Now I can’t breathe, no, I can’t sleep, I’m barely hanging on…

I’m not sure what’s going on lately in my brain but something isn’t right.

I think my problem is that I haven’t been sleeping well.  I’ve been pretty much a mess since I’ve been home from Europe, but I feel like my internal clock should be back to normal by now.  This weekend, I pretty much just slept when I felt tired, which was at weird times. And then Sunday I basically slept all day.  I don’t think that’s a problem though because I was still suffering from jetlag then.

Lately, things have just been cray cray.  Weird stuff has been happening, stuff I haven’t experienced in my sleep before.

Usually, when I sleep I never remember my dreams or even really feel like I had been dreaming. Lately, I wake up and I know I’ve been dreaming. I still never remember my dreams but I think that’s because every time I wake up, I’m waking up in a panic so the memory of my dream gets pushed away quickly.

In the past, I don’t even really remember waking up in the middle of the night all that often.  Sure, I’d wake up right before my alarm went off, but that is totally different than waking up at 3am and wondering what the hell is happening. It’s not even like there’s an alarm or a noise or some kind of event that occurs to make me wake up in the middle of the night. I just all of a sudden become awake and freak out because I don’t know what’s going on.

For instance, last night, as has been the pattern for the last three or four nights, I wake up at, like, 3am and have absolutely NO idea where the hell I am. I wake up all confused and disoriented and it takes a hot minute to figure out that I’m at home in my own bed, sleeping alone. I don’t really know where I think I am when I wake up all confused, but I know that it’s very disturbing.  I am so confused that I literally sit up and try looking around, and then get out of bed to get my bearings. That’s when I realize, Oh, no, it’s okay. Go back to bed, you’re fine. You’re at home.  On another note, I also am not sure why I start freaking out about why I’m in my bed alone. I wake up in a panic because whoever I think is supposed to be next to me suddenly isn’t anymore.

I’m not even kidding. I spend a good five solid minutes every night, in the middle of the night, trying to figure out what the fuck is happening. And then because I get so worked up, I have to spend another five minutes trying to calm the fuck down and coax myself back to sleep.

I guess I’m just gonna hope for the best and keep my fingers crossed that this behavior eventually just stops and I can resume my normal sleeping behavior.  And quickly.

Please keep your fingers crossed that I can sleep through the night.

Back to you, it always comes around back to you. I tried to forget you, I tried to stay away, but it’s too late….

Hello blogosphere!

Long time, no see!!

As you may have deduced, I have returned from my trip abroad and made it safely back to the lovely USA. My trip was awesome and amazing and every positive adjective you can imagine and I definitely did not want to come home, but now that I am home, I am definitely glad to be back.

The following things were what I was most excited about coming home to:

1. Chiefy
2. My Bed

Yeah, that’s it.

Besides being exhausted and wanting nothing to do with stairs or being awake, I have also been a complete basket case.  The reasons, however, I just don’t feel comfortable sharing with the entire world on the internet, so I apologize for that. I really didn’t need to share that part with you guys, but considering the mess I’ve been, I just haven’t been myself since I’ve been back.

I met some really great people and really, really loved every minute of the trip. It was amazing and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I’m beyond glad I had the chance to experience everything I did.

Now that I’m back, I have so much to do and getting back to reality kinda blows.

I have so much work still to do for class and it seems like I have a never-ending supply of laundry. I only packed 50 pounds worth of stuff, but I just am struggling to put everything away. I hope I remember how to be in the real world and execute the functions of my job. That will be an adventure tomorrow morning. As will waking up at a normal time in EST.  My body clock is all out of whack and I never have any idea what time it is.

I just wanted to quickly update that I made it back safely and that I hadn’t abandoned my blog for forever.  I’m back and am trying to get back into the swing of things.

🙂

Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are shooting stars? I could really use a wish right now.

So, I have been mentioning my trip to Europe a lot lately.

In case I haven’t fully explained what’s happening, that’s what this post will be about.

For three weeks, I will be in Europe.  I am doing a three-week study abroad program for my MBA and will be taking a finance class and fulfilling credits for my Capstone while I am over there.  These next three weeks will be spent in London, Paris, and Barcelona.  We will have the opportunity to tour a few companies and understand international business practices.

I am so, so excited, I cannot even tell you!

For one thing, I have never traveled anywhere that far away by myself before.  I know I won’t really be alone alone but I don’t know anyone in my study abroad program so it feels like I’m alone.  Also, I meant that in the sense that I haven’t traveled somewhere (especially this far away) without my family (or a friend) by my side or who was meeting me at my destination.  I haven’t been away from friends or family for that long before either.

