Living with a Blind Dog-

I've learned, as I've been going, 3 VERY important "commands" for a blind dog to learn. "Wrong Way", "Behind You", and "Keep Going"- With those- Keller can now trot to me without slamming into anything when he hears "Keep Going" he knows it's straight and clear.

Also- "You Found Me!!!" with lots of pets, to him, is the best reinforcement he can get... Also, a key phrase...

Also in his list of commands-
"Tree", anything in his way he is allowed to pee on.

"Easy", "Watch out", and "Careful" means something's in his way he can't pee on.

"Stairs" means - well there's stairs, either up or down.

"Small Step" is a curb, or something of equal height.

"You can scratch"- I walk him with Asha, who is very very short. Before I taught him that he'd sometime kick stuff in her face, which I will not have.

"Stay" which is strict. It means to stay exactly how I leave him, in the exact position- be it sit or down. The release word for "stay" is "You're Through!"

"Wait" is less strict of "Stay", which is to stay in the spot, but if he sits, or lays down in the middle of it, I won't say anything. The release word for "Wait" is "Let's Go!"

He knows "Get Out" means "Get out of whatever room you're in", he is also brilliant for figuring out room boundries, so long as there's a door frame, or at the very least an obvious change in flooring. (Say from a rug to a hardwood floor)

"Leave it" is to leave anything he may want to overly investigate, be it chicken in the street he wants in his mouth, or to shove his nose up poor Asha's bum...

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" said firmly, and very fast- is when he's actively doing something bad- like opening my bottom cabinets, trying to break into my oven, trying to climb over the dog gate... The one thing that drives me crazy about Keller is his total unwillingness to accept boundries. It doesn't matter how hard the blockade- he is determined to get over, or under it- and if he falls and gets a little hurt doing it, (like before I knew he did that and he climbed over my dog gate at the top of my stairs), it won't stop him from doing it again. (No dog gate at the top of the stairs is far safer for him!)

That is also part of what I absolutely love about him, I find that aspect of his personality just as awe inspiring as I do frustrating. I have to be VERY inventive of the barriers I build to keep him out of areas- to keep him out of the kitchen, I have to have a large wood plank across the entry- a large dog crate in front of that, and a large cat tree holding it all in place infront of that!

A very very handy one is "Go lay down". When I say that, there are 2 main acceptable spots for him to lay down on. His doggy bed, and the cot I have in the livingroom, which is also for the dogs really, though, as long as he moves away and lays down, it's acceptable- if he takes his time to lay on something comfy, it's ok with the "Go Lay Down" command. Point is for him to go away from being under my legs, and be someplace safer. When he's right behind me, or trying to follow me around- when I have to turn, even though he tries to get out of my way, sometimes he ends up in front of where I'm trying to get out of HIS way, and is met with a knee.

I didn't want that- and it took some time, but the "Go lay down" saves both of us a ton of headaches.

There are things that became commands simply because I automatically said it without thinking- consistantly... but I've found these simple- well, they really are cues more than "commands" really- has helped him be able to fully explore the world- without smashing his face into fire hydrants and such...

It takes a little more effort- but I'm so very lucky to have this guy in my life. If he's taught me anything, it's to never let anything limit you...

Islamaphobia-

I read this article- http://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/opinion/2011/11/2011112415501938290.html "Are Muslims allowed rights?" and found myself highly disturbed. I'll give you a moment to read it, or at least scan over it.

Go ahead... I'll wait-

I've happened to be rather close to a few VERY religious Muslim families over the years, I've been with them when the police have come to randomly question them. One of these families I had the husband begging me to "talk sense" into his wife to ask her not to wear the veil- because he felt it would make her a target. It was something they had been debating a while- and she was being harassed because of it.

She refused because she didn't want to turn her back on a tradition that meant something to her, because people were so narrow minded they'd automatically hate her because of what is so similar to just wearing a scarf over your face in winter.

I've seen how they're automatically judge, I've heard neighbors calling their CHILDREN terrorists.

To say every member of a religion will or won't do something is stupid. It's like saying no Catholic will go to the police. A religion is made up of individuals, what someone will or won't do, boils down to who they are as a person- not the version of God they follow.

Fact is, when a Muslim calls the police on something, it does open THEM up to be questioned. It makes THEM feel persecuted. Like when a store got held up- a family run business, the husbands and wives ended up questioned because the timing was around when they found a bomb in the city.

