10/10/13

Yesterday we had to put down my best friend and teacher of 12 years.

I can't even describe how heartbroken I've been for the past two days...I've finally gotten to the point where I can talk/think about it without immediately bursting out into tears, but I've been fighting routine all day(going out morning/evening to feed, going on rides, brushing/fussing over her in the afternoons, etc). Argh.

Yesterday when I went out to feed around 8:15 in the morning I noticed that Colletta was lying down in the paddock. That's not particularly unusual, because she's often sleeping or dozing at that time. The unusual part was where she didn't get up when I walked out to her, and I noticed that her eyes were so swollen and mud-caked that she couldn't see. So I ran back to the house, told Mom something was wrong, and ran back out to halter her up and get her to her feet.

When the vet arrived, he looked at her eyes and watched her general demeanor before saying that he thought that she seemed colicky, and that her eyes were swollen from rubbing dirt in them. By this point it was obvious that he was correct because she kept pawing the ground, trying to lay down, and looked very uncomfortable. So he pumped a gallon of mineral oil through a tube down her nose (made her nose bleed, poor thing), did a rectal exam, and gave her some pain meds to try to make her more comfortable. He also tried to do a saline drip, but couldn't get the needle to stay in the vein. (He was a young guy, and had only been working at the vet service for a few months, and was the only one on duty--I felt badly for him that he had to do it all alone especially when I don't think horses were his strong suit)

After he left we kept walking her and trying to keep her up--I had a chiropractic appointment at noon, so while I raced down to get that out of the way Mom kept her walking for me. As I was riding my bike home about 45 minutes later Mom called to tell me that Colletta had just gone down, and she couldn't get her back up.

When I came back into the yard she was lying down on her side in the yard, not even offering to pick her head up while Mom was pulling on the lead rope. I helped to roll her onto her chest (do you know how heavy a horse is that doesn't want to get up? Pretty dang heavy), and we called the vet again. He tried to put a saline drip in her vein, but from all the poking and prying he had done earlier the veins on both sides were pretty shot and he couldn't keep the needle in. So after some more poking and prying he gave up, and said that it was probably okay to let her lie down for a while but to not let her roll.

From 1 PM to 4:30 it was a constant battle: she would get up for a few minutes, walk slowly around, and stagger back down to lie on her side. Every time she went down her breathing would change to taking a breath, holding it, and then letting it out with a grunt. So I would sit down next to her head, try to keep her quiet, and whenever she rolled onto her chest to get momentum to roll over her back I would jump up and pull on the lead rope to try to keep her from rolling. This didn't always succeed, but it helped a little bit.

The time between the minutes on her feet grew longer and longer, and each time she got up she seemed weaker and weaker--to the point that after a few steps she would start staggering and drop to her knees. She would strain as well, like she was attempting to pass something but just couldn't. The whole time this all was happening the dog was circling and whining/barking with concern.

When Dad got home around 4:30 we all tried to get her up, and for a moment she seemed to rally: she got up and started walking, and seemed more purposeful for a few minutes. Dad was praying that she would 'have the biggest bowel movement in Illinois right now', and it really seemed like something would happen. The vet had already said that he would come out after his last appointments of the day, and a couple of minutes before he arrived she went down again onto her right side.

Before this point Mom and I had been talking, and we knew that we had to come to a decision sooner or later. The thing with colic is that one is never quite sure what causes it, and as a general term it can mean anything from 'gas' to 'blockage' to 'twisted bowel'. We have a feeling that it was a blockage (if it hadn't been, the mineral oil should have worked within a few hours, not taken over 9), and the only way to treat that is surgery. In order to have surgery, she would have had to have been taken to a university animal hospital, and I don't even know where the nearest one is to this area.

Anyway. Suffice to say, her groanings were getting worse, and she was trying more and more to roll the longer she would lie on the ground. The vet gave some faint offerings of hope in the form of surgery, but we already knew that that wasn't an option. She was in so much pain anyway that we couldn't get her to her feet at all, and we told him to do what he had to do.

He put her to sleep first (actual sleep) before the actual injection, and I held her head on my lap and stroked her face while he did it. Her eyes, after being swollen all day with no watery discharge, started tearing up and it looked like she was crying while he did it. (Lord knows we all were at this point) Even the dog was lying down about 20 feet away with his head on his paws and watching quietly.

We buried her out in the back pasture under a group of cottonwood trees--I'm eternally grateful to the excavator because he came out within 15 minutes of our calling and dug the hole well and quickly. I don't know if I could have slept with her lying out in the yard all alone.

