I'm using this Sunday to get things started, the packing, the cleaning of the room, the painting of the walls.
It's all bittersweet, mostly sweet, but the hugely bitter part of it I just learned, is that I won't be able to take my dogs with me. I've come to love them so much in these past 8 months. I can't think too much about it, or I start to cry. They are such good puppies and they give me so much love. They have been my drug these past months, helping me get over all the hurt and insanity in my life.
When Monica and I split up, the puppies were there. When I wound up in the hospital with cuts all over myself, when I came home the puppies were there, not judging me not hating, just giving me unconditional love. Tons of it. I love it.
I love them, they're like my children. I know it's going to help me grow and learn, and it's probably good that I'm getting the opportunity to grow and learn how to be content with just myself and God.
The real hard part is the puppies won't understand. As it is, whenever I leave they sit by the door almost non-stop until I come back. They think I'm their alpha-dog, and they really don't know what to do without me. They sleep with me every night, and not just on my bed, they sleep in my bed, snuzzled up next to my chest and face.
Leaving them is going to be harder than splitting up with Monica, I never really cared for Monica that much, looking back. Ha hindsight is always 20-20, well I guess that's not fair. I cared for Monica about as much as a drug addict can care about his new medication (Monica).
Please everyone pray for me, and if you want to give me some up-lifting words, or give me some sort of ideas about what I should do, or if you have any advice about anything. I'm always open to hear from people who are wise and/or care about my well-being.
Love you guys!
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