#he was my grandmothers cat and she moved into a home and so we took him in and she loves that cat more than anything
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“ok last week sucked total ass but this weeks gonna be ok” (my cat gets out because someone left the door open) (i know for a fact it was not me!!! because i was putting groceries away by the time everyone else got in the house!!!!!!)
update he came home everyone cheer goodnight.
#he has always been a little escape artist#and ik plenty of cats are indoor-outdoor but i don’t approve of that for so many reasons#and he’s old he’s almost 10 and there’s a bunch of other stray cats that live here#and we don’t live far from a major street#and he’s a black cat and it’s nighttime so even though i walked around the neighborhood and called for him#it is virtually impossible for me to spot him#he doesn’t know i will take him outside! i hold him and as long as he doesn’t try to escape we look outside together#i want to get him a harness!! i want to let him experience the outside!!#but it has to be safe and controlled and i have no idea where he is or how long he’s been gone#if anything happens to that cat. like it won’t even just be me who’s strongly affected#he was my grandmothers cat and she moved into a home and so we took him in and she loves that cat more than anything#i wish people would just. do simple things!!!!!!!#close the door!!!!!!!!!! put the lids back on things!!!!! be conciouscious of the world around you!!!!!!!!!!#i was having a decent time too. drawing was going good. what did i do to deserve sooo many bad things happening#man who’s hanging on by a thread when there has been sharp objects pressing against the thread every single day#if anything happens to that cat. like genuinely.#im sorry for ever complaining about cleaning your litter please please come back buddy#why must i be tested like this what does the world want from me
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My grandmother passed at the height of the pandemic. We were able to rehome her two remaining cats - even transitioned one into an indoor cat! But while she was in hospice we were struggling on who could care for her yellow-naped Amazon, Saki.
This bird is older than me by a few years, and my childhood is chock full of memories of Saki yelling at the top of his lungs, snapping at people, and attempting to escape his cage. My grandmother loved the fact that she was the only one who he wouldn't maul if she had food for him. He stayed in a cage 24/7 and only got out if he was able to figure out the latch on the thing. Lil dude sent me to the hospital as a kid for a finger-bite that almost left me down a thumb wrestling opportunity.
As an adult, and after several convos with a vet who specialized in birds, I realized Saki was only as well behaved as his situation allowed for.
But we were able to find someone who rescued birds. They paid for Saki to see a vet for the first time in his life, and I'm so happy to still see his progress.
Here he is chilling out with his New Lady, holding hands like a lil Romeo. I would never EVER believe that this was the same bird that almost made me a permanent "thumbs up 7-up" sideline benchwarmer for life. (Lil man almost took my finger)
Sometimes we aren't the ideal home for an animal for whatever reason. My family, seeing me as the "animal lady" thought that I would take the bird once my grandmother passed (despite me not being the best-suited carer for him). I'm so glad we found a home that loves him for who he is, gives him amazing care, and will most likely be the home where he lives out the rest of his days.
His new mom takes him on walks in a carrier-stroller sometimes when the weather is nice and that's the only time I've seen Saki in a cage since moving.
I'm glad you can laugh like the Golden Girl soundtrack while enjoying your freedom, bud. And thanks for not cutting my piano-career short.
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Hi, everyone. I’d like to make an announcement. It’s a very personal one and not in the good way…
TW: Abuse (physical & emotional), talk about running away, PTSD/Anxiety attacks, throwing up, violence & death threats, etc. Viewer discretion is advised
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So, the past 72 hours have not been the best. If you’re new here or don’t remember, I hate my dad and over the last 3 days, he’s gotten worse.
Me, my mom, and my sibling all have depression and we all hit a massive slump once school stared up again. Our normal chores weren’t getting done at the regular speed, but it was a slow progress nonetheless.
For context, my dad doesn’t work and sleeps all day and expects to be treated like how any mysoginistic man wants to be. When he woke up (10pm-ish), he complained to my mother about how our chores weren’t done and how the “house was a mess” (mind you, it wasn’t that bad).
My mom told him that if he didn’t help around the house, he had no right to complain. That’s when everything started. My dad threatened to kill my mother and physically hurt her by throwing glass and other hard objects at her.
She feared for our safety and took me and my brother (my sibling was sleeping at a friend’s that night) and took us to our grandma’s. Normally, we’d stay there for an hour or two but not this time.
My dad threatened to kill my mother and all three of us siblings (which he normally doesn’t do). He threatened to break our stuff and even kill our cats. All this over some chores that have been slower than normal. Mind you, he knows about our depression, anxiety, PTSD, and neurodivergent tendencies, he just chooses to ignore them since “this generation is lazy”.
My mom had ran away for a while, leaving me and my brother at my grandma’s. After a while (around 1AM), she called me. I could only describe her as hysterical. She was talking about running away, leaving behind our lives in my current state and either moving across the country or hopping over to another one.
That’s when the panic set in for me. My anxiety and (unmedicated) PTSD skyrocketed and I ended up locking myself in the spare room my grandma had and threw up. Everytime I heard my mom cry, I felt fear and had the need to throw up and I still don’t know why. But I didn’t like it.
My brother also did end up having a PTSD episode (mind you, he’s 11 and is not in therapy or has any medication since he’s “too young” in my parents eyes) but he didn’t throw up like I did.
It was like this all night. My mom talking about running away (with or without us) and threatening to call the cops (my dad was arrested 3 time in the past for this same issue) while my dad threatened to kill my mother and occasionally us (he stopped after a while and started just focusing on threatening my mother).
We weren’t able to go home until 5AM, and my mother didn’t even get to go inside. She slept at my grandmother’s before coming back the following morning. And things still weren’t good. Even as I’m writing this, I’m still in a massive bout of anxiety trying not to break down.
I’m not gonna ask for a place to stay or move to (actually, my boyfriend has that handled in case things went south), or money, or anything else. My siblings and I, my belongings and property, and my cats, are all fine and my mother is trying to heal. My dad is out of the picture (and the house) right now.
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I know this isn’t something I normally post, but I wanted to update ya’ll on why I’m absent and why I probably will be for a while.
This blog (and the Obey Me one (@devildom-lovers)) will be on an indefinite hiatus until I get better and the help I need. But thank you all so much for the patience.
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Nosy asks: 7, 31, 42 :)
- @air-exec
7) have tattoos?:
I doooooo i do i doo and ugh, i need MORE. MORE COMING. JUST NEED MORE MONEYSSSS
My first was a memorial for my bunny I had for 6 years, he was my lil support animal and the BEST rabbit ever and he sadly passed of a seizure in November '23 (RIP my lil buddy). So I have a fairly sizeable bunny with big ol' butterfly wings on my left bicep that I got like a week later.
My second was a wolf just below my inner elbow on my left forearm (planning on getting another one) because I love wolves, think they're beautiful animals and LOVE Wolf's Rain that anime touched my SOUL with its messages and undertones. Real deep soul searching 'humanity is a big sham and its own downfall' type vibes. At the same time i got 'delicate' in old english font above my inner elbow just below my bunny.
3rd was a memorial for my beautiful grandmother who sadly passed of cancer on the 28th December '23. She held on for us and had christmas day at home but once that was over she just rapidly declined and before we knew it she was just... gone. Her little best buddy was her siamese cat who slept beside her 24/7 during the horrible 12 months she was near bed ridden, slept on her, followed her everywhere, meowed at us and took us to her when she was too sick to move or nauseous. So I have a beautiful little siamese cat amongst lily flowers (her favourite flower) on my inner right forearm.
