Nessie

Dearest Nessie,

I remember just like yesterday when we got you as a puppy nearly 17 years ago.  It was August, after my 12th birthday.  I had always wanted a dog but never could have one.  Then one evening mom and dad told Zach and me we were getting you.  I was so excited!  I had just come home from a summer youth camp.  We were living in Virginia Beach then.  Mom and I drove down to North Carolina to pick you up.  We had all picked your name, Nessie.  Since your breed comes from Scotland, we wanted a Scottish name for you.  Mom and I got to the house we were picking you up from.  You were only a few weeks old.  We saw all the different puppies in the house, but when I saw you, I instantly knew you were the one coming home with us.  Most of the puppies were sleeping, but you were jumping up and down trying to get our attention.  You were the smallest in the litter.  I held you in my arms and you fell asleep there.  We brought you home and you looked so tiny even in the grass!  You were so small that you couldn’t reach your food in your bowl!  Aunt Courtney came over to see you too, do you remember her?  She brought a toy over for you that was even too big for you!  Aunt Courtney spent the night the first night.  You cried the entire night!  You didn’t really like other dogs, except for Scottie.  He was your buddy!  Remember when Aunt Courtney and I would take you and Scottie for walks together?  You’d go over to Aunt Courtney’s house sometimes and play with Scottie.  You had so much fun with him.

It was a great joy to grow up with you.  I went through a lot of bullying growing up.  I often felt so lonely through that.  But you were there for me.  I always felt I could relate to animals more than people.  You were (and are) the best dog a girl could ask for.  I couldn’t have asked for a better dog growing up.  I’m so glad you were my first dog.  I wish I took you for more walks, I know how much you enjoyed those.  You used to be so full of energy and life.  When we lived in Virginia Beach, I remember you used to run in figure eights in our big backyard.  It was so funny to watch you out there.  I remember when you used to challenge the bigger dogs.  You were certainly a big dog in a small dog’s body.  At Christmas time, mom and dad have a decorative snowman that plays music - you’ve always hated that thing.  It’s funny to see you go after it - it’s even got teeth marks in it!  Whenever something was out of place, you always noticed it.  You would bark at a plastic grocery bag that’d happen to float into our yard until it was gone.

I have so many good memories of you.  When Nick and I first started dating, you were very jealous.  When we’d sit together on the couch, you’d always sit between us.  I’m glad you like him now.  I wanted you to be a part of our wedding, but mom and dad said no.  I suppose you would’ve been pretty miserable if you had been though; smelling all the food there and not being able to eat any of it.

Now you’re 16.5 years old and tired.  It’s difficult to see you sometimes.  You’re so tired and physically so weak.  You hardly eat - something you used to love to do (must’ve taken after me).  You have so many health problems, I know your quality of life isn’t very good anymore.  I know mom and dad are doing the best they can to give you a good life.  I know soon, I will have to say goodbye to you, and it kills me.  I find myself crying often.  Even last night, I cried myself to sleep.  I don’t want to feel my emotions.  I’d rather numb them, but I can’t do that either.  I’ve always feared the day I’d lose you, and I know that day is coming soon.  When I have to say goodbye to you, I’ll try to be strong for you.  When you’re gone, I’ll try to be strong and not give into my dark thoughts of self-harm.  You wouldn’t want that I’m sure.  I’ll try to be strong, and hope one day I’ll get to see you again.  That when the day comes I see Jesus, you’ll come running to me too.  I know you can’t read this, and I know you’re a dog, but you’re not just a dog - you’re my dog.  You will always be my dog.  You’re a good dog, the best!  I will miss you so much, and though I forget many things, I will never forget you.  Thank you for being my best friend for so long.  May we meet again on the other side.

Love,

Allie

Won't Die Within

I haven't written in a while.  Last year sucked, a lot. A friend who was like another mother to me when my husband and I first got married killed herself in the spring.  Then I lost a friend who was like a mentor to me (he became borderline abusive towards me).  Then I had another close friend, but I got too close.  I didn't respect their boundaries.  I didn't understand boundaries (I've been going through a book on boundaries though (I've almost finished it)).  My mental health has been getting worse.  In early November, I had to be hospitalized for a few days.  I hadn't made a plan to kill myself, but I was in the process of coming up with one.  They put me on Lithium, which pretty much did nothing for me.  It didn't make me better, but it didn't make me worse either.  I was taken off that and put on Tryleptal.  That was a disaster.  My BPD episodes were more frequent and more severe.  I was having several episodes a day - all day.  I'd be extremely emotional, then dissociate, and it'd just keep going back and forth between the two - no middle ground.  It was absolutely exhausting.  I couldn't keep up with it anymore.  I tried calling my psychiatrist, but he didn't return my call in time.  The day after Christmas I told my husband that if I went outside I was going to jump off our apartment building.  Honestly, if I did, it probably wouldn't kill me.  I'd probably have broken bones, though I possibly could become paralyzed.  Many times I nearly drank bleach.  I probably wouldn't drink enough to kill me, but it would cause some damage to my organs. Anyway, my husband was really scared.  He told someone what I had said and next thing I know, the police is at my door.  They took me to the hospital (which was a disaster there).  I was there for a few days. I got taken off the Tryleptal.  I haven't been put on anything as a replacement yet, but my episodes aren't as bad as when I was on it at least.

My mental health seems to keep getting worse the older I get, and no one seems to be able to help me.  I've wanted to just disappear since I was a kid.  I've been in therapy since I was 12 years old (that's when I was diagnosed with depression).  Ever since I started therapy, I've been bouncing between therapists.  I keep getting transferred to a different therapist because I'm too much for them.  I'm in a lot of therapy throughout the week.

I've been fighting for my life for a long time, and it's tiresome.  Sometimes I get to the point that I just don't want to fight anymore. I get tired of fighting in a losing battle.  There is a war in my brain and I'm losing.  I just throw my hands up and say, "That's it!  I'm done!  I can't do this anymore!"  I've been very nhilistic, and there's just not much I really care about anymore.

Recently I was taking to my mom on the phone and she asked me, "You really want to kill yourself, don't you?"  I had a difficult time answering her.  You see, I'm an empath.  I feel and take on the emotions others have.  When she asked me that, I could feel pain coming from her.  It made me think, "If I were gone, maybe people really would be sad.  I've really been thinking about things and I've decided, I'm going to keep fighting for my life as long as I can.  I can't promise I'll make it out of this alive, but I'm not going to give up.  I have to keep fighting - if not for myself, I need to at least for the people who care about me.  If they haven't given up on me, I need to not give up either.  The enemy isn't going to destroy me, as much as he would enjoy doing that.  I'm not going down without a fight though.  So go on ahead 2019, bring it!  I'm putting my boxing gloves on and I'm not tapping out.