Loving him was red

Every morning, I arrive to work anywhere between 15 and 45 minutes early. Every day. During that time before heading into The Ranch, I sit in my car and smoke a joint mentally prepare myself for the next nine hours. I read through the emails on my phone, and answer any questions I can without having to look something up in the office. I don’t like going into a situation without having some sort of clue as to how the outcome will be. It’s just not my style.

Yesterday morning, I was sitting in my car just like any other day, and Blake Shelton’s new song (I put the lyrics on here back in April – click here to read them), started playing on XM.

Whoa!

Whoa! Whoa!

I know the lyrics to this song. I heard it months ago when the album came out. And I fell in love with it way back then. But I was NOT prepared for what happened next.

Five words into the song, and I had tears streaming down my face. Ten words in, and my eyes were red. Seventeen words in, and I was in the middle of one of the biggest ugly cries I’ve ever had. Ever. Ever ever.

The words were piercing every part of my body. Every part of my existence was being thrashed around and pulled apart. And I couldn’t believe the amount of pain I was suddenly feeling.

“I’m feeling like this because of a song?”, I coherently thought to myself. “This is ridiculous. And needs to stop.”

I wiped the tears that were falling like anvils, but my fingers weren’t quick enough to keep up. My shirt was soaked, and I was a mess.

I looked at my phone to see what time it was, and remember thinking, “Cool. I still have twenty minutes to get myself together.”

I took a few deep breaths, continued to wipe the tears that were still falling on their own, and tried to drift my attention to the little rabbits that were playing right outside my car. But the lyrics were too strong. They played whether I wanted them to or not.

One hundred and ninety-six words in, I had my driver door open, and I sat leaning over with my face in my lap. Two hundred and four words in, and I had to shut it off. I couldn’t handle the pain that was radiating through my body. It had become unbearable.

I stood up and let the cool morning air dry my tears while I tried to regain some sort of grasp on what had just happened. Almost immediately I sat back down, and the tears were falling. One of our kennel guys was switching dogs around, and I know he could hear me. But I just didn’t care. I was in pain, and I didn’t give a damn who knew.

I finally grabbed all my stuff, along with my breakfast, and headed into the office. A few minutes later, one of the trainers pulled up. She came in, and immediately she could tell by my face that something was wrong. I wasn’t prepared to have a conversation with someone about it, and I knew she’d want to know what was wrong. But this time, she just walked up to me and hugged me and wouldn’t let go. She could see the pain in my face, and she knew all I needed was someone to tell me it was okay to cry. And I did. Loud. And it was FULL of pain.

I definitely do not want to go back down any roads I’ve already trudged, and I’m grateful that I know that, but I’m not going to lie. I fucking miss Jeffy. And I guess now I know it still is very raw.