Last summer, we had An Incident. It involved me having to pick up a dead rat. And it’s weird, but it’s one of the moments that showed me that overall in these weird times, I am doing better with my mental health and nervous system than I have been for a while.
My partner and I discovered the poor sad ex rat, and it needed to be moved out of the way. We tried a few different zero contact things, but it didn’t work.
I had to pick them up.
I really didn’t want to.
But I did. And it was actually a really sad, sweet moment rather than a gross one. And it didn’t haunt me for ages. And I didn’t have a panic attack or a big flight or fight trigger.
That’s HUGE progress. I spent 2021 nurturing my nervous system, after about five years or so of mindset and energy work. And it’s so exiting feel how these two puzzle pieces interlock.
I did think about our rat though and I hoped that things had ended as quickly and painlessly as they could for them,
It had me thinking about Terry Pratchett, one of my whole family’s all-time favourite authors, and the way he portrays the character of Death, and The Death of Rats.
Pratchett’s Death speaks in capital letters, has twinkly blue lights within the sockets of his skull, and somehow is deeply endearing whilst being mystical and powerful at the same time.
The Death of Rats is like a smaller version, a skeleton rat in a black robe who squeaks in capitals
I pondered this little character turning up for our rat, taking him wherever rats go next…