Sometimes stuff just sucks.

On Friday, as I was boarding the bus to visit a friend, I got a call from the veterinarian. My cat, Radar, has cancer. She can't determine what kind of cancer it is, and isn't sure of the origin or how to treat it. She recommended a consultation with a veterinary oncologist. No word yet on how much that will cost.

He may have months, he may have years. I've already decided against putting him through chemo or radiation. Even if it wasn't prohibitively expensive, I cannot explain to a cat that I am putting him through terror and pain so that he can live longer. Anyway, he isn't showing any signs of illness, yet, except for the lump, and he's already cheated death once. He'll either do it again, or he's used his token. I will accept whatever comes.


Yes, I am sad for my kitty, for the years I might not get to have with him. However, I remember my plea to my gods, months ago. I said, "If there must be cancer in this house, let it be my cat and not my husband." My prayers were answered, so I'm actually not bitter at all. My cat is still here, happy, symptom-free and blissfully ignorant for the moment. My husband is healthy, healing, and out of danger. If my kitty must be the trade-off, then so be it. I know that probably sounds harsh to some people, but I look at it this way: if Radar could consciously take away our pain and illness, he would. He's that loyal of a pet. He's also a reincarnation of a cat I grew up with. So he'll be back, just like everything else. I might even find him again, someday.

Okay. Yeah. It still sucks. But this perspective makes it suck a lot less.

That same night, Matt had to stay at work an extra three hours. I'm glad I was with Isa during that time, so I could talk some stuff out, but it still made things more complicated. Matt was just too tired to really talk about anything when he got home, and there were things we really, really needed to talk about. Like the money thing. There was some tension and the beginnings of an argument, but we did our "practise" and we worked it out. I will write more about that later.


On Saturday I went to a Beltane party. I wanted very much to enjoy myself. I went to the party anticipating that I would, indeed, enjoy myself. I didn't have any particular warning signs that it was going to be a bad day. And then ... splat. I was right in the middle of high school again. I suddenly lost all of my confidence. I could not open up. I couldn't talk to people. I felt like an outsider on the outskirts of conversations, unable to contribute in any meaningful way. They weren't talking about anything complicated. Maybe it's because I hate making small talk, I don't know. I was there for a ritual, and food and drink. I felt like most people were there for food and drink, and maybe a ritual.

Despite the fact that I hate making small talk, though, I am usually quite good at it. I am usually able to pass myself off as a somewhat-normal, well-socialised human. Not this time. Even though certain people were reaching out to me, trying to help, being in the presence of that many new people (about 25 or so in the space of a small house and back yard) was too overwhelming. I kept sneaking away to close my eyes and try to ground.

Eventually the host of the party (who was the only person I knew fairly well), came to see what was up. I assured him that it was "just a panic attack" and that I would be okay, but that I probably wouldn't be staying for too long. Even as I told him this, I knew that if I could just stick it out until the sun went down and the fire was lit and the small screeching humans had gone away, I would probably be able to calm down, come back to myself, and have a good time. But this time, I just couldn't stick it out long enough. Even the Klonopin didn't help. I ended up sitting by myself, chain-smoking, rocking back and forth.

I know there were multiple triggers. The stress of the day before, bright sunlight, noise, close quarters, unfamiliar surroundings, unfamiliar smells, and kids (both toddlers and teenagers.) I think the kids were one of the biggest issues. I know it was his party, his house and his friends, but you'd think a party centred around a Pagan holiday that's all about sex would be an "adults only" shindig.  I don't know how to handle interactions with children whose parents I don't know. I have to censor myself so much it's ridiculous. Maybe that's it. Maybe feeling that I have to censor myself, that I can't say or do or be who I really am, is the biggest trigger of all.

And what would have happened if I had been my bawdy, flirty self? Probably nothing. At worst, the parents would have covered their kids ears and given me dirty looks. Whatever, right? I could have done what I wanted to, but I convinced myself that I couldn't, for reasons X, Y, and Z.  The whole thing was in my head. But why did I suddenly regress to my fifteen-year-old self? I don't get it. These were good people. Several of them even tried to reach out to me and help me cope, unlike the active shunning that I experienced when I was younger.

What the fuck, brain? I'm pissed off because I feel like I was cheated out of what could have been a really great opportunity to network with some new people who (at least in a general sense) share my spirituality. I've been feeling a lack of local community. I have plenty of friends online, some whom I even see in real life sometimes, but not too many in the area I can actually interact with. I've been looking for something like this to happen for a long time, and then it does, and ... fuck. Just... fuck last week altogether.