Having a tantrumy moment.

I thought I'd had this mood under control, kind of, but I received a package from England today, along with a flimsy, familiar airmail envelope with the receipt in it. It's for work, for an air sampling machine we have that needs a new charger. At any rate, the envelope reminded me of being overseas, living there, doing things differently. As hard as it was, I have to say I've rarely felt more alive. Only in hiking or paddling or running have I had the same feeling. Freedom, and also adversity - such vividness of being. My boss is upset with me at the moment for reasons that are only partially my fault. I am hurt by this, and also angry. In addition, I am fed up with my life being dictated by my significant other. I'm sick of it. In these few sentences, I condemn both gainful employment and longterm relationships - and in some ways, hell fucking yeah. I want to get back out there, be alive, do things, experience the world, and maybe - MAYBE - make some small difference. The best way to get there is to continue on my path - if I'm a nurse, I can go anywhere. I'm not saying it's the key to the kingdom, but I can go overseas. I can make a small difference. I don't have to stay trapped, feel trapped. It is so very, very hard to wait, and life just keeps on going by. I feel like I'm going to explode. I am so tired of restraints and expectations and disappointing people. Those three things alone sap the life out of me. Add to that the sea of ignorance and apathy we all swim in these days, and it sometimes seems intolerable. Friday, on my way home, I saw a cat laying on the road, half in the grass, half on the pavement. It looked odd even from 55 mph. I turned around, of course. He had been hit - of course. And no one had bothered to stop - of course. I had a sheet in my trunk - I took it out to catch him with it. He hissed and dragged himself away on his front legs, panting with pain and from the heat. He was a long-haired kitty, grey and white, with startling green eyes. I blocked his way back into the road, and he dragged his thin little body over to the base of a tree. I caught him in the sheet and picked him up as gently as I could. I set him on the passenger seat, turned off the radio, and turned up the air conditioning. As I drove toward the nearest veterinary clinic, he got his head out from under the sheet and laid there panting, staring right into my eyes when I looked at him, and hissing at me if I touched him. Eventually, he stopped hissing and allowed me to stroke his side, but still he panted. His lower jaw was split open down the center; there were lacerations and abrasions all over his body - and obviously, he had a broken back or pelvis. Still he looked right into my eyes. It killed a part of me to see that. The first clinic didn't have a vet there at that time, so I called ahead to the next clinic, the one where I take my cat. They took me in. Long story short, I had him euthanized. His pelvis was broken, and he was feral. If he didn't die from his injuries, the recovery period would have been long and arduous - and as at least a semi-wild cat, it would have been next to impossible. I have questioned myself again and again - did I do the right thing? It was a terrible thing to have to do. I just hope that I made his last hour more comfortable - safer, and in the hands of people who cared. I managed not to cry, other than tearing up a bit, which was good. As it turns out, I think I'll be working some Saturdays at that clinic this summer. I'm glad for that. M. argued with me about what I would have done had the cat been clearly a pet - I might have tried to save it. He was, as usual, concerned about money. Not that I'm not, but there are some things that need to be done; some things that I have to do. This is all to say - I am sick of being told what I should do, what I should think, when I should do things, how I should do them. Sick, sick, sick. I am tired of being a shadow of who I can be. I am sick of seeing cutting and alcohol as escapes. No, I'm not using those things right now, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about them. Like I said - exploding head. I have to get back to work. Best. Ta. ------------------- Edited to add: I just read over this and realized how familiar it must sound if you've read here for a long time (one or two of you)... that's because about a year ago I picked up another hit-by-car cat on the side of the road and did the same thing - took it to the one clinic (no vet, not there yet because that time was early in the morning), then to the same next one, who took the body for me. In that situation, the cat died in my back seat before I got him help; he was crying, yowling, the whole ride, and I was sobbing by the time I got to the doctor's office. Sometimes seems like things repeat themselves time and again. Not sure if that means anything. I don't need to say it again, but I will - please, please get your animals spayed or neutered. An addendum to that - please, if you can help it at all, DO NOT have outdoor cats! I feel very strongly about that. It leads to nothing good in almost every situation.