Wednesday, June 14, 2017

I could be here


I saw this picture on the internet today--on my jigsaw game portal, to be precise, which is why I can't give a link/credit to the actual picture--and it struck a chord.

This is what "right now" feels like to me. This is how/where I've been over the past few months. It feels like I could be sitting right there on that shore, looking at this view, and I'd feel exactly the same as I've been feeling these past months. It's melancholic and scary while being stunningly beautiful. That shade of blue just depicts how strong the forces of nature can be. They're the forces of death and of life, and words cannot do justice to the kind of feelings they invoke.

My emotional roller-coaster ride has lasted for a few months now. As on a real roller-coaster, I'm afraid not of death--in case the ride fails--but of the fear that I might vomit on someone or soil my pants--I'd never get in a ride with a skirt on--or end up disabled or in a vegetative state and not be able to be my fiercely independent self. I'm not scared of death but of not being able to live while still being alive.

(And, of course, Phoebe. Just... Phoebe. There's no logic to it. I just feel like I have to mention her. All thoughts seem incomplete without her in the background. She's just... around. My baby. My guardian angel. I love her.)

Friday, May 19, 2017

The void and the paranoid

Phoebe's the former since she left a Phoebe-shaped hole in our lives when she 'left' about a month ago. I'm the latter, because I'm always on edge and always on the lookout for things that might hurt our remaining pooch, Mojo.

The anti inflammatory medication that we are giving him has played havoc with his system. He seems to have lost all the strength that he had gained over the past few months. I'm only hoping and praying that the one thing that has been consistently well with him all this while--his appetite and digestion--continues to stay that way.

We can handle issues that are visible and tangible, but we're losing patience with the 'unknowns'; we've been dealing with way too many of them. We have, of course, expressed our concern to the vet, and have tapered the dose sooner with his agreement. I'm anxious to know whether it slows down the downward spiral he seems ​to be going into. Today evening--a day since we halved the frequency--it seemed like his continence was slightly better, and he was taking some weight on his left hind leg, which seemed weaker yesterday. When I asked about it, the vet said that the positive effects of the medication may take a couple months to become apparent. I hope the positive effects of stopping it are visible sooner.

Tuesday, May 16, 2017

Living in metaphors

I've been quite addicted to playing a particular game on my phone these past few months. One of its features is that a bunch of boards are freshly available each day for players to solve. I've had a 65 day streak (as yet unbroken) of completing those. I've never had a 65 day streak of anything. Except maybe pining away for my boyfriend when I was young and stupid. But that's not some achievement, is it? What's so special about the game then? Not like I'm doing anything worthwhile here too.

The thing with this game is that it combines two of my favorite things, and maybe something I can claim to be skilled at, if only at an amateur level: pattern matching and path finding. And the reason why I'm playing so often is that it makes up for the things I can't solve IRL. When things are too chaotic, when I have difficult decisions to make based on too many choices with way too many risks, it's easy to be distracted by something that's readily available and that gives me an instant sense of achievement. Solving a bunch of boards--even difficult ones--makes me feel like I'm in control and can solve problems by myself and gives me a mini-confidence boost, however fleeting.

Also, I have quite a few epiphanies while I'm solving those boards. The way I sometimes solve a difficult board, or find a path after multiple failed attempts, or take too long to discover patterns that were right in front of me all the while, all seem like metaphors for how I am doing at 'life'. If only I showed diligence in recording them as and when they occurred to me! But then, that seems like such a chore while I'm thoroughly engaged and enjoying myself at the game. I guess I will make an effort from now on. It's only a matter of switching to a different app and typing in the words that have already occurred to me.

Wednesday, May 10, 2017

It would've been a joyful anniversary

... if not for the fact that a quarter of our little family isn't here with us any more. This day, eight years ago, we brought Phoebe and Mojo home. It was a childhood dream for both of us, and we decided to fulfill it as adults, because now no one would be able to give us false choices like 'either you or the dog stays here'.

I remember we went to bed after settling the pups in theirs, and in just a few minutes my little baby began whimpering, looking for her mommy and her littermate to snuggle with. We had decided to be strict with them and not get them into the habit of sleeping in our beds. All that resolve melted in less than half an hour. I couldn't bear to 'let her be' while she called out for some warmth and safety. I was, after all, her mommy now.


Phoebe moved on from our lives almost three weeks ago, and I'm​ trying to come to terms with the void she left behind. It's difficult to be sad for too long, though, when we think of her, because we remember her antics and can't help but laugh out loud at some memory or the other.
Now we focus all our energies on treating Mojo as well as we can, in her memory. She did give us some relief from all the stress of taking care of the both of them. We better make good use of it.


Goodbye, my angel. And thank you for filling our lives with joy. :*

Friday, April 21, 2017

It surprises me when I get things done

I have grown to fear failure to such an extent that the smallest of tasks intimidate me. Like today morning, when I had to wash a soiled mattress cover. I had already soaked it in antiseptic and hot water last night, folded - to avoid getting any "material" directly on my hands. That was the smartest part of the task, which I had already gotten over with. This morning, instead of making breakfast, I asked the husband to get some snacks, because I wanted to take care of that soaked cover first, so that I could add it to a wash cycle in the machine with other doggie-cleaning fabrics. I told him that it would take me "at least" 15 mins to do that, during which he could get us breakfast so that we don't delay the tasks to be done further in the day. As if I couldn't put at end date on a cloth-washing task!

Then I actually went into the bathroom, got started on it methodically, as I had thought out in my head but dared not verbalize - for fear of failure - and I was actually done in 15 minutes. I was thrilled to find out I could complete a task, and to do it in the time I estimated! And it meant that my estimate was correct!

I've become wary of putting out estimates, because I've been failing to deliver (as per my own expectations, which are typically higher than what others expect of me, I've noticed). And, oh, just as I am typing this, I had an epiphany. The reason why I fail at achieving what I planned with a task, is because I do too many things at a time. My priorities are constantly shifting​. And spend way too much time in my head, overthinking and overanalyzing. Reminds me of those instances when we pass an exit or a turn we're about to take, and the map app audio going: "recalculating..." I think I could do with slowing down a bit and focussing on fewer things.