Somewhere over the Rainbow

I opted for four legged “kids” instead of the two legged most people have.
I’ve had people in my life who have lost their human children and to be honest, I doubt I could ever get over such great pain.
Most people will think and even judge the way you handle the pain of losing a pet and for those who do I’ll allow myself to tell you that you are out of place and have absolutely no right. Caring, loving and taking care of a live being, regardless it talk or barks, have four or two legs, licks your face instead of kissing, is as rewarding as anything and everything. In my little world, pets are noble, love you when you get up in the morning, greet you like they haven’t seen you in a month even if you just stepped out to get something from the car, stand by you when you’re at your worst, feeling sick, sitting on the toilet, or you’re just eating a piece of whatever.
Four years ago we experienced one of the most painful feelings in our 18 years as a family, having to pick the date when our beloved Pancho was due to cross that Rainbow Bridge. In his last moment he sat after a week of barely  moving and lay to rest in our arms. I still choke thinking about that moment. He was suffering so much because of kidney failure and I insisted on keeping  him by my side for a few more days hoping for a miracle. He was my eldest baby at almost fourteen and I just didn’t have the balls to part ways before it got to the point where I would lay on the floor next to him for God knows how long. I knew how sick he was but I was selfish and kept him a bit longer just so I could smell him, feel his soft fur and hold him close to my heart.
After he was gone I tried drinking that Cool Aid flavor “he’s better off now, now more pain and as beautiful as ever”, but no one told me how painful it would be losing my shadow. I only hope he’s having a blast up there over the Rainbow, being the magnificent Schnauzer he was here on earth.

Give me a chance to get out of this funk

For most of my life I’ve been one of those nice enough individuals that most people like. Don’t mean to give the wrong impression, I’m far from perfect and I have a fun and weird sense of humor. Some people like it, some don’t, but I’ve learned that pleasing everyone is just impossible.

I have MS and I fight an ongoing battle with severe depression. I have my “good days” when I smile, joke, can openly love, and notice how magnificent nature is and how perfect animals can be. Some other days can only be described as stinking shit. You just wake up feeling that way and it’s really difficult to step out of that funk. I can’t say I know many people going through this mental mess, but I sure know I’m not special enough to be the only one. I seek help and every time my treatment changes I pray it works, mostly for the sake of my husband who is still by my side and takes the worse of my crap.
For those who think of depression as a weakness and something you can beat on your own, this middle finger is for you. How do I know this? I tried with everything in me. I had to reach the point where I thought I was going completely insane to seek professional help. I didn’t want drugs, ended up taking the drugs, which actually helped. I pushed people away, I cried a lot, and hid details from my loved ones, and most of all I preferred to be by myself thinking that it’ll mean less worries for my family. What I learned from this: If they love you like mine loves me they won’t let you off the hook that easily and they’ll check on you more that you can take.
I also learned that friends who stick around, text you, call you, send you silly stuff and can totally dig what you go through will NEVER judge you and will make the effort to keep in touch even when you want to dig a hole and bury yourself in it until shit calms down.
You have a partner that sticks around through your worst and reassures he understands you are struggling to obtain some stability and avoid ruining their lives.
My three dogs are my lifeline. I’ve never felt so loved or needed and regardless of being a different species I totally trust them. They make me get out of bed to walk and feed them because I know they depend on me.
I can be funny in between mood swings. I have an evil sense of humor that most people enjoy others not so (I did mention is hard to please everyone). My psychiatrist suggested I keep a journal but I figured if I were to spill the contents of my crazy little brain I’d had all branches of DHS knocking down my door and taking me to one of those high containment facilities. You can ask my friends and they’ll agree. Meanwhile I try to stay positive and not hurt the people how inexplicably still want something to do with me. If you asked me what I want I’d have to say I want to feel normal again. I’d be happy to have a whole week of normal feelings, being able to enjoy all my blessings and ignore the negative. I don’t want money, fancy stuff, many temporary friends (can’t deal with multitudes), or stuff that steals away my strength. Just my old normal self and nothing else.

Living in tha Funk

I like the Funk, as in music. Is cool!

So I’m gonna start by saying this is NOT about that kind of funk. This kind of Funk is the one that means you’re stuck in the gutter, can’t figure out how to get out of it and lastly you feel like your end your days slipping in that nasty, smelly, shitty funk. The term Funk as in the f’d up way was introduced by a much loved friend who ended up (in my opinion) falling in his own funk.

I hate the funk and I double hate dealing with the challenge of getting out of it. So first of all, like the very “popular trend”  I get to battle with some unfortunate disorders like severe depression, anxiety, brain fog, short memory loss, and the one I think I dread the most, effin’ mood swings, to the point that if I had a mood ring it’ll burst spreading acid and lava on a 500 mile perimeter. I kid you not! And the tip of the iceberg, a “mild case of MS” according to my previous neurologist.  And yes, I’ve seen patients is worse shape and I hope and pray I never get to that point, but the pain, fatigue, weakness and whatever I can’t remember is stealing my life away.

