I’ve been getting that good, old random depression brought on by shitty memories.
This time though the memories were ignited by me finding a dead squirrel that had drowned in one of mom’s gardening bins which had collected a loooot of water. I had heard desperate scratches early yesterday morning. I was rushing to get the dogs to go potty and then feed them and was too uneasy by the noise to search for its source. When I finally got back from dropping the hubbie off at work, I finally searched the backyard.
There were no more sounds of scratches. The poor squirrel had ended up in one of the bins that is actually just a trash can with a hands free top. Meaning you drop something in and the two halves of the top tilt inward and let in whatever you drop onto it. There would have been no way for the poor creature to escape. When I saw it at the bottom of the can I just started crying.
#1 If I had just went to look for the source earlier, I could’ve tipped the can over and free the poor thing. #2 Seeing it dead made me wallow in thoughts of death.
My husband said that even if I had freed it, the squirrel could’ve suffered from dry drowning and experience a slower, more painful death.
I was conflicted and still felt guilty despite what he said.
I began pondering what good do I do in this world? Too fearful to do things. Too anxious to be of use to others. I’ve done nothing significant for this world. And I haven’t done anything significant for those I love and care for—or at least I feel like I haven’t.
Was I there when a friend or family member needed me most? Though by that point they had others to be there for them. They had others they had grown far closer to.
Who will remember me when I die? Those on Facebook will probably remember me as the girl who kept talking about her endometriosis too much or oversharing whatever incident she went through. If you are reading this and don’t know what endometriosis is, here is how I wrote it in another blog of mine:
Endometriosis is a disorder where endometrial implants/tissue grows where it shouldn’t during each menstrual cycle. These implants/tissues bleed everywhere and adheres to everything around it.
So, imagine your uterus and the organs around it covered in a web of cysts, scar tissue and blood glue. Yup. Gross. And painful.
And it wasn’t just that, the disorder disrupted so many parts of my lower body. As the damage to my organs worsened, it was as if nutrients weren’t getting to where they needed to go. The slightest pressure produced bruises that wouldn’t go away. Nerves became pinched and my joints felt so weak that it felt like they’d tear apart at any moment. I wish they had a cure. I’m only able to function again because of birth control which ceases the horrid cycle of uterus-self-destruction.
It’s depressing that 10 years of my life was a blur of work, struggle, health problems, and trying to figure out what the hell I wanted in this life. I was so focused on me and trying to be happy with myself, that I left a lot of bridges to friends and family neglected. And when I had broken up with my ex, I had lost a lot of friendships I made during those years because they were all his friends first.
Who will remember me other than my husband and parents? Who will remember good things about me? I’ve done nothing worthy of to be remembered through the ages. I know I’m just another spec in the history of this world. But I hope the people I love and care for have some small space for me in their minds because they’re always in mine. I may suck at nurturing relationships outside my circle (husband, dog babies, and parents) but I still love everyone in my life so much. I’m just shite at showing it, lol, and it makes me sad because I have no idea what they all think of me.
Sincerely,
Jenn
The blog of Mr. and Mrs. Mac 