I live such a sheltered life.

I have been to Europe three times before, so it won’t be completely foreign to me.  When I was in seventh grade, Tam, Drew and I ventured to Italy for Tam’s 40^th birthday.  Then, my senior year of high school, Tam took us to London for spring break.  Four years later, when Drewy was a senior in high school, we went back to London for spring break but this time we added a few days in Paris.

Having never been to Spain, I am beyond excited to experience an entirely new city.  I have only heard good things about Barcelona!

Here’s the thing though: I have a crazy amount of anxiety about the trip.  I am a terrible flyer. I hate packing. I’m nervous about my Final Exam in my econ class tomorrow. I haven’t started packing.  There’s an e. coli outbreak in Europe. My mom keeps asking me questions and it’s freaking me out. What if I cry on the plane and become that girl who cried on the plane? What if I get homesick and miss my mom too much?

I wanted to let you know that this will be my last post until I return, which is July 8.  I am going on a little hiatus, if you will.  I just don’t know what kind of schedule I can maintain while I’m there, and I just really want to experience all that I can while I’m there. I do hope you understand….

Anyway, I need to review some of my econ stuff and actually start packing.

(Except, when I say that, I know that I’ll just sit on the couch and watch Tangled with Seneca, since she’s here because she can’t bear the thought of being without one leg of the tripod for three weeks.)

LAHV YEW.

Oh, here’s this for you too. I found it on tumblr somewhere.

I'm done packing.

Must I always be waiting, waiting on you? Must I always be playing, playing your fool?

Sweet baby Jesus. It is currently 11:34 pm Thursday, June 9.  I just realized it is Thursday and I hadn’t posted yet.

I’ve been working on a finance case study and feeling anxiety about my final project for my econ class.

I’m also getting sick again.  It started with a stuffy nose yesterday. I woke up this morning feeling like death.  I decided to skip the gym and sleep until I felt better. I finally got up at 11am because I was already disgusted with myself for sleeping that late in the day, despite the fact that I was not feeling well.  All day long I felt extreme sinus pressure and my voice sounded a little off.  Now my throat is killing me and I just hope this goes away before Thursday, when I board my plane for London.

This is how today began:

Strugz City!

Today, obviously, didn’t go as planned.

When I went to get my oil changed, I realized that the hood of my car wouldn’t pop open.  The dude at the oil change place was little to no help and when I called my parents (yes, both of them), they didn’t really tell me anything I wasn’t already thinking.  I decided to take my car to the dealership and be like WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?! Except, I didn’t tell them about the scary noise it makes; I didn’t want them to take my car away from me! I just told the man that my little latchy-thing didn’t work and that the top part of my car wouldn’t open.

I spent the next hour and forty-seven minutes of my life listening to the Doppler radar report in the sitting/waiting area in the car dealership and reading the latest Newsweek.

Turns out the latch for the hood was corroded (or something???), so, for $20, they repaired that for me.  Then, they changed my oil because the man knew that I needed to get that done.  And they replaced my air filter because mine was apparently “pretty nasty looking.”

I mean, I guess I could have said no, but meh… if it’s something I’m breathing on a regular basis, I suppose I would like that to be clean.

So, 75 dollhairs later, I left the dealership and drove like a bat out of hell to Best Buy.

While I was waiting Janine (my car) to be finished with her high-maintenance bullshit, I had received a phone call from the Geek Squad at Best Buy, alerting me that my computer (JOY!) was ready to be picked up.  When I got there, I had to wait in line (Sucktown!) but I had ample time to people-watch, one of my favorite activities.  Finally, I was reunited with my computer, who had gotten a brand new motherboard.  All of my data remained on my hard-drive and everything was normal and perfect.

Obviously, the day turned into this:

Now I’m going to continue with my finance case study and drink some tea to ease my sore throat.

Please think happy thoughts and send me some “get better” vibes so I won’t be sick while I’m in Europe!! Also, thinking some “I hope you get the job you interviewed for this week!” vibes wouldn’t hurt either.

Believe it or not, I really am trying to get all my ducks in a row…

You have my heart and we’ll never be worlds apart, may be in magazines but you’ll still be my star

So, this month’s Cosmo finally made it to my house.  You know, the one with Rihanna on the cover.

