The Worth of Souls

(I know I just posted, but get over it, people. I typically forget to post for a week instead of posting 3 times weekly. You’ll survive……still grumpy if you can’t tell)

Today is a painful day.

 

I’d like for everyone to send Brian some love.
Speaking of fuzzy babies, Brian’s dog passed away this week. Buck is an adorable, sweet boy who loves snow and his dad, Brian.

I say “is”, because the only solace I retain is that all my fuzzy babies are in heaven, waiting for me.
I don’t believe a soul can die. We just move somewhere else. And dogs are most certainly the sweetest of souls.

 

What to do when your animal passes?
Cry.
I cried like a psycho when my last two dogs died, and that for once, is not a joke, exaggeration, or me being sarcastic. I got a migraine I cried so hard.
The idea that your dog (or whatever your beloved animal is) died in pain and confused is enough to crush one’s heart.
But at least he died quickly.
And I am so glad that I was there to hold my dog’s hand as he passed.
I will forever look forward to the day I get to see my dogs again.

 

Isn’t it funny that that’s what we do, as humans? Try to look for the “well, at least”s in terrible situations.
At least it was quick.
He still died. He still hurt.
You still hurt. I still hurt.

 

But I believe this is a good thing. I think its the two things we should do when a dog (pet) dies.
1. We cry. We hurt. We rage.
2. We remember. We love. We look forward to reuniting.

 

So let’s all take a moment to remember our pets, the pets of our friends, and send some love Buck and Brian’s way.
Rest in peace, Buck.

Descent Into Slushland

A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than you love yourself.” – Josh Billings

The last two years have been really shitty for me. As bad as 2016 was, 2017 has just eclipsed it as the shittiest. Four days ago my dog suddenly stopped walking. Seriously, he was fine most of Sunday and in the afternoon he changed. He was in pain. So. Much. Pain. He hurt so much that he didn’t even want to lay down.

We took him to the vet for tests. They had trouble finding the cause. Eventually they said he had arthritis. Buck is ten, and a Lab, of course he has arthritis. They gave him anti-inflammatory medication…which did absolutely nothing. In fact, he got worse. The next day he would stand around panting (even though it wasn’t hot) and later whining non-stop. It broke my heart to…

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Justice Served

Hi again.

Not feeling particularly chatty today.

Honestly, I feel like a dump truck ran me over, caught my clothing and dragged me down a long stretch of empty highway (why would  a dump truck drive that far? let’s say a semi truck), before dropping me in a patch of nowhere-dead-grass, where a bunch of vultures circled and pecked at me until I was forced to get up and drag my ZombieDaph self back to my house.

Due to this unfortunate week I’ve been having, I’m just going to throw these videos at you with very little explanation.

Basically, don’t hurt animals or I’ll have the urge to tie YOU to the back of a semi and record your demise as you’re dragged down a paved road. While laughing. Also while planning on how to keep the day’s activities from my therapist.

 

I don’t break these videos down at each time code because there aren’t any surgeries or traumatically open wounds to cause gagging, nausea, tears, or homicidal urges toward animal abusers. Though the latter two might come without the gargantuan wounds and dripping bodily fluids.

 

Today I’m centering on The Human Society of the United States.

In short, they’re awesome.

 

 

 

When the brave men and women of the Human Society aren’t off saving dogs, cats, and every assortment of  helpless, voiceless animal – they’re also informing the public and trying to appeal to their compassion so they will treat politics concerning animals in an empathetic, humane way.

For example:

 

Since the above videos are an assault to the soul, I also now provide you with pure cuteness.

 

If you feel so moved as to throw money at The Humane Society of the United States, click “like” on their videos, and/or share their videos – then you can help them save more fuzzy lives.

And I will virtually hug you with all the joy I encapsulate (even when I’m in a bad mood, safety and happiness toward animals snaps me into joyous).

 

For more information on The Humane Society of the United States, here are their links. Check them out.

Youtube

Website

Twitter

If you would like to donate money, click on their website above and click on the large red button on the top right hand corner which reads, “donate”.

 

And now, I’m going to take my grumpy self back to the container of mini frosted cupcakes in the kitchen.

Treat ALL the fuzzy creatures with kindness, respect, and compassion.

Good day.

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Doubt. Hesitate. Hope.

A lot of the time I doubt that I have anything positive to bring to the blogging world. Or the world at all. I feel like all I have to talk about are depressing things. That I’ll bring people down. Dampen the mood. That I’m such a sulking hulk of depressing ooze and slobbery emotional muck.

But I’m slowly realizing that that’s not true at all.

It’s the same with the stories I tell. The stories that have come to me since I was a child.

My experiences have been dark and painful, yet I’m filled with hope. My stories aren’t of pain and loss and depressing failure. They’re about pain and loss and survival, hope leading to thriving.

I struggle daily with issues. Things that will never go away, memories that will always haunt. Health issues which will never give me peace. I struggle with anxiety and depression.

