Coming and Going

Who's coming - nephew in law. Going - me in 6 days. My husband's 17 year old nephew arrived on Friday from England. He's here for a week (until we leave) and then off to his grandmother's on the island. It's been 4 years since I've seen him my, he's grown, he's 6 '3" and now sporting a soft British accent. His mum is not in the picture, sadly. It's a long story, but I have a special place in my heart for him. This boy's history is full of tragedy and heartache and a couple of times we've had to consider having custody over him. But it was the prevailing thought that his father should step up to the plate and quit having people bail him out of his reponsibilities, so he moved to England years ago to be with his father, who managed to get himself deported. Yes, deported, that's what happens when you don't bother to get a citizenship and you frig around in the wrong province.



I've noticed he's still got the aloof quality to him at least as far as I'm concerned. I try not to take it personally. He answers questions but doesn't really initiate too much conversation. When DH is around, I pretty much don't exist, if you know what I mean. I try to be nurturing with food, but you can't really get to know someone in a week here and there. Funny, how that longing to mother and nurture someone is still there. I long for that connection. For years, I transferred that into my dog and with him gone now, there's this big hole in my heart.



*******************************************************************************



I haven't been doing to well on the happy pills, they really should be called freak out pills, because about 6 hours after I take them, I start to get this jittery, butterfly feeling in the stomach feeling. The whole dress thing is a perfect example. I became completely overwhelmed with it, almost became unhinged with anxiety. The doctor warned me that would happen, but this is ridiculous, when is it going to go away? I'm not supposed to drink when I'm on it, but hell, it's the only thing that calms me down. I'm going to the doctor tomorrow.



Even bootcamp is making me anxious. I seem to be getting worse, not better. I'm not a very fast runner, perhaps it's my exercise induced asthma, but the faster I try to run, the harder it is on my lungs. If I slowly jog, I can get to point A and back no problem, but I'm tired of being last. The group has already moved on to some other set of drills and I'm always playing catch up. I also have started perspiring a hell of a lot more, which could mean I'm getting fitter or it's a side effect of the Wellbutrin. I'm thinking it's a side effect; I've become really self conscious about it. The sweat just pours off my forehead and splashes into my eyes and I'm constantly having to wipe it off with my t-shirt or washcloth. I've got 3 more classes and then I'm going to get tested on my mile run. Cripes, I have a feeling, it's not going to much faster than when I started. We have one more urban gauntlet day to do - that's where we run up the bridge stairs 3 times (it's got to be at least a mile and a half in total distance) and then we start running and doing drill exercises between our two stadiums. It involves a LOT of stairs, pushups, lunges and squats and sprints at breakneck speed for an hour. It's not pretty folks and I breathe like a choo choo train. I can do everything for sure, but my feeling of victory comes when it's over and I'm still vertical.



Gotta run now. Pun intended.

Countdown to My European Adventure

Okay, the countdown to Europe has begun. Having failed in my search for the perfecr orange dress, (and piss poor planning) I finally decided to get one made. Years ago, I had a local designer make me some lovely items, but he's nowhere to be found, so the bride-to-be asked assistance from a costume designer from a show she had worked on. Surprise, surprise, she turned out to be the costume desinger for the show I was fired from. Great, thanks for the reminder. I was feeling crappy enough. Actually, she was one of the few people that actually showed me any compassion at all. She brought a bridal magazine and a sample (which was not the right colour), but I ended up finding a dress that I liked.

It's a tough thing to do because just because what looks good on the model doesn't mean it's going to look good on me. I stuck with an A-line skirt, halter style (note to self: pick up a push-up strapless bra that will perk up my boobs) She also thought I was going to have my dress copied from one of the dresses I already have, ostensibly because those dresses suit me and it would be easier for the seamstress to reproduce and cheaper for me. However, since I have lost weight, they don't really fit me anymore. And when I thought about it, the silhouette, though flattering to my figure, isn't all that exciting and special. According to her seamstress, this is going to cost a small fortune so why not get something I really love? I made the journey to the Indian section of town and found the perfect orange colour in dupioni (raw) silk. I didn't take a picture of it, sorry, but good news, after consulting with the seamstress, I will be going to the fitting tomorrow! Ah! I'm freaking out. I'm so nervous because I'm scared it will look dreadful or it will make me look like a giant blob of orange. Yeah, positive thinking, eh? It should look something like this:

or this?

