It has taken me a long time to write this post. Over and over, I keep coming back to it because I find it hard to not only articulate everything into fluid sentences, but also just understanding for myself, what the hell in going on in my own head. And every time I think I am about ready to publish, something else evolves that changes the story a bit. Mentally, I am in a very weird position. Spring has shown her pretty face. It is easy to be optimistic and positive. And dare I say, downright fucking cheery with the warmth of the sunshine and smell of fresh life.
I'm also terrified. Here is a little secret: I am afraid of being alone. Which is interesting, as I am a person who very much values my solo time. As I get older, it becomes much more important to get a good night's sleep and run a functioning 1-person household. Just this week, I turned down a handful of social invitations because I truly wanted to do laundry. It's the thought of being forced to be alone that scares the shit out of me. In the event of a zombie apocalypse, I would probably just off myself. Those big screen movies, where the protagonist searches for other living humans the first forty minutes? Yeah, that would never happen for me. Upon learning that my comfort of companionship was gone, I would lose all "survival" instinct and find the quickest and easiest way to end it.
It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see how this fear formed. Growing up, my mom wasn't really around in the way one would expect a mother to be. Sister and I basically felt "abandoned". Given the shit she put us through as vulnerable and impressionable kids, abandonment issues is the best we could hope for. Sometime in high school, Sister went off to boarding school and Dad traveled for work. My last two years in the nest were pretty much just me in a huge house on a mountain top amidst forty-five acres of wooded property. As soon as I could get out and live on my own, I moved in with eight of my friends, where it was impossible to be lonely. In my late teens and early twenties, I did everything I could to make sure I had a posse. I hardly ever came home from work to spend an entire night to myself. Eventually, I got a dog. Surely I can't be lonely with a K9 partner with me at all times. Somewhere along the way, I decided to be a functioning adult and embraced my alone time to take care of responsibilities. I started finding the importance of enjoying the simple act of chilling the fuck out with a cup of tea in silence. For years, I have lived alone.
Three days ago, my little apartment became a nursing home. Perhaps "hospice" is the better word. My sweet dog has been getting old for quite some time and it now seems our time together is slipping by at a rapid rate. A quick trip to the vet to check up on some bladder control issues sent us home with five prescriptions, two of which she will need to be on the for the short remainder of her life. In my experience, vets are not necessarily in the business to save you money. Nor, do they ever advocate not vaccinating your pets. So when he responds to my inquiry about renewing her shots with "I don't think you should worry about the vaccinations. It would probably just be a waste of money.", that leaves me to believe even the vet doesn't think the dog is going to live much longer.
The last few weeks with The Writer have been very tense. He has landed some new gigs that have significantly increased his work load, while I have been trying to really aim my focus on my own professional and personal goals. This combination has left us with little time to spend with one another, and when we do get the chance, it becomes a battle of who goes to who's: His place so he can keep catching up on work and we can rage it in the city? Or my place so I can properly take care of the dying dog and we can play outside in the mountains. This predicament has unfortunately, led to some bickering and resentment. Things came to an ugly head last weekend but for now, we are working through the fragile state and trying to tough it out.
I am so proud that Sister is about to graduate college, and she is applying for jobs in her field. One potential employer seems to be very interested in her. In a far away city. I would never for anything in the world, desire Sister to not pursue her dreams. But the thought of her moving far away, and only getting to see her and my nephew a couple times a year, is heart-wrenching for me. She may be a mom and a little more behaved than me, but she is still my baby sister. And I still feel a need to fiercely protect her from all the evil things in this world. I have also come to lean on Sister, particularly this last year. She has been with me through every bit of heartache and turmoil. The thought of her not being here when shit hits the fan again, terrifies the hell out of me.
Though they (for the most part) live less than twenty miles away, I rarely see or have much contact with my parents these days. Our weekly phone chats and / or dinners have dwindled to more of a monthly occurrence. My dad busted his ass all his adult life to provide for Sister and I. My stepmother has graciously and lovingly risen to the challenge of being Mom and Grandma to a family she probably never expected to have. Together they deserve nothing less than the chance to travel, renovate their vacation home, and relax with friends. But in many ways, I miss them. I still don't feel completely independent from them, at least in the emotional sense. I'm not sure that grown children ever do. With all their exciting adventures, enjoying the fruits of their labor, and getting Sister's future going, I guess one could say I feel a little "forgotten."
As my anxiety about turning thirty builds, I cannot help but feel lonely and a little left-behind. Many of my friends are getting engaged and married, or living with a significant other. At the very least, working on long-term, healthy relationships. I can't seem to outlast a relationship longer than a year. Some of my peers are having children, and while dogs may be more my speed, these friends are welcoming new life while I'm saying goodbye to life of my "baby". I am rational enough to know that we will likely always outlive our precious pets, not every relationship is built to last, and loved ones often relocate for wonderful opportunities. It is all just part of life and learning to cope with these realities is simply part of being an adult.
But what happens when the dog dies and Sister moves away for work? What happens if The Writer and I decide to go our separate ways? I fear that I will be alone, in my little apartment, waiting for the phone to ring, with some familiarity on the other line. I hate the very thought of it. I feel like I'm once again the blonde little girl who's Mommy doesn't want her and who cries when Daddy calls home from his business trip.
Now that I'm grown up, what happens to the Dog Lady with no dog?
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