It would be like grabbing random Catholics asking if they were connected to an abortion clinic bombing because it was in the same state. These people lived over 100 miles away- UPSTATE!

If people are slow to call the cops, it's because of being harassed, however, no Muslim I know would put off calling the police if it would lead to someone being hurt or killed- even if they had to call the police on another Muslim.

It's happened.

And what bothered that person after, wasn't turining in "one of his own", because the other guy needed to be arrested, what bothered him was that it would validate the arresting officer's opinion that Muslims are scum of the earth, which WAS that arresting officer's opinion.

Muslims are people. Period, end of story- good, bad- just like anyone else. They are Americans. They have the same rights as we do. Period, end of story. To look at them, just because they call God, well God in another language- as being all evil, and conniving- that there's nothing wrong with treating them differently than other people, is a disturbing step in the wrong direction for this country... We've been here before with the Japanese. It starts this way for many other countries as well.

Personally I wish there was some sort of massive letter writing campaign, by non-Muslims, demanding equal rights and treatment... but the media is very good at spreading fear and terror, and even open-minded friends of mine have been wary of Muslims in very broad strokes.

And more than anything, I find this sad.

End rant-

A Thanksgiving Day Thought-

Years ago, my family was friends with a medicine man. He wore a chain around his wrist, held shut by a padlock- a small one, who's key he had thrown away.

"Only when I die will this be removed, because that will be the only time I'm really free." he would say.

Laws in the states are really messed up when it comes to indigenous people here. We gave them the worst land, and pathetic deals, and they're one of the few groups of people who are met with racism that is overwhelmingly acceptable.

He hated Thanksgiving, I happen to love it. I feel it's the only national holiday where people come together, for a meal, for no other reason than to enjoy each other. No presents, asides from food, no shopping... it's about being thankful, and sharing that thanks with those you love and care for.

That said- the way Memorial Day is great for BBQs, one should always remember, and give a moment of thanks and respect to those who gave their lives in service of our country- Thanksgiving... I think it's also a day where yes, we should enjoy and be thankful for what we have- it's a day we should also stop, and give a prayer, or take a moment of reflection, on how we came to have this country, and to pray/meditate/moment of respect for the people who are still struggling because of it.

By all means, enjoy the day- I fully intend to, it is my favorite holiday of the year... but I think today should also be a day of rememberence and respect.

So my first day of work since my dog died-

It started off well enough, was able to joke and such, I had been doing pretty well all week... even petting everyone's dog was ok. Playing with puppies is always fun-

Then came the first customer who's dog had food sensitivities. Emma is the one I talk about with when advising on food allergies, since I fed her Blue Buffalo Basics to take care of that.

Ok, that was a little hard, especially since I hadn't been able to change my name tag to have Keller's photo on it, and whenever I looked down at the food, I saw her face staring back at me from my shirt.

I was ok until I had to pick out the harness for Keller.

Keller's 100% blind, he can jog around my house, he knows where the stairs are- takes them like a champ he knows no fear. When I'm gone long hours in a day, I usually asked one of a couple of people to let him and Emma out back, it was nice and easy on them, and when I got home I could just clean up.

Now, my girl got sick fast, lost weight FAST, and when she went in to the vet, even though he had no idea she'd die the next morning (She did respond decently to the initial treatment) he said it was possible she ate something.

Now, I know there's nothing she could have gotten into in my house, I know there's no way she got at any chemicals, the few I may have are locked well away... however, there has been an increase in stray cats on my block. There has also been a rise in possomes, so when I say I feel she may have been poisoned, I don't think anyone targeted my dog, I think they were targeting those animals. 2 neighbors to my backyard have major gardens that they eat from... I know for a face the neighbors on either side of me would never poison an animal- the two behind me, I'm not so sure.

So, since there's a chance she was poisoned, I don't want to have Keller go out to the back anymore, but- walking him can be kind of complicated if you're not used to it. Usually first thing that happens when someone else holds him, even when I tell them his basic cues, is he ends up walking face first into a fire hydrant- which has GOTTA hurt. I figure, get him a harness, which is only grabbed or pulled on as a warning that something's coming.

