Going Through It

A couple Fridays ago, I had the bright idea of having a margarita "party" in my brother's backyard. 

By "party" I mean my sister, sis-in-law and maybe one neighbor. 

I wanted to set up a few wading pools under a camping shade awning and have a budget pool party, Beverly Hillbillies style.

My plans were thwarted when I could not find wading pools, plastic or blow-up, at any store in town. I guess with everyone entertaining themselves at home, I was not the only person with this idea. Or perhaps people were buying them for their intended enjoyers - kids. Darn kids always messing with grown-up plans.

So I figured we could just sit under the shade, cool our feet with the hose and still enjoy our margaritas. But my brother couldn't find the shade awning in the garage.

At that point, my vision of a poolside party became booze and a hose, pretty much, so we moved the party inside. The important thing was we still had margaritas.

My brother felt bad about my pathetic little party and the next day ordered an inflatable pool for adults from Amazon. This past Friday we set it up.

That's what I'm talkin' 'bout! All I needed was a pair of Ellie Mae shorts.

It doesn't look like much, but let me tell you, in over 100 degree temps, that little pool felt heavenly. It was just my sister-in-law and me this time (can't imagine why no one wanted to come when our last pool party was such a raging success). 

We stayed out in it, under the shade, sipping wine spritzers, listening to music, and having heartfelt talks for four hours that afternoon. The only reason we got out was because the sprinklers came on. And also the looks my dog Gypsy was giving me (the first picture in this post).

Best purchase of the summer!

That was my Friday. Saturday I did my early morning walk in the park. One of the soul-soothing routines I have settled into.

Soothed. Definitely soothed.

Sunday was a repeat of Friday afternoon's pool fun only this time my sister-in-law brought her friend Lulu over. She is quite the character, Lulu.

I first met Lulu over 20 years ago when my kids were young and my brother and sister-in-law lived with me for a little while after my first divorce.

I remember I was giving her a ride to somewhere and I had all three of my kids in the back seat. They were probably 5, 7, and 8 at the time and were particularly squirrelly that day, poking at each other and noisily arguing.

My admonitions and threats were not effective in getting them to settle down. Then Lulu says, "You best knock it off or you're gonna git a whoopin'!"

The back seat went silent, then erupted in laughter and my 7-year-old said, "What's a wooo-pen?" 

Lulu looked at me like she was about to demonstrate the definition. That's my oldest memory of Lulu. She's in her 60's now.

So Lulu came over Sunday and we had a lovely time eating shrimp, slurping wine coolers and debating the pros and cons of having men in our lives. She's pro (in general, Lulu is very pro man, so pro, in fact, she almost got in trouble a few years back for pinching the butt of a cute grocery store employee) and of course at the moment, I'm con. 

While I was in the pool, waiting for my sister-in-law and Lulu to join me, I snapped what I thought would be a photo of me happy and having fun. I felt relaxed and grateful at that moment and I smiled and took the selfie.

When I looked at the picture after, a wave of depression came over me. I didn't look happy at all. I was barely smiling (though it felt like I smiled) and my eyes were just sad. 

(For those that know me, I'm not talking about my current FB picture. I took that one poolside on Friday and I think I look fairly happy in it. Sunday's however, not so much.)

Anyway, I'm doing all the things one should do when going through a painful marriage break-up. I do meditations. I say affirmations. I visualize what I want for my life. I listen to podcasts about healing and moving on and getting over being hurt. I do all that.

But the thing is, to get past a painful event in life, you have to go through it. "Getting past" it implies you breeze by and say buh-bye to the image of it in a rear view mirror.

Really, you have to feel every painful memory, every negative thought, every regret, every unspoken conversation that seeps into your head and heart, until you acknowledge it for what it was and and let it go. That's "going through" it and coming out the other side of it.

I guess I'm still in the thick of "going through" it. It is easier being under a different roof, but all the hurt and memories still haunt me day and night. Mostly night.

I was messaging with a friend and telling him about my "Splitsville" playlist. Yes, that's what I call it and it's filled with angsty ballads with a few kick-ass "woman done wrong" songs thrown in.

