Guilt and regret over the death of my dog
October 5, 2019 6:07 PM Subscribe
My old dog "Cassie" died of what was probably a heart attack this January. I am still very affected by her death. It's sometimes hard to enjoy time with my other dog, "Rex" (who we adopted years ago) because I worry about how he will eventually die too. I feel like I let Cassie down when I think of her.
What do I do? Details ahead.
Cassie was originally my wife's dog, but she lived with me for the last several years of her life after my wife (then girlfriend) and my now-stepchild moved in with me. I was never a dog person before, but I developed a great love for Cassie. People would frequently comment on how much I loved her. Spending time with that dog was easily one of the best things in my life.
In January, we sent Cassie to the vet because she was lethargic and breathing heavily all the time. They kept her overnight for observation. She died at the vet early the next morning. We were able to get a lock of her hair and an impression of her paw. We still have her ashes in an urn in an untidy corner of the living room.
I was so upset by Cassie's death that my performance at work suffered for several months, and my depression affected me as a husband and stepfather, which was not fair to my family, although I tried to put on a happy face because my wife was also very upset over Cassie's death. I felt like I needed to soldier on and function so that necessary things could get done around the house while my wife was so emotionally low.
On a logical level, I helped give this dog a wonderful life, and I paid for lifesaving surgery for her that my wife could not have afforded otherwise. She was surrounded by love while she lived with me and wanted for nothing.
On an emotional level, I feel like I let my dog down. She died in a place she hated and feared, surrounded by strangers. I also feel guilty because we had been feeding her grain free food before she died, and studies have come out since then linking that type of food to heart problems. I feel like my ignorance as an owner contributed to her death.
Now, I am often sad instead of happy when I think about Cassie. I wonder if I could have prevented her from dying when and where she did. I think about Rex dying more than is normal. I try to have fun with him, but sometimes I am literally thinking "I'll only be able to throw the ball in the field with him so many times, so I better do it as much as I can before he dies too." (Rex ought to live many more years.) Playing with him almost feels urgent. Things that make other people feel better about their dogs who have passed away make me feel sad. I fight the urge to tear up when I see old dogs who look like her.
I want to stress that I feel like a good owner to Rex, and he is happy and healthy. I am no longer depressed, and my reaction to Cassie's death is no longer getting in the way of my personal or professional lives. Still, I am sometimes wrestling with these feelings of guilt and sadness. I don't know if how I feel is normal (for a dog lover) and healthy or not for a death that happened so long ago. I don't know what to take away from the common saying "Everyone mourns differently."
I'm not sure what to do about how I feel. I don't know if I would feel comfortable about going to my wife and saying "I want to talk to a professional about how I'm feeling about Cassie." I've never wanted to have a funeral or memorial, because I can't see them as a "celebration of life" yet. I feel to emotionally raw for those sorts of things. I have no friends outside my family who I would feel comfortable about sharing these feelings with.
I know many of us have dealt with the death of a pet. Does anyone have a suggestion for how I can have more peace in how I feel about this?
Thanks.
Cassie was originally my wife's dog, but she lived with me for the last several years of her life after my wife (then girlfriend) and my now-stepchild moved in with me. I was never a dog person before, but I developed a great love for Cassie. People would frequently comment on how much I loved her. Spending time with that dog was easily one of the best things in my life.
In January, we sent Cassie to the vet because she was lethargic and breathing heavily all the time. They kept her overnight for observation. She died at the vet early the next morning. We were able to get a lock of her hair and an impression of her paw. We still have her ashes in an urn in an untidy corner of the living room.
I was so upset by Cassie's death that my performance at work suffered for several months, and my depression affected me as a husband and stepfather, which was not fair to my family, although I tried to put on a happy face because my wife was also very upset over Cassie's death. I felt like I needed to soldier on and function so that necessary things could get done around the house while my wife was so emotionally low.