4th I got was an anatomical heart with a keyhole and 'hopeless romantic' underneath just above by right elbow on the back. That one is pretty self explanatory hahaha
And my latest and 5th I have is my Feyd-Rautha knife on the back of my right forearm. Literally one of my FAVOURITES my artist KILLED IT (he's done all of my tattoos so far and will be doing all my future ones. Such a rad dude and we've become besties since he did my first. Coolest guy ever.) I'll be getting Paul's chrysknife on the opposite outer forearm to match soon :p
31) what my last text message says:
-THE FUCKIN CAT ON THE BOAT "careful not yet" *fuckin LEAPS TOO SOON* "rOGerrrrr"
to my best friend at 10pm because cat videos, tbh.
42) the last thing i ate:
Uhhhh, I think it was a biscuit with my tea?? God I'm not sure. I'm pretty sure it was the biscuit? yeah... yeah. *whispers to self* was it, tho?...
P.S exactly what my bunny looked like <3
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Dead Dream -- part 1: Enter The Wooden Teeth
Shallowfig came to a halt, flicking his tail to tell his family to do the same. Ahead of them was a dead blackberry bush with leaves as dark as its namesake. It was only that, a bush, yet the gaps in the branches lifted the fur along Shallowfig’s spine. He stared at the dark dapples, and a face stared right back. Whether it was from a trick of the lighting, or his mind playing tricks on him–as it had been ever since Plague tried to kill Hootpetal and Banshee–he couldn’t tell.
“What is this place?” Tendril asked from behind him. Shallowfig just barely avoided jumping.
He took a breath and a step back, moving his mind to wonder how long they would have to wait, but before he exhaled, Bella-May poked her head out from between the thin branches. “You’re here!” she exclaimed excitedly. “Come in, come in!”
Shallowfig stepped back, motioning for Banshee and the kits to go through the normal rotting bush, and then followed at the tail. He had not visited his older kins’ home before, though they had visited him as a kit, and he was curious to know what so many of his family had made their homes to be, if it reflected something in Shallowfig–some indication of their blood relation, somehow. Did they both enjoy hanging vines?
But before he could look around, he found himself suffocating on fur. Legs squeezed around his neck. He panicked, struggling for a few seconds before Bella-May pulled back, and he realized, almost laughing at himself, that it was only his great-great-grandmother embracing him.
“I heard what happened,” she mewed sorrowfully, licking his ears. “If I had been there, I would have ripped that she-dung’s tail off and stuffed it down her throat.”
Banshee flinched. Shallowfig touched his tail to her side to calm her.
“I….I have a favour to ask,” Shallowfig began.
“Myrtle told me,” Bella-May responded as he searched for the right words. “You lot can stay here for as long as you need, darling.”
Shallowfig let his shoulders sag, soothed by her kind voice. He looked over his shoulder, at his kits. Racemekit, Tendrilkit, Poppykit, Mylingkit, and their younger half-siblings, Glasskit and Pagruskit. Cold ice slithered down his spine, gripping his bones and veins and causing his body to shake and heart to fall. He had come so close to losing them. Never again will that happen.
“They need to be trained,” Shallowfig explained.
“I’m not much of a mentor,” Bella-May replied. Shallowfig understood that, she had been a loner. “But I won’t turn down time with the little kitties.” She blinked warmly at the kits, emitting a soft chuckle when Poppykit squealed when Glasskit bit her tail.
“They don’t need to train to hunt or the ways of Clan life,” Shallowfig told her. The daily routines of the Clans were foreign to him as well. “They need to know how to protect themselves. They need to know how to….deal with attackers and dangers.” He didn’t want to say it out loud, for the sake of the kits’ and his own ears. He couldn’t say that he wanted his kits to be trained to be killers to keep them from being another victim of Plague, that he was willing to let them grow to be monsters, risking the lives of anyone or everyone they may hurt, so that they couldn’t be.
Thankfully, understanding flashed in Bella-May’s eyes. She smiled widely. Shallowfig tried not to focus on her glinting fangs. “I thought kits didn’t train until six cycles.”
“The four are half a moon from that,” Banshee spoke up, gathering their wrestling kits around her. “The two are two.”
Bella-May tilted her head far to the side. “My question appears to stand.”
“It doesn’t need to be intensive or harsh,” Shallowfig went on. “Preferably, it isn’t, not…at least…not while they’re so young.” He knew that to give them the best chances of survival, training had to push them further than any other cats could bear. Just not yet. They could be kits for a while yet.
“Some pouncing and sneaking lessons should do,” Bella-May thought. “We can make them games.” She swept her tail slowly, enticingly around. Racemekit took the bait and waggled his hips before leaping for the ginger-tipped tail. Bella-May flicked it out of the way in a flash, grabbing Racemekit with sheathed paws, just before he could land, and pressed him to the ground to make chewing noises against his belly. Racemekit kicked out, squealing and giggling.
Shallowfig allowed himself a few heartbeats to watch and enjoy the moment. Then Pagruskit’s yawn brought him back. They had to rest. “Are you sure it’s not trouble?” he checked. “We could stay somewhere else–”
“Absolutely not,” Bella-May responded firmly. “You ought to stay here where great-ma can keep an eye on you.”
“Is it not too much–”
“Hush,” Bella-May cut him off, blocking his mouth with a paw while Racemekit growled and bit on the other. “Before your droning puts the little ones to sleep.”
“How many know we were coming?” Banshee asked nervously. She had a tendency to anxiety when she was around those she didn’t know. Shallowfig would have stayed with her family, but that was exactly who they were hiding from.
“Everyone,” Bella-May answered cheerfully. “And they’re so excited to meet y’all! Now come along, come along, let us show the nests we made for ya.”
Banshee took the lead once again, the kits following in a ragged line behind her. Shallowfig looked behind him, through the gaps in the bush. He no longer saw the eyes, yet the fear in him remained the same. He was seeing, too far to really see, his old den where his kits were born, where Banshee became his mate, where his mother nearly died. He was seeing himself as a fun-loving kit without a care in the world, and he knew, knew as well as he knew that the fur on his pelt was pale golden, that he was likely taking away that for his own kits.
He turned his head back and padded after his family. Ahead, Tendrilkit sneezed a high-pitched sound, and Glasskit opened her little jaws in a massive, pink yawn. Shallowfig’s eyes pricked. They were so precious now, so perfect and innocent. Whatever happened in the future, whether or not by Plague’s doing–Dark Stars hope not, sending the kits to train the way that they would be was going to change them forever. Shallowfig could only hope that he was making the right choice, and that it was worth it.
====================
@ambitiousauthor
@elementaldeityoffood
#shallowfig#shallowfig story#wc banshee#wc banshee story#bella-may#bella-may story#eye-out family#eye-out thorns#dark tales#wc dark tales#dark forest tales#dead dream#warriors dead dream#glassriver#pagrusrose#tendrilkit#racemekit#poppykit#mylingkit
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Rest in peace, Caspian: 2010-2022
Wanted to do a proper memorial post for him.