I had no idea that there were so many bridal magazines and bridesmaid dresses! They even have this site called theknot.com. This is probably why when I got married, I decided to forgo the bridal magazines and just get one made right away. The choices are dizzying! Mind you I got engaged in August and married in November, so I didn't really have a lot of time. This dress will end up costing me more than my wedding dress (but my friend gave me a shwack of cash to help out - I LOVE HER!) And then there's the matter of shoes, hair, purses...... This is supposed to be fun, I should be having fun - when are these meds going to kick in? Right now, it's stress inducing and I just want it over with.

I saw my friend's wedding dress - it's just gorgeous! Simply stunning on her. Oh, to be a bride again!

Okay, I know you guys have travelled a bit: Feel free to email me some info or tips on Paris, London or Amsterdam!

The List

I finally delivered our adoption portfolios to the agency today. (They did have our initial profile, but they wanted a more complete package. We had a little hitch - we had to rewrite a few things that pertained to our dog, actually an entire page. He was one of the beings under the category of what matters to me. It feels like I've come off the fence in so many ways. Moving on.

DH asked me if I was "happily married" again. You may or may not have noticed that I removed the "happily" from the married part under my profile on the side when I got the elephant in the room talk. I told him I was. Happily married. And then the dog died and we were catapulted back into the world of grief, tears, anger, loss and depression. We've shared some tender moments, true. Amazing. We always pull together when times get rough. We can be an amazing team when we put our minds to it. It would be nice if we could look forward to a momentous occasion where there wasn't grief and loss attached to it. Do you hear that universe? We should be excited and happy and anxious to be new parents. And right now, those feelings are on hold due to extreme sadness. It's times like this when I wish we had a little one here to brighten up his day after work. And I don't mean a puppy either.


On the other hand, it seems like tragedy seems to shake us (me) out of our slow way of doing things. Well, I'll speak for myself. Miss Procrastination. Taxes are done - we're seeing the accountant tomorrow. Check that off the List of Unpleasant Things To Do. That makes me nauseous actually. I'm sure we owe, but the question is how much. Ewww. The only saving grace is that my career has been spectacularly bad these past 2 years, so my expenditures may have outpaced my earnings enough to make me not have to pay too much. But I made enough from notetaking to exceed the basic personal allowance. Or I could be seriously kidding myself. The problem with being an actress is that your earnings are so unpredictable and erratic, it's hard to save money to pay taxes as you constantly have to spend money on such things as new headshots or gas or IVF or .... food.



I have a list of pretty serious Unpleasant Things to Do list and I have noticed that things that have to do with money or numbers or massive amounts of paperwork never seem to get done in a timely fashion. I have to say that I think I have developed a neurotic aversion to such things. I always have a million excuses to avoid such tasks. Suddenly the laundry or housework or email seems more urgent. With no dog to walk and feeling energetic in the morning thanks to my happy pills, I guess I'll have more motivation to tackle the List. I hope. Next year, I have every intention of hiring a student or somebody to just tally up my expenses for me. I actually have a filing system, but I can't seem to get it done on my own without a huge amount of stress and anxiety.

And speaking of happy pills, they've made my skin break out. I'm not happy.

Moving forward....

The first time I told my mum Sampson had died suddenly, she was upset as she could be but she really worked hard to comfort me. She patted my back and told me to turn the tears into joy. And to say a prayer for Sampson and she told us that he was a really good dog. She was genuinely moved by his death. I was amazed at her sensitivity. She was actually comforting me! Since her dementia, it's always me that is doing the actual caretaking and comforting. It's about her needs 24/7. Ah, the insight to motherhood!


I had to tell her a friend of hers was dead and she said, "Oh, no!" Thoughtful silence. " So where are we going?" and that was about it. She doesn't really cry at that kind of news. I don't know if it's the dementia or the drugs she's on. (I wonder if she'd share some of that stuff. "Hey, you didn't get that part you really wanted - again." "Oh, no! So what's for dinner?") We saw her again on the weekend and she seemed to forget that he had died but then remembered on her own. It was one of the few times that her and I can actually sensibly converse with one another and I'm actually getting something out of it.


