I think we’re all waiting for the clock to strike twelve on 1/01/2021 and find out that somehow this entire year has been a really long dream nightmare.
The optimism that comes with a new year and a fresh slate is just as intoxicating as the champagne we’re clinking together to ring in the New Year, but as we all sober up we have to realize there’s still a very long road ahead.
I stopped blogging in April, unintentionally. I’m a store manager of a retail store and all of our stores were shut down for a few months. I was still going in on reduced hours and helping with online order fulfillment so I didn’t get the same quarantine experience that it seemed millions of others did during that time to learn how to use TikTok, “Marie Kondo” my closet, or become a sourdough bread making master. I kept reminding myself to be grateful that I still had work, but it was hard not to feel bitter when so many others were bragging about all the extra time they had and that they were actually making MORE money on unemployment, while I was bringing in a third less than what I had before. That bitterness coupled with civil unrest, protests, and the constant barrage of social media posts, made me retreat inwards. It was frustrating to see people being attacked for speaking about important matters, but then on the flipside others being berated for not posting at all. It seemed like a lot of noise without much action or self-education before speaking and it only made me retreat further.
Mid-May my store along with about a hundred others got the go-ahead to re-open. I was filled with dread as that day approached. I didn’t want to be in contact with the public and get into confrontations after asking people to do the bare minimum of wearing a mask in the store. I didn’t want to expose myself and then not get to see my parents for extended periods of time. I just didn’t want to do it. I realize now that my gut feeling about why that day was filled with so much anxiety, dread, and heaviness was for an entirely different reason.
Leading up to the store re-opening, Punk, my cat of 17 years, had been having some issues. She seemed like she was having trouble breathing and the vet was able to make a last minute appointment for her in the morning of the store re-opening. She was dropped off and I went to work. The store had been open less than an hour and I got the call. The vet said that she thought Punk had some form of cancer causing fluid to build up in her lungs and that she was struggling to breathe. Her recommendation was that she be euthanized that day.
I was gutted with those words.
I did my best to keep it together in front of customers and was grateful for my mask hiding most of my face and doubling as a tear catcher. My team quickly came together to cover the rest of my shift so that I could leave to go be with her. To say that it was one of the worst days of my life would be a gross understatement.
I had to go back to work the next day so my grieving was reduced to my 45 minute commute into work and then again at the end of the day. After a short while I snapped into a very numb auto-pilot version of myself until something like cleaning and getting rid of her litter-box, picking up her food, or just waiting to see her in her familiar spots would trigger me into the deepest sobs, losing my ability to breathe, and this intense ache in my chest. It still happens. Randomly and violently until I find that inner switch to shut myself off again.
I know a lot of people will read this and think… “Get over it. It was just a cat. People lost parents, siblings, and spouses this year.” And that’s okay for you to think or even say. My loss probably pales in comparison to those that have lost human family members and I suppose I should count myself lucky to have not experienced that type of devastation this year.
I don’t know how to describe what Punk was to me. She was this amazing little being that I felt more connected to than most humans.. part child, soulmate, friend, healer, etc. I guess that’s what people mean with the phrase, “They’re my everything.” She came into my life as a floofy spunky little kitten when I was 14 and has been by my side ever since. She was there when I had my heart broken for the first time, when my parents divorced, when I moved into my first apartment, my road trip companion when I drove across the country to start a new life in Oregon. She was there during my divorce and my road trip buddy yet again when I moved back to Iowa. She was there when I bought this house.. and now it feels a little empty without her squawks and purrs filling it. I feel empty too. I don’t know how to survive the next big hurdle in life without her.
This is the first time I’ve written about her and losing her, but I didn’t set out to do so. I guess I just wanted to explain why I’ve been quiet nearly the entire year. Instead this is just me telling you I’m grieving still. Life has just felt like it keeps moving forward and I have no choice but to keep going through the motions to keep up with it. My mental health is probably the worst it’s ever been. I don’t meditate or take any time to do this “self care” thing that everyone talks about. I guess it’s because when I used to have that alone time I was never truly alone. Punk was always in my lap while I was meditating, snuggled into the crook of my arm in bed, trying to use my journal as her nap space while I attempted to write. Now when I’m alone… I’m just alone.
For awhile now I’ve felt this heavy weight of figuring out what my first post after such a long hiatus would be, so I suppose it’s a bit ironic that it’s quite literally a very emotionally heavy post. I’m still not entirely sure how I’m going to move forward and heal, but I suppose getting this all out in “written” form is a solid start.