His actual walking cues are
"Watch, stairs" (couple of sets of steps going to my front door)- that's for either going up or down stairs
"Last one" when he's on the last step so he knows there aren't anymore
"Careful tree"- when there's anything he can walk into, that he's also allowed to pee on
"Watch out", "look out" (terrible to use for a blind dog I know), and "careful"- all just general alert words to mean slow up, something's coming
"Little step" is a curb
and so on-

But, it was buying that stupid harness that really got me down, the need behind me having to get that thing, the fact my girl passed and because I don't know for sure if she was poisoned, he can't go in the back... and I don't know how he'd handle going into the back alone now anyway. The death is hitting him hard, he's become a fierce whiner overnight, he was terrified of the sofa (where she died), if I leave the house, a few hours, to 1 minute- he acts like it's been years since I was there- he's not used to being the only dog- and the cats aren't providing him with comfort, and him being blind I think is making matters a little worse.

I picked out the harness about... 7.30ish I guess, and that's when playing with the other dogs got hard, that's when I was just going into the breakroom a few moments at a time to clear my head out and go back out there...

Emma was the sweetest dog you'd ever hope to know. She was beautiful to look at, smart in a dopey way- she was my Lassie. She always knew how to tell me what she wanted to say. She figured out how to tell me she needed to go out. She knew how to tell me they needed food or water- well, fresh water if I was late with it- or if they knocked the bowl over. She even told me on a couple of occassions when there was something wrong with my cat.

Emma was stoic. She never whimpered or cried out ever. Before I had the chance to fix her, her uterus ruptured... she was turning blankets into a den, kept getting up and laying down again- over and over- no noise, not a sound... but there was something in her eyes that said something was wrong. I dragged her to the vet and it could have killed her... but even though that must have hurt, she didn't make a noise.

She would never mug you for attention, but if you held your hand out to her- no matter where she was, she'd be at your side in a heartbeat. If you blew in her face, she would drop her face into the ground, butt up, and just cover her face and eyes with her legs and paws. If you did it again, she'd keep doing it.

Emma got along with everyone, and any sort of fighting would get her really really upset. Again, she wouldn't make a sound, or run- but you could see it in her eyes.

Her eyes would tell you anything you needed to know about her- if you knew what to look for.

Emma didn't bark. She could- she just chose not to. When she did, that meant something was up and you needed to come NOW. She wouldn't go into a barking racket, she'd let out 1 bark. If you didn't come, she'd let out another. If that was the case it was REALLY serious and even if you were in the middle of going to the bathroom, you knew you had to see what was wrong.

Emma wasted away to nothing inside of 3 days. By the second day, I set up a vet's appoitment. She was still drinking water, but at that point she stopped eating. I bought a feeding syringe to force feed her with.

That night she stopped getting up to drink water, she stopped getting up to walk around at all. I was glad she had the vet's appointment, and at that point, I was fairly sure I'd have to put her to sleep.

Got there before I had to go into work, last Sunday before the vet got in. He gave her fluids, and in a couple of hours, she was perking up. He ran blood works though and he said she was having kidney issues and something was up with her liver- though the numbers weren't that bad. He said that if she was to live happily, she would need sub-Q fluids every day.

Now, that means injecting a bunch of saline under her skin every day. I made the choice to do it for a week, to see how it went. If she was returning to the Emma I knew and loved, it wasn't a lot of liquid that needed to be injected, and for a high quality of life, it could be worth it if she wasn't ready to give up yet.

If she would still suffer, if all she did was lay around waiting for the needle, I wouldn't be OK with that, and I would put her down, buuuut- I wanted to give her a shot, a chance, any chance.

That night though, she started to decline. While she walked to the car from the vet's office, that was the last time she walked... all night I stayed up with her, singing to her, realizing that come morning I would probably have to bring her back to just end it, that it seemed she was giving up... but, I sang to her. I really wanted it to be done at that particular office because she seemed so calm and relaxed there- and I would have wanted those last moments to be as stress free as possible.

I sang her the healing song from tangled, I sang her the other father song from Coraline, I sang her the song I sort of changed for her- basically "You are my Sunshine", but replacing the "sunshine" with her name- which she always loved, but is really hard to sing without crying when you're trying to keep your dying dog calm, and as happy as possible "You are my Emma, my only Emma, you make me happ-eeeeeee when skies are gray, you'll never know deeeeeeaaaaarrrr, how much I love you- please don't take my Emma away"

Had to stop that song after the first time through.

6am came, my alarm went off, and I took a nap. On Sundays, I don't have to be at my first location until 11am, at 8 she gave a jerk. I had spent the whole night on the couch with her, laying down, looking in her eyes, so I woke up and started with the songs again- and I realized this was going to be it.

