I spent the weekend dog-sitting for a dog I’ve been taking care of the better part of a decade. He’s my soul mate, I love him, no other dog will ever be Taz. Now he’s 11 and a half and has cancer. It was a shock for all of us. From the 5th to the 9th he was my responsibility. I kept him in my sight every moment that I was awake. I called the vet when he started having accidents in the kitchen and she said that if he’s still himself that there’s probably not a problem, and to feed him rice with dinner. So I did. And he was his loving, energetic self all week. The accidents even stopped happening.
Then I get a message this morning with a picture of the upstairs bedroom with pools of poop, some dried over, some puke stains. Obviously he was not okay. The woman who owns the dog messaged me the picture and said she didn’t understand how I could let that happen, she was upset, and even after I told her I didn’t smell anything, and he was downstairs with me every moment I was awake, she still said, “I don’t know what to say.” and that she had to take care of Taz.
I got these messages while I was in small group psychotherapy during Day Hospital and I lost it. We were talking about Galaxia’s relationship troubles and suddenly I started bawling my eyes out. We stopped and focused on me. I told them what happened, I held Marissa’s hand who was sitting next to me. Galaxia grabbed the tissues and sat next to me, rubbing my back, someone got me water, Michael got me an ice pack and I stared only at him while he talked me down. I couldn’t stay in the moment and he wanted to ground me. He told me to feel the cold of the ice pack, squeeze Marissa’s hand, feel Galaxia rubbing my back, and BREATHE which was the hardest part.
Eventually I calmed down, but I told everyone how guilty and miserable I felt and how it was all my fault. Everyone was overwhelmingly supportive and talked about how the woman is speaking emotionally right now and the dog is sick, sometimes animals hide things like that when they’re sick. Eventually I just exhausted myself. I had wished that the woman could have seen me go off like a bomb so she’d know how sorry I was and maybe she’d be a little less critical of me, but that’s out of my control.
This is my last week of Day Hospital. I’m doing my work to get better, I’m taking it a day at a time, and I think I’m probably ready to go. However, today was a major setback to how I was feeling. I took a long nap when I got home which left me feeling rested, and I got on Pintrest to pass the time. I did some homework, I worried about my school situation, I ate pesto pasta. Soon it’ll be time to take my Seroquel and go back to sleep, I’m looking forward to group tomorrow, always do.