But She’s Happy Now 1

This is the argument everyone uses when I talk about how I miss Alice. Yes, I’m sure that she’s happy now. That doesn’t change the fact that I feel like there’s a hole in my heart. I know that the unselfish way to think is to think of her happiness, but I can’t help but cry and feel like dying whenever I think about not being with her. In less than 2 months, I lost over half of my family. I lost the only members that I had ever felt truly loved me. And I’m supposed to be happy because they’re better off, but I don’t feel happy. Instead, I feel sad. I feel depressed. I feel like my world has been completely shattered. And I don’t think it will ever get better.

The animal control person promised they weren’t going to take them. Then they did. Then I was promised we would get them back, but then they said that we couldn’t have them back. Then I was told I could see them for two weeks before they went up for adoption, I got one last chance to see them. I was told we could try to find them homes with people I know, but they got sent to other agencies before I could. I was told that if I could come up with the money to get Alice back, then I could have her back, but I couldn’t get that much money quickly enough. And I’m just supposed to be happy because she’s happy.

I’m sure people would say this is ridiculous, but think about if it were a person. Think if it were your child or your sibling or your best friend and you were told, “But they’re happy without you.” How would you feel? Don’t think of it in terms of how society would expect you to feel. Think about it in terms of your first gut reaction. It would hurt. And it would hurt everyday. And it would hurt even worse every single time someone tried to make you feel better by saying, “they’re in a better place.” It’s like when someone dies and people give you the platitude about how the person is better off because they’re not suffering or because they’re not in pain or because they’re up in heaven or something of the sort. Well, that’s nice, but it doesn’t take away your pain. It doesn’t end your suffering. It just reminds you that they’re better off without you, and that is like sticking the knife in and twisting it over and over.

I just want to have someone here that I know cares. I know my parents love me, in their own ways, but I still don’t trust any people. Why should I? People always hurt me. Animals don’t. Alice never made me feel like I might do something to make her hate me. My parents may not realize it, but every time I do anything, I feel like they won’t love me or want me or need me or something. I feel like I’ve become completely disposable to people. Friends don’t have to talk to me because they have other people. Family members don’t have to talk to me because they have better things to do and better people to love. Animals are the only ones who’ve always been there, and now I don’t have someone there for me when I need someone.

Alice was the only reason I was going to try to get better, but without her I have no real reason to get better.  I don’t feel like getting better. It’s too hard and everything that I try doesn’t work and just makes me feel worse, so why can’t I just have one more minute with Alice so that I can have some little burst of happiness? I just need to know that she still loves me. I just need to feel like my life had something good in it. I need something. I need to feel like things are worth it again. I need strength or something or I’m not going to make it. She was my reason to survive and she’s gone and I don’t have a reason anymore. I need a reason. I need to feel loved. I need to feel like my life is worth fighting for. I feel like losing her, losing everything and everyone was just the world’s way of saying that I’m not worth it. I feel like it was the universe’s way of saying it was ready to be rid of me. And I know that sounds ridiculous to most people. I know it sounds over-dramatic or immature or something, but that’s how I feel. I feel like I’ve lost my will to survive and that I’ll never be able to find a new reason to go on. And I feel that way every single day. I used to try to live so that my mom wouldn’t hurt herself, but I can’t convince myself to do that anymore. That’s why I changed it to Alice. Alice always seemed like she needed me, but now I know she doesn’t and I’m lost.

About Janet Morris

I'm from Huntsville, Alabama. I've got as many college credits as a doctorate candidate, and the GPA of some of them, too. I have a boss by the name of Amy Pond. She's a dachshund. My parents both grew up in Alabama.

One thought on “But She’s Happy Now

  • Jennifer

    I stumbled across your blog today and must tell you how similar our stories are and how especially connected I feel to you after reading this post about your doggies. I was born in Cullman, AL, have borderline disorder amongst other things and have a super special place in my heart for dachshunds. Mine’s name was Pitiful.

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