Bipolarista!

La Sita Bonita

 Sita, my little red Siberian, also known as Bonita, or Bumblebee, or, “the good one,” because of course there is another, is in the animal hospital right now. An x-ray taken two days ago showed some kind or other of mass in her abdomen, so today she's having more x-rays, an ultrasound, and maybe even exploratory surgery.

The possibilities seem endless, and all of them suck, She could have some sort of infection, or a cancer, or a vaguely defined distension of her stomach. Maybe even Addison's Disease. Of all the available options, at this point I think I'm pulling for Addison's Disease, but it's early days yet, and anything could still happen.

All this babble is mostly just a way of putting off saying how completely terrified I am. Sita isn't just the good one, she's also the sweet one, and the cuddly baby, and the monkey of the family. I found her through the luckiest accident imaginable, and now, 5 ½ years later, can't imagine what I could have done to deserve the unimaginable bad luck of losing her so soon. It seems impossible. What kind of bad Karma can a dog possibly accrue, that such a thing should happen to her.

Sita likes to play silly, cuddly games. I keep thinking about the feeling of her solid little body wiggling through my arms, curled up with me on her side, at night, or sprawled out on her back, begging silently for a belly rub, hitting at me with her front paw if I don't get the message on my own.

Sita has a lot to say. She's a very opinionated dog, woo-woo-wooing at me all the time, the way Siberians do. Telling me to hurry up and bring her and Sasha, my big white Siberian, their breakfast, or scolding me for leaving them home alone for so long, or encouraging me to stop being so dull and serious, and just play with her for a while. Woo – woo – woo, all day long. I'm sure the neighbors love me.

Have I mentioned yet, that I am terrified for her? The worst case scenarios here are so very, very bad, and the best not all that great. I expected years more of cuddly, wiggly, singing Sita, and it's possible I might not get them. I don't know how to do this, have no idea how this is supposed to go.

Scary Boys

I have one of those things they call dates tomorrow night, probably, and I'm a nervous mess about it.  That's not really my usual m.o., so it's possible I might actually like this one, I don't know.  Ordinarily, if I'm dreading something like this, it's because I have a phobia about boredom, and most first dates are, well, boring.  This feels different though.  Scary.

This guy, let's call him S., and I have kind of tried to go out a couple of times before, but the scheduling didn't quite work, and I was a little ambivalent about the whole thing.  I always really liked hanging out with him, and felt like I should really want to go out with him, but I was never all that attracted to him. That changed though, when I ran into him one night last week.  Maybe because he was looking a little less perfect than he usually does.  He had a little stubble happening, his shirt was a little rumpled, worked for me, in a big way.

We went to high school together, so i feel like, even though I don't know him that well now, I have a really good sense of who he is, if that makes any sense.  The words that come to mind are smart, kind, and sane.  In my last relationship, with the zombie, he was so fucked up himself, he couldn't begin to figure out how to deal with my crazy when it got bad.  He more or less believed me when I told him it was all his fault.  I'm just that delightful when I'm bad crazy.  S, though, I can see being able to be more of a real partner, whether I'm crazy or not.  And that would probably be what's got me all anxietied up.  If I'm dating someone who's not really kind of a dick, what am I supposed to do with my commitment phobia?  A klonopin habit, perhaps?

Then there's my weirder weirdness.  It still bothers me to have to acknowledge just how flawed my last relationship was, two and a half years later.  it makes me feel stupid for having chosen it, for having really believed it was going to work.  It also makes me feel guilty, for my part in the suck.  The zombie tried really hard to be a good boyfriend, in lots of ways.  I was just too crazy to let him do that.  It wasn't all my fault it didn't work out, but it probably was all my fault it got as ugly as it did.  It got really, really, ugly.  Just the possibility of another break up like that, and there's always that possibility, as long as both of you are alive, makes me want to lock myself in my house forever, like Rapunzel, but without the witch, or all that hair.

I feel like i should be over all of that by now.  It's been two and a half years.  Zombie and I haven't even spoken in something like two years.  And on a daily basis, I'll think that I am over it.  I don't think about him anymore, don't have the very worst moments on mental repeat anymore.  But then something like this comes up, and I realize it's still there in my head, just a little farther back than it used to be.  

And I have no idea what to wear tomorrow night.