Where's Waldo?

"Well you came and you gave without taking..." -Barry Manilow

Does it ever get easier? Loss, grief, perpetual loneliness and sadness? People tell you it gets better with time, easier with time. Those people lie.

It gets harder. Every new loss creates a bigger hole in your heart and every second is a moment of agony that you either go through in pain or deny the existence of.

What does get easier? Denial. It gets easier to pretend that person is at work or the dog is still at the vet because you have gone so long without seeing them it is not fresh in your memory. It gets easier to numb yourself to the reality of life without a person when you have all the time in the world to practice.

You don't have to believe me. Or you can roll your eyes at my pessimism. But in the past two years, I have lost six people and two dogs. None of whom were old enough to die of old age.

I feel broken and mentally drained. At the same time, I feel like I am overflowing with enough emotional turmoil to cause the next ice age.

My one-year-old Cocker Spaniel died this morning from ingesting rodenticide last weekend. He had internal bleeding that flooded his lungs and suffocated him. The Vets did everything they could, but it was too late.

I have been crying all day and don't see myself stopping anytime soon. I repeat, over and over, in my head, "He was just a baby." He will never wake me up by laying on my chest and putting his nose to mine again. He will never climb into my lap to take a nap again. I'll never see his smile or funny walk or hear him howl at the sirens that go by, even one more time.

He was a dog, not a person.

A week ago, I would have called it ridiculous to treat a dead pet as one would treat a dead family member. But Ozzy was my family. I can't picture myself as a mother. I never could. I don't know if I will ever want children. But that puppy was my baby.

If you assume that I came home from Florida because I was homesick, ask what I was homesick for: my dogs, Jack and Ozzy. I spoke to my mom several times a day. I didn't miss this house or the drama that comes with living here. I didn't miss being yelled at by grandma, fighting with Josh, or my mom's hundred-million questions. I missed the little faces that give the best eskimo kisses and bear hugs. I missed the unconditional love that comes from a loving pet.

Now I need a bear hug and my Waldo is gone. My big, goofy, dumbo-eared, ADHD clown of a dog has left this world behind.

All I can do now is believe in fairy tales. All dogs go to heaven, my baby isn't being left out.



Note: For those who don't know how my mind works: My nickname generator.
Ozzy -> Oswald -> Waldo
Also known as Oz, Boom-Boom and according to Grandma: Blacky, Edward, Henry, Arthur (insert: any King of England).

R.I.P. Ozzy
September 2, 2011 -- December 28, 2012

Can you go home again?

What is wrong with coming home?

I attempted a move to West Palm Beach, FL on December 4, 2012. The plans had been in the making for months and Philadelphia just holds no appeal for me.

Plan: Find a place to stay, get a job, make money, LIVE.

Real life: Get a room to share in a house with strangers (who, granted, are great people); use all your savings on rent and the move down; search and search for a job only getting random Temp gigs for serving, which you have never done before; and pretend you know what you are doing as your dead father's birthday and Christmas creep up on you in a town where no one has a Christmas tree, puts up lights on their houses, or even acknowledges the holidays in any way other than sand art.

I'm not complaining. I love Florida and West Palm Beach is gorgeous, especially for a person like me who hates cold weather. Every day is sunny and warm with green palm trees and perfect beach days in DECEMBER! I would love to live there.

So why didn't I stay?

Practicality.

Being emotionally unstable forces me to need stability in other parts of my life. No money, no job, and no transportation. Did I mention the buses in Palm Beach only run until 9:30 PM and they only have one train that goes North and South, but never far enough or near enough to a useful location?

I don't believe myself to be a baby or someone who cannot take care of herself. I'm just practical. My family needed me and even though I was fine on my own, I refused to be delusional about my situation any longer. I'm not rich and I don't have an amazing resume. I can't live forever on borrowed money and unless someone is willing to give me an interview where I can express my capabilities, I'm stuck with personality tests and a lack of job experience that shows employers a lack of knowledge that doesn't reflect who I am and what I can do.

I'm going to digress and say job applications should have a big section for you to explain yourself. Why do you have a big gap between jobs? I was a full time student whose mother got breast cancer, so I decided to put my life on hold to make sure she got better. You have less than a year of experience being a cashier? Legally, yes. There is no way for you to know by this application that my mother and father worked in retail, my mother her whole life. I asked for a cash register when I was 10 and received a real one for Christmas. I went to work with both my parents: set up my dad's cash register at Ames Taping Tools so that he didn't need to calculate tax on a calculator anymore and rang up customers by myself in Game Stop when I was 12. I got a perfect 5 on my AP Calculus test, math was my greatest subject in High School. My favorite game to play when I was little was Store. I'm always the banker in Monopoly because not everyone knows that when you receive a 500 for a property that costs 240, you only owe them 260 and NOT 360. When I go shopping in Fashion Bug, doesn't matter how many clothes I have on my arm or what I am wearing, I am asked at least five times if I work there. Do I? No. Can I answer their questions? Not all the time. Am I approachable and do they like that I find them someone who CAN help? Yes.  So does my resume help me in ANY way? Nope. Because there is no place to state any of this experience. Life experience, under-the-table experience.

So I gave up, I quit, I tossed in the towel. Really? I prefer not to look at it that way. I tried something amazing. I had a wonderful journey. My life is better for my weeks in Florida. But I am home now. Back in Pennsylvania. Continuing my job hunt, getting ready for another round of school for a Masters Degree, and just in time for Christmas with my family.

Florida taught me that I don't need to be alone to expand my horizons and live my life. My family doesn't hold me back, only I do. And if I want to change that, I can and I will.

Say what you will: baby, quitter, whiner, mistake, codependent... I'm just going to smile. I know what you don't.