This one:

I don’t know why I get this magazine because I think most of it is stupid.  I enjoy the celebrity “interviews” and the beauty section, but that’s about it.

Anyway, I found something awesome in this month’s magazine. And it was in neither of the sections I just mentioned.

Cosmopolitan writer Jessica Knoll wrote an article in the You You You section entitled “50 Things You Should Have Never Stopped Doing.”  I saw this and was like I bet I’m awesome enough to not have stopped doing most of this stuff, because I still have my child-like wonder and enthusiasm.  Well, that and the fact that the very first thing on the list was something I definitely still do.  I will share with you now the list (out of 50) of things other people must have stopped doing but shouldn’t have that I still do.

1.)   Listen to the Spice Girls

Uhm, duh.

2.)  Doing the “Beep the Horn” gesture to truck drivers.

If I had my own computer, I could share photographic evidence. Alas, some other time.

3.)  Watching a TV show over the phone with your bestie so you can ZOMG over it together in real time.

Erica and I try to watch Glee and Teen Mom via instant message!

4.)  Driving around aimlessly, listening to John Mayer, and pretending that he’s still the sweet, soulful high school outcast who worships your wonderland body from afar.

5.)  Taking naps- get up early this weekend, run errands, be productive. Then come home and crash on the couch. It’s never going to be as good as it was after class, but at least you’re not snoozing on a futon.

Story. Of. My. Life.

6.)  Making Saturday-night plans on Saturday night.

7.)  Holding your breath when you pass a graveyard.

I did this just last week- NO JOKE.

8.)  Making cookies for the sole purpose of eating the raw batter.

9.)  Designing the cover of a mix CD with a Sharpie.

10.)Flip cup- if you had room for it in your dorm, you have room for it now.

Two weekends ago, Sen and I held it down.

11.) Always having a crush… even if you’re in a relationship… even if he’s the Jersey Shore look-alike at your gym who you would nevah date in real life.

12.)Dressing festively for the Fourth of July (and Valentine’s Day, St. Patty’s Day, etc.)

Hellooooo theme days at work!

13.)Wearing your hair in braided pigtails… guys dig that sort of naughty schoolgirl thing, in case you didn’t know.

I do a lottt of weird, ugly stuff with my hair when I’m doing homework in my room by myself.

14.)Drinking chocolate milk- research found it’s one of the best things you can drink after a workout.

15.)Sleepovers! Cover the living room floor with blankets, pillows, snacks, and since you’re legal now, lot’s of wine.

Long Live the Tripod!

16.)Shopping with Mom… she’s like a living 50-percent-off coupon.

17.)Picking out your outfit- accessories and all- the night before work as if it were the first day of school.

18.)Treating September like it’s the beginning of the year. Buy new office supplies (including cute erasers), and pledge to get an A in memo writing…

19.)Spending all day in bed watching bad Lifetime movies starring Tiffani-Amber Thiessen and Tori Spelling.

Okay, so it’s not even half but some of the shit that lady wrote were things I never did in the first place. Some of it was stupid. Or some of it was stuff that I wish I still did.

What are some of the things you used to do when you were younger that you wish you still did!?

Close enough to start a war, all that I have is on the floor. God only knows what we’re fighting for. All that I say, you always say more… I can’t keep up with your turning tables. Under your thumb, I can’t breathe…

 

I don’t know how to reach you.

I don’t know how to be there for you. I don’t know what to say or how to talk to you.

I know that you’re going through something and that nothing I say or do will make it hurt less.

You’re my best friend and I love you. I love you beyond words and it hurts me that I can’t help you.

Because you’re hurting, I let the fact that you hurt my feelings go.  I didn’t tell you that it hurts me when you don’t tell me these things. I didn’t tell you that I can still hear your voice in my head, replaying that time you told me I’m not good at feelings and that I’m the last person on earth with whom anyone should talk about emotions. I didn’t tell you that hearing about what happened after the fact, after you had already spilled your heart to the other leg of the Tripod, as you do every single time you have any real emotions, I felt sad and left-out.

I don’t tell you these things because, this time, it’s not about me.

You were there for me when I needed you. When I cried countless times because my heart hurt over the complete deterioration of the friendship I had with my so-called best friend, you were there. Even when I repeated myself and when you couldn’t understand how I could be feeling the way I was, you listened. You listened, and you cared, and you showed up when I needed you.

I’m so sorry that you feel I haven’t done the same for you.

I wish you’d talk to me and stop shutting me out.  I wish things didn’t feel so weird. I don’t understand what happened or even how to make it better.