But I am not a lost cause.

I am finding peace and harmony, carving out my own love and passion. I’m finding a way to live my own life, building experiences filled with optimism and happiness.

 

 

A lot of the time I hesitate to speak up. To add my voice, my truths, to the world around me.

But the darkness in me is what has given me strength to rise, to fight my way up to the light.

The pain inside me allows peace and happiness to blossom into something glorious and infinite. Because I cry, the realization that my smile is genuine and filled with true joy is so much sweeter. Learning to simply breathe and enjoy my days and nights is a testament to the despair I’ve fought my way out of.

Emotional scars do not brand me. They show me as a survivor. Strong. Capable.

Ready to live.

 

There’s a phrase I’ve heard recently which I love.

“Doubt your doubts before you doubt your faith.” – Dieter F. Uchtdorf

Believe in yourself. 😉

 

 

This was a combination of WordPress daily prompts. I combined the first two prompts of March. “Doubt” and “Hesitate”.

I don’t think these things out. I go with what pings in my mind first.

What comes to your mind when you think of “doubt” or “hesitate”?

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On the Days I Used to Get Lost…

 

Some random tweets and retweets tweeted by yours truly.

Tweet tweet!

And yes, I know, I forgot the “n” in “unknown”. Shameful. *hangs head*

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Instinct

The daily prompt a few days ago was instinct.

Upon reading it, the word that pinged in my head was intuition.

 

Successful people listen to their intuition.

When I say successful, I don’t mean people who make a mega load of money and live in gold filled castles.

I mean people who are happy. Truly harmonious in their environment. They’ve found peace with who they are, the world they live in, and those who live within it with them.

 

Number one thing this world numbs us to?

Ourselves.

Our intuition.

The voice inside.

 

 

The world tells us to ignore it. Disbelieve it. Shame it. Write over top it in the worlds’ lush, arsenic-filled, bold, loud script.

Basically, get rid of you and put on this plastic suit, so you can be miserable while simultaneously what other people want of you. And boy, you had better act like you like it.

 

Antidote? Find a way to live your live as the person you are, in the way which is right for you.

(unless you’re a murderer, rapist, or animal abuser – then I think you should just die slowly in a hole)

Simple antidote?

Don’t let their voices drown out the one inside you.

Simple but extremely difficult, challenging, and complicated.

 

 

Follow your intuition, your gut. You know what is right for you.

Don’t lose you.

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Follow up to Pregnancy Pet Peeve

From my previous post, some of you probably assume I have a negative thought process toward pregnancy. I kinda realized that after re-reading it.

Oops.

Not at all.

I have a negative thought process toward a male taking a sort of credit for carrying a child inside of them for 9 nine months, suffering and sacrificing in order to carry, support, and help grow a human life.

I have the utmost respect for pregnant women. For women who have given birth.

Yeah, there’s definitely terror in there. As pregnancy terrifies the living shenanigans out of me.

But mostly awe.

Women who go through pregnancy, to me, are amazing. Courageous. Unfathomably strong.

 

she looks beautiful

 

The issues (and the anger aimed at said issues) have nothing to do with pregnancy or motherhood.

My anger is aimed toward the unhealthy forms of pregnancy and motherhood.

The unhealthy (in my opinion) men that claim that they have suffered through child birth, 9 months of Hell, and the after effects it has on women’s bodies and minds.

 

I think I already went on enough about how annoyed I am when men try to act like they have to squeeze an elephant out of a straw. So…

Unhealthy Forms of Pregnancy and Motherhood

If you’re pregnant and you smoke, do drugs, or drink… I’m not trying to judge. But I feel this seething indignation in my gut every time I see it, hear about it, just knowing about it.

There is a helpless life inside you. One who will have a bigger chance of a miserable life once born, if you’re doing these things. You know what sucks? Having terrible health.

Another one that really irks me – is how some couples allow the child to dominate their life afterward. I’m not an expert, but I’m pretty certain “family” includes both parents, not just the child. If you’re a family, the best thing you can do for your child is to show him/her that you love your spouse.

Why?

Because if you neglect your spouse, act as if they come second, act as if they’re unimportant, act as if you’re a freaking slave to your child while not bothering to keep your marriage strong – you’re giving the example to your child of what “love” is. Of what “parenting” is. Of what “marriage” is.

Guess what that munchkin who you love is going to do?

Grow up to have an unsatisfying love life.

Why?

That child never saw you take time out to go on dates.

That child never saw you take time simply for the two of you, acting as if your bond and relationship was important.

That child never saw you act like you were in a loving, strong, equal, relationship. Never saw you fall in love as they weren’t present yet, and never saw you act as if you ever had, once they were.

 

doesn’t she look free?

 

Anywho…

I also have a bit more to add to yesterday’s post, thanks to awesome people who commented.

