the first day

i'll be honest with you, because i always am.  yesterday was the hardest day of my recent life.  and despite husband's tentative question about another dog "sometime," the answer is a clear & unequivocal  no.  never.
and i am learning to be honest with my grief, being in a different place entirely than when Kita died.  i am learning to let it have it's head...to let it come and go when it chooses...to sob fully - and loudly if needed, clutching my sides and howling...but also to let it ebb and not feel guilty for moments when my head goes to the normal places of Things That Need To Get Done, such as laundry.
i slept quite a bit yesterday, and slept through the night, waking early when bulimia cat wrapped herself/himself tight into a ball and slept against my belly.  diva's spot.
but in the midst of all this jumbled up stuff, i also feel an unwinding of tension, a letting-down of my hyper-alert guard...a little, then a lot.  this is the first time, really, since 1977 that i haven't felt responsible for someone or something's well-being.  First watching out for my mother, when my father passed away.  then a series of patently inappropriate boyfriends that were happy to let someone else worry about their recklessness with life.  then, of course, my Nikita, joined 10 years later by Nikki, my Diva dog, and 2 years after that by Bear, 2 stepchildren, a husband, new job, new house and a completely different way of living life.  the word compromise was a difficult one to add to my dictionary, as i felt i needed to control all things in order to ensure a good outcome.  a safe outcome.  one that didn't end up like a call to 911 that i would have to work, and fix.  slowly, the circle of responsibility has gotten smaller as we lost beloved ones Bear & Kita, and kids grew up & left home.  my hyper-alert mind never went on stand-down though, and it was beginning to take a toll on my body with disease and unease running rampant through my joints and body, making me their bitch.  sleep was something i tried to do sitting up at my desk for a few minutes when no one was looking.  a sleeping pill was out of the question - what if diva needed me in the night? what if i was unable to wake from a nightmare?  it's no secret, but you may not have known that i suffer from PTSD from my years at 911.  especially the last year.  especially the last month.  the one that ended in 9-11.  you may not realize all that was involved at my job in that regard, believing us to be safe at 5 hours away.  and still i am unable to tell what i know.  there was just no time that was mine alone...being a stepmom, a wife, a mom to Diva, Becky Home Ec-y.  I tried being a good friend, but between all the dust, i know i failed miserably - forgetting birthdays, forgetting coffee dates, getting ready to go meet up and having a panic attack and needing to stay home.
and i will be honest with you, because i always am here, traveling alongside the chainsaw of grief is a cool breeze...stardust sawdust.  for i am also feeling a lifting of the burden of responsibility and worry.  not to be confused - diva was never a burden to my heart.  never not ever.  i won't detail the nightmares that were churned up by worry.  nightmares slamming into an already overly creative horror show of theater, still from my 911 days.  and i have to wonder if those dragons will be easier to slay without the added worry.  yesterday was difficult, both in the decision and in the actuality of it...you don't think to ask a Dr if they've ever done this before.  but today i see where things may lead to a positive.  where worry will know it's place, and "control" will only be used in conjunction with the word "remote."
and i plan to spend the day in my studio - a place that has not registered much creativity...when i'm there, i feel i should be home with diva.  when i'm home with her, i feel like i want to be in the studio.  now, i feel a releasing of the ropes. a bit. slowly.  and i am willing to let them dwindle to a single golden thread - her heart to mine - which can travel with me anywhere.  and i believe that today i will make a sacred piece of art with some golden thread and some soft nuno felt and some Blue Jay feathers and some bling, because we decided, her and i, that she would either become a Real Princess, or a Blue Jay.  she was undecided.  but i suspect the princess gig is more her style.