I fail at this

Well, a tragedy has occurred over the past couple of days. I've decided to quit the ABC diet...well, just postpone it indefinitely. I'll still restrict, but I know I'll be bingeing a bit more because I've been more depressed than ever. I don't want the stress of not getting the calories I want on top of that. Well, I'll just post the journal entries I made while the internet was out after the storm. It's pretty long:

Wednesday August 4, 2010
10:35 pm

Mom came home from Petawawa earlier than she was supposed to. Actually, I was going to stay at dad’s for a night because I’m taking care of the boys tomorrow, but I ended up here because I heard some really bad news.
I guess the bad storm that hit today really affected C-Bay, and a tree branch slammed against my bedroom window. There was no damage, but it really freaked out my cats. We don’t know what happened, but my mom’s boyfriend came home to find one of them dead. Turbo. My Turbo. My baby. They guess that it scared her (she’s always afraid of thunder and loud noises- so it could have been the storm or it could have been the tree branch) and she had a heart attack. I actually hope that’s what happened, because then the pain would be minimized and she would have died instantly. My poor baby. I guess the fur on one side of her face was all matted from where my cat had licked her, knowing something was wrong. They’ve spent eight years together- I know they truly loved each other. They were inseparable.
When my mom told me, I burst into tears; I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak, and now I don’t want to eat more than ever. I feel so sick right now. I was supposed to be there! I know that I may not have been able to save her- but what if? I was supposed to be home! I could have comforted her. I could have pet her, and she would know it was okay. Cats are smarter than we give them credit for, they have feelings.
Now I’m feeling guilty for everything- for not giving her enough attention, for moving her out here. She was a needy cat, really loved pets and attention, but I often didn’t give her enough loving because of something as silly as her fur that was a little bit greasy. Why was I so selfish? She should have been at dad’s. But no. I had to move them out here. She would be fine if she had stayed at dad’s. I can’t stop crying- she was everything to me and Tibby, and she was too young to die. She hadn’t had a lifetime of loving yet. Tibby was apparently under my bed the whole afternoon and only came out when I got home. He’s been laying with me since- I think he knows she’s dead. But it’s heartbreaking to see him shoot up every couple of minutes and look around- the way he does when he hears Turbo enter the room or when he hears her playing outside the door. My poor baby- as I was writing this, he lept up from where he was sleeping on my chest and his eyes darted to my door. He’s waiting for her. Here come more tears.
He’s alone now. We don’t know where Mio is- Shawn says she darted outside when he came home and she hasn’t come back yet. I haven’t heard her at the door either.
I’m just so glad Tibby and Boo are okay. I wish I can stay home with Tibby until I know he’ll be okay after the loss of his best friend- his soul mate. I know this sounds silly, but they are like children to me. I feel like I lost a part of me, and I’m worried about Tibby. I miss Turbo so much already. I couldn’t stand to see her body, so Shawn and mom are just going to burry her. I looked at a few of her pictures from facebook- I wish I could have held her when I had the chance. I didn’t even see her this morning. If I had known, I would have at least hugged her and pet her until my mom forced us apart. Tibby’s left my room now, probably searching for her again. I wish Mio would come home.
I’m sorry Turbo. I’m so so sorry.



Thursday, August-05-10 8:25 pm
Everything reminds me of her- the towels on the bathroom floor that she used to lie on, her fur still on most of them; my laptop’s power cord that she chewed; any patch of sunlight that enters the house, knowing she used to love to lie in it; the kitchen chairs that she’d sprawl across; my bed- her absolute favourite place, both on and under it; my clothes- she used to lie on them all the time, and I’d be annoyed to find her dark fur on all my clothes. And I bet if I go to dad’s and take the teddy bear off my fuzzy pink moon chair, and huge mass of her dark fur will be right in the fuzz of the chair. And all over my clothes on the floor in the closet. Oh what I’d give to have all that back. I didn’t love her enough. No, I didn’t show my love for her enough. I loved her all too much, which is the problem. Even my email and usernames remind me of her (tiiburbo= my two cats’ names, Tibby and Turbo). I don’t even have enough pictures of her. I’m now regretting not being there to bury her- it didn’t even occur to me that I would need it for closure and to say goodbye. I keep looking outside, thinking how cold it must be. I wish I had buried her in her favourite blanket and with some toys. I know this sounds completely crazy, but I haven’t accepted that she’s dead yet. I keep expecting her to start meowing her loud, annoying meow- the one that we all found utterly annoying, but I miss more than ever. I miss her running into my room the moment I come home and curling up with Tibby on my bed. I miss her being by my side wherever I go in the house. I didn’t want to bury her because I didn’t believe she was dead. Poor Tibby still hasn’t stopped looking for her. Mio came in earlier and starting meowing, and he jumped up and ran to her, but when he smelled her and realized it wasn’t Turbo, he came back, his head hung low. He hasn’t even left my side. My poor babies.
I didn’t think I would miss her this much. I cry probably five or six times a day. I keep imaging how she must have died. I worry that she was scared, lonely, and in pain. The neighbours said that when the branch hit the ground, the whole neighbourhood shook because it was so huge and actually came from across the street (which is about 100 feet away- so the wind would have been very strong). I worry that she was under my bed or something, and the shake startled her and she hit her head, or even worse- there are these stupid ornaments under my bed with very sharp parts to them, and I worry that she hit herself on one and cut herself and bleed to death. Mom did find some kind of dried stains on the floor beside the door that looked like blood. She was probably scared, in so much pain, and looking for someone to help her. WHY WASN’T I HERE? I’m so mad at myself for not being there and for moving them here in the first place; mad at Jenna for stealing my place at dad’s and forcing me here; mad at dad for nagging at me to take them here; mad at mom for having such an unsuitable house for the cats. My baby is dead because I just had to go and make a drama out of my life. WHY THE FUCK AM I SO SELFISH? I miss her so fucking much. I wish I had just pet her before I left on Wednesday. If only I had some kind of sign that she was okay up there. I read the rainbow poem about animals in the afterlife, playing with other animals’ spirits and waiting for their owners to come. It really makes me want to die sooner so I could be with her.
Since she passed, I’ve been more depressed than ever. What is the point to living if we’re all going to die anyway? I’ve always known that my pets were the only things keeping me alive. What happens when they all pass on? Who will keep me here then? What will stop me from finally ending it all? I don’t even think I’d stay here for my own mother. One thing is for sure: I have to make sure to live ‘sinlessly’ until I finally do die. I have to make sure that I do make it to heaven, if it does exist at all. I’m completely uncertain about it; I am not a religious person. Well, actually, I’m agnostic (unsure). But don’t I have to have true faith in order to make it to heaven? I don’t think God takes negotiations. I guess that means I have to do some soul searching. No more sins from now on. I think I’ll google sins, just to make sure I’m not sinning at all. I know that sounds juvenile, but I have to make sure I see my babies again one day.
If I starve myself to death, does it count as suicide?
I miss my baby. Tibby misses her too, and I miss the old days.
I’ll never stop loving you, Turbo.