R.I.P. Poppy

So yesterday the time came and Poppy was put to sleep at 10.30am. Apparently it was very peaceful and she had my parents holding her at the end. She will be cremated and her ashes buried in the garden.

I have so many mixed feelings about the whole thing though. Obviously I'm very sad, but I'm also pissed off. Poppy shouldn't have been allowed to get so bad before she was taken. And I wanted to be there as she died; she was MY dog first. But no, I have no right to be upset, Mum has the monopoly on grief apparently. Or so she seems to think. I told Mum that I want to be there when the ashes are buried and she's not even happy to let me do that. I don't want them buried; I want her taken to the park where she loved to run before she got too ill to do so. I want her set free to the wind, not buried at the bottom of the garden. I was always going to take Shelley and Poppy back after my first year at uni. It was agreed before I started uni; the only reason why I was going to leave them that first year was because you can't have animals in halls of residence. But after that time my mum didn't want to let me take them so I ended up getting Kiwi. And I'm so pissed at the whole thing because now I'm being excluded from everything like I don't matter. Like I've always been excluded in the past.

I don't want to kick up a big fuss though as it doesn't feel respectful to Poppy's memory. But still, I'm pretty hurt by it all.

L was really sweet to me yesterday. I didn't really want to do anything all day. Felt really low and apathetic. Sometimes my depression really kicks in and I need to be bullied into doing stuff, but when I'm doing it I'm glad I bothered. I went to the stables to see my horse which was nice. I didn't feel very well at all so didn't do much with her, but being with her was therapeutic. L was very attentive and caring which I really, REALLY needed, and I'm very grateful to him for this.

This morning we went swimming. I'm trying to control the urge to over-exercise, while putting in a few lengths at the same time and having a laugh by diving for the locker key and stuff. My muscles are toning up a bit which is great. I'm trying to substitute looking emaciated for being very lean but with toned muscles. Being emaciated is so much safer; I take up less space, am more invisible, etc. But I won't survive it much longer and I know it's not the way to live a life. And I want to start living again, not just existing day by day, so I need to keep trying to eat. The average person would never believe how much willpower it takes to put food into your mouth, chew and swallow it. The effort is exhausting, but is the only way I'll get to have a career and one day be a mum.