On a logical level, I helped give this dog a wonderful life, and I paid for lifesaving surgery for her that my wife could not have afforded otherwise. She was surrounded by love while she lived with me and wanted for nothing.
On an emotional level, I feel like I let my dog down. She died in a place she hated and feared, surrounded by strangers. I also feel guilty because we had been feeding her grain free food before she died, and studies have come out since then linking that type of food to heart problems. I feel like my ignorance as an owner contributed to her death.
Now, I am often sad instead of happy when I think about Cassie. I wonder if I could have prevented her from dying when and where she did. I think about Rex dying more than is normal. I try to have fun with him, but sometimes I am literally thinking "I'll only be able to throw the ball in the field with him so many times, so I better do it as much as I can before he dies too." (Rex ought to live many more years.) Playing with him almost feels urgent. Things that make other people feel better about their dogs who have passed away make me feel sad. I fight the urge to tear up when I see old dogs who look like her.
I want to stress that I feel like a good owner to Rex, and he is happy and healthy. I am no longer depressed, and my reaction to Cassie's death is no longer getting in the way of my personal or professional lives. Still, I am sometimes wrestling with these feelings of guilt and sadness. I don't know if how I feel is normal (for a dog lover) and healthy or not for a death that happened so long ago. I don't know what to take away from the common saying "Everyone mourns differently."
I'm not sure what to do about how I feel. I don't know if I would feel comfortable about going to my wife and saying "I want to talk to a professional about how I'm feeling about Cassie." I've never wanted to have a funeral or memorial, because I can't see them as a "celebration of life" yet. I feel to emotionally raw for those sorts of things. I have no friends outside my family who I would feel comfortable about sharing these feelings with.
I know many of us have dealt with the death of a pet. Does anyone have a suggestion for how I can have more peace in how I feel about this?
Thanks.
Oh dear, my childhood dog was named Cassie too - I named her, even, so this question hits kind of hard.
I think what you're feeling is totally normal for someone who really loved their dog. Grief is really complicated, it's different for every person and every relationship, including pets. Sometimes especially pets because our interactions with them can be so simple and strong. A lot of times people don't allow themselves time and space to mourn their pets immediately because societally it's not really talked about or prioritized. Delayed grief like what you're feeling right now is a predictable result of that and the suddenness of her passing.
As alex1965 suggests, look for a local support group for people grieving the loss of a pet. Once you start looking for them you'll find them all over the place. I also think that one thing you can get started on immediately is dealing with Cassie's ashes. You said they're in an untidy corner of the living room; you might get a lot of grieving done in the process of tidying that corner and making a spot for her urn where it can be seen and appreciated.
As an adult I've made little shrines for each of my pets' deaths - they've been cats so it's their water bowl with some little things like their collar and favorite toys with some pictures. And that's helped me because each time I notice this spot on my shelf I can take a moment to remember - over time I've shifted these little memorials to storage when I've felt the grieving was really complete. So instead of keeping Cassie's urn in an untidy corner, keep it in a tidy corner with some pictures of her and some happy memories like her favorite ball or blanket.
Grieving is work. It's something that I, at least, have to actively choose to do, and focus on. It's a form of respect to my dead loved one, and respect to myself because it's honoring my emotions and making space for them. Different actions and processes work for different situations and people, but cultures have formed traditions around death for very good reason and a lot of them are near-universal. Lighting a candle, for example, can be surprisingly powerful when you're using that action and the flame to focus on thoughts of your loved one. It sounds like your depression, the complex family situation, your inexperience with doggy-caused emotions, and the surprise of Cassie's death all combined to keep you from actively grieving much at all, if you're even culturally inclined to do so in the first place. Figuring out how to work through your grief is going to be a net positive in the end, because you'll encounter death again - as you say, you've got another wonderful dog, as well as human family. And knowing that you can get through what you're feeling about Cassie now is going to give you strength to endure, and importantly enjoy, the future.
posted by Mizu at 6:33 PM on October 5, 2019 [10 favorites]
I think what you're feeling is totally normal for someone who really loved their dog. Grief is really complicated, it's different for every person and every relationship, including pets. Sometimes especially pets because our interactions with them can be so simple and strong. A lot of times people don't allow themselves time and space to mourn their pets immediately because societally it's not really talked about or prioritized. Delayed grief like what you're feeling right now is a predictable result of that and the suddenness of her passing.
