“It’s a dirty business, dreaming
Where there is silence and not screaming
Where there’s no daylight
There’s no healing, no noYou’re gonna sleep like a baby tonight
In your dreams everything is alright
Tomorrow dawns like a suicide
But you’re gonna sleep like a baby tonight”-“Sleep Like a Baby Tonight”, U2
I thought living alone would be the hardest thing I ever did.
The first time I tried was a disaster. Despite that house being etched into my soul, it still was not a part of the fabric of me and built entirely of safety
This house is a framework of trust. A coat of hope on the walls (such a soothing moss green).
Sunlight pours in with ease.
The kitchen is a perfect dream of space and honey-colored love.
The woods and cemetery in my backyard would probably concern most. But to my skewed sense of comfort, it’s perfect. Quiet, serene, and lonely. Just like I am. I’m rarely surprised by random passerby’s.
I do fracture regularly still. But the pieces of me all have comforting sections of the house.
There’s a small room under the stairs that only handful of people know exist (yes, like Harry Potter). A safe space to hide when the demons seem too strong and close.
The kitchen is another favorite, with a window seat right across from the long counter. Huge windows that easily slide open to let in air. Enough space for me to lie on my stomach, and even have Zoe join me.
Then there’s the balcony. Breezy, semi-private, and perfect to lounge on for hours.
Perhaps I can get this dang book put together finally. With a little help from this precious house that’s wormed its way into my heart and soul.
Apparently during Shit Week (last week) when things were pretty blackout switchy, some fun was had with the credit card.
Normally, I’d send them back for a refund (stuff like this has happened before), but upon further reflection…they’re pretty cute.
Also, the most comfortable heels I’ve ever put on my feet. So long story short, it appears the burgundy fox heels are staying.
We still aren’t quite fully co-conscious like earlier this year and last year. That will probably take more time. But there seems to be more “camaraderie”, so to speak. Less blackouts and more just straight up switching. Walls are temporarily windows.
I do hope they shall remain as such.
watching MST3K with Zoe
(I don’t want to keep that last post up at the top any longer)
Today I am thankful.
Despite all my pain and depression and health issues still looming over like a dark cloud, I am thankful.
Things are moving forward. And that is what keeps the dark thoughts away. It is stagnation that breeds the negativity and urges.
Some good bits of info on my life moving forward:
Zoe practicing “sit-wait”
Those are the big items going on. So despite being at a big roadblock in my health, I’m looking past that to all the wonderful things I have coming in the next year. I’m determined now to keep truckin’ and see these things all come to a successful conclusion.
And I cannot thank all of you enough for your kind words on my last post. I know I didn’t reply to the comments and I probably won’t (the post is a hard one for me to read and I want to avoid it for now); but please know that your words were heard and meant a great deal.
Lots of hugs to all!
These are reasons why I try to keep going. It’s hard. But I don’t want to leave her.
Army sweetly sent me a bunch of pictures he had of Zoe to cheer me up and distract me today. They are so cute that I had to share them with you all 🙂
Sofya cuddling a puppy Zoe
After a bath! She hated it. Still does.
Cuddling while they’re older
Good shot of her vaguely heart-shaped white tuft of fur
She was determined to get the white cheddar residue from my bag of popcorn.
Upside down Zoe (waaay pre baby-nipple-tummy)
Curled up on the couch
Today I dropped my fur-baby off to be spayed and she gave me a look of such fear and concern that I was not coming back. Obviously I will be back in a mere 5 hours. However, I feel it is time to share the story of how I got Zoe.
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There once was a girl.
Technically this girl was a woman. It’s important to this story that she was a woman, not a girl, since she had recently gone through a loss that only a woman can experience.
Pen, the woman, no longer thought she was worthy of this thing called life.
Her well-meaning partner, Army, did his best to distract her with movies and jokes and trips to places she used to enjoy.
To no avail.
On December 20th, mere days before Christmas, a distant friend mentioned her mom’s dog had an accidental litter. And her mom was very displeased. The dog was a pure bred Australian Shepherd; a show dog. And now considered “ruined”.
A concept that hit Pen in the stomach like a sack of stones.
Most of the puppies had been given away and found homes, but there was one left and they’d run out of people who’d take puppies. Her friend’s mom was going to dump it at a shelter.