Hung out with Mum last week. Had to explain to her AGAIN that the dog had died. The worst part is that she is genuinely surprised and I have to go through the whole thing again with her. Sigh. It would be funny actually if I hadn't been so depressed. We walked around and then hung out on the Starbuck's patio. We made our usual stabs at conversation and then I read the paper while she people watched. When I dropped her off back at the home, I just let her out the elevator and took it immediately back down. I don't usually do that, but I was on edge and I had to get away. I hate it when I get like that.

Hubby came home early that day and immediately set out to go biking in the Endowment Lands. It's about 10 km away and once you get over the bridge, it's all uphill. And I do mean uphill. Not one of his best ideas, but you can't tell a guy that. He survived and evidently made a stop at his buddies before returning home. I had biked a few km myself over to a district chant and by the time I got home, he was on the couch and a bit stoned. To his credit, he did BBQ some excellent steak (ala the Incredible Hulk - You wouldn't like me when I'm hungry). It always makes me feel so alone when he does that. Yeah, I know, his dog died. Can't say I blame him. I drank every day last week. Fortunately, the stagette broke my habit.

I had a stab of panic that the same thing would happen to us - that he would retreat into his world and I would retreat into mine to deal with the grief. And separately we worry about one another. Yeah, I know, communication is the key. In my efforts to keep moving forward and keep frantically busy, I need to keep in mind that just because we don't have our dog, we don't have a child, we're still a family and we need one another. Compassion is the driving force behind perseverance. Okay, gotta keep that in mind.

The champagne did me in.....

Let's talk about something else for a change. WARNING: GROSS BEHAVIOUR AHEAD!

I had my friend's stagette/shower last weekend. She was completely surprised because she thought that no way would I have one for her because my dog had died. But it had been planned for a while and frankly, it kept me busy and gave me a chance to take a break from moping around. We all agreed to do a spa/dinner/dancing event. The place was decorated, while I was frantically trying to make 6 molten lava cakes to be baked after dinner. A friend arranged to have two student aestheticians come and do pedicures, and then another friend was supposed to bring dinner (salmon) for a BBQ. Unfortunately, that particular woman had been ill and didn't arrive for several hours, so dinner started a bit late, but once it was done, it was delicious. We kept ourselves busy with pedicures and a LOT of booze. Okay, let's see mango martinis, cosmopolitans, wine, champagne......

Next up a limo ride with champagne. Woohoo! When was the last time you stood up in the sunroof of a limo in the cool night air hooting like an idiot? I admit it, I howled. OMG. Seemed like a good idea at the time. I felt like a drunken teenager at prom. It was really fun, champagne was consumed and we even had a little pit stop for those who wanted to get a little "air". Not me. Then off to a club where the bride to be (dressed all in white thanks to kidnapping some of her clothes earlier that week) toddled off to get a shooter from a bartender friend. We all would have gone in with her but unfortunately, they wanted a $12 cover a piece and we were planning only on staying for 15 minutes. One disgusting drink later, we jumped back into the limo and went a club that a friend of mine had put us on a list. Unfortunately, half of the gals left for various reasons and thus it was down to the mighty trio to finish out the night! We didn't have to wait in line but we did have to pay cover. $14! What the hell? We don't live in New York! This is why my club days are long over. They make you wait in line for an hour to get in to a half empty "trendy" club, pay an outrageous cover, and watch pretentious people not have fun. People actually started to dance after we cracked the floor open.

Well, two of us danced. The other girl beat a hasty retreat before she got messy. I would have given her my keys, but the likelihood of her passing out was pretty high and we would have no way of getting in. (She did make it safely home, no thanks to my drunk ass.) Just me and my gal pal left standing. We danced, had more drinks (no, just me) and we laughed and we eventually headed back to my place to devour some delicious chocolate molten lava cake.

At that point I thought it was a good idea to have a little "air" with my gal pal - BAD IDEA! BAD!, cause suddenly the room was spinning. Aww, I knew it was a bad idea! So I decided haul my drunken ass to bed. My stomach had other plans and I..... well.... let's just say I didn't keep my delicious dinner and dessert down. Ughh. I managed to stop up my bathroom sink. Seriously. As in when I woke up the next morning, it was still plugged up. That bad. Salsa bad. Ewww. As in not even boiling water, Drano or whatever noxious liquid (notwithstanding my own) I poured in there could fix it. I had to throw out a pair of plastic gloves, people.