As alex1965 suggests, look for a local support group for people grieving the loss of a pet. Once you start looking for them you'll find them all over the place. I also think that one thing you can get started on immediately is dealing with Cassie's ashes. You said they're in an untidy corner of the living room; you might get a lot of grieving done in the process of tidying that corner and making a spot for her urn where it can be seen and appreciated.
As an adult I've made little shrines for each of my pets' deaths - they've been cats so it's their water bowl with some little things like their collar and favorite toys with some pictures. And that's helped me because each time I notice this spot on my shelf I can take a moment to remember - over time I've shifted these little memorials to storage when I've felt the grieving was really complete. So instead of keeping Cassie's urn in an untidy corner, keep it in a tidy corner with some pictures of her and some happy memories like her favorite ball or blanket.
Grieving is work. It's something that I, at least, have to actively choose to do, and focus on. It's a form of respect to my dead loved one, and respect to myself because it's honoring my emotions and making space for them. Different actions and processes work for different situations and people, but cultures have formed traditions around death for very good reason and a lot of them are near-universal. Lighting a candle, for example, can be surprisingly powerful when you're using that action and the flame to focus on thoughts of your loved one. It sounds like your depression, the complex family situation, your inexperience with doggy-caused emotions, and the surprise of Cassie's death all combined to keep you from actively grieving much at all, if you're even culturally inclined to do so in the first place. Figuring out how to work through your grief is going to be a net positive in the end, because you'll encounter death again - as you say, you've got another wonderful dog, as well as human family. And knowing that you can get through what you're feeling about Cassie now is going to give you strength to endure, and importantly enjoy, the future.
posted by Mizu at 6:33 PM on October 5, 2019 [10 favorites]
It might help to talk about all of these different feelings - both the painful ones and the loving ones with someone who can understand and also listen patiently without getting caught up in their own stuff. If that sounds nice, one option is the Pet Loss Hotline at (877) 474-3310 run by the ASPCA.
posted by metahawk at 6:39 PM on October 5, 2019 [7 favorites]
posted by metahawk at 6:39 PM on October 5, 2019 [7 favorites]
My condolences.
Every time a pet--or for that matter a person--in my life has died, I've felt guilty. And it always appears to me that there's a good reason for the feeling, but at the same time, the consistent way it manifests makes me suspect that it's just a symptom of grief.
And if in fact you did something to regret--people aren't perfect, we're fallible. Humans aren't built to make decisions about life and death; that's above our pay grade. You did your best. Everything dies, and not because of you.
posted by Sing Or Swim at 6:47 PM on October 5, 2019 [3 favorites]
Every time a pet--or for that matter a person--in my life has died, I've felt guilty. And it always appears to me that there's a good reason for the feeling, but at the same time, the consistent way it manifests makes me suspect that it's just a symptom of grief.
And if in fact you did something to regret--people aren't perfect, we're fallible. Humans aren't built to make decisions about life and death; that's above our pay grade. You did your best. Everything dies, and not because of you.
posted by Sing Or Swim at 6:47 PM on October 5, 2019 [3 favorites]
I'm sorry for your loss. The relationships we have with our pets can be deep and spiritual and your grief is completely normal. I second the recommendation above to seek out a support group, perhaps through your local animal shelter or your vet, for others dealing with this kind of grief.
posted by rpfields at 7:39 PM on October 5, 2019
posted by rpfields at 7:39 PM on October 5, 2019
Would it be helpful to talk to your vet about the likely cause of Cassie’s death? Grain-free dog food has been linked to a certain type of heart trouble (DCM, dilated cardiomyopathy) in some breeds of dogs, but this may not at all have been a likely diagnosis for her based on the vet’s exam. DCM is not the same as a heart attack.
