Drought and Famine: Desertion of Self

Wow! It’s been quite a while since I’ve written, or rather typed, an entry. As I was going through my previous blog entries, my last entry was back in September of last year. Believe me, a lot has happened during my hiatus. Usually, when I’m going through so much, I result to my writing or blog to purge and release. However, somewhere along the way, I lost my voice, my way. Then, the madness’s undertow caused me to drown…

I know I was supposed to pick up with a blog about “The Unexpected Adhesive;” on the other hand, that particular entry will have to be addressed at a later time; this one is more pressing at the moment. Bear with me as I attempt to share a little of the trials and tribulations I’ve had to endured after the month of September.

For starters, I had to take a leave of absence from school. From stressing to find a place to stay to trying to attend my night classes, it really took a toll on me wholeheartedly. My legs and feet had swollen so bad I could barely walk nor put shoes on. My migraines became more frequent; stress continued to escalate. Then, I applied for a job at Amazon; I passed the drug test and background test. All I was waiting for was a chance to start working. But, Amazon kept changing my “start date” to I never heard from them again. When I did try to call and speak to someone about the issue, I could never get anyone on the phone. Of course, I received a refund from school. So, I took that to book hotels, buy food, and gas for my car. Within a short time frame, I quickly learned how expensive it was to live in Massachusetts and not to mention all those doggone tolls! I did the best I could, but I had to admit defeat. I couldn’t find a place to stay nor a job. Money dwindled, and I had to come back to where I was trying to escape, HOME! I did not like it. Once I got back home, I knew things were going to pick up right where I left it: a redundant, endless cycle.

Things were still the same; I was still looking for a job with no luck. Adding insult to injury, the same ordeal happened with Cracker Barrel just like it did with Amazon. I applied, interviewed, and had to wait on the background check. I kept calling a few times to check for updates on being hired or not. “We still waiting on the background check,” the manager would tell me. I’m thinking to myself, “It shouldn’t take this long for a background check.” After that, I never heard from them again either. The same was for my partner too. He would get the interviews, but nothing else would follow. So, here we were. My significant other and I was back to sleeping out of the car with no money for food. I would tell him, “We just traded one hell for another.” I would cry myself to sleep and wonder would this nightmare ever end. I’m thinking, “We’re cursed. Still struggling to survive.”

Fortunately, my sister was kind enough to let us stay with her for a while. Finally, we were grateful to a warm place to sleep, a bathroom, etc. He and I continued to job hunt, but we still kept getting the same result. Then, my sister decided she wanted me and my partner to move out. My mother told me we could live with her. Well, my partner was able to finally get a job. I was relieved because I was on the verge of losing my car. However, my elation ended not too long after. The car broke down, and he never received his first check. We kept contacting human resources about it, but they kept giving us the runaround and lying; he filed a complaint with the Department of Labor & Wages but nothing. With no money to fix the car or catch up the payments, I had no choice but to surrender the car. First, I had to leave school; now, I lost my car. I’m telling you I was trying my best to stay afloat; the undertow was something else.

Still applying to jobs, we had one good thing to happen. My dog had puppies; she had seven at first but two died, and it left her with five puppies: Pinky, Red, Apple, Sweetie, and Baby (3 boys, 2 girls). Being around my babies, it helped offset the bad that was beginning to take over my conscious. During my childhood, my dad raised dogs: chows, rocks, and pits. This would be my first time raising pits, let alone five at the same time! It was a challenge at first, but they grew on me. Pinky was claimed by my partner (he’s also the one who dubbed him “Pinky.” He thought Pink was a girl. You can imagine his surprise. LOL). Over the passing of time, those five babies began to wear me down. Despite the turmoil and chaos happening to me, they began to center me. I felt a little peaceful. I just didn’t know what was about to happen. Another blow was getting ready to be administered.

Pinky was the biggest male among his brothers and sisters; Red was his twin, and they were red-nosed pits. Baby, Sweetie, and Apple were the blue-nosed clan. My mother kept complaining that I needed to “get rid of them”. I gave Apple to one of my cousins; his dog was very old, so he wanted one of the puppies. I knew he would love Apple. She was the toughest girl in the bunch; she gave her brothers a ran for their money. It was hard because I was so use to her being the little trouble maker and instigator, yet, I knew she would be in good hands.

A couple weeks later, Pinky was sick, really sick. He was vomiting brown liquid with a strong, sour odor; he lost a lot of weight and stopped eating. I didn’t know what was wrong with him. At first, I thought it was something he must’ve eaten. Then, I thought he had caught the CPV that dogs get. I moved him into the room with me and my partner. Pinky would climb in bed and sleep right beside me. I tried to keep him hydrated, but he would urinate frequently whatever he would intake. With no other choice, I called a vet for help. I’ve never been to a vet before. But, I knew if I didn’t do something, I would lose Pinky. That was not an option. I took Pinky to the vet. Basically, she told me he was dying and wouldn’t make it. I cried my eyes out as he just sat there, staring at me. Then, she was like we had 2 options: 1) put him down or (2) sign over our rights in order to treat him and find him a home. Me and my partner wanted to bring him back home with us, but she claimed he would not make it through the night. The decision was very hard, but I told my boyfriend to sign over the rights. I did not want to kill my baby. I picked him up with tears in my eyes. I kissed and told him that I loved him. My boyfriend did not take it well at all. The vet took Pinky away. I was very heartbroken because I felt he wasn’t going to make it, and I would never see him again.

Later, I found out that they did surgery and he survived. I felt that me and my partner were tricked. The vet said he was dying and he was not going to make it. She never mentioned anything about him just needing surgery. If that’s what was wrong with Pinky, why didn’t she just tell us that’s all he needed? I tried to see if I had a chance to either get him back or re-adopt him. The answer was no! I’m like how did this happen?! Everywhere I turned, I was losing everything! Pinky, my baby, was somewhere and not home with me, his brothers or sisters. He had a home; it was here with us! I think about him everyday; I’m still heartbroken. They would not even tell me where he was other than he was in foster care until he gets better; then, they were going to find him a home.

THIS WAS NOT FAIR!!! I wanted my baby back! The decision was bittersweet; although I was glad he made it, the thought of not seeing him again broke me. He continues to cross my mind. I secretly pray that I will be reunited with my Pink Man someday…someday soon.

It looks like the madness won after all. First, I had to leave school; second, I lost my car, and now, Pinky was gone. I have nothing. I’m dying everyday on the inside. I don’t have a plan and nothing to fall back on if nothing works out.

We still keep applying to jobs and nothing. We thought we had a job; however, we are still getting the runaround. I hate this era! All this technology, expansion of everything, and jobs are still scarce; people are still homeless and need help. I tell you this scares me, and I was fighting harder to stay afloat. Eventually, I got tired and surrendered.

Sinking to the fathom below me, thoughts and memories overwhelm my mind, my heart. But, the only repetitive thought that consumes me is what people have littered my mind throughout my existence: “Your hard work is going to pay off, one day.”

Ha! All my hard work hasn’t gotten me anywhere except for losing what I worked hard to keep. It may not have been much, but it was mine.

It hurts too much to talk, feel, or think now. I’m covered in gunk; I’m numb except to what I feel on the inside. No matter how hard I try or pray, it won’t cut off nor go away.

I was a fighter; I wasn’t going down easy. Everything that happened gradually stripped me down to nothing. Naked, vulnerable with no more defenses to hide behind this time.

“I haven’t the humanity to care anymore.” (C) “Branded” by J.N. McGhee