I don’t know what to say.

Sometimes people just need space. Sometimes it just takes time to sort through all of those thoughts and feelings. That’s what I thought I was doing, giving you time and space to feel sad and mend your broken heart.  But it’s been a few days now and I haven’t heard anything and we haven’t talked.  I don’t like how we left things.

I don’t know how to make this better. You know I’m no good with confrontation, not when it’s something like this.  Not when it feels like there’s something as awesome as the Tripod at stake.  Things feel fragile and I can’t see where to step to make a move.

For once, I feel like I don’t know you. I feel like I don’t know how to read you. You feel so far away. I can’t figure out what you’re thinking or try to guess how you’d respond to any of the actions I have almost made.

I just miss you is all. I want things to go back to normal, and I want you to talk to me. I want to be there for you. I want you to tell me that you’re hurting but that our friendship matters.

I don’t know how to reach you.

Try to keep an open mind, but I just can’t sleep on this tonight. Stop this train, I want to get off and go home again. I can’t take the speed it’s moving in, I know I can’t, but, honestly, won’t someone stop this train?

 

I can’t tell you how good it feels to know that I have created a safe guard against my increasing anxiety as the date of my departure creeps towards me.

Just today I had a mini-meltdown in the shower as I went through my mental checklist of things to do before I leave.  And my list was mainly academic.  It had nothing to do with all the other shit outside of school I need to get ready/buy/organize/plan.  I was running through the next 15 days in my head and worrying how I was to get all of my assignments done (and on time!) prior to my flight out of the lovely US of A.

I’m not sure if I’ve told you all about my trip to Europe this summer, but please don’t worry- there is more information to come.

I just wanted to let you all know right now that I took my color coding and organization to the next level today.

In a slight attempt to further procrastinate writing my ECON paper, I opened up Microsoft Excel and began building myself an Assignment & Due Date Matrix.

Why, yes, I am aware of what a nerd I am.

You can make fun of me all you want, I don’t mind.  I’ll be sitting here, stress-free and on top of all of my assignments because of it.  AND, I’ll get to feel the satisfaction of checking something off of this very specific to-do list. It’s all pretty and perfect and it’s all mine.

The best part is that as soon as it was complete, I immediately felt better about everything. Usually, when I create a to-do list or write something in my planner, I can feel good that it’s written down and won’t be forgotten.

Now, I know that instead of dreaming about failing all three of my classes this summer, I’ll start having stress dreams about what to pack for my trip.

I fucking hate packing.

If you were going out of the country for three weeks and could only bring one fifty pound bag, one carry-on, and one personal item, what would you bring??? Also, do you have any packing strategies? I’m going to need all the help I can get.

Look at me, you can take it all because this face is free. Maybe next time, use your eyes and look at me….

Going to the dentist no longer upsets me. Walking into a doctor’s office does not make me nervous. Make me go to the eye doctor, and you might get a slap across the face. I fucking hate going.

It’s not like I’m freaked out by eyes or think that it’s gross to touch my eyes or whatever.  I wear contacts- it’s a way of life. I just hate everything about the experience of going to the eye doctor.

It goes back to a few years ago, probably. Maybe even when I was in high school. To be quite honest, I’m not sure when it happened, but it definitely started when I had boobs. And could go places without the help of my parents.

Clear as day, I remember making an appointment to get my eyes checked to get another year-supply of contacts. I wasn’t PO’d about going, in fact I was pretty okay with the whole thing because I actually enjoy trying on different frames to see what I’d look like if I had cooler glasses than the pair I currently have. Anyway, everything was going just fine until the part where I actually go called to go into the tiny little room where the eye exam is actually conducted.

I don’t know what it is, but the most important requirement for becoming an eye doctor must be that you’re creepy as fuck.

I swear to God, it doesn’t matter how many places I go, how many times I switch carriers or even what day and time I make an appointment. Every single time, I get a new eye doctor. It’s always a dude and there is always something slightly not right about him.

It seems like every time I go, the guy is probably the same age as my dad, and is always just… inappropriate. For example, as he speaks to me about his wife and teenage daughter who “probably isn’t much younger than you haahaha” he just stares directly at my boobs.

No thank you!

We are not in any place for that to be okay with me. Please look away, sir, and behave as though your wife and teenage daughter can see you. Meaning: get the fuck away from me.

