My dog died.

She was 16 and my honest to god best friend. My little shadow. She got sick and then sicker so fast and then we had to say goodbye.

It’s been awful, and before she was even sick, I told Joe to be careful and watch me closely when she goes. I was just certain I would fall into a depression or have a gnarly days long panic attack like I used to.

I didn’t.

I’m just really sad.

Is this stability? To be able to handle saying goodbye to my Libby without losing touch with the here and now?

Good for me, sure. Meds are working. To be honest, though, I’d rather be drugged out of my gourd so I wouldn’t miss her so sharply. This is not going away, this grief. I might as well make friends with it.