Phoenix

Time in the inner world and for alters seems so different to the supposed linear time on the outside. Time in the inner world is fractured, distorted, warped.

In terms of grief and loss it’s a complication, especially with so many alters inside. Alters who are relatively aware of the here and now but pop up after not being around for a while, they bring the feelings of loss and grief back to a raw state for all. Questions like why am I not checking the litter trays the minute I get up? Why am I only putting food in one cat bowl and sealing the rest of the packet?  Where is Rocket? So, I stop what I am doing. Explain what happened, fill in the missing timeline. Then the plaster is ripped off the wound. The pain is suddenly as fresh as the moment it happened. Grief and hurt flood my system once more. I sit with it all, I sit with all of them and we ride each wave as it hits us. Yet tomorrow it may happen all over again. Or even later tonight.

I had to return to the vet this morning to pay the extortionate bill. I also picked up the footprints the vet had done, and hair clippings. One of the nurses went out to retrieve his cat carrier and blanket. Some staff came out to offer their condolences. In the brief time Rocket had stayed at the vet, they had fallen in love with him. I could feel the panic rising as alters who were not aware of Fridays events where suddenly coming to front. Why is the cat carrier empty? Why are the staff upset. Why are you crying Phoenix. We want our boy. We want our boy. We want our boy. I am trying to converse with the staff and hold back a tide of confusion and sobbing until we are safely home and I can explain yet again. Ride the fresh tide of raw pain and try to bring about calm and meet my alters needs. I am exhausted. I do not know if or when the next wave will hit. If and when it does, I probably won’t be expecting it, but I will be here.

Phoenix