I can think of one- ONE!- who was actually hot and I didn’t mind that he was all up in my grill as he was asking me, “One, or two? Two, or three?”  We laughed over stories of drunken antics and quoted lines from The Hangover. Him, I was totally fine with. I didn’t even hold it against him when he had to drop that sticky yellow stuff into my eyes and then poke at my eyeball with a plastic instrument.

The man who checked out my eyes today at least drew attention to the fact that he may be a creeper.  He told me he was going to “tuck in a little closer” for the part where he flips his little lenses in front of my eyes to see how blind I am.  He told me to move my hand so he didn’t “seem like a pervert” or “creepier” than I already thought he was.

I laughed awkwardly but really just wanted all of it to be over.  Too right he was.

I mean, I wasn’t sexually harassed or anything but it’s just so uncomfortable. Too bad it’s something I must put up with once a year.  A necessary evil.

C’est la vie.

O Children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice, Children, rejoice, rejoice! Hey, little train, we’re jumping on, the train that goes to the kingdom! We’re happy, Ma, we’re having fun. And the train ain’t even left the station. Hey, little train, wait for me, I once was blind but now I see. Have you left a seat for me? Is that such a stretch of the imagination?

My emotions are all over the place lately.

I mean, it’s a well known fact that I cry at the drop of a hat, but it’s getting a little crazy.

I think the looming end of Harry Potter is to blame. Honestly.

For the past few months, I have been listening to the Harry Potter audiobooks from the very beginning of the series. I am finally a little over half-way through the seventh book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, but it’s been a long road.  I’m just so invested in them and I’m going to be really sad once the last movie comes out and ends it all. I know that the books and movies will live on, but for the past ten years, it’s like I have had either a book or a movie to look forward to. It’s all just going to be over.

(Oh hey, Melodramatic-Katie. I didn’t know you were going to be here today!)

The thing is… since I’ve been breathing Harry Potter for the past few months, my mind is pretty much saturated with Harry Potter information. I use Harry Potter references in my everyday conversations. I’m not mad about this at all, but I think it concerns others, or just leaves them feeling confused. (And I really wouldn’t consider this an unhealthy addiction or obsession or anything, seriously.  I mean, I know someone who is inappropriately obsessed with something of late and I am nowhere near her level of insanity. I just wanted to make that clear… lol.)

Back to my emotions… I promise all of this is relevant.

I do, however, want to preface this example of out-of-control emotions with the fact that I happened to be intoxicated when this event occurred and that this might not count.  So, a few weeks ago, my brother and I had some people over to his house to hang out (and then The Tripod left to go to the bars- you know how we do.) and get crazy. Right before we left, I’m actually not sure what triggered this but whatever, we ended up shouting curses and jinxes at each other. Like, we were having our very own wizard’s duel.  It started between the two other legs of the tripod and myself but then Drew got involved.  Right when I was about to shout Expelliarmus at him, he hurled Aveda Kedavra at me.  It was at that moment that I burst into tears and the duel ended.

Megan stared at us in incredulity while Seneca watched in awe as Drew quickly showed remorse for yelling the Killing Curse my way.  He wrapped me in a hug and told me that he didn’t mean it and that he loved me.  It got serious.  I had immediately told him that it wasn’t nice to kill me and that I would absolutely die if anything ever happened to him and that he should never use that curse, ever.

It was ridiculous, to say the very least. But, every time I think about it, I laugh. It’s funny and cute and kind of a heartwarming moment between him and me.

A couple weeks ago, I was driving home from work and it happened to coincide with the time (Oh Em Gee, Spoiler Alert) Dumbledore dies near the end of HP6, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.  It also happened to be after a particularly long day of work when I was still very sick and I was exhausted.  So, naturally, when JKR begins her description of the grief expressed by all of the characters in the book, I began to weep as well. Once it started, I couldn’t stop.  I was bawling my eyes out the entire forty-five minutes it takes for me to get home from work.  By the time I got home, my face was red and puffy, I no longer had any eye makeup on, and I was doing that weird hiccup-breathing from the heaving sobs that had flowed out of me.

And just yesterday, I was driving home from work when (SPOILER ALERT) Dobby died.  I sob uncontrollably when I watch the movie (EVERY SINGLE TIME), so it’s no surprise that the book brought me to tears.  The grief Harry experiences, the burial, the words Luna says on his behalf… I just think all of it is so precious and heartbreaking.  Dobby was so pure of heart and an innocent, and the loss of his life is a travesty. Bellatrix Lestrange sucks, and I hate her.

