Numb

So I went to the library yesterday and found these. First thing I'm doing today is making a to-do list for today (ADHD essential), then a schedule for the week. Then I'm reading the LinkedIn book so I can tweak my profile there. I may go to the YMCA. I canceled it (I won't be able to pay for it), but I have a week left and with all the snow and ice and being sick I wasn't able to go all month so I don't want to waste the money I paid this month. It would probably help with self-care. I still haven't broken down or let any of this really 'hit' me. I've felt a little anger, a little sadness, but very shallow emotions--exactly like when someone in my life dies. I never cry at funerals. I push my emotions down. Sometimes they come flooding out when I'm alone or when I'm with my roommate, but otherwise, I feel kind of numb. I have one more therapy session we added before my insurance ends. That should help. But going to the Y might help with the somatic stress too, as I carry out all in my body instead of letting it out.

So sad, and some comfort

Found in Mud: Precious Links to Loved Ones

Gently, Dayn Brunner reached into the mangled car and lifted his younger sister’s lifeless body out of the driver’s seat and onto a waiting tarp. For almost a week, he and his teenage sons had slogged through the muddy catacomb of what had once been a neighborhood, scouring the pulped homes and broken earth for some sign of her. Now, it was time to say goodbye and wait for the helicopter to take her away.

“We cried together, and we moved her over,” he said.

But before they could go, Mr. Brunner, 42, turned back to the blue Subaru to salvage a few of the things that his sister Summer Raffo, 36, had carried with her on her final drive through the valley. He found a horse halter — she had loved to ride and breed horses. Her wallet. Her checkbook. A few packets of honey from KFC stashed in the glove compartment. He tucked them away.

Reaction set in this morning

I don't want to make it seem like I'm too enmeshed in my character; I'm not. But when you roleplay to the extent we do, you really do put part of yourself into the character--we're not hack and slash sort of players, where you get treasure and kill monsters and that's about the end of it. Our characters have lives, sometimes rather messy ones, with ties to other characters and beyond.

I was on my way to pick someone up from work this morning and just with as real death, I found myself thinking of things unsaid, undone, and I cried a little. My character was pretty quiet, with a bit of a sense of humour, and wasn't the brightest or best, certainly. He was talented in photography, and in martial arts. Also, he was the best tracker and navigator in the Antarctic group, having survived cannibal cultists in the Amazon as his first Cthulhoid experience. He hadn't had a lot of play and had just one mission to his name, involving the Mi-Go.

Because I do so much writing during note-taking, I sometimes have trouble interacting and roleplaying, although the recorder is helping that. (It's the only real record I have of his sacrifice--I wasn't taking notes at that point.) He could have been fleshed out better by now. But now he's gone, in a horrible but somewhat noble death, and the record of his life is over, and there's no second chances, at least with this character. Maybe if I'm allowed a new one at some point, I can work more dilligently on bringing that one to life, or more importantly, develop the ones I already have. So I guess his death has some unseen consequences for me as a player as well as for those in the game. I have to learn to be less passive, more active, and really roleplay to my fullest. I've been doing this long enough that I should be able to.

But for the record, even though it's not real, here's a little closure:


Joshua Daniel Adler
Born February 7, 1980 Cincinnati, Ohio, United States
Died December 7, 2006 Western Mountain Range, Antarctica


He had dark brown hair, blue eyes, and was lanky, about 5'10" and 150 lbs. He looked very much like Adrian Grenier (see picture by David Shankbone). He had O+ blood. He was Jewish, somewhat religious, and kept kosher when he could. His father is Evan Adler, a professor at Hebrew Union College. His mother is Miriam Adler, a librarian, and his sister is Rachel Adler, an elementary school teacher. Nice, normal folks, who've never heard of Cthulhu. They've never come into play, although they may now that he's dead. How do you tell someone your son died to save the world? [SPOILER ALERT FOR Beyond the Mountains of Madness!] More likely they'll say he died in the terrible earthquake that hit the mountains, along with the other men who died during the trip. There isn't a body to bring home; his head and brain is incorporated into the Elder Things' machine, his body--skeleton, really, since shoggoths are very efficient--lies in an abattoir within the lighthouse.