There's a certain- thing that happens when someone's going to pass, be it a person or a pet. Their fingers, legs, and arms start to get cool because their circulation isn't as strong. I put a blanket on her lay down, and she turned to look me in the face as best as she could, so I made her more comfy and did that.

Just looked her in the eyes, stroked her face, and just started saying "It's ok, you can let go Emma, you're such a good girl".

I didn't want to cry, I didn't want to stress her out- I kept saying that in the lightest voice I could...

"It's ok, you can let go Emma, you're such a good girl"...

I won't go into details, but that's when she started to go. I just kept doing that over and over again, holding her close... everyone dies alone, but I wanted her to not be afraid... she stopped breathing...

Looked at the watch, 8.38... her heart was still going though.

Now- when a human breathes in and out- there's enough oxygen in that outwards breath to keep another person alive. A good breath of air can actually last an average person about 3.5 minutes before you start to black out... she had stopped breathing, but her heart was still circulating blood to her brain, so- just like when I've been there at a person's end- I assumed she was still aware.

"It's ok, you can let go Emma, you're such a good girl..."

8.41 her heart stopped. Ok, at this point, I look at the clock again, for a person or animal, and mentally time 10 minutes. If there's any way, shape, or form that they may be remotely aware- I will not break down in front of them until I am sure they are GONE. 3.5 mins without oxygen is passing out for the average Joe. 7 minutes without air is usually deadly for someone. I time it 10 minutes after the heart and breathing has stopped.

It doesn't matter if it's a beloved pet, or a loved family member- those are the longest 10 minutes you will ever experience, especially since after death there's the release of the bodily functions, and twitching as the brain fires it's last neural signals.

In my life, I've experienced many losses, more people than I feel I should have lost at this age, many animals as well- and sometimes you feel... almost desensitized to it. Depending on who it is...

My dog Alfie hit me hard.
My girl Penny hit me hard..
Emma, she hit me really hard...

but, she died at home, in my arms, looking in my eyes, hopefully with me being able to convince her there was nothing to fear about death, because honestly- I don't think there is.

And all that came back when picking out a harness to prevent that from happening to Keller- if indeed she died because she ate something intended for a "pest" animal.

The last 15 minutes of the day, I honestly stopped trying. I couldn't look at another person's dog, I couldn't talk about the food, I just hung out in the breakroom with a couple of the people who work there who are awesome, then- went and bought what I needed to.

I am completely not looking forward to working tomorrow... or Sunday... and Sunday is my absolute favorite day to work. But I'm lucky, I do love the job, I do help lots of people and their pets, playing with puppies and dogs are cool, and the people who work at these locations are really great people... which makes it easier.

But not easy.

Get out of Hell Free cards... and the memories they stir up-

My paternal grandmother was a catholic, quite a serious one... every night I was at her house, were the nightly prayers. An "Our Father", and a "Hail Mary". She had this little shrine, set up with a couple of saints, and a blessed mother, which are now in one of my closets. I should probably give them to a relative who's actually a catholic in more ways than just baptism- but, they were so important to her, and I can't do that just yet.


For as long as she had it, for as long as I can remember, there was this brown "necklace", with 2 plastic covered tabs. It always hung off the cross on the top of it, was always there, and for decades, I never asked what they were.


Time passed, the world spun, people died. She outlived her husband, her son, her sister, her closest relatives, then both her nephews, she ended up moving upstate with us, eventually getting her own apartment... Even though she was an in-law to my mom, my mom was like a daughter to her. Even though she was the mother to my mom's first husband, my stepfather accepted her like she was his own mother. In fact, he was the one who initiated the conversation when we were all thinking it, that she needed to come upstate to be with us.


At the end, she told my stepfather, and this is a direct quote- "I may have lost the boys, but God gave me another son".


But, back to those tabs.


My grandmother ended up getting an ulcer, a bleeding ulcer, one that needed surgery or she would die. The doctors assured us that it was a very simple procedure, but she was refusing to have it done. I spoke to her, telling her it would be rough for a few days after the surgery, and I understood her not wanting to go through it after having been through so much, but that not having it done would just be more and more agonizing.


And it would have been... I won't go into details of what would have happened, but, it would not have been a good way to go.


