adventures and wonderful times. I used to say the only time I was ever truly happy and in the moment was when I was walking my dogs.
All of this comes down to the fact that I hurt physically and mentally in a way I have never have before. I have lost dogs before--dogs that I loved deeply. I have never lost two dogs at essentially the same time, with a full-time demanding career, with huge family commitments, during a global pandemic where I have been isolated for a year. People have suggested I journal about my feelings. I don't like feelings/emotions--especially the ones that are so hard to feel. But I do realize that I USED to write about my trials and tribulations with my pups. I realize that I once found a blog about a dog who had the same disease as my Sampson, and reached out to the author who gave me some solidarity and support during that tough journey. Maybe this will help me. Maybe somehow in some way someone will find this and it can support them. Or maybe I'm just rambling with no reason or purpose because I am so desperate. Regardless, here I am--after a LONG hiatus from this virtual space.
I'm trying to figure out how I am ever going to make it through this still standing. It seems impossible. But I have a daughter (and husband, career, family, and friends)--so I have no choice other than to try--not just try, but stay "still standing." I'm searching for any way for some GOOD to come from this tragedy. I can't fathom how that is even possible, but I have to hold on to something to keep me putting one foot in front of the other and functioning on some level these days. I am working on living in the lessons Daisy and Claymore have taught and continue to teach me, not the least of which are to live in the moment and love unconditionally. I hope I can come out on the other side of this stronger somehow.
Speaking of strong, the one thing I have been making sure I do during this time is exercise. I've always been dedicated to fitness, but it has taken on new meaning. We got a Peloton last year (I may have joined a cult but that's for another post...) and back in December I committed to trying to do at least one activity every day for a year. That doesn't mean I have to do a hard bike ride, but SOMETHING Peloton offers--even if it is a 5-minute stretch or meditation...something that forces me to focus on that goal at least once per day. So far, I've kept it up. Today, the weather was actually nice (after a ridiculous month of insane winter weather) so I went for a run in my neighborhood with the Peloton app. I've been riding much more than running these days. (I am now 40 and my knees and below often feel like I'm way older than that.) But I thought about the fitness goals I have had before. I wonder if I could run a half marathon again? Not for speed or time or even in a formal race, but just to have a goal to help push me through this grief. So, that's (maybe?) my goal...by my 41st birthday. I'm putting it out there. And I will try. If I fail, I know I can do 13.1 miles on the bike. I just hope I can make it through this seemingly unbearable time still standing...