It just seems like I’m always in my car when I’m having these emotional events.

This has got to stop! Except, I never want it to because that would require me to not listen to Harry Potter in my car, and I just don’t want to stop doing that. It makes my commute enjoyable.

Anyway, I guess my point is that I never would have guessed I would have gotten so involved in the series when I first picked up Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.  Not in a million years.  Even upon seeing the first film, I never thought I would feel such an affinity towards these characters and this world J.K. Rowling created. I just don’t know what I’ll do when it’s all over. Maybe once it’s over I won’t be so weepy about all things Harry Potter. Probably not, though.

Does anyone else feel this way about Harry Potter?! I know I can’t be alone in this.

You don’t want baggage without lifetime guarantees. You don’t want to watch me die. I just came to say goodbye, love. Goodbye, love. Came to say goodbye, love, goodbye.

I have a problem with roadkill.

At 23, I should probably not think of wild animals in terms of Disney creatures that have homes and families and feelings. I know it seems ridiculous, but I just can’t help it. In my head, I only see Bambi’s mom, or the Beaver family from the Chronicles of Narnia, or Simba and how he ran away from Pride Rock after Mufasa’s death. These poor animals have others counting on them; they have responsibilities and a family to come home to.

When I see a raccoon’s guts splayed on the side of the road or a deer laying broken on the shoulder, my heart breaks.

On my way to work last week, I burst into tears when I saw a black cat squished in the middle of the road.  I cried for the little girl who loved that cat with her whole heart, I cried for the other kitty cat friends that Blackie had, and I cried for the person who hit the kitty and killed it.

It’s so sad to me and I can’t help but be really, really upset by it.

I hoped that I had hit my quota for roadkill for the week, but it seems that the universe had other plans. Yesterday, I experienced the most traumatizing roadkill event to date. I probably won’t tell it right or be able to express how deeply upset I was by this, but I’m going to try.

I was driving to meet my brother for dinner when this occurred.  I was driving happily, listening to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on CD, and I was halfway to my destination.  Just as I was picking up my phone from the passenger’s seat of my car to call Drew to ask him where he wanted to go for dinner, it happened.

By chance, I happened to notice a deer on the shoulder of the highway.  I can’t remember now what it was that made me come to this conclusion, but something told me that something wasn’t right about this deer. For one, it was not dead.  I could see its eyes and they were wide open.  Then, all of a sudden, it was picking itself up off the pavement, only it wasn’t going as it should have.

It all happened pretty fast, and I was driving as I was watching this, but I did see enough to be traumatized.

Poor Deery was having trouble standing up and I could tell that something was very wrong with her (I’m assuming?) hindquarters.  Deery couldn’t put any weight on her back legs. She began dragging her back legs as she tried to get away from the highway and the cars driving so fast past her. I had passed her and my vision was blurry with hot tears when I had dialed Drew via speed-dial on my phone.  By the time he picked up the phone, I was in the throes of a full-blown grief-meltdown.

What was so upsetting to me was that I did not see any vehicle near her that looked like it had been hit by a dear.  I didn’t see anyone around other than me and the other cars driving past this suffering animal. I couldn’t understand how someone could hit a deer and leave it to die in such a painful and agonizing way. The fact that where she had been hit was on top of a hill worried me.  Without the ability to use her back legs, how was she to navigate that hill to get back into the wooded safe haven? I think about it now and my heart hurts. I imagine that she fell down the hill and lay at the bottom, wishing to die because of the pain.  It is terrible, but I would have preferred someone shot her or something, to put her out of her misery.  It isn’t fair.

I explained what happened to Drew through thick sobs. He laughed at me.

After crying my eyes out and having him listen to me wail wordlessly, I tried to change the subject. He didn’t because he probably didn’t want to seem insensitive since I was so obviously upset. He’s such a good brother.

When I finally got the words out to ask him where we should go to dinner, he replied, “Well there’s this new venison place…”

That’s when a sob escaped and I hung up on him. I grabbed a mostly clean napkin off the passenger seat and wiped my eyes and blew my nose.

He called back.

“That wasn’t nice,” I cried.

He was joking and he was trying to make me laugh, but I wasn’t ready yet.  So I cried on the phone some more, cursed society and contemplated calling the police (or ANYBODY!) to have them come rescue Deery (or at least end her suffering).

I didn’t call the police, but I haven’t been able to get the image of that poor deer dragging its back legs out of my head.

I just can’t handle roadkill. It really hurts my heart.