Dealing With Loss

Last Saturday, May 5, I had to put my little Silva cat to sleep.  I had written in a previous blog about Silva not doing well and coming back when I did some energy work on her.  That, sadly, did not happen this time; she was ready to cross the Rainbow Bridge.

I believe on some level I knew this was coming; I think that knowledge had a lot to do with my depression and total lack of motivation for the previous month.  Also, the last couple of days I just knew it was my last time grooming her and that I should take more pictures because I didn't have long left with her.

Then, last Saturday morning, she just went downhill very quickly, could hardly stand and wouldn't even let me hold her for long.  I knew it was time to make the call to the vet.

Honestly, this is the first time in my 4+ years of sobriety that I really considered drinking.  I mean, I've had passing thoughts of it, but never anything where I really had it planned out.  And this time, I really had it planned out.

I was going to have Silva put down, go home, work as a tarot reader at a fundraiser I had promised to do, go to work the overnight shift at my full-time job, then spend Sunday drunk.  I could have picked up a bottle in between the fundraiser and work and been in oblivion all day Sunday.

For a couple of hours that actually seemed like a really good solution.  You would think that with four years of sobriety I'd know better, and eventually I did, but not for a while. 

Then again, that is the way that I dealt with pain for many years, so its only logical that it would appear as an option to me.

What stopped me from actually drinking?? It wasn't any deep-seated belief that I can never drink again.  I have never given myself that limitation.  Drinking is always an option for me in my mind,  mainly because I have my father's mindset, that if you tell me I can't do something, well, you can be damn sure I'll find a way to do it.   It's the consequences of having that drink that I'm not willing to accept; and that, together with how far I've come since I got sober, is what worked to keep me from drinking.

I know that I was the absolute best mama I could have been to Silva, and no kitty has ever been more loved than she was with me.  I also know that that would never have been possible if I'd been drinking.   Although I always did my best for my animals and they were never abused, I reached a point in my drinking that I couldn't take care of myself or them properly.

As much as I will miss and mourn Silva, she deserves a better memorial than me being a drunk-and useless to myself, Googles-my other cat, and anyone or anything else.  It honestly feels like it would be an insult to Silva, to let her loss stop me from improving myself and being the best person I can be. 

So, I will mourn Silva for as long as it takes, but I will also move on and remember her with love and joy.

Blessed Be!