This is why I refrain from serious over imbibing, but at least once a year, I forget my golden rule of not mixing my drinks and going over my limit. Mind you, I don't generally do it in public, but still. I ought to know better. Aw, fuck it, I was grieving.

Keeping it together

Okay, still breathing. Had a dream about my dog last night. It was night and my husband and I were walking down a street and for some reason had to go past a deserted boarded up block. somehow we came across a dog and a raccoon. You could barely see the dog, it was so dark and he was black, but you could see the eyes of the raccoon. We started running and I called to the dog, here boy, here boy and then my husband called him. I was upset because I wanted the dog to come to me. Suddenly I felt something between my thighs - a muzzle - and I wasn't sure if it was the dog or the raccoon and I made myself wake up. Naturally, the dream was about my dog. The raccoon - fear. I think. He loved to chase raccoons and I was always discouraged it for obvious reasons. We see them here in the city a lot. I always give them respect and a wide berth. They're smart and tough and they've always got backup nearby. We had this game we used to play with Sampson. One of us would run off, usually me and my hubby would send the dog speeding off towards me - "where's your girl?" and then he would get to me and I would say - "where's daddy? go get 'im". I would always run away laughing and shrieking and when he would "tag me", he would always turn and run back to DH. Mouth open, tongue hanging, you might say he was smiling. Stanley Coren, local dog expert, said that to a dog, running free was akin to dancing to humans.

When at home, Sampson preferred to have the both of us in the same room. In our place now, he would have to go back and forth from room to room. If a door was shut, he'd butt it open. I remember one time in our old place, we'd had an argument and I went off in the bedroom and I'd slam the door. Sampson eventually came and butt it open (it never closed properly) and he just stared at me and then he'd go back into the living room and stare at hubby and he'd continue butting the door open as many times as I closed it. We ended up laughing and talking to each other again.

Anyways.....

Taking the day off bootcamp. I hurt inside and out. I still have a lump below my ankle bone which I have a hot water on at the moment and I tweaked a muscle underneath my shoulder blade doing rollover side planks. I'm tired. But that's not unusual. Yes, I went back to the doctor. My other blood tests (thyroid, liver) came back normal. Which means I have no bloody excuse for my lack of energy and malaise. Yes, I know, my dog died, but I had made the appointment before that happened. I'm aware that grieving is a separate process that doesn't require intervention, but she did say I had all the symptoms of depression. No surprise there. You all mentioned it, I didn't want to whisper the dreaded word but having been through it before, I suspected it. I just had very concrete reasons before and this time it didn't seem so apparent. What was going on beneath the surface? I was looking for a catalyst, but the doctor says there doesn't need to be one. Mmmm. Not sure I believe that, but whatever. I know me. When I stopped losing weight, I got really frustrated with myself. I was doing all the right things and I had plateaued and I was not happy about it. It felt like a setback and I think that was it. Or I could be completely bullshitting myself. I haven't worked in the industry for a while and all the other auditions, came up nada. I don't know. I don't suppose any of my reasoning matters at this point. She said I was doing all the right things for myself, staying active, keeping busy with Buddhist activities - chanting always helps, and I feel grateful for that. Going to meetings always feels like drinking a glass of cool, clear water on a hot day. Just what you need even if you didn't think you were thirsty.

So whether or not I'm too impatient to slog through a summer feeling like I'm dragging around a fridge on my back or scared of swimming too long in the pity pool, I took a prescription for Wellbutrin XL. I had used it years ago and it worked without most of the pesky side effects, like vertigo or no sex drive. I don't have a libido now, no point in making it worse. She told me I would be on it for at least 3 - 6 months, but the last time, I managed to cut it down much sooner. I just feel like a need a springboard out of this funk. As for the grief, I know how to do that. I know how it goes. Been there, done that, it doesn't kill you, it just is what it is for as long as it takes.

Though worldly troubles may arise, never let them disturb you. No one can
avoid problems, not even sages or worthies.

Drink sake only at home with your wife, and chant Nam-myoho-renge-kyo.
Suffer what there is to suffer, enjoy what there is to enjoy. Regard both
suffering and joy as facts of life, and continue chanting Nam-myoho-renge-kyo.
no matter what happens. How could this be anything other than the boundless joy
of the Law? Strengthen your power of faith more than ever.