Dealing with emotional distress is not my cup of tea. For a looong time I tried to break free of it on my own, which I discovered was pure and smelly bullshit and ended up begging for help. I now depend on medication just to be able to face the outside world. I stick to the meds and skipped therapy because I just couldn’t pay attention to my therapist who looked like Joan Rivers “younger sister” and seem to get off by telling me I emasculated my husband and I was behaving like a spoiled little brat because I just couldn’t control my over eating, and this folks is the kind of things you don’t need to hear when you’re in desperate need of help to gather all your lose ends and take control of your life. I refuse to pay someone to judge and belittle me when I feel I’m being swallowed by quick sand.

Anywho, truth is I have my good days when I look out, feel the breeze on my face, take the dogs to the doggie park but somehow I end up smashed against a brick wall when it comes to socialize with people, regardless is family, friends or complete strangers.  I just want to bet left alone. No talking, no smiling, no nothing. and that my friends, is part of my freaking FUNK. I’m at the point when I have to make a 4 hour trip back to SoFlo to see my shrink because the new one can’t see me until the second week of April. I mean, I’m a mental patient, I’m almost screaming for help, what the fuck is wrong with these people???

Yeah, I know this has been kind of boring but I rater let you have it than having to discuss with people who carry an imaginary doctorate in human behavior and instead of helping, makes you want to let that quick sand swallow you alive.

I honestly hope my next chapter is a little more enthusiastic like this crappy shit I just gave you. And I just want to say I just read a posting on Facebook from Life with Dogs about this chick making a Bucket List for her dying dog Gizele and I made a huge effort not to wake my husband with my crying and sobbing. OMG, I just love my doggies soo much!



The end of the Holiday season in the Island

Is days like today that I feel nostalgic for being away from my Island.  Today we celebrate the Epiphany, The Three Kings Day, or as we know it El Día de los Reyes Magos. It commemorates the occasion when three Wise men from foreign lands followed a star and found baby Jesus, offering gold, incense and mirr, presents fit for a King.
January 6th is an official holiday in Puerto Rico and it closes the holiday season. On the night before children go outside to gather grass for the kings camels, who are very hungry after the long journey. Next to the grass some water and cookies for the wise men (the dudes must be hungry too!). The next morning,  children wake up really early to find presents under their beds! The rest of the day includes a visit to church, visiting family,  neighbors and friends and share delicious puerto rican food.
The memories of la Navidad en Puerto Rico warms my heart and makes me want to fly there to celebrate.  Its a beautiful tradition that I hope never dies.

The new year is here!!!!!!!!

My mental health doctor made the suggestion of keeping a journal.

The holidays have pushed me to start my journal. This holiday season sucked! Sorry, I don’t mean to be negative but it has. Is like the Grinch and Scrooge took over whatever little holiday joy was left in my soul and made some compost with it. No joy, no excitement, barely any presents, house hunting, mediocre decorations, invited to just one gathering… My social magnetism is DEAD!!!!

…Or it could be that we are new in town, we don’t talk to the neighbors (anyways, there was no celebration activity around our house), we’re very attractive, own cool cars and the plates being from Miami intimidate people, or, maybe they find us ugly and uncool (NOT) and are trying to avoid us. Well, let me tell you something neighbors, I think you’re all weird! Yeah, you heard me!!!! WEIRDDDD!!!

Lady across the street won’t even look my way when I say hi. Her husband waves and that’s it.

Next door neighbors have been abducted by aliens cause I have not seem them in forever – I might let my dogs go shit on their property just to see if there’s any movement.

House across the street next to the weird people, I keep waiting for them to give me the finger every time we make eye contact or I say hi – my husband says they’re lesbos but it doesn’t mean they must look like they just had crap for dinner.

Camaro guy, you’re cool and your car is the shit, but your woman kinda ran inside yesterday when I attempted to say hi.

Crossfit family from across the street (the left corner), I’ll appreciate if you just try to avoid me and my dogs while I walk them because they get a bit hyper when they see your dog, I mean, I could just let my Big Red Girl run free and satisfy her curiosity about your dog but then I’ll have to catch her and that has proven to be not an easy task.

Young adolescent boy with the pointer, pick up your dog’s crap por favor!

Red head girl on roller blades with the sausage and husky dogs, next time it’ll be your ass on the sidewalk instead of mine.

So this is just a little bit of what’s on my mind lately, and one a many reasons not to mingle with the neighbors. We might be moving soon (yay!) but I’m terrified of what awaits me in the new hood. Judging by the holiday décor I saw today I have to say that I’ll be facing some terribly jolly neighbors.