Caspian was born to a feral cat my neighbor fed in my childhood neighborhood, so I knew him since he was only a couple weeks old. Before he was mine, he was affectionately called “Patches” or “Patchy” and when he was old enough, I carried him across the street to my house. That was June 12, 2010. He was tiny. He also had chronic respiratory issues and funny looking eyes, so he wasn’t the healthiest little stret cat in the world by any means.
Back then, I still lived with my great-grandparents so he was an indoor/outdoor cat, definitely a hunter, always bringing live garter snakes to the porch. He was a silly boy and remained small his entire life. He gave me some funny stories with my friends over the years, and there are a world of memories.
Once I had my own home, he transitioned into an indoor-only cat and took to it well. He liked to lay high in cat trees and on top of our crested gecko’s tank over the hood light. He loved the dogs, scratched my door frames to shreds, and was Murdock’s primary playmate.
He never was too terribly social with people, not a cuddler. He would lay next to you from time to time, and he liked pets, but he preferred the quieter back-end of the house. He had always been like this, and in my old home, he would often lay in the living room with my great-grandmother, causing her to claim he was her cat, haha. After she passed, I caught him laying in her vacant spot on the living room couch.
So when he began to get sick, we didn’t notice right away that he was tucking himself into dark spaces and hiding under the bed. I only really began to think something was seriously wrong when I noticed he was extremely dehydrated after emerging one morning. We got him into one of the only vet offices that had an opening that weekend, and began diagnostics, and after quite a few hefty bills and visits, he was diagnosed with pancreatitis and IBS. We started steroid treatments and he would do well for a while and return to the cat we knew, sleeping up high, kneading blankets, scratching my doorframes, and begging for wet food, but inevitably, he would crash again and it was always so, so fast how quickly he returned to the shell of a cat refusing to eat or drink.
This last time, he had taken a 30 day steroid injection on the 5th and crashed again this weekend, not even two weeks after, and he was obviously in more pain and discomfort than we had seen him yet. There weren’t many other options, not any that wouldn’t simply prolong his discomfort, and the vet confirmed our own suspicions that it would likely be better to let him go. So we did. He went almost immediately after the injection, in my lap, just gave a big sigh and he was gone, didn’t fight it at all. I’m sure he was so tired. He had been with me just over 12 years at this point.
After he got sick, he liked to spend time with us when he was feeling “up” so I’m glad we had these last couple of weeks with him. Even today, we woke up to him laying on the couch with us, not even sure how he managed to jump up there when moving seemed to cause him to mew in pain. But I think it was the right time to say goodbye, and I’m glad he’s not in pain anymore. I wish we could have done more for him, 12 still feels too young, but we did everything we could that wasn’t simply prolonging his suffering.
I hope you’re resting easy, tiny bud. We’ll miss you.
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Eulogy to Charlie Boy
My dog died.
His name was Charlie, and he had just turned 8 on June 20.
I remember the day we met him, the last day of July, my sister and I not wanting to do anything else except lay on the couch, thinking that nothing would remove us from it.. My dad suddenly hollered, "WHO WANTS TO GO SEE SOME PUPPIES," ridding us of our tiredness as we both rushed to get ready.
A family was selling a litter of cream colored labrador puppies, each with their own ribbon collars and monikers to match. Ms. Purple and Ms. Stripe were playing in the plants, Mr. Brown and Mr. Blue were tussling near their grandmother, and rotund Mr. Green was sitting next to the plastic lawn chair, watching everyone, doing nothing except observe.
It was then that my dad explained that we were picking out a puppy to take home, once they were old enough. My sister and I were thrilled, my mom less so. Because of this, we gave here the choice to pick the pup we were taking.
Droopy loopy Mr. Green was her choice, having a calm and easygoing disposition, and the most adorable grunt when picked up. As we were driving home, we debated on what the name should be for him, when my mother stated how square his head was.
"Yeah, like a blockhead", my sister stated.
At that moment, we all shouted "CHARLIE", and he remained so (unless calling him Baby Boy, Tontito, or Hermoso Precioso).
One of the times I took him walking when he was still able to cradle him in my arms, I was tired, and my mom and sister needed to go inside the library. As I kept an eye on the pupper, I eyed a bench and headed towards it. While it was empty and in the shade, the floor was covered in cigarette butts. I immediately scooped him up, and he just sat in my arms all content like. It was oddly calming, knowing he didn't mind.
He wasn't always a sweetheart, and at times, he was a smart ass. He wasn't allowed upstairs, yet would run up the stairs and sit on the top step. Unmovable. Until my mom tried to record him and he promptly gallomphed down the stairs. Smart ass.
Or when he would run off into the wilderness, and I would have to ho after him so he didn't get lost (or worse).
But I loved him all the same. A gentle soul, who would befriend any creature. He would stare at the birds that pecked if front of him resting place, and was gentle with our chickens (he would let them peck on his drooly tongue and take dirt baths with him).
Even when we moved to my grandparents place, he befriended their dogs (who were difficult to get along with) and found a comfortable place on the back porch to rest in. A place where he last rest in.
Months ago, he was bitten by a rattlesnake, landing him in emergency care. While the venom didn't kill him then, it did deteriorate his heart and liver conditions. The vet said it would take a couple of years off his life, and may lead to a heart attack eventually.
I knew this. They told me this to my face. But I was betting on him living to a ripe old age of 15 at least, in our shiny new home, comfortable on a fluffy bed watching his new cat brothers (David and Bowie) play, and maybe join him as he watched the birds outside.
I wanted him to see me as a stable adult, someone who had their life sorted out, and could carry everyone I ever loved, even though that would changed the fact that he thought the world of me anyway.
He died of either a heartattack or a stroke somewhere in the middle of Sunday night and Monday morning.
My dad found him laying on the porch, and tried to wake him up from his slumber.
My sister witnessed him being carried onto the truck, looking asleep with white gums lining his mouth and being buried on the plot of our future home.
My mom got the call once she and I had already arrived to work, and I witnessed her burst into tears.
I didn't know what to do. I thought it was a cruel joke. Once we got home, we could laugh over some spicy shrimp pasta and ice cream, and enjoy it on the porch with him.
I didn't know what to do. So I went to work. I smiled, though everyone knew I was mourning and gave condolences.
I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to go home. I didn't want to find him gone. I didn't want to find him gone or feel the weight of my heart. I didn't want to become a sobbing mess, understanding that nothing would be okay again.
But somehow, it was. My family ate some spicy shrimp pasta with an ice cream dessert, and we never looked outside.
I understood his death was not a painful one, else he would be compelled to run away. I knew about death. I'm not a little kid that needed to be told about him being sent to a farm or to a "better place".
But I know he went there. He died in his dreams after all. He will continue to be a beautiful dreamer.
I betted all my hopes on him that he would live longer than this, and he didn't. I lost with him.
I should have laid beside him, at least enjoyed his last day with him.
The only thing I can do is find peace in my own life.
Once I lived it, good and long, I'll find him lying besides me, and we can be at peace e together.
I know he's waiting now. My Charlie boy.
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so speaking to my mom on the phone this morning, i asked her something ive asked her before, but im always hungry for more details.
'what was i like as a kid?'
i dont remember what i was like before 20 or so
so i ask her again, only this time, she asks me a follow up question.
'which ages are we talking?'
i like this answer. shes engaged with me. i like moments like these, where i feel like im actually speaking to my mother, and shes actually hearing me. usually it feels like im being written off.
