I keep having almost relapses with cutting. I had to put down my dog Lucky, who I have had for 13 years, on Monday. I found him in the kitchen, pretty much dying. I was alone and had to handle it all by myself until my parents finally got to the vet office that I rushed him to. He had a mass on his spleen, which they believe had burst and he was bleeding internally. We made the call to put him down, because we did not want him to suffer, no matter how selfish I am. I knelt down to be face-to-face with him, and he fucking tried to sit up. My Mom and Dad were talking and petting him before me, and he fucking had to do it with me. I absolutely lost it. I said goodbye, kissed him between his eyes, because that was my favorite spot to kiss him, and left the building. I couldn't be there when they gave the injection. Or even go to the waiting room. I couldn't handle my parents walking out without him. So I drove home, collapsed on the floor as soon as I got in. Brindi and Bear were both looking for him, which made me lose it more. Then my family got home, and I was taking Lucky's tags off his collar so I could wear them as a necklace, and Brindi and Bear came running in thinking he was in here, which made me lose it again.
I just feel so dead inside. This is so much harder than I thought it would be, and I keep having the urge to cut, which I substitute with drinking, which is also bad. I would go for professional help, but I don't have the time with working and I can't lose this job.
Tuor: Stuff is our resident, hot mess, alcoholic.
Senel: Stuff is the patron saint of getting shitfaced. You replaced your organs with an engine that runs solely on alcohol.
Tuor: You foolish fools, no one can tame the stuffaluffagus!