On November 19, 2021, I lost my dog Nyla, tragically and unexpectedly. She was young and very healthy. I should have had many more years with her, but lost her in one horrifying second. The pain I felt in that moment, and for the weeks and months to come, would forever change me.
I was no stranger to loss, having lost family members before, but nothing could have prepared me for the loss of my first pet. My heart was instantly shattered and I knew that life would never be the same. After the first few weeks, I was embarrassed for not being able to heal “quickly” or in what I thought was a timely manner.
My friends and family were wonderful and their support is the only reason I know I’m okay today. Outside of that, people checked in often the first month, but after that, it wasn’t as often. Which is not a complaint, I must emphasize. I didn’t expect people to sit in my grief with me. But after people stopped checking in, I felt my sadness pushing an imaginary deadline that I set for myself. I felt stupid for still feeling that grief and hopelessness. Why was I still so horribly sad? Why was it taking me so long to get through this? I want to note that her passing happened just a week before Thanksgiving, which also made the holiday season hard to get through.
I joined groups on Facebook where others were experiencing pet loss, watched videos, and frequently asked people how they got through their experience. Because as I often do, I struggled to sit with how I was feeling. I wanted to be done with the pain. I didn’t want to feel what I was feeling anymore. It was if I was trying to expedite my healing, and that’s just simply impossible.
Everything was triggering. Leaving my house, coming back to my house. Hearing dogs bark in my neighborhood. Looking in my backyard where she laid in the sun. Seeing people walk their dogs and just being happy with them. I also was trying to be there for my cat, Oliver, who became very confused and unsettled after not seeing his best friend return. Because while they were both my pets, I knew they’d formed an unbreakable bond and I didn’t think they’d have to say goodbye until much later. I was devastated and felt I took something from him too that he’d never get back.
I didn’t want to forget her, so I looked at memories every day. While painful, I feared forgetting what it was like to be her “mom”
I didn’t want to forget her. Today, I realize I never could, but then, I held onto the memories desperately, wishing that somehow they’d spring her back to life.
It is only in times of reflection that I can see how sad I was or how lonely and empty I felt. While I had the privilege of being able to lean on friends and family in my time of need, I still felt horribly lonely. Only 2 months after moving to a new city, I’d lost a part of me that I’d never get back. I thought about moving back home. Her death created distance between me and my new city. It didn’t feel like home. It only felt like a source of new pain. The people I felt closest to and could comfort me were miles away. All I wanted was to be close to them. I wasn’t sure how I would move forward here. I didn’t want to move forward in Raleigh, but something in me told me I had to keep trying. I also had lots of support telling that I could do it and to just try and hold on. It’s something I’ll always be grateful for.
I stopped posting on certain social media in the beginning of 2022. To be honest, I only wanted to be online where I didn’t have to really engage with others. I wanted to put whatever I was feeling into the world and not have a big “audience” watching. I also struggled with seeing other people post their best moments and be seemingly happy when I could barely get out of bed in the mornings.
In January, I struggled to feel hopeful about this year. Every January, I normally have anxiety about the coming year, but this time, I was full of dread. I dreaded the time passing without her. Every day became another day without her. So the idea of the future was terrifying because all I wanted was to hold on to the time we had. I couldn’t see much of a positive future. It was a moment by moment process and everyday I wondered when I’d feel okay again.
Grieving is awful. The waves come crashing at you heavy. For maybe once split second you forget, but then it all comes back to you at once. You feel like a burden because you don’t want to be alone with your sadness, but don’t want to keep telling people you aren’t okay. You don’t feel like yourself. You miss whomever you’ve lost terribly. You feel guilt. You feel lonely. Terribly lonely. You feel joy in some memories and then feel awful for feeling a little bit better. You feel so much. I couldn’t stop the grieving process; it was always there in every waking moment.
In the gap between what I’m posting online as of now versus November 2021, you do not see my pain or my struggles. You don’t see my joy either. Because while I was sad, I was also so grateful and blessed with my family and friends who continued to uplift me in my worst moments. In private, I called and texted and cried and smiled. I continued to work, where I was supported and given ample time to get myself together before coming back. I started petsitting as a side gig and meeting new animals that needed care when their owners were away. I got closer to Oliver, who loved Nyla as much as I did. We learned to navigate our new relationship without our friend. I trusted the people around me to help me in my time of need, a privilege I am so fortunate to have.
This year has not been easy. Grief comes with a depression and you don’t realize how low you’ve been until you start to feel better. One day, things start to feel less heavy. You can laugh without guilt. You can look back on memories and not feel as sad. One day, you won’t feel like you’re drowning.
I miss Nyla all the time. I look at photos all the time. I share memories with the people that also loved her. I accept fully that I will always miss her. Yet I am so grateful for the time we had and for all she taught me.
It wasn’t until now that I was ready to write out and share my loss and experience. Just last month, 7 months passed since I moved to Raleigh, and 5 months since losing Nyla. But I have also gained so much since then. I’ve gained a new sense of self awareness and confidence and that is only growing day by day. I’m healing and forgiving myself in therapy. I’m working on myself in so many aspects to try to reach my healthiest potential. I’m trying to be accepting of myself truly and allowing myself to take up space.
This year, while rough, has also been wonderful. I have gained closer friendships. A new love. A commitment to routine and habits that are helping me become a better me. A commitment to new adventures. A commitment to being imperfect and making mistakes. Most importantly, I’ve gained a commitment to myself.
Social media is all about story telling. You will never know someone’s story from their profile or what they choose to post. I can post photos of me smiling but you won’t know just how often I’ve been insecure that day, how many times I’ve cried, or any hardships I could be going through. Most of us choose to post our highlight reels, but I hope with telling my story, you remember that you’re only seeing a glimpse of life that we have all crafted you to see. From happy photos, to hot takes on whatever trending topic, just remember the next time you’re feeling sad or overwhelmed while scrolling, no one is telling their story 100%. And that is okay! No one has to know everything. You are not suffering alone and we are not just our highlight reels, but also everything in between.
Chantal Johnson 