'what was i like when we lived in south dakota, and compared to how i was when we moved?'
we lived in south dakota until i was seven. after around my seventh birthday, i was bombarded with thing after thing after thing until i was a different child, she's told me before.
she tells me something similar, but i get more details this time around.
when we lived in south dakota, she tells me, i was very happy. i had an abundance of energy and curiosity, i never ran out of things to say, and i was convinced to make friends with anybody i saw. i was really outgoing, she tells me.
she cant see me, but im nodding along.
i remember these times. life really was idyllic, from my point of view. i had two loving parents, and we lived in a pretty nice house in a beautiful neighborhood. i had a baby sister i adored, a dog and a cat, a swing set and a bike. i had friends in the neighborhood, at school, in girl scouts, at gymnastics. i was active. i had so, so much fun. and i really was happy.
when i was seven a cascading series of events turned everything i knew over, and the catalyst was the day i remember a knock at the door.
when i answered, i was met with a tall, lanky man who looked unfamiliar to me. but he was happy to see me, so i suppose i was happy to see him.
this was my dad, they told me.
i remember not really understanding. what do you mean, this is my dad?
i have a dad, he's right there.
but this is my real dad, they said. we were going to go hang out for a bit, so we did. he took me to the mall to play in the arcade, he took me to the fair, and i had fun.
this is my brother, he told me. this made me happy. i really like family, i was happy to have more. he was a little older than my baby sister. i havent talked to him in over ten years at this point, but thats a story for another time.
things were strange and new, but i still had fun.
that fall, i started at a new school.
my mother had gotten out of the air force and it wasn't convenient to drive me to my old school by the base, so i started taking the bus to school. i really didnt like it, leaving all of my friends at school. but id make new friends, i thought.
school wasnt very fun from that point, i had a hard time making friends. i didnt have to experience that long. a couple months into the school year, my mom told me we were moving to california.
so we loaded everything up. my grandmother flew out to help us make the drive. we took the cat, and left the dog and fish. my mother, grandmother, sister, and i began the couple days drive to the west coast.
nobody told me my dad, the one i had always known as my dad, would never be coming with us.
i ask my mom what i was like after we moved.
i grieve the person i was before, because i never got to be them again, and i dont know who they are anymore. i miss them, and im trying to get back.
she says i changed.
i no longer made friends. i came home crying from school every day. every day. when, months later, my mother finally told me that she and my dad were divorcing and he was never coming to california with us, i was crushed. my mom took a job in san diego, about an hour commute, and so i began to barely see her.
my new school was really bad.
i dont know why i was made the target. maybe it was the speech impediment. maybe its because im neurodivergent, and they could pick up on it, maybe in ways younger kids couldn't. maybe it was because i was one race, and that race was by and large a minority in this school.
all i know is my entire class bullied me. the teachers were complicit. the administration was complicit. and i was a little kid who was so scared.
one day in third grade, my mom finally got the chance to come to an open house. i was so excited, she didn't get to come to the school often. it was hard to get off work.
this next bit i dont remember, this is a story she told me. my heart breaks for the child that had to endure this.
we walked into my open house and the entire class, in unison, turned and faced us and exclaimed, "Ew, it's ____!"
and then... everyone just went back to the open house. all the children, all their parents, the teacher, like nothing had happened. even me. everyone except for my mother, who looked on in horror as she tried to process what had just happened.
she didn't say anything. she made it through the open house. ig bc i was so happy to have her there and she didnt want to ruin it.
she phone the administration the next school day. this was not the first time she had called. she demanded to know why nothing was being done about this.
the principal told her that maybe if i didnt wear dirty clothes to school, i wouldn't get picked on.
as if it was my fault.
im sorry, i really loved that casper hoodie. it wasn't dirty, it was just stained, and i loved it, and it was not a valid reason to make me feel like scum.
leading up to this, i had a rough go of it. the summer before third grade i had inexplicably gained a lot of weight, which just egged the kids on more. i cried at school, so they made fun of me for that.
after that open house and that phone call with the principal, my mom pulled me out of the rest of the school year.
i returned at some point for a field trip, where the kids were eerily nice to me, but they couldn't take back how they made me feel.
i wish this was something that only happened at school, but it didn't. in my neighborhood, kids i thought were my friends eventually started bullying me, too. i remember one valentines day in particular, i went to a friends house, only to be ambushed by the neighborhood boys who hid in trash cans to surprise me and they all started pelting me with spiky Sweet Gum balls.
this wasnt the worst thing to happen in that neighborhood.
all of this to say, by the time i finally moved to a new district for 4th grade, i had a lot of emotional problems. something she told me today is that i had a deal with my new teacher, that i would get a prize if i could make it to the end of the day without crying.
i wonder then... if she saw me cry so much, why did my mom never get me help?
#radtalks#cw for bullying ig??? idk#this has been on my mind and i really needed to get it out#im still bitter that so much joy was taken from me and ive had to claw it back#and tbh after typing all that out#and knowing how much more there is#i seriously cannot fathom why nobody stepped in to help me#i understand why it happened from her pov but i still just dont get why it went down like that#anyway :0) this started out fun to write at least
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hey dudes here’s your semiannual life update, im not sure if I already said this but my boyfriend and I moved in together in may!
it’s going really well even though the last couple months have sucked for various reasons, a few of which which I will now list
1. my grandmother died two weeks ago, im still pretty messed up about it in a cosmic mortality way and almost fell into the trap of having my dad back in my life but I didn’t because he swore my cousin posted a picture of me and my mamaw/papaw but it was actually literally that cousin AT HER GRADUATION FROM NURSING SCHOOL
2. (MEDICAL TW; SURGERY, THIS IS WAY TOO MUCH INFO BUT IM TALKATIVE RN) my appendix decided to cause problems at the beginning of this week and had to go to the er twice, once sunday night and they did a (TMI, TW GYNECOLOGY) regular and vaginal ultrasound to make sure I didn’t have any cysts or anything going on that was causing it, and they couldn’t find my appendix (??) but the nurse was so nice, it hurt some because my right ovary was way out there and she was pushing really hard on my abdomen and stuff but then then they said I could either get a cat scan or go home and come back if it got worse because the only issue they found was a heightened white blood cell count.
I went home because I was like “okay maybe it’s just stress or something” and a cat scan is big scary to me because you have to have an iv and I hate them. But I woke up in the middle of the night really hurting and decided to ignore it until morning when it got to the point I felt like someone was trying to use the force to pull my stomach out lol. so I called my mom to take me back to the er, it took a while to get to the point of having the cat scan (and the iv was pink so that made it a lot better lol) they came in p quick to tell me it was my appendix, got me p doped up and admitted me because the surgeons were packed until like 4pm (we went in at 7:30-8 am) my mom and I watched the meg in the room, I got some grippy socks because my feet were cold and they came and got me at 230ish for pre-surgery, made me take out my nose stud and tried to make me remove my other piercings but I was like ‘uhhh I would really rather not, if I need to sign something i’m totally willing to do that’ bc they’re only 3 months old and would close up super fast. they ended up agreeing as long as I understood the risk of electrical burns from the cauterizer (they were fine, it’s like a 2% chance) so they did the surgery. I woke up very confused, I dreamed that walmart was run by vampires and didn’t know what was going on, told the nurse a knock knock joke, asked for a bag, threw up, and asked who gave me a tan. They had used iodine or something on my stomach. then they took me back up to the room and I had to move over to the actual bed and was like “Motherfucker dude that hurt,” and then freaked out and went “i’m not calling you guys motherfuckers you’re very nice, it just really hurt”
then they gave me some water and a grilled cheese and I left around 630-7ish
3. other stuff I don’t have energy to put here lol
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The reblog about Native spirits reminded me of the times when I learned not to fuck with the paranormal. I’m at least somewhat sensitive, and I’ve learned to close off.