Pen felt some vague sense of maternal instinct give a kick deep inside her.
“Just come look at her? Please?” said the friend. Pen agreed. She drove over within the day to see this lone puppy.
When she pulled into the driveway, the puppy had already been dumped into a box and was sitting in front of the garage. Pen’s friend was apologetic, saying her mom said the puppy absolutely couldn’t stay another day.
As she squatted down, Pen’s eyes focused on the ball of red. After a moment, greenish-gold eyes met hers.
The ice that had been encasing Pen’s heart for nearly two months felt a warm breeze. It trembled, debating on sweating a thin line of water. Debating on melting.
The puppy was so very tiny. Not much bigger than a softball. Pen turned to her friend and asked the age.
“8 weeks. She’s the runt though. Just a scrawny thing.”
Even though she hadn’t mentioned this excursion, she remembered Army had talked about getting a second dog. Perhaps…
She put her hand into the box. The puppy waddled up to it immediately and shoved the tiny triangular face into Pen’s palm. This of course, meant the puppy absolutely had to be picked up. The tiny warm body easily snuggled against Pen’s heart.
The ice cracked. The lines thickened, then dribbled. The heart swelled.
She went from the friend’s house straight to a pet store. She had a decent stockpile of money in her account due to saving for a baby that would never come.
Now, as she stared down at the red ball that tried frantically to lick her face, Pen wondered if the baby just was meant to be a different form.
When she drove up to the apartment, she saw Army’s car. She felt nervous for a moment. She really should have texted or called him. Warned him. But they’d been distant lately.
The moment she walked in, Sofya’s nose lifted, twitched, and the sleek black dog froze for a moment, before leaping towards Pen in excitement.
“Wow she’s happy to see you.” Army commented offhand, focused on the TV. Then he heard squeaks of joy. He slowly glanced over. “…what is that?”
Sofya tried to climb into Pen’s arms to get to the puppy. She was careful to let them merely touch noses, concerned of the reaction. She didn’t need to worry though, Sofya’s tail was a whirlwind of happy excitement and her long tongue attempted to bathe the red ball.
“It may be a puppy.” Pen said shyly.
Army’s face melted into sweet delight as he rushed from the couch around to the front door. He held out his arms and Pen smiled, handing him the red ball.
“Boy or girl?”
“Girl.”
“What kind?”
“Aussie mix. Her mom was purebred and the litter accidental. The jerk owner was gonna dump her at a shelter.”
“Bitch. How old?”
“8 weeks.”
“Weaned?”
“Yep.”
“She is super cute.” He crooned, in a way Pen had rarely seen. Sofya nosed in as he knelt down to let his dog greet the new puppy properly.
The first night, she had a kennel prepare for the puppy to spend the night it. But it was mere hours before she was curled up with the puppy in bed. Army came in early in the morning and chuckled at the scene.
“She’s going to be so spoiled.”
Pen secretly thought that she, not the puppy, was the spoiled one.
About 12 weeks old
4-5 months old
My babygirl recently
This past Sunday I went to a mini-puppy playdate with two of Zoe’s puppies that a friend adopted. The lucky boys are my favorites and get to grow up together- I was so happy to find them such a good home.
Their newborn nicknames were Red and Japan, but their new family has named the Brutus and Bandit.
Brutus is the one who is almost the spitting image of Zoe and Bandit is the one with the white stripe.
Enjoy!
I have a date tonight.
I am trying not to freak out.
I haven’t had a date in a couple months now. And surprisingly, I really really like this guy. Like, more than the dumb dating website creepos.
We met at the local dog park I take Zoe to. He has two shepherd mixes that are adorable (and smitten with Zoe).
We’re going to this local pub-burger-type place. Supposedly famous for excellent food, though I’ve never been there.
Unfortunately, it’s a Pepsi place, but we’ll survive. We had a long conversation about how Coke is better. Glad he agrees on that important detail.
Anyway, I’ll update you guys if I can. I also have a doctor’s appt tomorrow morning, so there may be a bit of a delay.
Wish me luck!
DIFFERENT NOT BROKEN
For now, this website will be about book reviews!
My journey towards healing
Rebuilding an authentic life after anorexia
writing as a way of life
frightfully wondrous things happen here.
For those who want to know what it's like to live as a simple boy and girl..and girl and girl and girl.
pen, paper, and crazy 