My dog is dying. My youngest daughter and I his constant caregiver, while my oldest daughter prays from her college dorm that he'll make it until she returns home for the holidays. It's hard watching someone you love so much, change right before your eyes. He's stopped giving me kisses now, and I wish God would just take him, so I wouldn't have to search his eyes for some assurance that he's ready to go.
Why am I telling you this? Because menopause is a bitch and life isn't fair. I was dead tired before I was getting up three to four times a night with my sick boy. The things we do for love, was Courage the Cowardly Dog's catchphrase and I guess he was right because Love is the only thing keeping me moving right now.
Exhaustion is my number one nemesis, shadowed very closely by depression. I am really starting to get a handle on why they used to put menopausal women in asylums. This is hard. Life is hard, harder than it should be. And now, one of the people who brings my heart so much joy, is leaving me. My best furry friend, my constant companion, my tiny son...
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