- Nichiren Daishonin

I'm watching the high fructose (it's everywhere!) and the coffee. I've got hubby leaving me notes and calling or IMing several times, but I tell him that I haven't hung myself yet. Frankly, he's pretty mopey himself. He is not sleeping well because he stirs at every noise during the night. He still has half an ear out for the dog I think. Or taking over the dog's job, I don't know which. I've got a get a dress made for my friend's wedding. And then there's my hair. See? Lots to do. Oh, yeah, and I now have to remove reference to my beloved Baby Bear from our renovated adoption profile. Sigh. Lots of room in our life now for a little one.

Grief

First of all, thank you all so much for your kind words of compassion. I've been reading some of them to my husband and it REALLY MEANS A LOT!!!! I've been on the phone for hours just talking to my friends and those who knew and loved Sampson. He had a lot of admirers. He welcomed all who came to our home over the years.

We've been in shock the past couple of days. My husband's boss told him to come back to work when he's ready. He's been my shadow for the past few days. Apparently he doesn't want me out of his sight. We've both been on separate and combined crying jags, walking around in a daze looking for him, aching for his return. We're fine for a while and then we see a tuft of hair (his hair is EVERYWHERE) or we hear sirens (being that we live downtown we hear them quite frequently) and we start bawling again cause he would always howl when he heard a firetruck. We drove around for hours yesterday just so we could stay out of the apartment. We cleaned up his things, packed away his towels and leashes, vaccumed and swept. We have programmed our lives around this animal and now there is this huge vaccum in this place. His mighty tail that would knock over drinks placed too close to the edge of the coffee table; the silent brown eyed stares at 8pm every single night that beckoned for his nighttime treat; the pounding of his tail against the door that preceded his tumbling arrival; closed doors were opened with his heavy snout, his prescence in his bed in front of the patio doors.

We spent most of yesterday driving around on pointless errands, just trying to stay busy. I went back to the clinic to get the blanket we had brought him in on. They had washed it and it was warm from the dryer. I had to make my husband eat something, and we made phone calls and emails to friends and family. Coincidentally, my MIL had to put down her dog Monday evening. Her beloved dog had been ailing for a while and they knew it was coming. So it was a doubly sad time for all of us.

I went to bootcamp again today. I didn't tell anyone. It's not a real chatty class anyway. I just needed a grueling workout to keep my mind blank. We did something called the "gauntlet" which involved a lot of stairs and a lot of drill style exercises. Too busy heaving my guts out to think much about anything than putting one foot in front of the other. Usually, after class, I rush back home to walk the dog, but not today. Hubby came to meet me and we hung out at a cafe and talked. I bumped into an acting colleague of mine, dog in tow, but it was nice petting her affectionate dog.

As we biked back home, I remarked that when we were trying to get pregnant, it seemed as if there were babies everywhere. And now, we had a similar problem, except everywhere we looked, there were happy dogs being walked by their owners. In truth, we live in a city full of strollers and dogs. And coffee shops.

We prepared to busy our day with more errands and the phone call while I was in the shower. When I got out, I heard my husband sobbing. Sampson was ready to be picked up. Eventually, we got to the vet clinic and we were presented with his ashes in a lovely urn and that poem about dogs leaving footprints on your heart and rainbow bridge and all that. They also took his pawprint in purple ink. That got me. They also signed a pet sympathy card. I left them a card as well with a couple of Sampson pics thanking them for their efforts. We cried some more. When we got home, I chanted daimoku for Samps, my husband by my side.

I went to spin class and when I came home, I found DH once again in tears. He alternates between tears and raging. I alternate between drinking, chanting and then tears. I hope that no one tells him that "he was just a dog". Seriously, that person will regret it. Seriously.

I know it will get easier, but right now, it's not. Right now, he's feeling seriously bitchslapped by life, once again, andwondering who the fuck sucked up all the good luck in the world and left us with the booby prize. Hubby likes to ask, why? I say, why not? I don't ask why anymore. The answer is not really important. It's not even relevant. Suck it up, buttercup, it's all just part of life. Nothing personal. Good people and good dogs die every fucking day. It could have been a lot worse. We were protected from watch him suffer through a long, painful inevitable death. It was quick and we were both there for him. As I swore I'd do. (Though at times it feels as if there's a time limit on our ability to stay trauma free.)

And now Baby Boy is back home with his pack where he belongs.

Once again, thank you for the e-cards and comments. They have been an enormous comfort.