Where Do I Go From Here?
- 8 hours ago
- 5 min read
I had to say goodbye to my soul dog Lexi almost seven months ago. She had an aggressive form of cancer and was gone within six days of first showing symptoms.
Lexi was my best friend. She exuded joy, loved our friends and family, lived for any kind of snack, basked in the sunshine on walks, gave the best hugs, enjoyed dance parties in the living room, and somehow always knew when I was sad and how to comfort me.
Losing her has been excruciating.
My Life Was Never Going to be the Same
A few months ago, I was sitting on the floor of my bedroom. I had arranged the furniture no less than five times because I couldn't have an empty place where Lexi's bed used to be. I was surrounded by the 20 books about grief I had ordered from Amazon. I looked through the books, trying to figure out what the heck I was supposed to do next with my life.
It was then that I had a revelation: I was no longer the person I used to be, and I couldn't go back. My life was never going to be the same.
I must confess: I'm deeply angry.
I liked my life before, and I miss it terribly. I didn't want it to change.
I truly feel untethered without Lexi. She was so lovely and wonderful, and her love and joy were so pure. Without her in my life, everything feels gray.
At the beginning of my grief journey, I felt like I was wearing a sweater that my great-aunt Maureen had knitted me. She used the itchiest wool she could find to make it. The sweater wasn't my style at all—bright orange and two sizes too small. But I couldn't take the sweater off. I had to wear it.
Once I had my sixth-month anniversary of losing Lexi, I felt like this itchy, orange sweater of grief had dissolved into my skin. It became part of my bone marrow. It became part of me. The reality of the situation settled in, and I realized that this was my life now.
Maybe I look the same on the outside, but inside, I am a totally different person. And, sometimes, it seems like the people around me don't always understand that. It's like they expect me to be who I was before. But that's impossible.
We are Experiencing Life While We are Grieving.
Everything in my life feels wrong and upside-down without Lexi. Yes. I'm living my life, but I'm doing everything under duress.
I don't really know who I am anymore. I don't know what I want. I don't have joy. My house doesn't feel like the sanctuary it was. I look everywhere, and I see Lexi. And, in the weirdness that is grief, that thought both comforts and saddens me.
I used to joke that it was her house, and I just paid the mortgage.
How do you live in someone else's house when they aren't there anymore?
I'm not only mourning the loss of Lexi, but I'm also mourning the person I used to be. I'm mourning the future I thought I would have.
I turned 40 without her. She will never meet the guy I marry. She won't meet my kids.
Also, we don't grieve in a vacuum. As humans, we are holistic creatures.
In the Pet Loss Community, we've talked about all of the other aspects of our lives we are dealing with while we are mourning our beloved pets. We have spouses, kids, parents, friends, jobs, houses, and other pets.
We are experiencing life while we are grieving.
Personally, in five months, I lost my grandma, Lexi, I was part of departmental layoffs at my job, and Lexi's primary veterinarian died unexpectedly.
Take Heart
I'm not one of those people who tries to find a silver lining in loss. I don't think we should have to do that. Someone you loved dearly died. There is no good to be found there.
However, I know that I, along with other people who have lost their fur children, want to have a meaningful life. We talk a lot about this in the Pet Loss Community. What did our pet stand for? How can we honor our pet? How can we have a fulfilling life, even in the wake of losing our loved one?
I'm still trying to figure this out. I definitely don't have all the answers. I wish I did.
I will say that my counselor's advice has helped me a lot. She says to just take the next appropriate step. Then, take the next appropriate step. Basically, you just go one step at a time.
Also, having resources like the Pet Loss Community and the local grief group I helped start has helped me immensely. I don't know where I would be if I didn't have the support of other pet parents as I walk through my grief.
Find a tribe and surround yourself with people who get your loss. Don't try to grieve alone. Limit time around people who make you feel like your grief doesn't matter.
Your grief matters. You matter. Your pet matters.
Not only does Pet Loss Community offer group grief support, but they also have 1:1 sessions with grief support specialists. I have done both, and I will continue to do so. In fact, I just renewed my membership for another six months. As I travel on my grief journey and as I experience holidays and even ordinary days without Lexi, I need friends in my corner who understand my pain, acknowledge it, and help carry it.
Disclaimer: I'm not a mental health professional. I have had a lot of therapy, so I may occasionally reference concepts I have learned in my sessions. If you have any mental health concerns or questions, please talk to your doctor.
Grief looks different for everyone, and support can, too. Pet Loss Community offers compassionate grief support. If you'd like to include clinical mental health treatment as part of your grief journey, Love, Baxter can help connect you with a licensed counselor or therapist in your state who understands pet loss grief. Click here to explore their directory.
Interested in joining Pet Loss Community, but not sure what type of support to get? Chat with one of our grief support specialists. It's a chance to be heard, get tips on how to cope now, and explore what support is the best fit for you.
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