A few weeks ago, a sweet little cat, Sundance, died suddenly. She had only felt bad for a couple of weeks, then she was suddenly terrible, then dead.  She actually starved to death because, even though she ate like a St. Bernard, it would not process correctly.

Ever since she died, I’ve tried to figure out what I did wrong, what I should have done right, and what I will try to remember for the future.  I rescued her from death when she was two months old, I’ve kept her current on shots, flea drops, brushed her, slept with her, played with her, kissed and adored her for ten years.  But, because she died of a tumor, I must have done something wrong.  Maybe it was the salty bacon that morning, maybe the meat baby food she had had for about five days just suddenly hit her wrong, or maybe, maybe, maybe.  It was as if I thought I was this really powerful goddess who could wave my hand and save or condemn others.  I hit the height of guilt yesterday morning when I told my husband I thought that she had starved because I overeat so much.  You know, like it was karma.  I certainly didn’t think God was punishing me—I thought I had set something spiritual in motion through my gluttony.

Thank God, I went to a meeting last night where they just happened to be talking about being powerless.  These ladies are a lot like me in that we must be in control at all times (at least before we start getting well).  Control means power; when we are in control, we are powerful and unsinkable (or so we believe).  We can’t let anyone or anything get between us and our power/control, including logic or truth.  We deny, we lie, we overlook, we compensate somewhere else, we busy ourselves with “helping” others to see how our control can benefit their lives, etc.  I am all up in your circus helping you with your well-behaved monkeys while my monkeys are throwing poop on my circus.

These ladies talked about times they have realized that they were powerless.  Maybe it was weather, a spouse’s problem, or just dumb drivers.  They said how they have come to believe that the realization of their powerlessness has been a gift.  Follow me: if I am powerless over Sundance’s death cause, then I’m not responsible for her death so I can quit obsessing over it.  When I thought of this, I cried and cried.  What a release!  I did not on purpose or accidentally kill my baby—disease happens and sometimes creatures don’t get well. 

I feel a quietness inside now.  The whole S committee in my head has shut up.  All that’s left is the sweet memory of my girl, gratitude to God for letting me know her, and God’s comforting Presence.

I like being a flawed human.  The powerful goddess crap was exhausting.