Death is not disgrace

Everyone at work mistakes you and Keegan for husband and wife. It’s absolutely baffling to you when it gets brought up.

For example…

You’ll be walking with him, with both your dogs in training, discussing menial things like strategies and drama, mostly just you yapping while he quietly listens and either validates your opinions or tries to give advice on issues you’re finding with certain people.

You’re mid vent, stressed out, and unlike you, you’ve stopped paying direct attention to your dog—you’re that elated in the moment. And Keegan’s being so attentive to you, he almost forgot about your dog as well, and his has been leashed with no need for concern… but your sweet ol’ Luna has been such a good girl, and she doesn’t usually need to be leashed much anyhow.

But she still has her moments…

Like in this instance, another soldier walking their dog enters the area, and before you can even react—Luna takes off… straight to the other dog, who’s also off leash…

The dog scatters, still a puppy in early training, and Lunas a well bred, hard trained meat missile of thunder and dominance. An alpha lady amongst your pack of assigned trainees. THE example.

Keegan doesn’t even hesitate.

One minute he’s next to you, the next, his boy Chance is in your hands and Keegans taken off down the hill towards Luna and the other soldiers dog. The soldiers yelling at you, and you’re recalling Luna who isn’t even listening. So rare for her, yet so aggravating that it has to be THIS moment.

Keegan springs to action, grabbing her, and another soldier walks by, a corporal who’s known to be relatively chill, and he stops beside you. He watches as Keegan takes the lead, Chance sniffing his pant leg all the while, and you’re sighing in irritation.

“At least your husbands getting a good workout in.”

The words register, only halfway, but they do.

This is the fourth time in two months someone has called Keegan your husband.

You don’t even know what to say, the previous three times he was with you, and you both awkwardly brushed and laughed it off, but you’re so worked up from venting and Luna disobeying command that you blurt it out.

“Oh he’s… not my husband…”

You almost don’t even realize how bitter it came out, it almost sounds more like you’re mad he’s not your husband, than a gentle blow off.

Truth be told? You had contemplated it once or twice…

How much he pays attention to you.

How every time you accidentally bump into each other it feels like jello molding for just a moment before ricocheting apart.

That time Chance got too excited over another dog when he was a puppy, and unexpectedly dragged Keegan right into you, and he made every physical effort possible in quick reaction to soften the blow and keep you from getting sent straight into the ground—the way his hand felt when he carefully placed it on your arm in perfect reaction…

And it’s not like you haven’t hung out together outside of work—you have… but it felt… strange..?

There were moments it was almost a ‘yeah, I like this’ but there were also moments you felt ‘not sure this would work long term, though’

And you’re not the type for short term, and you don’t fraternize with coworkers—at least, not since your server days when you were younger.

The man continues down the hill and asks the lady if she’s alright, her dog remained untouched by Luna thanks to Keegan’s perfect reaction and intervention, and you’re still dumbfounded.

‘My husband.’

It’s kind of nerve wracking that you don’t actually hate the sound. The implication that when others see you two together, they think you look like a couple.

Do you look good together?

Does he give the impression that he likes you to others?

Do you give that impression?

He approaches, slightly out of breath, Luna in hand, and he grabs her leash from around your shoulders. His fingers linger at your collar bone just a second too long, and you’re both in a haze of elated energies.

You look into his eyes, “Thank you…” is all you can even find the words to say.

He leashes Luna and hands you her, and you’re fidgeting with your sleeve so much you don’t even realize he’s been holding your hand around Chances leash, trying to take him back but you forgot to even let go.

He grins awkwardly, a nervous laugh when you realize, and you drop the leash to him, “Shit, sorry…”

His grin only widens, and he’s looking you over, but you hardly notice it until he brushes your shoulder with a caring touch, “It’s all good, ignore her, Luna didn’t hurt that dog. She’s just dramatic.”

The attempt to comfort soothes you only a little, you’re glancing at the woman as she’s storming off cursing about leaving dogs off leash, like you weren’t in an off leash zone.

“Hey,” his voice snaps you back to him, his eyes are serious, attentively patient, “You know Luna. She has her moments, but she’s a damn fine dog with incredible inhibition. Don’t worry about that chick—she should be more confident so her dog actually gains confidence, it’s an attractor for alphas like Luna. If she’s that insecure, an off leash zone isn’t where they need to be.”

