I’ve lost a lot in the last few years – a business, job, home, pets, family, friends (not death, but by vicinity), and today it was a almost a guinea pig. I can hear the haters now, “She’s whining because she has a sick guinea pig?” Well, yes, I am. I love that little pig. She means a lot, and not having the money for vet care and having to try to nurse her back to health on a wing & a prayer makes me sad.
Maybe I won’t lose her today, but I will someday. Nothing lasts forever. That got me thinking. Whenever we lose something meaningful, something we truly love – be it person, place or thing – a little piece of our soul goes with it.
“It’s just a guinea pig. You should be grateful for all you DO have.” She isn’t JUST a guinea pig. She’s MY guinea pig, and who says I’m not grateful? Why have being sad and being grateful become mutually exclusive emotions? Why can’t I be grateful for what I have, yet mourn the things I wish for? And is grief a contest? If so, is it a contest you truly want to win? Yeah, I want the fuckin’ gold medal in that event!
When people remind me that so many others are far worse off, I like to use this analogy:
You’re in the doctor’s office with a broken leg. Guy sittin’ next to you also has a broken leg. Whose leg hurts worse? YOURS! IT’S YOUR FUCKIN’ LEG! You cannot compare grief. You cannot compare pain. Yours will always be worse because it’s YOURS.
The saying “misery loves company” is kind of sick. Am I supposed to feel better because there are millions of people in the world suffering far more than I? WTH is up with that? No, I want them to be happy and pain-free, but, dammit, I also want what I want. Does that make me a horrible person? I think it just makes me human.