Sketch of Gemma

I haven’t been able to bring myself to write. I wake up every morning crying and it hits me all over again. It’s more than losing a dog. I’ve lost many dogs in my life, but not like this. Part of me does not want to talk about it. I can’t. I’ve cancelled my therapy sessions. I’m not painting, but I know life should go on.

What can I say? She was my best friend. She was never far from me, which is what made the incident so much worse. There was nothing I could do. I was helpless. She was helpless. It was all trauma. We moved here to find peace and it now it feels ruined. I feel bad, but I have come to hate coyotes.

Gemma Memorial Park

On a positive vibe, Michael and I are building a little mini memorial park in her honor. It’s small, but we raked out all the pokey desert bits and circled the area with some white rocks. I planted a few colorful cacti, but the bunnies decided to eat them, so that’s not going to work out. I’ll have to replace them with stones of some sort, and we are waiting for a stone bird bath to arrive in a couple of weeks. We picked out a little one made to look like balancing rocks. If she was still alive, she’d be able to reach it and drink out of it.

Crazy colorful cacti
Rock bird bath
Very last picture of Gemma

I miss her, but I’m also going to miss having a dog, and I don’t know if I can live this way. No dog at all? My mental illness can’t handle that. I really don’t think I can live like that. I glanced at a website that said people with mental illnesses can get service dogs. My physical ailments aren’t getting much better either, so maybe I’ll qualify. I don’t know. If we got one, we’d have to build a big dog run here, and that would be quite expensive. I’d also have to walk this dog on a leash carrying pepper spray. And lose another 5-10 pounds before I can take regular walks with a bigger dog. My health has been pretty awful. I’m out of breath just walking across the house.

I am still very overweight, and while I’ve been dieting, I haven’t lost any weight since this happened. So, I guess my diet went to shit for a minute, or it’s on hold anyway. I even had a cigarette last week. I hadn’t had one in over six weeks. I was doing so well. That was so stupid. At least I’ve been doing crunches while laying on my back because I can’t do much walking yet but I’m only up to 30 crunches a day. It’s pretty pathetic.

I was also diagnosed with diabetes, but it is probably reversible if I get my diet in order and lose the weight. I have all the meds working against me (at least five) that make you gain weight. But I’m really trying. These past two weeks though, I’ve had no motivation. I must get back to it.

I’d really like to try to start painting again. I set us a large watercolor paper this morning and have something in mind, so I may try at that today. I still hope I feel like writing in November. But we’ll see. I don’t feel like much right now. I just feel mopey.

I think I may decide to quit Facebook. I know that sounds mean to my FB friends, especially because I just got a LOT of love and support about Gemma, but the place stresses me out. I don’t know what it is, but even though I’m not on it much, it feels time-consuming, like I’m a bad person for not participating. It comes from a few things people have said in the past, and I guess I let it get to me. I think it’s better to participate in the way I want, which is through images, link-backs to my blog posts, and if I feel like saying something more, I can always do that on ello.

Okay, that’s all I got.

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