I miss her terribly, as is to be expected, and to my consternation I actually spent some time tonight looking up 'horses for sale' ads online. Obviously I don't expect to get a horse again for some time, but gosh it's hard. I've been through more ups and downs, more friendships and teaching moments and lonely spots than I have with anyone else in my life. I can honestly say that she wasn't like any other horse I've ever known.

I'm just so glad that she didn't go alone, and that I was home from Colorado to see her for the last 10 days.

One Year

"She had a letter written...to [him], then a second, then a third. [He] had replied to none of them...Then she thought of [him], and her heart turned dark at the place that had been his."

 --Les Miserables, Book 4, "To Trust Is Sometimes To Surrender"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It's been a year ago today. I'm not as upset as I thought I would have been, but neither would I go so far as to say I'm happy about it either.

I was going to draw a little comic-type thing to illustrate exactly how I've felt over the past year, but I didn't have enough time and I don't have enough faith in my art to get across what my mind is seeing. But I jotted down some notes throughout the day, and it's been interesting to put into words precisely what the last year has been like.

Imagine a tree, if you will. Not an enormous one, but decently sized and thriving. And one day this tree was deliberately uprooted, leaving disturbed earth and torn trailing roots. Of course, it doesn't die immediately. The uprooting is just the beginning of a slow death--the drying of the limbs, the leaves strangled and withering, and the tree itself settling into its new prone position. The roots cannot grab hold of the earth again. Its only lot is to die.

After a while the disturbed dirt is smoothed by wind and rain and whatnot. The tree itself starts to turn back to the soil from whence it grew. But one day there's a green sprout...and the next day another, and another, until soon the tree is covered with growth. From death has come life--nothing quite as majestic yet as the original tree, but there's potential. The jagged edges are softened.

But there isn't a day yet when the carnage is completely forgotten. The edges may be softened, but they're still broken. The scars may be covered, but they're still tender.

Intellectually speaking it's 'all been for the best'. Physically, spiritually, and mentally, if things had gone through, it would have been an uphill struggle through a variety of unpleasant, deep-rooted issues. While I like to think I could have 'made it' I honestly don't know. But a day doesn't go by (speaking quite literally now) when I don't wonder what might have been, or memories blindside me, or I think 'what are you doing these days? How are you doing? Do you ever think of me at all?'

If I don't think too much about it, I'm all right--and I've gotten pretty good at fielding memories and shoving them away before they can have much impact.

I used to get angry about this...these days I'm just sad.

When I see your face...

...I get breathless. When I see your name my heart pounds like it's going to hammer its way out of my chest. My stomach hurts at the sight, and it feels like my throat is going to get so tight that I can't breathe. It's strange how the palpitations of crush-ism and the panicked galloping of pain can be so similar...why do you still have this effect? I haven't spoken to you for months. I haven't seen pictures of you for weeks. And yet...the barest brush I have with you, even if it's just your name, results in reeling back and feeling the brunt of all that agony AGAIN.

Why does this keep happening?

My mantra for weeks has been 'I'm in repair--I'm not together but I'm getting there'. Progress is two steps forward, one step back. (I thought about saying 'ten steps back', but if that were the case I'd still be curled up sobbing in bed every day.) Each shaky building block looks as if it's finally balanced, but it comes crashing down at the slightest puff of wind. 

In light of all this...I wish I had never met you. I wish we had never crossed paths, had never known the other existed, and gone off in merry oblivion. Then there would have been none of the divorce-like repercussions, the pain of promises made and not kept, and the agony of being reminded that you are still out there.

You know what they say, 'if wishes were horses'...well, I'd be broke if that were the case. And burned out on horses. But I digress.

I know what people have told me, about how I now have a PhD in heartbreak and what to look for the next time around (I can hardly bear to think about anyone else in that manner, much less contemplate a future relationship), how to test the waters even more cautiously, etc...but I don't see how it was for the best to experience that. The waters remain untested for an unforeseeable amount of time. I don't know how you are about it all--though I've had the persistent thought that you're in a similar area of pain, and avoid me for the same reason that I can't even look at your name.

I don't hate you. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm still rather in love with you in a limping, cautious, pain-ridden sort of way. But I can't help wishing that we had never met.

 In closing, the mantra begins again.

(I let this post sit for about an hour and came back...my heart is still palpitating and the breath comes shortly. Urgh.)

Five Current Obsessions

This is an attempt to follow the pattern of a blog post I saw recently by a friend of mine. I can't take credit for the idea, but imitation is the highest form of flattery, yes? :p

{one}

 Fan-music score for The Hunger Games

Whenever I want to create something, browse the net, etc, I run through this playlist. I like the music here better than the scores for the official movie...and it helps me think better than music with words. (I'm listening to it now, actually. XD)

{two}

Horse-back Riding

Endurance riding, specifically, but this is the most recent picture of me on the horse (taken sometime in January?). One of the things about being a solitary rider is that there's hardly ever someone to get photographic evidence of the fact that yes, I did go for a 2-hour ride, thank-you-very-much. Lugging around a DSLR-wanna-be camera isn't the greatest idea when trotting and loping most of the time.

