I spent the day so utterly and totally alone. Normally, I would have Roxie or Leroy to sit with, talk at, hang with. But, I brought Leroy to Hawaii and it killed him. I won’t do the same with Roxie. I can’t. I haven’t made friends yet, I skipped the game night out of fear, and I am retreating into myself more and more each day.
I have been fighting my way out of a deep depression since the day we arrived in Hawaii and Animal Quarantine at the airport killed my boy. My service dog, my legs, my hands. My little life saver. Had I left him home, he wouldn’t have died. I blame myself 100%, others will say it’s not my fault, but, I should never have brought him here knowing the quarantine facility here kills dogs, repeatedly.
My depression made worse by being fired for being in the hospital with a stomach tumor that had to be removed in emergency surgery and two weeks before I was off 3 days for a flu that has been an epidemic on the island. I am now with only half the rent at the end of the month, about to be out of a car as I can’t pay for gas to use it (and it hasn’t been taxed, tagged and titled yet), and my account is overdrawn. I have maybe 40.00 to my name. I have food at least. I guess I can eat myself into a diabetic coma right?
My stuff is coming fri and i have only 300 sq ft to put it in. I have no idea how. I should never have moved back. Never have left the dark, damp, cold, safe, paid for each month, confines of my apartment in frederick, md. I should have never listened to the drs who said i needed to come back here. I fucked up, I listened and now I have no clue what to do.
My legs are getting number faster. Especially whenever I sit for more than 5 minutes. Mostly my left leg all along the top of it. My ankles are in constant pain from turning under without leroy to remind me to not put my feet down when i wake up. My r hand is getting so bad i dropped a bowl to my set and with my ocd having 3 bowls not 4 of the set is driving me batty. My ocd is getting worse due to the roaches, and my night terrors are back in full swing without leroy to wake me up. I don’t want to live like this. I can’t. I just want this nightmare over. I made this bed, and I just want to die in it.
Part of moving back was to see if we could spark my memory, along with my body’s need for sun and exercise (two things I so did not get in MD) . I need to find out who I am. My friends can’t understand as they’ve never lost a part of themsleves, much less their entire history and meomories which make up who they are. My ex, oddly does understand. He’s transgender. And he knows what it is like to constantly question his own identity and why he doesn’t seem to fit inside himself. I talked to a few other transgender friends and they too understand what I am going through. I went to the crash site. Blood stains still on the wall, the missing bricks and chips, the sound of the car screeching at me. It haunts me. I have had some success with memory sparks as I call them. Mostly places – I get a feeling i’ve been there and I have to figure out with who and when. Still having issues with time and event distortion. Things don’t always match up. I still can’t find or figure out who the owner’s of 2 dog tags belong to in my memory box. I put the names in every social media and can’t put pictures to names to memories. I even tried linkedIN. LOL
I can do nothing but sit and cry with my feet in the sand getting bitched at by cops for being on the beach so late at night. Fuck em. Seriously. My apartment is way to damn hot. 88 today and the a/c only came down to 85. My pittiful excuse of a fan needs a new buddy since his last one went out of the 29 story window with a massive gust of air that was a total surprise! My car needs a muffler, brake bleeding, 2nd gear, dashboard lights would be nice. But, I made the choice to get it cause it was cheap as hell with good tires, a good engine and minor issues compared to many. I need a job and I sent out over 100 resumes since last tuesday. Almost all say I am over qualified. Just because my resume says I am doesn’t mean I am. Hell, memory loss is a bitch. I can’t get into rehab services for work until the 29th – yeah, the birthday.
Everything has fallen apart since my boy died. I am to blame for all of it. I am to blame for his death. I went through heat exhaustion and dehydration, I can’t imagine his little body going through it. I wish I would have died along side of him. I do. Then, all this wouldn’t have happened, and I would have some peace for a change.