Even if the vet thinks it was likely DCM and likely related to the food she was eating, your newness at dog ownership isn’t to blame - the research about this just started coming out at the end of 2018.
In terms of her dying in a place she hated, without you, it doesn’t sound like you knew her death was likely. You were doing the best that you could for her - taking her to a place where trained professionals could try to help her and save her. You sound like the kind of person who would have stayed with her while she died if you knew it was coming. That makes you a great dog owner.
I realize these arguments are unlikely to be a solution to your guilt and your grief. But if it helps, this internet stranger assures you that you did everything you could and you have nothing you need to feel guilty for.
I agree that getting some support, whether therapy or something less formal, could really help. Good luck, and I’m very sorry for your loss. Cassie sounds like she was a great dog, and you sound like a wonderful person and dog owner.
posted by bananacabana at 7:55 PM on October 5, 2019 [9 favorites]
Even if the vet thinks it was likely DCM and likely related to the food she was eating, your newness at dog ownership isn’t to blame - the research about this just started coming out at the end of 2018.
In terms of her dying in a place she hated, without you, it doesn’t sound like you knew her death was likely. You were doing the best that you could for her - taking her to a place where trained professionals could try to help her and save her. You sound like the kind of person who would have stayed with her while she died if you knew it was coming. That makes you a great dog owner.
I realize these arguments are unlikely to be a solution to your guilt and your grief. But if it helps, this internet stranger assures you that you did everything you could and you have nothing you need to feel guilty for.
I agree that getting some support, whether therapy or something less formal, could really help. Good luck, and I’m very sorry for your loss. Cassie sounds like she was a great dog, and you sound like a wonderful person and dog owner.
posted by bananacabana at 7:55 PM on October 5, 2019 [9 favorites]
Does your employer offer an Employee Assistance Program? Often, you can get short-term counseling sessions from these for free.
posted by invisible ink at 10:52 PM on October 5, 2019 [1 favorite]
posted by invisible ink at 10:52 PM on October 5, 2019 [1 favorite]
I'm so sorry for your loss. My heart breaks for you having to feel all of this. Grief complicated by guilt is so painful. I hope you can let go of the guilt and give yourself the sympathy you deserve as you continue to process this.
I agree that guilt is a common feature of grief. It comes naturally to some of us perfectionist types. And I think it's kind of a way of gaining control over a world in which sad things happen randomly. Our mind doesn't wants to think that we can lose a loved one at any moment; it prefers to pretend that we committed a mistake ourselves, one we could have prevented. Maybe it's even evolutionarily adaptive for people to think back over deaths and consider ourselves responsible. Maybe it's a way of raging against the death, except (for those of us peaceful enough to not want to blame others) by directing that toward ourselves.
But in this case, you're feeling guilty for feeding your dog high quality food. This wasn't abuse or negligence. You only had her best interests in mind. Maybe you were unaware of some just-released research. But you aren't a canine nutritionist; you aren't expected to have a Google news alert set up so that you can determine whether to take action on every study, however preliminary, that comes out on every food item consumed in your house. The entire rest of the world was missing it too -- I looked at Google trends, and it seems like the general googling public discovered this phenomenon in June of 2019, so it's not like you were behind the curve.
And similarly, the hospitalization. My sympathy goes out to you so much for this regret. I'm so sorry you weren't there to say goodbye and that she wasn't at home. But I want to challenge the guilt -- again, you're criticizing yourself for promptly getting her the highest quality care you could. Imagine if you hadn't! Imagine if you'd overridden the vets' advice and taken her home. You're kind of putting yourself in a "damned if you do, damned if you don't" bind here, and you don't deserve that.
