For nearly two days I worried about Tupac, which I call Ron’s cat. I stayed up, I forced myself to do everything needed to make sure he was OK. I nearly fell out of bed twice because he was pushed so tight against me, and I was afraid if I pushed back he would be injured that I was right on the edge of the bed. I fed him in the bed, I let him pee and poop in the bed. I carried him around the house so he wouldn’t have to put his paw down on the floor. Yes, I was trying to be a good daddy. Meanwhile Ron was panicking and crying on the phone that we might have to put the boy down.
Here is my issue I want to share and ask all of the wonderful people who come here. It is not critical and if you don’t want to reply it is OK.
After all of this, All the lack of sleep, and all the effort, as I got home and started to relax, as I started watching other things on one monitor and as I started replying to comments on this monitor … memories started to invade.
I started struggling to deal with Tupac, the kitchen, even the blog. Memories after memories are flooding over me and through me. I was answering comments yet even as I write replies I have to delete some of what I wrote. What is wrong with me! I should be so happy as my husband’s cat is not got a broken leg and I only need to baby him to get him well.
Yet the places my mind is going into my past, my childhood is horrific and blocking everything I am trying to do. I once as a preteen swam out into the middle of a pond to save what would become my only praised love, the black lab and I did not know when I carried her cold shaking form back to the camper my adoptive parents had that I was signing the death warrant of our other dog. Also I had to bargain my damn body for the dog to live. I agreed and went into the camper to be raped repeatedly. Shit why does my mind go to these places they hurt so much?
Why. Suzy Sunshine asked me that question before admitting she had no way or conception how to help me. She tried to hide it but she was shocked and horrified by the few minor things I told her.
Sorry I got so damn distracted. The question is why now knowing Tupac is OK and everything will work out as I sat here at my computer starting to deal with everything … did my mind flood me with horrific memories of my past and of things I can not change? That is what I am struggling with. Please help if you have an idea?
See the rest I have been dealing with all my life. I watched librarians when I was 7 or 8 years old put the books I was reading behind their desk for me tomorrow while only touching me on my head as if they patted me on the back I cried out in pain. But my mind knew this. So why flood my memories with it when I realized Tupac was OK. Why is my mind sending me these memories?
Maybe you all have abilities I don’t. I am sorry if this post upset anyone. I am going back to replying to the wonderful comments. I just wanted everyone to understand what I am dealing with. Hugs
Scottie's Playtime 
I’ll take a guess, You are dealing once again with a sick animal. It can be traumatic as hell, because they can’t tell you what’s wrong, or if they’re hurting more, or less. And there’s a pretty good chance that in your efforts to comfort and care for this cat you are suddenly being yanked backward to an earlier time in your life. Your early life was, yes, horrendous, and the dog from back then has become the cat from now. I can see the connect, and maybe you can too.
The mind can be a terrible place, sometimes, and sometimes quite magical. But this time is different, you are different, and so is Tupac. hang on to that, Scottie. No one is going to hurt you this time. okay…
We don’t always outgrow old memories, sometimes they just get stuffed in a suitcase in the back of our mind, waiting to leap out.
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Scottie, reading this, what strikes me most is not that anything is “wrong” with you, but that you’ve been carrying an enormous amount of stress and care these past two days. When everything finally eased — when Tupac was safe and you could breathe again — your mind had room to let other things surface. That doesn’t mean you’ve failed in any way. It just means you’re human, and you’ve lived through more than most people can imagine.
You’ve shared some of your past with me over the years, and I still struggle to comprehend how someone who endured so much could grow into the kind, gentle, fiercely protective person you are. The fact that those memories still hurt doesn’t make you weak. It speaks to the depth of what you survived.
I can’t tell you why your mind chose this moment, but I can say this: nothing about your reaction is strange or shameful. Sometimes when the immediate crisis passes, the old wounds take the opportunity to make themselves known. You’re not alone in that, and you’re not alone now.
You know hugs aren’t easy for me, but this is one of those rare times when the feeling replaces the discomfort. So I’m sending you a hug, with all the care that comes with it.
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Simply be kind to yourself, is all I know, Scottie. We’re all here for you. Breathe deeply.
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