I shared with my friend a couple of the ballads, specifically "Tin Man" by Miranda Lambert and "Blue Aint' your Color" by Keith Urban.

He said I shouldn't listen to sad, depressing songs and should be listening to more upbeat music.

Here's what I told him:

Yes, I lol'ed, don't judge me.

I actually wrote that the day before I took my sappy selfie, but seeing my sad face made me think of what I had typed to him and I read it again. I realized I needed to listen to some of the shit I say.

So now, I intend to acknowledge, embrace, feel and thank all of those painful memories and thoughts so I can let them go and come out the other side of all this. 

All the while blasting my sappy songs, thank you very much.

Continuing with the sad trajectory of this post, I have to tell you about the injured stray kitty that hobbled into my brother's yard on Friday.

A couple weeks ago, when I was rummaging through my brother's shed in search of a wading pool that he had bought several years ago but that we concluded must have gotten punctured and thrown out, a cat shot out of the shed and hopped the back wall.

I mentioned it to my brother and he said the cat had been in and out of his yard over the last few months and he figured it was a stray.

I didn't see the kitty again until Friday evening, during our poolside wine chat. She hopped into the yard and hobbled over to some bushes and hid. She was not injured the last time I saw her, but this time she held her right front paw up and would not put weight on it. 

I went over to the bushes where she was and tried to get a closer look but was met with growls so I left a bowl of water there and backed off. (My son was bit by his cat last year and it got so infected he had to have surgery and continues to have issues with his hand.) I did not want to get bit!

She stayed under the bushes for the next hour, so I offered her a little wet dog food and she ate it like she was starving, which maybe she was because she was skinny. But she still growled at me and wouldn't let me get close enough to look at her paw.

Just before we went inside, the kitty left the bushes and hobbled into the shed and hid way in the back where I couldn't even see her. I put her water dish in there and left her for the night.

The next morning after my early walk, I went to the store and bought some canned cat food and brought her some for breakfast. She ate but still growled at me. At dinnertime I again brought her some food and she growled, but did let me get my hand near enough to her face that she sniffed me. Then she looked at me with the biggest, most beautiful light green eyes, stared at me for a few seconds and backed away into her hiding spot.

Sunday morning I fed her again and got the same response. By the afternoon though, she had hobbled out of the shed looking for a cooler place to lay and she actually meowed at me which I took as a sign she wanted to communicate. I gave her a little more food as she lay under the bushes again, in the cool dirt.

By evening she was back in the shed, but laying on a rug I had put down for her, instead of in her hiding place. I fed her again and this time she let me scratch her ears and pet her head a little. After which, she growled at me. I tried calling a bunch of animal rescue places but they were closed on Sundays. Animal control told me I could drop her to any vet and they would administer care and get her somewhere to be adopted. That is not what the vets I called told me and I called several that were open on Sundays.

That was last night, so today after I fed her breakfast, she actually let me full-on pet her - head scratches, back petting - the works. So I'm hopeful I can get her in a carrier and get her in somewhere for some care.

The thing is, in my present situation, I can't adopt a cat or pay a vet bill for a stray. But I can't just let her suffer. She won't survive without a home, hobbling around like that and she's probably hurting. The only place that would take an injured stray kitty is the Animal Foundation so I will bring her there in hopes her injury isn't too severe and they can fix it and put her up for adoption.

Of course, after I found a place I could bring her, I went out to try to get her in the carrier and she's back in her hiding spot where I can't even see her and she wouldn't come out, not even for a snack. I have two doctor appointments this afternoon so I could only have brought her to the Animal Foundation this morning. 

Now the plan is to try to get her in the carrier tomorrow morning after she eats, and when she seems to be feeling the friendliest.

I really hope the Foundation will deem her worthy of fixing and not tell me she's beyond help and has to be euthanized. Her leg might be broken and I don't know if they will commit to that kind of care.

I feel like my current happiness is wrapped up in whether I can save this kitty and if I can't save her I'm going to lose it right there at the animal shelter and be a blubbering mess.

Wish me luck please.

Signed,
Miss Sappy

In case you missed my last two posts:
The Day My Dog Made Enemies of Pretty Much Everyone
My Life Imploded But I Got Some Free Makeup