An Outing Alone

It has been two months since the attack. I’m still afraid to walk down my neighborhood street. I can only look that way, and when I do, it is both disturbing and there is a huge sense of despair over the choice I made that day. If only, if only, if only. I hate that I am getting used to Hardy being gone. I’m getting used to the pit in my stomach and pain in my heart over his absence. I don’t want it to be real. I want him to be here and healthy and happy.

The garden I created shortly after his death looks awful. I can’t seem to get the motivation to make it look pretty. I don’t want to be outside. I spend most of the time inside. The warm temperature is what gets me out there, but even then, I’m only comfortable in the back yard. I go out there from time to time, but never for very long.

My psychologist thought it was a milestone that I could be here for longer than three days. I didn’t tell him it was because I felt too cold in Santa Cruz to stay there. One of the side effects from a medication I am taking causes circulation problems, and that chill is extremely uncomfortable to the point where something feels wrong. I literally freaked out over how cold my feet were. So we left.

Here in Dublin our food supply was getting so low that I had to break out and go to a grocery store – alone. My car is still in SC, so I had to borrow my daughter’s car. The goal was to go get some bread and milk. I couldn’t even make myself a piece of toast, and I was really hungry. My hunger got the best of me. I forced myself to get around my fear of using her car - I have to go out to the front of the house to get inside. I feel extremely uneasy and fearful whenever I am out there.

The bread and milk errand wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be, so that was a bonus. On the way home, I decided to stop for a latte. Since I am in Dublin, there isn’t a coffee shop I know of where there isn’t a place for dogs outside. I had to drive around the perimeter of the local Starbucks looking for an entrance that wasn’t blocked by a dog, or in this case several dogs. I didn’t find one, and it took everything I had to get myself out of the car and into the café.

If I don’t look at the dogs, it’s easier. I remember a time when I was fearless of them, but those days are long gone. Now I get scared of the most harmless dogs – especially when I’m alone. I made it inside without completely freaking out, and successfully ordered myself a latte. I was thankful that when I came back out, the two dogs by the door were gone. It was a huge relief.

It was also my only outing for the day. I used to love being outdoors. I remember sitting outside that café for hours enjoying my time with Hardy, and anyone else who had tagged along for the walk we’d taken. I remember sitting and reading out there too – alone. I loved the dog friendliness of the place. Now I can only wonder when I will ever feel safe out there again. And being alone is miserable.