 

Someone tweeted in to tell me that something else women suffer through during pregnancy is….. they crave dirt.

DIRT! People – pregnant gals want to walk outside, hunker down, and eat dirt!

(she also told me it’s due to a nutrition deficiency)

 

I also remembered the particularly horrific truth of what a C section is. You know, how they cut a woman open, remove her guts, place them in bowls, take the kid out, put her guts back in…. that sounds soooo lovely.

*face of horror*

No thank you.

 

A male commenter on yesterday’s post also commented in on his irritation of how people simply go up to pregnant ladies and touch their bellies. Without their permission. I agree with you, dude.

Yes, the miracle of birth is amazing, lovely, something we want to reach out and touch, share joy in.

What people seem to forget, is that there is a human woman standing there, who that baby bump belongs to! As the commenter (I won’t name him as I don’t know who’s comfortable with what) pointed out, “My belief is that if you didn’t have the right to touch her belly before she was pregnant, you don’t have that right after she is.”

Beautifully said.

 

Just so ya know, I’m not apologizing for yesterday’s post.

I feel I have every right to be peeved when men try to take childbirth as a huge accomplishment away from women and claim it as their own, as well.

Yes, there are lovely men who are there for their women, lovely women who aid, support, and lend a hand. But if you in particular aren’t the one pregnant, don’t say you are.

I simply didn’t want you thinking I hated men or pregnancy. 😉

 

(Also, I hope all the cussing in the videos I posted yesterday didn’t make anyone uncomfortable. I try not to include a lot of cussing but felt the messages behind the videos were important enough.)

 

You’ve got to admit. Seeing an excited couple pick out baby items is so absolutely cool.

 

 

 

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My Number One Pet Peeve

Okay, so I have eighty zillion (is that a number?) (that’s probably not a word) pet peeves, probably. I have no idea.

I am a really certain person right this moment, guys.

Possibly.

I don’t actually know because I can’t access all of my thoughts at the same time… like not even the ones that I’m thinking right now, all at the same time. Is this making sense? Let’s just go with, I’m weird (strange?) and this is my number one pet peeves. If I end up having more than one number one pet peeve, don’t be surprised. That’s how reality works in my mind.

 

Mila Kunis says it beautifully.

I am not, nor have I ever been pregnant, but I do believe ONLY FEMALES GET PREGNANT.

What’s up with men constantly trying to take credit for things chicks do?

My gosh! You already have the physical strength! You already have your macho, misogynistic mind control over the majority of the human beings in power! You get to take a walk by yourself without the opposite sex harassing you! You get paid more! You already get treated like a human being by most of the human race, instead of like a sex toy with no rights/thoughts. You already have the lack of pap smears! You get to lose weight in the blink of an eye while we struggle to lose a pound! WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT?!

(to keep it fair, there are things that women can do that men can’t – and there are a lot of feminist men)

 

But anywho…

Men – you are not ‘pregnant’.

You don’t have these issues:

  • puke every day
  • puke every time you eat
  • puke every time you don’t eat
  • feel like you’re going to puke every moment of every day
  • you don’t have to deal with the physical or psychological effects of peeing yourself
  • you don’t, consequently, have to wear a freaking panty liner every day and night (and that rubs after a while)
  • poop all over yourself and your child while giving birth
  • push a watermelon sized human being out of your vagina
  • possibly rip your vagina all the way to your anus (episiotomy)
  • have to get that stitched up
  • poop for the first time after childbirth – apparently it feels like you’re smuggling an angry porcupine out of a straw
  • worry about being loose afterward
  • deal with everyone’s ridiculous comments, questions, smugness, and ability to bend over and stand back up without issue
  • get told you’re so lucky to be pregnant when EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE HURTS
  • you can’t see your own feet
  • you want to eat everything everywhere, every moment
  • get stretchmarks which, let me tell ya, makes us all feel SO BEAUTIFUL (I have stretch marks simply from growing, so I can say “us” in this one)
  • feel your boobs screaming inside your bra
  • have an alien doing martial arts inside you while you’re trying to sleep

 

So men, I don’t want to hear it. YOU are not pregnant. Yes, you have to deal with a moody woman. You’re so big and tough and manly and get all the perks and none of the pain, DEAL WITH IT. The women have to actually deal with it. And by it, I mean being possessed by an alien that wants to ruin their bodies and take over their lives.

(as a side note, most women say its worth it and they’d do it again) (personally, I think they’re probably on heroin when they say this)

 

And just for fun:

 

Men – what do you think? Should men be able to say “we are pregnant?”

Women – what do you think? Should men be able to say “we are pregnant” or do you have the urge to slam their head into the cement when this happens? What’s something terrible about pregnancy that I missed? What’s something you loved?

Who is your favorite male feminist?

Do you think the Try Guys’ experience is close to real labor?

 

Follow up (what is this, a doctor appointment?) Follow up to Pregnancy Pet Peeve.

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