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2019-09-30 - 11:11 p.m.
I'm in a cat crisis. Fluffy is very sick. I was able to bring him home tonight but I'm pretty certain I'm going to have to have him put to sleep in the next couple days. When I was going through that divorce shit, we went to counseling. I repeatedly told everyone that I had PTSD from losing so many cats in a brief time and because I had been the only caretaker for so many years of constant medicine, vet appointments and general obsession over their health. And they all basically laughed at me. Every counselor, Eric...everybody. But fuck all of them. Fuck all of you. I'm a wreck. I don't want to do this. I don't want to do any of it. I've been a manic mess all day. I'm just not sure why nobody listened to me when I told them what was happening to me. I managed to pull myself kind of back together but to be honest, I was not totally healed. And then Ernest died and now Fluffy and I just don't know that I can take this. And I don't know what to do because the last time I asked for help with this, I basically had all eyes rolling at me and I was dismissed. |
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