She agreed to the surgery, and then asked to speak to me alone. She told me she wasn't going to survive it, and where her will was. She told me she was done fighting and was ready to see the boys and her sister again. She said a bunch of other stuff which I wouldn't put here, but every time I told her the surgery was simple, that she'd be ok after- she told me no. She would not wake up from it.


And a part of me knew she was right.


And she was.


We stood vigil by her bedside, myself, my mom, my boyfriend at the time, my stepfather, and a young teen who was visiting me, waiting for her to wake up, talking to her in case she was able to hear us... just holding her hand so in no way, shape or form, would she feel alone, abandoned.


It started to bug me, as she started to obviously fade, that she wasn't awake for last rites. The priest did come, but she wasn't able to confess her sins, and I knew, if there was any awareness at all- and there was plenty of brain activity according to the EKG, that she would be so upset that she couldn't confess that it would make her passing, if she was going to pass, far more stressful than it otherwise "should" be... then, I remembered those tags, and that a couple of months before she had told me what they were for.


They were supposed to be taken from someone's robe, from somewhere. A saint I think, or a famous priest, or a monk... "If you die, while holding these, and are truly repentant, you will go directly to heaven." The impression I got was even if you didn't get last rites, you'd still go to heaven.


Now- I won't go into what I think about the idea that would let people into heaven for holding onto leather and cloth, and let another person without those tabs, who is of the same moral character go to Hell... but this sentence should give an idea what my opinion is-


When she had explained it to me, I had laughed and said "Oh! They're 'Get Into Heaven Free' cards!", now, considering it made me think of "get out of jail free" cards, "Get out of Hell Free" was more accurate, but I knew if I put it that way, I would have just really upset her- as it was, she was annoyed I put it so flippantly, but, her annoyance was minor, and even she had to chuckle at the thought of it.


But, what I think of it didn't matter. It's not my faith, but all of a sudden, I had this horrible urgency to run back to her house to get those tabs, that if she knew she had those tabs, on any level- if she was worried about going to Hell for not being able to confess, that may alleviate. The idea of her thinking that her soul might be in danger, on any level was unbearable to me, and while I was terrified of leaving her side, I went on my run.


It may very well have been the longest hour of my life.


My boyfriend at the time went with me, and giving into the begging, I picked up the young teen who didn't want to be left at home. I ran into my grandmother's apartment, and while grabbing the tabs- asked the universe, God, whatever, that I was right and the tabs would give her some comfort, even in this state, and raced back to the hospital.


When I got back, we went to her room, and I carefully wrapped the leather cord around her hands- so they wouldn't drop, and put the tabs in her palm. I wasn't sure if there was a specific way to hold them or not, so I figured, the more in the hand, the better- I told her I had returned, and that I had gotten her the "'Get into Heaven Free' thing", knowing if she could hear me, that she'd know what it was. I don't remember what it's actually called to this day- I told her not to worry, I wasn't going to let anything happen to her soul... and folded her hands together so the tabs would stay in place.


At this point the teenager and my boyfriend decided to go on a food run to the hospital's cafeteria for us, since we were all tired and worn out- which, was a very good thing- Not 10 minutes went by, and she started to pass, and I'm glad the young teen didn't see that.


I won't go into details of what happened, seeing someone you love pass is never an easy thing, be it from something violent, or something like this, but a part of me really thinks she was at least partially aware, and was able to let go once she felt she would be reunited with her family... the thought of her going to Hell is absurd, she was the most caring, and giving person I've ever known- and even if she had some old fashioned ideas about certain things, she would help people regardless of race, or sexual orientation, and only prayed for good to befall people...


So, tonight, I walked into my Aunt's bathroom to change for the night, and hanging on the hook on her door, were the "Get into Heaven Free" tabs. (I prefer to call them that despite the "title") I had forgotten I had given them to her, I forget when- but I did, and in under a second- all that came back to me, washed over me, and for an instant I was back in the hospital giving them to my grandmother.


And again, I was thankful I had thought of it, and that I succeeded. There is a chance even without the tabs, she would have passed at that time, and if she had without them, I would have felt guilty about it to this day.

So I Found the Movie "UP" upsetting-

It took me by surprise, and it took other people by surprise, it's an uplifting movie, it's amazing, it's heartwarming... It made me realize that certain baggage I thought I had dropped off was very much still holding on. It was a very good movie- but I found it very upsetting.

