Last weekend I decided to foster a cat. It did not go well. The cat was great but it kept me up all night. I did not sleep. Needless to say, I became a basket case. My mind swirled with anxiety and obsessive thoughts. I was emotionally and physically exhausted. So I brought it back. I decided to promise my mom that I would not step foot in a pet store or shelter until the fall, for it will be a year when my Chocolate died.
I just can't seem to get over it. I was doing so well but it was only two weeks. Not enough time to be sure I was ready. Even just going to the shelter to visit cats was painful, as I couldn't seem to control myself from putting a cat on hold. I guess I'm just not ready.
I miss having a cat, but I guess taking care of Chocolate wore me out. I worried about him, about what would happen to him if I died before he did. My family couldn't take him, they are allergic.
The humane society would probably put him down because of his bite history. He had no place to go. And I spent myself to make him happy. I so wanted to help him in his pain, and take it away.
Is it possible to love a pet too much? Maybe I did. I lost many things over the 18 years we were together: grandparents, friends, singles group, career. I lost my sense of purpose. He was my purpose. Probably not a good idea but I loved him, and in his way, he loved me. We got used to each other, and I kept comparing him to the other cats I tried to love. I guess it is too soon.
I don't know if it is my period coming but I do feel such a sense of despair. Maybe part of it to is not having Bible study during the summer. I do enjoy taking care of the birds at the wildlife rehab center, but I miss the fellowship with other like-minded ladies. The ladies at the group have been such a source of support for me, especially this year. I will miss them this summer.
I guess I just feel sad and mad. I did feel happy, but now sad and mad. Mad that I have no one to share my life with. Mad that I have no purpose. Mad that I have no social life. Mad that I am never good enough for a man. Mad that people have bullied me over the years and I still feel the pain and still hear their voices. Mad that I never seem to get over this, whatever this is. Mad that it takes a long time to get over loss. Mad that I have to keep going to counseling, support group, and taking meds but I can't seem to get my act together.
Sorry for being in such a bad mood. But I am tired of being along and struggling alone.