And the entire rest of the walk, you keep Luna leashed, who walks along with Chance as if nothing happened. Keegan listens and supports you while you vent about canine behaviours and training structures, and he helps you form a new plan and routine to better knock that damn recall response into Lunas noggin’.

You feel like a team, and suddenly? Maybe the term husband wouldn’t sound so crazy, if he even reached boyfriend status first…

.･*″★。

I wake up every day and avoid looking at my phone for the first 20 minutes, excluding work concerns as half my work takes place in my very phone (and yet, my phone bill gets no coverage from work)

I get ready, unable to eat, unable to interact with social media because if I’m still not awake and see another bleak reminder of how much evil resides within this world I’ll just throw up anything I try to eat.

I have 2-3 alarms when I used to wake up with just one single, gentle, sound of birds chirping. I turn the first two off and go back to sleep, and of course, the first one is scheduled almost 2 hours before I’m supposed to actually wake up.

I will have a miserable and already drained start to my day otherwise, and getting out of bed will be that much more a challenge and curse on my very existence.

I drive for an hour to work every morning, I drive around 70-100km every day, in general. This of course, is rarely if at all compensated by my employer.

I am paid the equivalent of a 14 year old shovelling driveways after school, not even enough to make rent, and I apply. Apply. Apply. To jobs like it’s a second job.

I get declined.

I get declined.

I qualify.

I more than qualify.

I get declined.

Without even a shot at an interview.

“You just need to put yourself out there!”

The elder generations say.

What else have I done?

There are people making money harming children and the vulnerable, and I am losing money being a contributing member of society.

My friends message me.

I message back.

They don’t respond for hours, sometimes days.

They are suffering and miserable all the same.

We see eachother maybe once or twice a month, sometimes not for months at a time.

There are people making money harming children and the vulnerable with their ‘friends’ every day.

I set my goals higher, as advised.

I get blocked at every turn.

I apply for food insecurity, I apply for low income security, I apply for jobs.

I get food insecurity.

I get low income support.

I get declined.

My boss tells me they cannot afford to pay me my rates any longer after I get a moderate risk injury that affects my work ability.

I cannot go to any clinic or medical care as I will be told what I already know; “You cannot work. You must rest.”

I can’t stop working, or I won’t be able to feed my cat.

I won’t be able to feed myself.

I sit down and play a video game, trying to allow myself even a moment of respite from things.

I cannot stop the guilty feeling that I should be continuing to push myself to apply to jobs I know I will be declined only moments later by an automated system.

I contemplate enlisting.

Oh.

I don’t have a birth certificate any longer.

I have no proof I was born in my own country.

I have to reapply for that.

My father pays my phone bill because he knows I can’t afford to pay it myself.

He consistently threatens to cut me off unless I spend $20 on gas I cannot spare to see him, because I need to save that money for my job to continue to make less than minimum wage.

I insisted on this job because any job at all was better than no job.

I regret it.

My coworkers are all leaving.

My boss has no clue that the team is revolting against their processes and unacceptable pay.

My boss has no clue that the team has begun discussing opening a suit against them over it.

I couldn’t afford a lawyer to participate even if I dreamed it.

There are people paying lawyers to help them keep their crimes against children and the vulnerable hush hush.

I contemplate if it’s even worth it to file my taxes this year, I won’t get much back, but at this point, it’s anything at all.

But my taxes never go towards anything that supports or uplifts my community.

They go to people who are harming children and the vulnerable.

Am I even a good person anymore?

I worked hard and long in therapy.

And I beat the darkest of my thoughts to harm oneself.

And yet.

I wake up and avoid social media and have no stomach to eat or I will vomit before I even get out the door for my job that is killing my car, killing my spirit, killing my humanity.

I used to get excited when a man asked me on a date.

Now I wonder if he is just talking to me for my body, or if he does things on his devices that could have him convicted.

I am losing sense of my self control and generosity towards others, because what have I been offered at any point in my life?

There are people harming children and the vulnerable, and I pay my taxes believing it makes me a standup citizen when it only allows those evil, vile creatures, to remain above the rest of us.

Power, greed, and lust.

Because I do not possess these traits or desires at a criminal level, I am nothing to those that do.

And yet, I wake up every day and do it all over again, trying not to let the thoughts wander so far my car will end up in a 7 foot ditch, caved in.