First: When I was 12-13 and at a church youth retreat for my Confirmation class (yeah, grew up Christian), for some reason someone brought out a Ouija board. At one point I was using it with our pastor (I don’t know how this happened), and a spirit told me she was my ancestor, gave her name, and said she was from Sweden. I disregarded this until a couple years ago when I was working on our family tree. My great-great grandfather’s wife shared her name, and was from Sweden. The pastor would have had no way of knowing this back in the early 90s.
Second: Same night, the girls who liked to bully me got me to use it with them. I saw an opportunity to play a prank, and I moved the planchette to tell them they would die getting hit by a car. The next day, they came to me pale and shaking, and asked if I’d moved the planchette. They’d gone to a gas station for snacks down the road and had nearly been hit by a car. I have no idea if it’s anything other than a correlation, but I would never touch a Oujia board ever again.
Third: In high school, a friend of mine who lived near a forest preserve noticed that all the deer came out of the forest reserve at night. You could walk right toward them and they would refuse to go back in. So we did what stupid kids do: we went into the forest. We were about 200 meters in when a weird ball of mist coalesced on the path about 50 meters ahead, then came toward us. We booked it.
Fourth: In college, on break, another friend and I decided we’d go to a place well known as a mob dumping ground because it was rumored to have ghosts. This was my last time fucking with the paranormal, because something followed me home. I was driving straight, and an air freshener I had wedged in the passenger side visor to keep the broken light switch off somehow became unwedged and flew across the car to hit me in the shoulder, hard. Again, as I was driving on a straight road. I was staying with another friend at the time, and her cats went nuts the moment I came home. She wound up reading the Bible aloud to get it to leave.
Fifth: After my dad died, he visited me in dreams, talking about things that had just happened. At one point, before the memorial, I heard his slippers shuffling in the hallway when I was half-asleep. Once he came to my dream all excited, but my alarm went off before he could talk to me. It turned out a player had been traded from my favorite baseball team to his, totally something he’d call to gloat about, so I knew why he’d come to my dream right away.
I learned to be closed off, and one of the last times I opened was when my mom took me to the location where my father passed away, to see if he was there. He wasn’t. He still sometimes visits me in dreams, but it’s pretty rare anymore.
When my grandmother died in 2019 to dementia, my mom and I were racing to the nursing home to be with her when she passed. We parked, and suddenly I had a feeling we were too late. Didn’t tell my mom, and we hurried in. Her phone rang with the news before we reached her room. Afterward, while end of life issues were being dealt with, I sat outside the room with her body, and I let myself open, and she came to me. She was worried about the family, and rightly so since there was a lot of strife over end of life care and one of my family members is still angry and blaming folks that she died. But I told her we would be okay, and Grandpa (he died before I was born) had been waiting an awfully long time to dance with her again, and she should go join him. And I felt her leave. (I actually freaked out one of my family members, too, when one of them was all “I can feel her spirit right above us,” and I said, “Actually, she’s standing next to Aunt J.”)
This is something I don’t talk about a whole lot, mostly because people get weird about it, but it’s my truth. I don’t go looking for spirits, and I certainly don’t do anything stupid that would draw their attention to me or upset them. We may not understand the paranormal, but it’s always good to be respectful of it regardless.
I hate most ghost hunting shows, since they largely stir things up in ways that could be dangerous to folks beyond them.
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I was on IG and my friend posted this photo of a cat. And something in me just cracked.
I have no idea who this cat is but it looks identical to my Nausicaa who died in august.
I forgot how hard grief can hit when you’ve been holding it back. It just plows through. Especially when all of it is held in the same corner of my heart.
And I carry a certain guilt around her death. I wasn’t able to be there when she was put to sleep, because I had gone back to school just days before and there was no way for me to make it back in time. I was on the phone when it all happened, it felt so disconnected. I refused to let my grief consume me, since I need to stay on top of my college work.
And when I was able to go back home for fall break, I couldn’t grieve for my cat because I was barely holding it together after October 7. I broke down in tears when one of my professors had asked if I was doing okay, because she noticed I wasn’t anywhere as energetic as I should be in an archaeology museum.
And I was in the middle of my senior seminar when my parents told me Nausicaa finally came home. It was a miracle I didn’t start crying in class after seeing her box of ashes sitting next to her favorite spot in the apartment (and yes, Ponyo did try to sit on her box). Which brings up more buried grief.
I grew up with two cats, Isabel (the mostly white cat w gray spots) and Phoenix (the mostly gray cat with the old man). They were my mom’s cats, but I was very attached to them and it broke my heart when Phoenix died 4 days before my 11th birthday.
I never had time to fully grieve her death because my grandfather died a month later. And I carry a guilt over his death because the last thing I ever said to him was “I will see you next weekend”. And he died 3 days later while I was performing in a school concert. I refused to go see him at the funeral home, the image of Phoenix dying in the vet table was too fresh in my mind. And so I never truly had the chance to say goodbye to him. I don’t know where his ashes are. All I know is that he and my grandmother will be buried together when she dies—I am scared of the day she does. And that September, my grandfather’s nephew also died, and I wasn’t able to make it to his funeral because I had to go on a school sleepover trip.
I got Ponyo and Nausicaa in November 2013, so they briefly overlapped with the ancient Isabel. She liked Nausicaa, as seen in the photo above. She was 19 when we had to put her to sleep in December 2013. And I covered the loss of all four family members with the two new kittens. Isobel’s ashes rest on the bookshelf next to the window, where Nausicaa now also rests.
I was organizing my parents’ old photos when I came across the photo of Phoenix and Grandpa—I felt a pang in my heart when I saw it. And shortly after I went through those photos, I left for Portugal to do field work. I left two healthy, 10 year old cats at home. And on the last day of the field session, while we were breaking down site, I missed a call from my mom:
When I got to town, I broke away from my teammates to take the call. And that’s when I found out that my sweet girl had suddenly gotten cancer, which was moving so fast and aggressively. At first I tried to hide from the remaining archaeologists, because I couldn’t let myself be seen breaking down in the middle of town. But that completely failed when I got to the lunch table. And my supervisors and teammates were understanding—I still laugh fondly at their attempts to comfort me (that’s a story for later).
But it was devastating thinking that my little cat was dying an ocean away. But she held on for the week—my parents came out to join me in Portugal, leaving her with a family friend who took very good care of her. And she held on for two more weeks once we got back. It was exactly 21 days from when I got the first phone call to the last video call. But in the end, I still wasn’t able to be with her in her last moments. I had a shift at my job that I couldn’t skip and I was visiting my grandma the next day. I gave myself the weekend to grieve, then I threw myself into my part time job, school work, and social life. And in short succession, a very old family friend had a stroke and died, another family friend died after a steep mental decline, and a friend/colleague of my parents (who I knew) lost his fight with cancer.