Sam Simeone says
You certainly don’t have to justify your lack of blog activity to us! I’m so sorry to hear you’ve been struggling so much. And please don’t compare your grief to others – it’s just a valid as anyone else’s, I promise! I hope you know you can hit me up over on Instagram if you ever need to talk, vent, etc. I’m sending you ALL of the virtual hugs!! ❤
Sasha says
Thank you so much Sam. <3 I felt like I let myself and others down and it all just compounded with the stress of this year, work, grief, and about a dozen other bad feelings. It's tough to dig out of that and it felt good to write this even if it did result in more hyperventilating tears. I hope you and the family are staying safe and have a wonderful Christmas! I need to send you a long overdue email!
Greer says
Oh Sasha, I’m so very sorry. What a rotten year it’s been. I would never be one of those to say “she was just a cat” & I really hate it when people say that. It says more about them than anything else they could say (they don’t understand that pets are guardian angels! They don’t understand we’re not the only ones with feelings, personalities & a soul! They don’t understand the gift of an animal that loves you!) I’m so sorry for your loss and your devastating heart ache. I truly believe they are never gone and I also truly believe we will see them again.
I remember losing my own cats that were with me since my daughter was young. I understand that howling crying you’re talking about. I cried like that when they passed, within two years of each other. Their passing came with so many losses at once, their death really felt like the end of an era to me. It signified the loss of my family, my youth, and I was looking into a totally blank future. I was quite lost. It was a terrible time.
Feel your grief. The only way to the other side is through it. You will get there, you will. I’m thinking of you and praying for you. I’m glad you shared all of that with us. It’s one of the things I have always enjoyed the very most about your blogs and posts, you are a real person and life if messy and complicated and wonderful and amazing & you share all of that. You’re not just making the rest of us wonder what we’re doing wrong (because everything looks so perfect in your online presence – which never works for me because it’s bs.)
Hang in there gal. Sometimes all we can do is put one foot in front of the other.
Sending love and big hugs. <3 x o
Sasha says
Greer, you always know the right things to say when I need to hear/read them. I appreciate that you shared your own story of losing your cats and the grief that you experienced. I can definitely relate to that lost feeling you described. I haven’t felt this way since before moving back to Iowa and I just thought I was beyond that. Life has a great way of reminding us that we don’t have it all figured out and hits the “reset button” on us when we’re least expecting it. Thank you for encouraging me to share, even when it’s not all cupcakes and happy times. Sending love and virtual hugs back! <3
Bruce Lange says
One of the hardest things I ever had to do was euthanize a pet. It was harder than when my parents passed away. At least my parents understood what was happening to them and were able to make peace with it. I don’t think Max (my 10 y/o Samoyed) understood. He had bone cancer. So I had to take him to the vet, a place he hated going, to euthanize him. Max just looked at me with his trusting eyes, and I was doing something so horrible, and I couldn’t explain it to him or make him understand. It just ripped my heart out. I get where you are with Punk and my heart goes out to you.
Sasha says
Bruce I am so sorry about the loss of your dog.. I can definitely relate to that feeling in the vet office. I even asked them if there was any way that I could take Punk back home and just have her euthanized there. I just wanted more time, I wanted her to be comfortable, I wanted to say goodbye in privacy. The worst was walking out of that room after it happened. I wanted to stay there with her forever. I know their little spirits are still with us and we just have to find comfort in knowing that we loved them more than anyone else could in their comparatively short lives. <3
James Freeman says
That was great Sasha. Thanks for sharing with us.
I always loved seeing pics of you and Punk. And anyone who is with you over half of your life becomes a major cornerstone of life. Even a fur ball!
This is a great tribute to her.
Sasha says
Thank you James. <3
Brianna Usovsky says
My heart is so heavy for your loss. I lost my cat in February of ’18 and still find myself reduced to tears at the thought of him. I have never felt grief like that. My cat also moved across the country with me twice. I’m originally from Iowa and moved to Georgia when I was 21. I flew home for a wedding and he showed up on my doorstep (in GA) the morning after I returned. He moved with me to Minnesota in 17 and back south to South Carolina the next year. I think the biggest struggle for me is that you can talk to humans, if that makes sense. I can tell a human how I feel, but I can only HOPE that my cat knows how much he means to me… I guess what I’m trying to say is you’re not alone and I politely disagree with your “my loss probably pales in comparison.” Your loss is real and it’s big and it’s painful.
I read a quote that sticks with me to this day. It’s cheesy but it comforts me so my hope is that it brings you comfort as well.
“If love could’ve saved you, you would’ve lived forever.” <3
Sasha says
Brianna thank you so much for sharing with me and my heart goes out to you as well for your loss. I think most don’t understand that grief until they go through it. In some ways I felt closer to Punk than I did a lot of humans because she saw every side of me and every raw moment. I remember crying into her fur on so many occasions or her coming to comfort me while I was sick or sad. They’re just bonded with you on a different level and it hurts to have that bond broken.