Besides thinking about how perfectly normal and blameless and innocent your behavior was, consider what it would take to prevent these things. What would be the cost of that? Quick personal story: I went through a medical thing that temporarily gave me a low immune system, and I went beyond just following the safety guidelines the doctors gave me. No, I googled everything I ate. "Lentils and food poisoning." "Are lentils toxic?" (No they are not.) This makes life very hard. Grocery shopping takes hours and you become the person who knows about the rare cases of potato poisoning and can't eat anything. You might think "why didn't I know about this food risk?" But to do a science-journal search for the benefits and risks of (everything including) the dog food you buy? That basically would represent a crippling level of neurosis. Or take the hospital. To get her care without leaving her alone in that context, you would've had to stay in the animal hospital with her. Does that even exist? I don't think it does. And is it reasonable to do every time she is there, even for precautionary observation?
On both issues, you functioned with utmost care for your dog. What you are implicitly expecting from yourself goes beyond what anyone can do, and even though I know you would do anything to have prevented this, without the perfect knowledge of hindsight, even trying to prevent it would've taken fairly extreme measures that would themselves create problems. You did the very best you could. So I truly hope you can let go of the guilt. I'm sure Cassie would want you to.
I think seeing a therapist is totally reasonable. Therapy can teach skills and bring realizations that are helpful in many situations, not just the current one. Another option is to write Cassie a letter or talk to Cassie now. I don't know your beliefs about the afterlife and how our relationships to our loved ones function, but I found great relief by writing a few letters to someone who passed away. (It sounded silly to me until I tried it.)
Best wishes to you.
posted by salvia at 11:27 PM on October 5, 2019 [6 favorites]
I agree that guilt is a common feature of grief. It comes naturally to some of us perfectionist types. And I think it's kind of a way of gaining control over a world in which sad things happen randomly. Our mind doesn't wants to think that we can lose a loved one at any moment; it prefers to pretend that we committed a mistake ourselves, one we could have prevented. Maybe it's even evolutionarily adaptive for people to think back over deaths and consider ourselves responsible. Maybe it's a way of raging against the death, except (for those of us peaceful enough to not want to blame others) by directing that toward ourselves.
But in this case, you're feeling guilty for feeding your dog high quality food. This wasn't abuse or negligence. You only had her best interests in mind. Maybe you were unaware of some just-released research. But you aren't a canine nutritionist; you aren't expected to have a Google news alert set up so that you can determine whether to take action on every study, however preliminary, that comes out on every food item consumed in your house. The entire rest of the world was missing it too -- I looked at Google trends, and it seems like the general googling public discovered this phenomenon in June of 2019, so it's not like you were behind the curve.
And similarly, the hospitalization. My sympathy goes out to you so much for this regret. I'm so sorry you weren't there to say goodbye and that she wasn't at home. But I want to challenge the guilt -- again, you're criticizing yourself for promptly getting her the highest quality care you could. Imagine if you hadn't! Imagine if you'd overridden the vets' advice and taken her home. You're kind of putting yourself in a "damned if you do, damned if you don't" bind here, and you don't deserve that.
Besides thinking about how perfectly normal and blameless and innocent your behavior was, consider what it would take to prevent these things. What would be the cost of that? Quick personal story: I went through a medical thing that temporarily gave me a low immune system, and I went beyond just following the safety guidelines the doctors gave me. No, I googled everything I ate. "Lentils and food poisoning." "Are lentils toxic?" (No they are not.) This makes life very hard. Grocery shopping takes hours and you become the person who knows about the rare cases of potato poisoning and can't eat anything. You might think "why didn't I know about this food risk?" But to do a science-journal search for the benefits and risks of (everything including) the dog food you buy? That basically would represent a crippling level of neurosis. Or take the hospital. To get her care without leaving her alone in that context, you would've had to stay in the animal hospital with her. Does that even exist? I don't think it does. And is it reasonable to do every time she is there, even for precautionary observation?