And I often feel like I have to be the strong one in my friendships. And when October 7 came, I found myself holding my friends as they broke down. And Jewish underclassmen know they could always come to me if they need a hug or a shoulder. My campus best friend and I have adopted an absurd number of underclassmen this way, some of them even refer to us as their “mothers”. But I never took time for myself. I work the most hours at the bookstore, partially so I don’t spend time just with my thoughts.
And seeing that photo on IG brought all these emotions back in a flood. I just needed to put them somewhere so they don’t continue to eat away at me. The more I tell these stories, the less they hurt. So thank you for listening
#cats#pets#grief#dealing with grief#jewblr#I’ve been told i am too surgical with my emotions at times#but its often the only way I can keep going#I remember when I let my emotions control my actions and I don’t like the person I was back then#anger and grief are powerful and it felt like no one was listening#and I would lash out at people when it all became too much#it is a miracle I haven’t gotten in a physical fight these last months#some of the people on my campus make me want to throw them to the ground
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Fucking hate this sundown country
Hate that I can't even go for a walk
When building up to feeling safer to go on just a walk has taken years
Without being shadowed by a cop for over an hour
I told myself I was being Ridiculous when he sped by at 50 in a 25, that he clearly had somewhere to be and wouldn't return
Then again and again and again, and I'm trapped under the lights of the main street because at least there there's enough people to hear if I scream
(I try not to think of the study that showed most people assume Someone Else will help and ignore it) ((I try not to think of the literal car wrecks and things I've seen that support it))
Phone is only at 20% so I don't know how long I'll have something taking video - I brought my dog, and don't have cell service (one of many bills I can't afford), so I'd almost left it behind
Who would bother me in such a quiet town, and who would I call anyways but the
Cop drives by again, directly in front of me this time, very slowly. I keep my eyes down. My dogs flannel coat swishes, only a few inches from the ground
I was once walking on a side street at night, friend trailing his hands along metal stands and fences, and one stopped us to ask what we were doing here (university campus) and if he was trying to steal the hoods?? Off the parking meters??? He's native
Deep breaths. Talk to your service dog, watch her check in on you every block. Be glad that this is on video because it'll make you look more like a real human being in the court footage. Who doesn't love a well trained, small dog in a coat? She stops at every curb to wait for the command to move forward.
It rarely snows in the valley, but one winter we had a gorgeous blanket fall on the town. My friend showed me how to build a snowperson, how to carve and shape the arms and legs and hair. People stopped and smiled, took pictures and applauded it on my little apartment block.
Until the cop came to ask "what are you doing here" and parked at the end of the street when "building a snowman in front of my apartment" wasn't a good enough answer. He stayed until we left. It didn't take long. That friend was black.
Cross the bridge, don't slow down to look at the river even though it's why you came out tonight anyways. An awful week, the death of the cat I got the week I moved out from home over a decade ago & worry over money and health. Walking the dog to clear my thoughts.
The headlights glare down at me, the 5th time now - but I should have time before he comes by again to turn across a parking lot and retreat to my own street without him finding where I live.
The cop walking in gun drawn on a youth in my care, half asleep and waiting for someone to come by and verify simply that he was on the campus. I'd told him he'd be safe. The cops who stayed outside Pulse that night.
The ones who pulled me over just to make sure what I (cheap car from 93) was doing in this very nice neighborhood at this hour again, and again when I'd drop my girlfriend off in high school.
The one my grandmother married because she had no other choice, who'd beat her black and blue and whose bloodline is a streak of red and dead wives who didn't get away in time.
The ones I know can do anything they want to me. The ones that turned butches to stones and children to markers in a back field. The one mental health crisis or meltdown or panic attack I can't cover or mask that stands between me and a bullet.
I made it home safe. My dog can lead me back even when I can barely think straight through the fog. My phone was at 4%. That's good at least. It would've been shitty to die on my birthday.
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July 20 2023 - 3:51pm
Trigger Warning: talk of death/murder
Warning: All people places and things resembling any real people places or things are merely coincidence and are not to be taken as such.
Death. I am so sick of it being in my life. I am sick of finding people and animals dead in my life. I am fed up with my loved ones dying. I hate that death has to happen. Every time it is heartbreaking. It doesn't matter who or what dies it's upsetting for me.
My first experience with death was my first cat, Rose. She died while I was at school and I never got to say goodbye. She was my first real friend and every day I think about her.
It feels like it never ended. More and more die. My great grandmother. I was close with her. She was a cool old woman. She sported three piercings on each ear and talked about how she used to build world war II planes. She was 4ft 7inches tall but to me she was 7foot.
A little baby kitten I found under the window of my father's bathroom. She was so little. She must have been two weeks old at least. She was covered in fleas and I washed her and I fed her and I kept her warm and she died in my arms. I was so deviated I ended up missing a day of school. Her name was Star.
My gerbil Henry died. He was gifted to me by my cousin who couldn't take care of him any longer. He got out of his cage and cannibalized his leg to survive. Once I caught him again I tried taking him to several vets but no one would help him and he died shortly after. I will always believe it was my fault.
My cousin who I had been best friends with until she moved, died shortly after she moved back. I didn't even get to hang out with her again before she died. I saw her once before her death. I got to hug her one last time and I didn't know. She died in a car accident. She wasn't even driving. This death was one of the hardest ones.
My hamster, Herman, died of being poisoned by my first abusive ex. I loved Herman. He was a kind and gentle soul. He always curled up on me and slept. He never bit and he would offer me things, usually bits of food. He was 3 years old. I hate my ex.
Then my guinea pig, Goliath, died. He was gifted to me by my uncle (my mother's brother) who didn't tell me until after he died that he was super old. He died on Christmas morning two months after they gave him to me. My uncle laughed when he found out he died. A true monster, that man.
My dwarf hamster, Leo, died. He was feisty. He liked biting everything. He was killed. I don't know what happened. I came home and his cage was on its side and I found his body smashed on the floor not too far away from it. No one confessed. He was a fierce little guy.
After Leo died I stopped getting anything smaller than a cat. Because I couldn't handle them dying anymore. I decided I was unfit to have them.
My best friend's father died. He had been suffering for years with mental and physical problems. It was sad. The man was like a father to me.
My best friend's brother was killed. He was a great guy. He was smart and funny. A little rough around the edges. It took a toll on my best friend though. The two of them were starting to bond at that point after not really connecting for years. It was hard to watch it hurt her so bad.
My father died. He had gotten drunk and was driving home when the police tried pulling him over. He was driving his motorcycle at the time and tried to get away but ultimately crashed. He was in a coma for a week and then we had to pull the plug that last day. He was never going to wake up. His brain was so shook up that it was dying little by little. He was being kept alive by machines. While he was alive he requested that we pull the plug if he ever wound up there. That was the most devastating week of my life. I have not fully recovered from that even to this day.
My grandmother, my mom's mom, died. I wasn't very attached to her as she was abusive to my mom, her father, her siblings, me and my siblings. She died of cancer.
My grandfather, my mom's father, died. He loved animals like me. He was super smart and kind. Though my aunts and uncles would have you believe otherwise. He also died of cancer.
My cat Mittens died. She was left with my family when my grandmother passed away. I don't know how old she was. She was a sweet and shy cat. By the time she passed she and I had created a special bond and she died in my arms.