There has been monsoon weather and tons of work for the past several days, so no riding. But lots of tying the horse out and letting her graze (when she's not getting soaked and chilled by the cold wind and requiring me to go out and dry her off. It was an interesting weekend, to say the least.)

{three}

The Hobbit

 

December 14th! Only 7 months away! I've been waiting for this since 2005! *spazzflailsplodes*

Ahem. Yes, as a good little Lord of the Rings fan I've been expecting this...and it's finally coming. *glee* AND it's got all these fantastic actors that I've come to know in other movies/shows, and it's going to be AMAZING. :3

{four}

Herbal Remedies

{picture of cough tea courtesy of the bulk herb store}

 For the past several days (couple of weeks?) I've been spending hours reading and researching herbs and recipes online and in books. I've been fascinated with herbal remedies for several years, and dabbled in making some salves and teas. But this year, I have an herb garden actually planned, and have been reading voraciously about the uses of different herbs. Every day I seem to focus on a different one--last week I looked at nettle, comfrey, chamomile, dandelion, and lemon balm at some point or another.

I've even tried making something other than salves--and even though the first few tries have been either failures or a bit mediocre I still want to keep trying. It all kind of started when I was trying desperately to think of something to do other than mope in the evenings (believe me, the temptation to pour a pot of tea and do nothing but feel sorry for myself is a daily thing at night). I used to know quite a bit, but taking a break made me forget a lot of what I knew. And thinking about the different uses for lemon balm is much more interesting than hyperfocusing on feeling wronged and angry and depressed.

I mean...I still do. But not as much or as often. Herbal stuff has a way of making things a little bit better.

{five}
Keeping Busy

No picture for this one, unfortunately. But lately I've been like a perpetual motion machine -- I'm fine as long as I keep moving. I'm happy, cheerful, slightly manic (bit of a Rocky moment there), and fine as long as I'm busy and have something to do.

But at home...when it's quiet and everyone's gone to bed and it's just me and my thoughts...the perpetual motion machine starts to break down. I don't cry (as much) like I used to. But I'm afraid of going to bed before 11 PM because my thoughts stew and simmer and the hollowness of knowing that someone didn't think I was worth it enough to back up his promises hurts. It may be his problems or issues that drove him to that. But it's still a reflection of his regard (or lack thereof) for me.

I guess the words 'I love you' don't mean much when you're just 'dreaming about the future'. But I digress.

.....

 After much thought and deliberation, I have decided to keep this post up and public. I'm finding that telling the hard truth has a tendency of weeding out the people who can't handle it...and I'm tired of being told that being a Christian means you can't be angry or say what you really mean, because we're supposed to be merciful and loving and what have you.

Mercy and love have their place. But so do justice and truth. Justice hasn't been very forthcoming concerning this subject, but I can tell the truth and by golly I'm gonna.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Remember those messy posts I warned you about? This is going to turn into one of those real quick.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ya ever just want to cry and throw things and scream incoherently because you don't know what to say or how to say it, and every word that comes to mind seems to be filled with confusion and anger and such indescribable hurt that you don't even want to say them because you sound like a hate-filled non-Christian who is about to axe somebody?

It's been one of those nights. Or rather, it's turning into one of those.

(Granted, the entire evening hasn't been bad. What with the daily drawing and baking/icing a cake, it's actually been a fairly good one. But certain news has this strange ability to reduce me to a quivering incomprehensible mass of  hurt confusion within a matter of minutes. It should go up as a new superpower.)

To whom it may concern:

Why do you even care how I would be handling this? You, who have done so much damage: Why. Do. You. Care. Are you feeling guilty for what you have done? Congratulations, you show that you have a basic conscience. It takes more than that to be a responsible human being.

You spent an entire year making promises, telling me we would do this and that and that you loved me. Don't give me this 'I CARE about you' crap--caring is less about responding to your emotions and more about realizing that feelings come and go, but promises are meant to be honored. If you merely 'cared', then the entire last year was a lie.

God spoke to you? God speaks to people every day, but I seriously doubt that He would have told only you and never breathed a hint that anything was wrong to me. You think you would have never made me happy and just want the best for me? Well, how would you freakin' know? You never bothered to find out before saying 'AUGH! I give up!'

I am torn between agony over the person you seemed to be, and utmost loathing for the person you seem to have become. No, I don't buy that you 'care'. You have never bothered to ask how I'm doing. You simply dropped off the face of the earth, avoiding people and pretending that you're heartbroken but everything's 'okay'. I don't buy that you're okay either. I think you're just scared, and didn't know what to do, and decided 'whelp, that didn't work' so it'll never work. 

