My dog died a few days ago. Normal part of life, right? A day or 2 and I should just be ok and ready to go back to work, pick up where I left off, and carry on as if everything is alright. But it isn't. I had her for 18 years, her name was Tixie because I had trouble saying "r" so I took it out of the name "trixie." I got her as my 5th birthday present. She was my everything. She was the only one I could go to after my mom's second husband finished his abuse. When my mother was blaming me for what he did Tixie was always there to let me hold her. We would hide in my closet together. My mother had a strict "children should be seen not heard" rule that, if broken, I would be beaten. Unless I was talking to the dog. When my stepdad tried killing my mother Tixie attacked him and bought her enough time to defend herself. When my mom left me and I moved in with my grandmother Tixie came with. Every weekend I spent waiting on my mom to come back Tixie was in my arms. When she came back around and had me switch states to live with her new husband I still kept my girl.

My step brother kicked her once. I held our butcher knife to his throat and threatened to kill him if I even suspected that he kicked her again. And I meant it with my whole heart. I protected her fiercely. In therapy she was the only thing I was still living for. After my first attempt she was the only reason I was glad it did not succeed. Every therapist I had said I was unreasonably attached to her. When my mother's 3rd husband died and we were evicted from our home my girl never left my side. All through high school and my mother's drunken fights Tixie was always there to comfort and hear me.

She was there through every move. Every lost friend. All the breakups and different jobs. My first place that I rented we slept in blanket piles together for months because I couldnt afford a bed. But I had her. She was there when my grandmother passed last year. She watched me buy my first house. She's met all my friends and loved ones and through everything had been the one surviving comfort from my childhood. 

And now she's gone. I didn't think I'd have to live a life without her. I'm trying so hard to keep going. I've got other pets to care for. I've got a partner who depends on me to pay my part of the bills. I have so many things that cant be put on hold but all I want is for the world to just stop. I havent been able to sleep without exhausting myself to the point of just passing out. I'm suppose to go to work in the morning but i'm fighting the urge to just say fuck it and give myself time to heal and then find another job in a few weeks when I'm more ready. I know I could. I always do. But if I give in to freezing my life im not sure I'll be able to stop myself from a downward spiral. All i want is for her to be on my lap right now. But she'll never be there again. I dont know how to live without her. I've never been separated from her for more than a week. And that week only happened one time, and I got update pictures of her every single day while she lived her best life with my partner while I was gone on the only vacation i couldnt take her on.

How am I suppose to just keep going? Just head back to my little cubicle and take phone calls. Not be annoyed. Not start crying in the middle of my work day. Just be strong? I have balled my eyes out every single day since she passed on Thursday and idk how to handle any of this. It all just feels worthless. I dont really care all that much about anything. Nothing feels important because I dont have her. I really, honestly, didn't think I'd get to a point where my life needed to go on once hers ended. But here I am. And it fucking sucks.