On both issues, you functioned with utmost care for your dog. What you are implicitly expecting from yourself goes beyond what anyone can do, and even though I know you would do anything to have prevented this, without the perfect knowledge of hindsight, even trying to prevent it would've taken fairly extreme measures that would themselves create problems. You did the very best you could. So I truly hope you can let go of the guilt. I'm sure Cassie would want you to.
I think seeing a therapist is totally reasonable. Therapy can teach skills and bring realizations that are helpful in many situations, not just the current one. Another option is to write Cassie a letter or talk to Cassie now. I don't know your beliefs about the afterlife and how our relationships to our loved ones function, but I found great relief by writing a few letters to someone who passed away. (It sounded silly to me until I tried it.)
Best wishes to you.
posted by salvia at 11:27 PM on October 5, 2019 [6 favorites]
I lost my baby cat almost precisely 3 years ago. October 23, 2016. I bottle fed her and loved her for 10 years. The single best thing I did for my immense grief was to do the Grief Recovery Method for Pet Loss workbook. They make the point that healing from grief takes more than merely time, and that there are specific steps we can take to heal. It helped me so much that I have done some of the exercises in the book for several other major losses I've had, and they always help me integrate what's hard. Best of luck and so sorry for your loss of sweet Cassie.
posted by fairlynearlyready at 1:07 AM on October 6, 2019 [7 favorites]
posted by fairlynearlyready at 1:07 AM on October 6, 2019 [7 favorites]
I have not used that workbook mentioned above but had it recommended and would definitely go ahead and buy if I ended up struggling too badly after a loss. I think you should try it; this is a quality-of-life issue for you at this point.
Even in a clear-cut loss in old age of old age causes, it is typical of pet grief to replay bad decisions (especially the ones where you made a decision based on the information you had at the time, and then found out later there were incorrect assumptions or the science got more clear or whatever), feel a lot of guilt over totally normal things - leaving the house to go to work, scolding them when they're trying to do shenanigans, that time you yelled at them because you were stressed about something else. There will be some of that, there will be a few bad 3am times. With the loss of each of my pets, I've had to deliberately assemble a happy memory album in my head, something I can replay when the flashbacky unexpected gut-punches and guilt come.
But you are describing an awfully heavy grief burden that I think deserves some more specific management than just "time will help". Try the workbook, see if you can find some grief resources that you are comfortable with.
We had a set of circumstances that meant we had three dogs all around the same age, which is...not a mistake I ever want to make again. We lost one this year, and are forging entirely new relationships with the other two now, and there's even guilt in that - both that they are getting our attention in ways they didn't before, also they are getting to do things that he never got to do, and also they're going to be gone in the next couple of years probably. It's complicated, and my husband and I are both having to do real processing work around it.
But sometimes all I can remind myself is that any dog that lives in a loving safe home, even if their care is imperfect (and it always will be, there's no way to get it right all the time), is a dog that won the lottery. I can't think too hard about the dogs that don't win the lottery because it's too much, but I just have to remind myself that my dogs got a great life even if it wasn't a perfect life and even if it was a bit shorter than it could have been if I'd known and done all the right things.
posted by Lyn Never at 8:37 AM on October 6, 2019 [1 favorite]
Even in a clear-cut loss in old age of old age causes, it is typical of pet grief to replay bad decisions (especially the ones where you made a decision based on the information you had at the time, and then found out later there were incorrect assumptions or the science got more clear or whatever), feel a lot of guilt over totally normal things - leaving the house to go to work, scolding them when they're trying to do shenanigans, that time you yelled at them because you were stressed about something else. There will be some of that, there will be a few bad 3am times. With the loss of each of my pets, I've had to deliberately assemble a happy memory album in my head, something I can replay when the flashbacky unexpected gut-punches and guilt come.
But you are describing an awfully heavy grief burden that I think deserves some more specific management than just "time will help". Try the workbook, see if you can find some grief resources that you are comfortable with.