And what it comes down to?

You didn't want it to work. 

If you truly, sincerely wanted things to work, you wouldn't have acted like a child and run away because it was all too overwhelming.

If you wanted things to work, you would have backed up your promises and not suddenly back-pedaled under the banner of 'wanting what's best (even if you don't agree)'.

If you wanted things to work...but you didn't. 

And you don't. 

And you never will, unless you figure out how to be an adult and know that you can't run away from the things that overwhelm you.

That's why I'm writing this here, where you'll never read it, because you wouldn't be able to handle it. If it were sent as a message, you would never respond due to being 'overwhelmed'.

There's more to life than always feeling comfortable and safe in retreating. 

And if you ever do read this? I dare you to prove me wrong and show that you are, in fact, more than the coward you have proven yourself to be. Go ahead. Consider it a challenge to stop being 'overwhelmed' by the demands of life.

You have no earthly idea how much you have hurt me over the past 6 weeks. A year of lies and leading-on is a hard thing to stand up under. Not only have I lost the person I thought would be a life-long friend and companion, but I have to live with the fact that you didn't REALLY mean any of it. And that's the absolute hardest thing to accept out of the entire mess.

Horse Ramblings and Daily Whatnots

This week I've been good on my word of riding daily--every day except Thursday has been spent either lunging or riding the horse for 40-60 minutes. Mah arms are tired....anyway. Two weeks ago I had posted a picture on Facebook complaining about the horse's sweat pattern:

 

 In this one (taken two weeks ago) the hair on her neck is wrinkled in vertical lines, meaning that she's been bracing her neck and altogether tense for the ride. I was shown how to get her to relax somewhat, so today I went for an hour-long ride and tried to use what I've learned.

(As a hint: it's really hard to remember everything I was shown. My body is sore and tired after only an hour.)

 

Here (taken today) she's a lot sweatier due to the humidity, but the vertical lines are less noticeable and most of her neck is fairly smooth. Plus (and this may just be hopeful thinking) I think she's got a little more definition than she did two week ago. 8D

So...here's to plugging away at it and keeping up with the riding. I have a book on dressage arena exercises that I may be able to pull out and start working on in a few weeks.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

And back to daily life...I'm in a rather 'poor me' mood tonight, but I'll try not to indulge that side too much. 

All I can say is...tomorrow will be 6 weeks. I miss everything, but mostly the daily interactions and little stuff. Like asking how his day was and what he had for lunch, and getting to talk at night and send silly youtube videos and dream about what we were going to do after we were together. I guess the problem with building castles in the air is that they're made out of nothing...but it still feels like something was lost when they collapse. It's a horrible feeling. And the worst part is being cut off (which, granted, was my idea. I can be an idiot sometimes) and not only knowing nothing, but feeling like I can't ask because he'll try to honor my request to not talk to me and just ignore any attempts at contact. *clutches head*

Have I mentioned that this has been highly messy and confusing? Don't ever get dumped if you can help it. *gestures vaguely* 

On a side note, I get the feeling that I'm turning into the mopey friend that people don't want to talk to anymore because all I can think about, after talking about the weather and one's health, is what's happened and I get all depressed. >.< It's really frustrating to try to hold a conversation and burst into tears at the randomest provocation.
Blargh.

Concerning the rest of daily life...there's riding, and school, and cleaning houses...I did go to see The Hunger Games yesterday. No one in my family wanted to go, and I decided to go 10 minutes before the movie started, so it was a lone venture. :p Overall it was enjoyable (though I missed the first 5-10 minutes), but the shaky hand-camera usage was way overused and headache-inducing. It was fairly faithful to the book, but the ending could have been less rushed, with more character development throughout. I know people don't like spoilers--so I'd say go see it, but read the book first. :p The music wasn't as memorable as I hoped it would be--nothing as memorable as the fan-made music I've been listening to for days. It made me sad.

And otherwise...meh. I spend a lot of time trying to distract myself. *shrugs* Someday I won't have to. But in the meantime....meh.

Exit Wounds

Why is it that The Script seems to be describing things perfectly? I didn't even like them that much a couple of months ago. Now they're constantly in my head.

"I'm falling through the doors of the emergency room
Can anybody help me with these exit wounds
I don't know how much more love this heart can lose
And I'm dying, dying from these exit wounds..."

Up from Brokenness

This is my time to vent. I'm posting this for me, not for any other person here on the internet. It's going to be messy, raw, angry, insecure, and spastic on any given day....all things that I am.

My brokenness now is just a phase. I know that. But I still need a way to let it out.

Thus it begins.