I've had far too many people die with things unsaid, promises unkept, and those

feelings of guilt associated with that. One Uncle died, not knowing I had figured out he was gay, and died keeping it a secret from all, but 1 family member to him by marriage. I had promised to bring it up somehow, that I was happy for him, to let him know I was a family member by blood who'd accept him how he was since others wouldn't- and I swore by my birthday the next year I'd let him know.

But, he was dead a month later.

My other Uncle, we managed to improve our relationship on his death bed- there were tons of other things that I had wished went differently with that other Uncle, but still- I felt I failed him as well. If I had contacted a lung transplant place with poor numbers earlier, he may still be alive, at the very least, would have had a shot at still being alive. 2 weeks after his passing, they called to let me know he had been approved.

They were the only place that approved him, out of hundreds we applied to.

There's other things, with that side of the family, that- is too personal to go into- so, judging by what I'm willing to share should hint at the gravity of those things... they're normal things though- but, just too many people have died...

I've been letting go of things over the years since these people's deaths, things I thought I could never let go of because I felt that by doing so, I was doing some disservice to them. With my feelings of guilt, I felt if I got rid of things they loved, I was dishonoring them even more.

Slowly I started to get over it, forcing myself to at the very least, donate and give things away when I didn't feel right accepting money for an item or so, but every fiber of my being told me to hold onto the house. Under any circumstances, I needed to hold on to the house.

Never mind that I don't think I will ever feel that it's MINE. Never mind that automatically if I'm not thinking I will still say "I have to do ***** to Uncle Richie's place", not "I have to do ***** to my home". Every room is shared memories with every one of those people, every room is a reminder about things, and while I really did think I was over it all, I realized that deep down, in a place I was ignoring, it still eats away at me.

I have a few Buddhist friends, and we've had- sometimes heated debates, that got heated because of me, about the idea of detachment. I lean towards a mix of Taoist and Buddhist philosophies for how to live my own life, and I always would get upset at the idea of detachement. They would tell me "No, that's not exactly the concept", and I think on some level I wasn't really listening to them, not *really* hearing them out because it would mean that stuff I was repressing would have to surface as to why I was so against letting go...

And so, I'm watching this movie- and it's just absolutely devastating me. I mean, in
real life, if you feel you fail the person, whether or not you eventually do it, they're dead, you still feel like it's too late- but there's nothing you can do but let go, move on, and know that you did your best, you're only human, and the people you loved more than likely realized that before they died.

But, he had that house, and he did the things he would do with his wife, ongoing, tied to it, attached to it, and while he never let go of his memory of love of his wife, he wasn't able to move on until he let go of the actual house. It had him tied down, stagnant, stuck.

And it made me more and more upset.

It didn't hit me at once, but I've taken more than enough psych courses to know that my level of upset was not appropriate for what was going on, and that usually that's your brain trying to force you not to take a closer look at something you're trying to hide from yourself. Otherwise, what's the point of repressing a feeling, a memory, an emotion?

By the end of the movie, that all I wanted to do was turn off, I realized that it wasn't figuratively something I was connecting with, but something I was literally connecting with. Trying to hold on to this house, was me thinking I was honoring them, but really- no matter how I tried to ignore it, it's just holding me down, holding me back.

I've expressed anger at the house to key people. I've said in the past in moments of frustration and rage that sometimes I felt the house was almost a curse, that I sort of held it responsible for certain things that went wrong, that at times I almost hated it.

But, then the guilt would set in, this was my Uncle's house. He loved it, my family loved it. It was the place everything good happened, how can I hate it?

I was forced to see what I've known for a while, and have said here and there before forcing myself to push it down again... I think I need to get rid of the house. I think I need a place that is MINE. Even if I were to sell it and just move to a place in the same neighborhood- I need to let go, and move on.

Last Valentines day, I had a few epiphanies, and I had sworn that at the end of a year, I would have sorted out what exactly I was doing to force myself into the same cycles. If everyone else changes, but the cycles continue, and I'm the only constant, then it's definitely something I was doing.

The year started well for me, things coming together, and I had figured out a lot of what I had been doing that was causing the cycles, but ignoring this, and this is major...

In order to really move on, I do need to let go. It isn't the house that holds these memories, it's me. I have to remember them, but on my own. Holding onto the house honors nobody... the movie made me take a really deep look at myself, which, when something makes you look at something you're pushing out of your mind, the knee jerk reaction is anger, discomfort, hostility. It's a good movie, and I think it forced me to realize 1 last thing that was forcing me into certain cycles...

and 2 days before my year is up as well.