There isn't much that surprises me, and I pride myself on being able to handle the unexpected. To face trouble and uncertainty with a calm and detached manner is what I've trained myself to do over the years. In a crisis, emotions get in the way, and I've taught myself to set them aside when necessary. It's not that I'm indifferent or that I lack emotion; I simply know when to shut that part of me down. It's a skill that has allowed me to constantly move forward when times get rough. In such times, you can count on me to hold down the fort, to stand tall, to be a pillar to lean against. My emotions are reliably in check.
Or such was the impression I had of myself until last Sunday when word came that one of our cats was seriously ill. Suddenly faced with the realization that one of our household might not be with us much longer, I buckled. All other thoughts left my mind - job, family, friends, bills, weather, everything evaporated from my mind with this news. My one consuming thought was of the cat and a life left to live without her. I crumbled inside. Not knowing what else to do, I had a drink, and my three and a half year wagon ride was over. I cried.
It's a shock to the system to find out you aren't who you thought you were, to learn you aren't as strong as you thought yourself to be. I'm not a rock after all, and that disappoints me. There's nothing wrong with men showing their emotions, and I don't think of myself as any less manly for feeling them. What troubles me is that I cracked when I should've been solid. When one is as lacking in natural-born talents as I am, one has to find something about themselves to hold on to, and I latched on to my ability to calmly face a crisis. And it's not like I haven't experienced death before. Like most in this world I've lost family and friends and pets before, and so death is no stranger to me. Like all living things, our cats must someday die. I just thought I'd be ready when the time came, and I realize now that I'll never be ready.
Some might think I'm over-reacting, that a cat is a cat. I know this sentiment exists because people have told me as much. "It's not," I was lectured, "like a cat is a person, a child. It's a cat." Some people raise children that will grow up to be doctors and lawyers and such, while others will raise "children" that will be lions and tigers and bears. They have their family, and I have mine.
The future isn't as bleak for our cat as it was a few days ago, but the our time with her is drawing to a close. I'll buck up and show a good face because that's what I expect myself to do; inside, however, I'm in tatters.
tatters, I understand. I think it is often suprising the the things that effect us. and those we thought would understand often do not especaillay if you are not the one to cry at movies.
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