My cat Samantha, who I had gotten when she was nine shortly before I had gotten Herman passed away at 17 years old. She was my best friend. I told her everything. I saved her from an abusive family. They were evil. They kicked her and sat on her and did all kinds of mean things to her. She was covered in fleas and ticks. It was awful. From the day we first met she never left my side. She died in my arms and I cried for several days. I still cry sometimes. She was there for a lot of deaths.
Through the last two years or so I've found dead shrews and mice on the sticky traps in our basement. And even though the traps are set for them it breaks my heart. I try hard to trap them and release them but the sticky traps are the only thing that truly work. I come and check every day so I can at least rescue them but I seem to always be late and the few who I do find a live struggle so hard that they hurt themselves so I am left to kill them to be merciful. It hurts me every single time. My brother on countless occasions has told me that I shouldn't cry or feel guilty because they are pests. But they have brains. They have thoughts and feelings. I feel like a monster.
Most recently my mom's outdoor cat killed two baby bunnies yesterday. I had been watching the mother bunny create a nest for them in our yard for a month. I was so excited for the baby bunnies. I watched the nest from my window every day. And I went to the window yesterday after talking to my brother and I saw my mom's cat in the yard at the nest bent down. I knew as soon as I saw her. I rushed outside and she was eating one of the babies. She sits up and watches me as I pick up the bunny's body, still warm and still mostly intact. And I found a second baby also dead. Still warm, still intact. I pick it up too. I was crying so hard. I called the cat a monster, knowing she was just doing what cats do best. I took the bunnies inside and put them in a box. But because it was too late in the evening I couldn't bury them. So I planned on doing it today. I put their box in the freezer overnight. They are buried in the woods behind my home in a grave I dug myself. I gave them a eulogy and I cried again. Their grave is marked with three small stones.
My cat Starfire or Star for short, is dying from Mammary Cancer as we speak. Slowly dying. She was diagnosed about 8 months ago but I first found the growth when it was no larger than a pea last May. We couldn't afford to fight the cancer but according to my research and backed up by the vet it wouldn't matter if we could. The probability of her getting it again was almost a 100 percent odd. She would probably die after a year whether we cured her or not. So for now we wait. And while we wait we keep her as comfortable and happy as we can.
It is starting to get hard to even want pets. Their lives are too short. And saying good bye seems to be getting harder and harder. There is a reason I state that I want to die first. Death hurts so much. It feels unfair.
Regards
TNL Barth
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It seems I now see bad and good dreams about my father and life in my old home in turns.
Other night I was alone at home with my sister since mom and dad had gone somewhere. In the dream we had strict rules and we weren't allowed to touch anything since if father noticed something had been moved, he would beat us. I had long haired orange cat but I had to keep her on a leash inside the house since she was allowed to be only on this one particular area (very small). However, I took her on a walk in the small open kitchen and while she walked, she started to pee on the wooden floor. I started to panic, rushing to get paper to clean it all up since the pee was going to leak between the planks and dad would smell it, beating me. I asked my sister to help me since I heard our car coming to our yard, but sis just stood on the background doing nothing. After this I woke up. I felt so afraid in the dream.
Last night / now I woke up after having this dream: Somehow my mother had managed to talk dad to take us 3 kids out and shopping (he never did that in real life). We were small, my bro was maybe 5 at max, I was probably 8 or so and my sis 11 at max. At first he was taking us to our small town's own super tiny shop but there was too many people so dad didn't stop, not even to get fuel. He said he could get it in next town. We drove a while, then coming inside this weird building. It had many rooms and floors while being quite small / tight, some rooms were old fashioned. By some miracle we had done some shopping already since I had full food shopping back at my feet while sitting at the back. We stopped on top of small wooden stairs. Across us was old, big dance room which had been decorated to a wedding with older style. I instantly loved it and the big dance floor corner. I wanted to go dance there (waltz) but we didn't enter because the room was occupied. Someone was going to have wedding party there soon. So instead I waltzed back to the car but stopped on top of the stair.
Now that I turned around, I saw my dead grandmother's apartment. A bit different than it was in real life. I took my phone since I wanted to take a picture of my grandmother who sat in her rocking chair. My father was close to her on a chair and some darker male figure was further to my right but apparently he was visible only via camera. My little brother was sitting beside my grandmother on the rocking chair, squirming and sliding down from it. He didn't want to be in the picture but I managed to convince him to just stay still a few seconds. He turned to look at grandma and I took the photo. My grandmother didn't appear on camera's screen nor on the photo but I saw her clearly with my naked eyes.
Then we were back in a car, my sis sitting at the front as she said how she should had brought a character X plush / figure to take photos with. I had remembered to take mine but I just don't remember who or what the figure was. We were now coming back home, at first driving to current town's market where I live. While we drove past the market's door, I saw a couple who's my mother's and my friends. Mom was with them with our old neighbor and they all were fat! Like 600lb / 300kg each at least! I was so surprised and confused. My little brother, who sat with me at the back, asked why mom was there with our ex-neighbor. I told him that her husband had worked in a local hospital for decades and had now retired so they were celebrating him (this is all true and happened last week). After that I woke up.
#Text#Dream#Neis dream#Old shit coming up!#Father issues#I'm glad I'm dealing with these in my dreams#But it also has caused it that I sleep 4h per night at max#Which makes me ridiculously tired in physical world#Luckily this won't last forever#And I rather go through these via dreams than getting horrible disease or losing an arm or leg etc.#17.7.2023
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a life update
cw/tw, pet death mention, depression, suicidal thoughts, toxic home relationship
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so. I've kinda dropped off since the new year. been meaning to update you guys (gender neutral) but, well. it's been hard. so let me give you a summary of the first twelve days of 2023 for me
-girldriend broke up with me
-my own words caused a best friend to stop being friends with me. it's my fault. maybe if I apologized and begged, I could fix it.
-two weeks ago, on a Monday, the day classes for school started, I took my cat and emotional Support animal, Alfred, to the vet in-between classes
-alfred already had hypothyroidism, high blood pressure and kidney disease, and was on approximately three meds (two pills and a packrt of gel stuff for his kidneys)
-at the vet, they determined he has pancreatitis, hip and back arthritis (which is why he sits and walks weird), and one of his few remaining teeth is starting to go bad
-pancreatitis, I could handle. another pill, no problem, it's fine
-but the arthritis. he's in pain, and has been for I don't know how long.
-the only pain medicine is a shot they give him, which is 75 dollars once a month, not including the price of his other medications, wet cat food from lack of teeth, and check ups
-so, I. I made the decision, and I'm putting him down March 14th. its spring break, a Tuesday, so I can spend one full day with him, and not miss work or school while grieving
-we went back and forth for about an hour before I blew up, saying I was managing it, I was going to keep him comfortable while I processed it, then went to class
-went home, told my mom. she yelled at me, said I was being selfish for keeping him alive for so long. made me feel guilty for considering cremation, I wasn't being fair to Alfred
-two days of peace while my uncle was visiting
-thursday morning before class. I came downstairs, we talked, normal. then she said that it seemed like I cared more about my cat dying than when my grandma, her mother passed in 2021.
-for context, I was close with my grandmother. I visited her once or twice a month for almost a year prior to her passing, and it was incredibly hard on me. I took the whole week leading up to the funeral off of work.
-i guess my mom didn't remember, because she had the AUDACITY to tell me I didn't take a grieving period for my grandma, then she got upset when I said "how dare you"
-then I went off to class, and texted a friend whom had offered to let me move in with their family in the past, if the offer was still on the table and how it would work.
