Tuesday, January 29, 2008


Today I flew back to Scary City, arriving at the airport an hour and a half before my class began. I'd extended my trip to Home City by a day. I wasn't ready to come back early Monday morning. I was still in the thick of the grief, and didn't want to leave R yet. She stayed home from work. I didn't go out out of the house all day - and we ordered a pizza and watched DVDs. We actually hadn't had a day like that, and I think it was necessary. My father had come in from his City to be with me, on Friday after Mr. K went, and we'd spent Saturday afternoon with him, in a weird haze, doing errands and going to a distracting movie. On Sunday, we'd taken ourselves out for lunch just to get out of the house and the awful feeling of emptiness there.

Then this morning I got on a plane. Every time I come back here, I dread it more. This time, it felt like I was saying goodbye to Mr. K all over again, for some reason. The next time I go back, he'll be gone. It honestly feels like my heart is broken. I - non-believer that I am - am so worried that he's lonely.

But here I am, and all that. Back in the thick of this job. I can't care. I have this whole freaking week of events planned for early March, and it is both stressing me out (misunderstandings, budget problems, and just WAY TOO MUCH TO THINK ABOUT GOOD GOD EIGHT EVENTS?!) and making me confront the fact that I just don't care. I guess that is the clearest sign that I'm depressed (which is certainly how this new therapist has diagnosed me). This week of events was my idea, and now I just want to crawl into a hole until it's done. But pretend to feel I must, somehow. The depression books talk about loss of motivation and apathy and lack of energy. But they don't say what to do when you have to do a song and dance, feigning your investment in something that, by rights, you should care about - that it is your job to care about. And that you did once care about. While grieving the loss of your best friend. Blech.


medieval woman said...

Oh god, babe, I'm sorry you've had to go back there and I'm so sorry that Mr. K is gone. I'm glad you got to go home and stayed the extra time, though. He's not lonely, I promise. Think of his fuzzy cuteness finally getting to be with you all time - even if it's not exactly the same thing, he's still there.

On the Scary City side of things - has the therapist been good about heloing you think of some steps to take (besides getting the hell out of Scary City...)?


Psychgrad said...

I can definitely relate to the feeling of -- how do I carry on and do my job properly and act interested when every part of me doesn't care and wants to just go to bed.

I don't know the answer, myself. But I think you're taking the right step with therapy. Between living in a new city, a new work environment, being away from loved ones, losing Mr. K, it's a lot for one person in such a short period of time.

Margo, darling said...

You're being brave and you're maintaining and you're getting through the days right now. That's enough. That you can write like this and express your apathy so clearly, well, that's something, right? I'm sending you all my best.

New Kid on the Hallway said...

No good advice, just sending good wishes your way. I'm a non-believer too, but I do believe Mr. K's part of something bigger now, and definitely not alone. I'm still so sorry about that.

squadratomagico said...

I'm a non-believer too, and I think that might make it harder. All that energy and lover just ripped away and... gone? Into some void? I cannot believe otherwise than this, but somehow it seemed, at the same time, quite unbelievable that all the energy and love that was my sweet, first kitty had just disappeared into nothingness. How could that be???

There really is nothing that can comfort a loss like this until some time has passed. The immediate raw, torn feeling of it eventually dulls. But until then, take all the love you can get, and which so many people want to give you.

Thoroughly Educated said...

I'm so sorry about all of this. The way you describe what it's like to face going back sounds so familiar to me. I have nothing but heartfelt and inarticulate condolence to add on Mr. K, since my eyes well up every time I try to type something coherent - and I never even met him. Hugs to you.

Maude Lebowski said...

i have no advice either (since i'm basically in the same place--lack of energy, apathetic to what i need to get done, back to napping like twice a day), but you've suffered a loss and you're away from your main support system. you're allowed to be in a funk right now. of course you're not excited about something you _should_ be excited about. it's okay. and you're back in a place you don't really want to be.

i think you still need to allow yourself to grieve. denying it or pushing it aside in order to get other things done is just going to prolong it and keep you in an unhealthy state. we're all here for you. i know it's not the same as having someone physically there sharing it with you, but let us support you. gripe, cry, complain, be blue all you want. we'll help you through. you are not alone. and neither is Mr. K. i have a nice vision of him frolicking through a field with my big hairy oaf girl (my lab, scout) chasing things and living free from their pain. their love is always with us.

take care sweetie.


kermitthefrog said...

What Maude said. Give yourself a little bit of time to not care about your job, do what you need to do to get yourself feeling a bit more functional. Best wishes to you.

Sending Mr.K big hugs where ever he is... said...

This statement:
"I - non-believer that I am - am so worried that he's lonely."
was so beautiful and sad all at the same time. I cried when I read that. I too think that he isn't alone and part of something bigger and better than this.

Hilaire said...

Thank you lovelies. It is so nice to again feel how very present you are.

Fortunately, many people around me say the same things you are saying, encouraging me to take the time I need to grieve. This is a good thing. I dread the encounters with people who just don't get it - I've already had one. People can be so fucking insensitive.

As for the depression, I wish I could say that it was just a result of the loss of Kasper. Unfortunately, it's not. I've been seeing this therapist for the last few weeks, because I basically knew I needed some help sorting things out, ever since November. She's not great, actually - you guys give me exactly what she's giving me, but for free. :) Anyway, yeah, so even as the grief eases up, there is still this badness about everything, which I've never experienced before.

MW, she hasn't been any good about strategies for dealing with this place. Which is exactly what I went in there needing, since I think this depression is situational (given that I haven't experienced depression before). That is, I guess, what I need to sort out on my own. I'm trying, honestly I am. Mostly, the strategy that appears to me is: LEAVE. Ha.

(Also, my dear, I owe you an email - I promise I'll get to it soon.)

Earnest English said...

I'm so sorry Hilaire. It's terrible when a dearly loved pet is sick and dies. There are so many people who don't get it, how our animals are people we share our lives with who we communicate with in a totally different way from human relationships.

About depression: well, that sounded like an easy diagnosis from your therapist! I've found that it's hard to get a therapist to help with strategies for some reason. They want to talk about interpersonal relationships. Sometimes being depressed is logical! Luckily, you probably don't have to be excited or interested in order to get your work done. But here is the important question: can you delegate some of the work on that project that is hardest for you right now?


dbm/gaa said...

Oh honey, take your time and screw anyone who doesn't understand. We are a death-denying culture and some people wouldn't get it if your closest human relative had just died so just ignore them.

Being a non-believer can really screw you up when death comes along, but you'll resolve it for yourself somehow. In my mind Mr. K is gamboling along happily where ever he is, not lonely and still looking out for you and R. Perhaps he's hanging out with my cat, if so he'd better watch out for her sharp claws!