If any of you still read my blog you’ve certainly noticed my blogging has come to a crawl and more recently, a standstill. I only blog from my laptop; I’m not one of those tab bloggers and probably never will be. I can only read news, check blogs, and work from my laptop. Everything else is done from the phone or tab. And considering I haven’t been on my laptop in over a week, I haven’t read the news, checked blogs, or even worked in a week! Much less written a blog post.
When my husband and I were first together there was a lot to blog about. New love, new life, new experiences. I found a lot of people were curious, would send emails with questions, and that would prompt another blog topic. Well, the same happens today but how much can I really say about my marriage without setting up video cameras in our home?
The positive side was that during that time life was so calm. Everything I had ever wanted seemed to be happening. No stress. No worries. And just genuine happiness. Again, not the greatest blog material. Surely my oh-so-chipper happiness gushing gets boring. If not sickening.
Well, none of the great happy stuff has changed — for years. Which sounds like the perfect life but I’ve recently discovered that’s not the case at all.
This past week was perhaps the most emotionally draining and painful week I’ve experienced in, well, for as long as I can remember. It felt as though the unfortunate incidents just wouldn’t stop coming. And with each one I felt more and more weak and helpless. It’s as if the ‘perfect life’ provided such a sense of comfort that dealing with tragedy was overwhelming. To the point I found myself unable to breathe as pain filled my already heavy heart. And now, I find myself bracing for the next big hit, wondering if and how I’ll even handle it. There are some things even my husband can’t fix.
Last week started off as normal as all others. Puppies (we still had 3 from the litter) running through the house, destroying everything in their path, but giving enough snuggles to make up for the damage. My husband doing his MIT coursework and working much of the day. And me chasing puppies, feeding cats, and walking dogs in between trying to be productive. My husband helps with the pet care taking but I try not to bother him when I know he’s studying or working on something important.
By mid-week anything resembling normal was about to change without notice.
First, Melicka (our Lab who currently owns my husband’s heart) was hit by a car with my husband and I standing right next to her. We saw it coming. We saw her running towards the road, the car coming at a high rate of speed, and us standing there helpless. It was one of the worst things I’ve ever seen in my life. Fortunately it looked much worse than it was. After a day at the emergency Vet and several days of recovery at home, she’s back to being herself other than some slow healing eye injuries.
During that incident we had been standing outside with the dogs and 3 of the puppies. I jumped in the car as my husband loaded our dog into the back so I could rush her to Vet as he stayed behind to look for the 3 puppies that had seen the incident and were scared away into the woods… deep woods. We were certain our dog was going to die and the 3 puppies would be lost in the woods and freeze to death overnight. I can’t even express the sickness I felt. I wanted to fix everything but had the power to do nothing at all. (The puppies were found within the hour. Cold and scared but perfectly fine)
A couple of days later, and while still nursing our baby back to health, it was time for the remaining puppies to go to their new homes. They’ve been with us for 3 months. We’ve become attached. We love them as if they belong here — regardless of the stress and destruction. So, off they went. We’re certain they’ve gone to fabulous homes and remind one another of that fact a number of times a day. But it still feels like a huge loss. I find myself needing to see their faces and know they’re happy. And yet again, nothing I can do but try to take comfort in the choices we made regarding their re-homing,
The same day all the puppies left for their forever homes one of our cats went missing. Sheikha. My little white Arabian Mau my husband rescued from the abusive little kids of Kuwait. The one who flew (along with our other cat) all the way to America with us. She sleeps under the blankets next to me. We have a song we sing together. And she has a special spot in my lap she snuggles in when she’s cold. There are no words to describe the love I have for this cat. We called her, we looked for her, we drove around for hours… no sign of her. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t concentrate, and I burst into tears every few minutes thinking I might never see that little face again. Buuuuut, when I had finally accepted I was going to have to get some sleep I saw her beautiful little face at the back door. I cried again… happy tears. My world fell back into place as quickly as it seemed to be falling apart.
As of today everything seems to be going along normally. Other than the unexpected snow storm (I’m sooooo over winter already). But I find myself just waiting for the next bad thing to happen. And all of these ‘tragedies’ were all animal related. Some people would think, ‘What kind of tragedy is that?’ But for us animal loving pet owners it’s crushing. Especially when it all seems to happen at once.
I recall several years ago, before meeting my husband, life wasn’t perfect. I faced a number of challenges, dealt with a bunch of crap, and had to solve every problem on my own. But I did it. And I like to think I did it well. I felt as though I had some form of control over my life. Or at least my emotions. I allowed a very carefully chosen crowd into my life, those I could trust wouldn’t hurt me (made a few mistakes there). And kept everyone else at a distance. I was well protected, even if it meant controlling every aspect of my encounters. And then along came my husband. He made me realize how easy it was to love and love deeply. He has never, not even once, hurt me. He makes sure I don’t worry, stress, or feel anything that might ‘bother’ me — it’s an Arab man thing. And I’ve gotten quite comfortable. Perhaps a bit too comfortable. I’ve sacrificed control for love. I no longer keep my emotions tightly within. I’m pretty much a fountain of overflowing love and feeling. It makes me vulnerable and I’m not sure how comfortable I am with that.
Is it best to keep our feelings to ourselves as a preemptive defense mechanism? Or is feeling the bad along with the good just part of life? If so, then all the dreams I had of ‘maturing into a comfortable, carefree, stress free life’ were just that…dreams.