-ive lived here for two weeks now. it's a longer commute to and from work and school, but I havent been yelled at in two weeks as of tomorrow
-prior to 2023, I lost two cats in 2022. Family cat Smokey in August, baby 2yo kitten Princess in October.
-march 14th, the day I'm putting and have scheduled to put Alfred down, is eight days before my birthday.
-i still have class and homework. I have a comm I need to finish, and the person has been so understanding, but I feel awful
-i can't write. I've tried. gods, I've tried. I'm adding small tidbits onto current drafts, but it's so hard. I can't handle angst at all, and that puts several projects on hiatus
-im crying every few days because it hits me that my best friend, my constant companion, will be gone in less than two months
-Alfred is 12ish, I've had him for four years. five in August, but he. won't be here then.
-he was a rescue, so I don't know his true age. everyone, vet included, thinks he may be older.
-vet said nobody would judge me for my decision, and based on Alfred's medical condition and chart, I wasn't making a wrong one
-ive never had to put a cat, or any pet, down before. never had to make the decision myself.
-ive struggled with suicidal thoughts and major anxiety the past few weeks. I'm trying my hbest, but.
-im tired.
tldr: my life is going to hell and will be hell well into the year, and I'm sorry about the sudden halt of fics and posting. I'll try to write what I can when I can, but. no promises, unfortunately
if you got this far, thanks. I appreciate it.
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Alex Recommends: October Books
I have had a very busy month settling into my university course and my new flat. I am enjoying everything for the most part but I do miss my old life a little. I am spending a lot of time by myself, which I do love but of course, it leaves me a lot of time with my thoughts.
Mark calls me every evening when he finishes school and we talk for hours but it’s not the same as falling asleep together properly. He has come to visit me a couple of times and we’ve had some lovely relaxing time together. I adore this place but I think I’m realising that it’s so much better when people I love are here too.
I think I might be reading too much with regard to my textbooks. It took me a few weeks to realise that maybe I don’t have to be reading the recommended textbooks from cover to cover, so I fear I’ve wasted a lot of time boring myself to death with nothing sinking in. I have started planning my assignments though and I’m actually getting close to completing the first one, so I guess that’s something!
Aside from dull library science related articles, thankfully I have also been reading some fantastic books that I think you’ll love. I think a couple of this month’s recommendations are possibles for next year’s Women’s Prize longlist too. Yes, I already can’t wait for that to drop!
I hope you’re all having a cosy spooky time and enjoy curling up with these atmospheric, comforting reads this month.
-Love, Alex x
FICTION: Cat Lady by Dawn O’Porter.
Mia knows how to play the role of perfect wife to Tristan and perfect stepmother to his son Oliver. She knows how to be the smart, reliable managing director of a jewellery brand even if the CEO doesn’t quite understand how to grow the business. She also knows how to be the cat mother that her beloved Pigeon needs. But when a devastating event rocks her quiet, comfortable world, Mia learns that underneath it all, she isn’t quite the woman that she has always purported to be. So, does she give society what it wants from her as a woman in her 40s or does she give in to the independent, crazy cat lady within? Of course, I was always going to give this book a read. I enjoyed O’Porter’s So Lucky a few years ago and naturally, as a cat lover I was drawn to the striking cover on her latest. It’s both funny and tragic with a thoroughly likeable yet multi-flawed heroine. Pet grief is a central theme but it’s dealt with from the perspective of a true animal lover, so the grief is taken incredibly seriously. There is some excellent exploration of the dynamics between women which will ring true to so many female readers. There is some content that will make some readers cringe including some pretty graphic sex scenes. Ultimately, it’s a celebration of being unapologetically yourself with a lovely heartwarming ending. Proceed with caution if you’re sensitive to animal death and explicit sex.
NON-FICTION: You Don’t Know What War Is by Yeva Skalietska.
Ten days after her 12th birthday, Yeva’s life changed forever when the first Russian bombs dropped on her hometown of Kharkiv. She and her grandmother had to flee the flat that they’d lived in for Yeva’s whole life and find safety. So began a journey across Europe to Dublin where they eventually found refuge. Yeva’s diary entries detail that journey on long train rides, sheltering underground with hundreds of others and telling her story to the press. This very moving account of a war that is still very much happening is incredibly emotional and harrowing. Yeva’s perspective as a child is really unique. Her hope and positivity gives the book such an authentic, heartwarming slant. There are some lovely photos and input from her friends that paint a complete picture of what Yeva and so many children like her went through less than a year ago. Most of the time, war memoirs are written years after the action has taken place and depict a life that seems quite alien to most of their readers. Of course, this isn’t the case with this book and it really hammered home to me that something has horrific as what happened to Ukraine last year really can happen to any of us at any time.
MIDDLE-GRADE: Hazel Hill Is Gonna Win This One by Maggie Horne.
Hazel is determined to beat the perfect Ella Quinn at this year’s school speechwriting contest. However, when she realises that golden boy Tyler is harassing Ella online, she feels a desire to stop his behaviour and help Ella out. But Hazel has no time for friends, does she? This cute story of friendship and fighting the patriarchy has some really loveable characters and realistic depictions of what it’s like to not be listened to. It has some subtle but important queer representation and is warm and light-hearted while tackling the very serious issue of harassment and cyber-bullying.
YA: The Reluctant Vampire Queen by Jo Simmons.
Mo Merrydrew really wants to keep her head down, avoid the awful Tracy Caldwell, get good grades and a job in politics. She has a Plan for her life and she needs to stick to it. So, it’s less than convenient when a vampire jumps out of a bush and informs her that she is the Chosen One and must become the new Vampire Queen of Great Britain. For one thing, Mo is a vegetarian and she’s pretty such that vampires survive on a diet of blood. But then a handsome vampire familiar shows up and it all looks a bit more interesting. This book is very quirky and quite British, so I’m not sure how it will translate in other countries. It reads slightly younger than YA really but Mo is 15, there is a romance and plenty of blood, so it can’t really be classed as middle-grade. The humour is juvenile and tongue-in-cheek but it’s certainly not a book to be taken seriously, so it works. The storyline is crazy but the friendship and romance are really lovely to watch. I believe it’s only the beginning for Mo Merrydrew, so buckle up for a vampire series with a difference!
LITERARY FICTION: Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver.
Born to a young single mother and a dead father in Southern Appalachia, Demon has very little to his name. Throughout his life, he will experience a string of foster homes, backbreaking labour, sporting success, addiction and endless amounts of heartache. Told in his distinct voice, we experience a full complete life that will haunt you long after finishing the last page. I haven’t read David Copperfield and I don’t know too much about it. However, I was thoroughly taken in by Demon’s story. The book is hugely immersive and paints a portrait of a life plagued by tragedy. It is incredibly bleak, which is how it manages to retain the Dickensian vibe that inspired it. However, there are some moments of humour and some lovely authentic friendships. I loved watching Demon’s friendship with Angus grow and I was thrilled when he reconnected with Tommy. Demon is certainly a hero that you want good things for because he has been through so much at no fault of his own. There is also such a strong sense of place in this novel. Kingsolver does an amazing job of illustrating Lee County and it’s obvious that it’s a place very dear to her heart. I was completely transported by Demon’s story and I’d love to see if I enjoy Kingsolver’s backlist as much.
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