Goodbye Josh.

Sad

Mama gorilla won't let go of her dead baby: Mother ‘is mourning and must say goodbye,’ zoo spokeswoman says

And some people don't think animals have emotions. They do. Especially our cousin primates, including gorillas.

It was a sad day...

I'll explain it if I get the permission of the person who would be impacted the most in the telling. But suffice to say, we have a limited time with those we love. Grief is hard to bear, but it's part of what makes us alive, too, and it reminds us of how deeply we love.

I miss Cerys

It's just not the same coming home to an empty house. This weekend I washed the bedclothes for the first time since she died, so they no longer have her scent on them. I have to admit I was overcome with emotion and cried a little. I'm still very much in mourning, I suppose. It's amazing how much grief you can have when a pet dies. Cerys was a wonderful companion for sixteen years. She shared many ups and downs with me and got me through a difficult time in my life. I wish we could do something to keep those we love--people and animals--young and vibrant for a long time, but of course life doesn't work that way, and I suppose that's good, as it forces you to greater appreciate the time you have left.

I'm making my way

through the Kübler-Ross model for grief. This morning's refusal to get out of bed and feeling emptiness were married with this idea that she wasn't really gone. I refused to look at the things emphaised the loss--her water dish, her food, her leash. Tonight I'm feeling anger. Terrible rage, even though I don't really have a good focus for that rage. The Goddess? She gave me 16 wonderful years with Cerys. Fate? For a dog, 16 is a ripe old age, better than can be expected for many breeds. Myself? The only real regret I have is that I would have liked her ashes back, but couldn't afford the $120 to that like I did with Spock (as a cat, his was much cheaper). But otherwise despite all the tribulations in my life I gave her a good home. So no, I shouldn't be angry with myself, either. I haven't gone into bargaining--at this point there's nothing to bargain for. I have felt terribly depressed all day-sleeping most of it, although a friend enticed me out long enough to watch a series we liked from fifteen years ago, which I enjoyed immensely.

So that leaves acceptance. I'm not there yet, but it will come, I know. Tomorrow it's back to work and I'll have other things to occupy my mind. But it will be awhile before everything feels 'good' again.

I still haven't taken care of her things. That is for tomorrow, I think. I just can't bear to do it today. Every now and then I get a whiff of her scent, too, and of course for now the bedsheets have it. It's a comforting scent, one that will eventually fade and become one more loss.

But I'm hanging in there, at least. Thanks for reading this. Good night.

I'm home today

taking some time in light of Cerys' death. I haven't had any real crying fits since we put her to sleep, just tearing up a lot and a feeling of emptiness. I'm glad I took some time. I just woke up a little while ago, after sleeping about 12 hours. I was so tired last night--I just wanted to crawl into a ball and sleep. I guess it was all the emotions her death brought.

Today I need to wash her water bowl and leash (and put the latter and her collar away, I'm keeping them as mementos), pick up the food she wouldn't eat (she had gotten to the point where she'd just overturn a bowl of food, so I fed her on the floor), and give the bathroom a final cleaning where she had so much trouble the other night. My mop head fell apart the other night and I had to finish with paper towels. Now I have a new mophead. I feel like I'm eradicating her presence from the house, but it needs to be done.

I know it will get better with time, but for now I feel a little lost. It's pretty outside and I feel like taking a walk, but my foot prevents that. I might sit outside for awhile. I don't know. I feel like I have all this energy and should be doing something, but on the other hand I just want to sit in bed and pull the covers over my head.

I would like to put in a word for Gainesway Small Animal Clinic and Dr Clark Vice. They were wonderful to me, first with Darius' death, then with Cerys' appointments and eventual death. They kept her very comfortable as opposed to my last vet, who took advantage of my grief to run up a huge bill with one cat and charged me for another's euthanasia even though I had been a client for years. I would highly recommend them. And if I ever have another pet, I'll go back to them.