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S

Santana Idaho

Member
Dec 16, 2024
40
This started off as a rant a couple days ago, but now I'll just put the rant at the bottom and ask here about grief support for adults with CPTSD who've never connected emotionally with humans as with animals.

I'm scared to go to any other grief group because I'm certain I'll be judged for having suicidal ideation over my dead dog.

I bookend my days with crying over him. And through the day as well when I give myself time to think. I've developed insomnia.

He was my soulmate. Sometimes I would miss him in my bedroom and go into the living room to kiss and pet and compliment him. And bury my face into his face and tell him not to kiss because I'm kissing right now, and then let him kiss my cheek a bit. Sometimes he would come to me just to make me follow him to the living room. He would come in and look like he wanted something so I'd follow him and he'd just lay down. Beautiful Baby Boy, I don't want to be here. I want to be in my room. He just wanted the whole family together. He loved people. He hated dogs. Any person he saw, no matter how far away they were would get aggressively demanded to pet him. I would have to assuage people's fear of his aggressive barking by telling them that he wasn't mad, he just wants attention. He wasn't trained, but he was so smart that he was such a good boy. He wouldn't always listen. But he understood. He was loud as fuck, but he was a 30 lb Pomeranian.I could go on and on he was so perfect.

I need him. I can't do this without him. My other dog is disabled and very sick so she just lays there. She's a Chihuahua who wasn't socialized so she has insane social phobia. She won't even kiss me unless I've had my face to her face and kissed her a bunch. She'll just lift her head a little bit and get shy. Sometimes she gets brave and does 1 or 2 licks. I love her so much.

But I couldn't save my boy. And I can't save my girl.

my Boy died because my mom's husband doesn't want to spend his retirement money, and my mom submits to him. She'll threaten me with murder, though. She refuses to be mad at him for not spending money because she can't afford the bills without him. She'll even fight me for fighting him.

I have pictures of him as my screensaver and background. I have all the stuff my mom was gonna throw away to rid her of her pain. I have his urn in the shipping box because she didn't want to see it, and my room is a hoarder's room.

And so much more is going wrong right now. I don't have him. He doesn't exist anymore. He's in the past. He's a was. He's a used to be. Nothing of him is still here. Just his things. I had to wash them because there were covered in vomit. I just wanted to smell him. I went around the house looking for anything of his that I wanted to prevent my mother from throwing away.

As I was writing that last part, I remembered that I have some of his fur in a brush that my mom used. I ran to it because I've been missing his fur so much. It's not him, but It has his DNA. Finally, I found a part of him that still exists!

I've been bawling over it, so I have to go now.

But thank you for reading.

RANT:

I can't do anything.
I can't do what i want.
My life feels like an endless self-improvement project.
I live in filth because I can't take care of myself without wanting to cry or hit something. My nervous system is all fucked. How am I supposed to get out of this in my situation?
Everyone's always hated me. "If you run into an asshole in the morning, you ran into an asshole. If you run into assholes all day, you're the asshole."
Me = Baby Asshole
I hate myself.
I don't want to do things. I want to stop.
I'm bad at everything.
Everything goes wrong.
Nothing has ever been good.
I've never been wanted.
I've never felt like a person. Like a human.
I've never felt like I belonged here -- in this world.
I was born into pain, and that's all my life has ever been.
I'm tired.
I'm done.
I want to go home.
I just can't take this anymore. I can't do it.
 
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