We had a set of circumstances that meant we had three dogs all around the same age, which is...not a mistake I ever want to make again. We lost one this year, and are forging entirely new relationships with the other two now, and there's even guilt in that - both that they are getting our attention in ways they didn't before, also they are getting to do things that he never got to do, and also they're going to be gone in the next couple of years probably. It's complicated, and my husband and I are both having to do real processing work around it.
But sometimes all I can remind myself is that any dog that lives in a loving safe home, even if their care is imperfect (and it always will be, there's no way to get it right all the time), is a dog that won the lottery. I can't think too hard about the dogs that don't win the lottery because it's too much, but I just have to remind myself that my dogs got a great life even if it wasn't a perfect life and even if it was a bit shorter than it could have been if I'd known and done all the right things.
posted by Lyn Never at 8:37 AM on October 6, 2019 [1 favorite]
There's a quote out there about every pet being a tragedy in the making. A few years ago, a work colleague lost both of her cats to unrelated issues in a week, and I spent a lot of time thinking about the choices we make in adopting a pet knowing what will come.
We adopt them knowing that this is how it will end, but in the belief that there will be so much joy in being together before that end. And even though it's hard and terrible to have our pets pass on, outliving them is the ultimate kindness. If we were to go before them, they would't have the context to understand why we had suddenly disappeared, nor the agency to decide what to do with themselves afterwards. Instead we take on the pain so that we make sure that they are cared for until the end. That the last few hours were at the vet doesn't take away the years of love and care that you gave Cassie.
I hope that the thought of your pain even now being an ongoing kindness can bring some small measure of comfort.
posted by past unusual at 9:10 AM on October 6, 2019 [8 favorites]
We adopt them knowing that this is how it will end, but in the belief that there will be so much joy in being together before that end. And even though it's hard and terrible to have our pets pass on, outliving them is the ultimate kindness. If we were to go before them, they would't have the context to understand why we had suddenly disappeared, nor the agency to decide what to do with themselves afterwards. Instead we take on the pain so that we make sure that they are cared for until the end. That the last few hours were at the vet doesn't take away the years of love and care that you gave Cassie.
I hope that the thought of your pain even now being an ongoing kindness can bring some small measure of comfort.
posted by past unusual at 9:10 AM on October 6, 2019 [8 favorites]
I'm so sorry. I lost my sweet girl in March, and also feel a lot of guilt and sadness that sometimes overwhelms my happy memories. In my case, losing her came in the middle of a larger sea change in my life--surgery, divorce, etc.--so I suppose I had an easier time telling myself it was time to find a therapist. I'm very glad I did start seeing a therapist, though, and I encourage you to give it a try. If you're worried at the thought of admitting the reason to your family, it's fully fine to simply say that you'd like to carve out some time for mental health and wellbeing and a routine session with a counselor is where you plan to start. Grief can bring to the surface all manner of difficult thoughts, and counseling can give you the tools and space you need to process it all in constructive ways.
In the meantime, maybe honor Cassie and your memories with her. Move her urn away from that untidy corner to somewhere bright and cheerful. Every few days I put a few flowers in a vase next to my girl's ashes, and I spend a few minutes talking to her. It's a private little ritual that doesn't take up much time but feels heavy with meaning and consideration.
posted by late afternoon dreaming hotel at 12:59 PM on October 7, 2019 [1 favorite]
In the meantime, maybe honor Cassie and your memories with her. Move her urn away from that untidy corner to somewhere bright and cheerful. Every few days I put a few flowers in a vase next to my girl's ashes, and I spend a few minutes talking to her. It's a private little ritual that doesn't take up much time but feels heavy with meaning and consideration.
posted by late afternoon dreaming hotel at 12:59 PM on October 7, 2019 [1 favorite]
This thread is closed to new comments.
posted by alex1965 at 6:15 PM on October 5, 2019 [1 favorite]