and the winner is...

It's been a busy couple of weeks. A few short points today:

1. My boyfriend texted me this morning and apologized for getting a parking ticket, after he forgot to move his car into the driveway last night. I rolled my eyes at his poor judgment, but thought, "Oh well. What's 15 bucks?"

Then I parked in a garage to meet a friend for lunch. I'm pretty sure it was always free before, but I neglected to read any of the 10 signs on my way in. I got a $25 parking ticket.

2. While I was having lunch with a friend and complaining about how said boyfriend can't cook or tell the difference between clean laundry and dirty laundry, he was spending his lunch hour at work building me a shelf for my closet. Even more impressive than the act of building the shelf itself is that I asked him just yesterday if he would build it.

3. I'm still learning how to be less of an ass. Thankfully, I have days like today to teach me.

for everything.

I don't have babies, therefore I have cats. If ever any living creature were going to get the best of what I have to offer in terms of love, respect, and endearment, it's my cats. I can say without hesitation that morally, I've never done them wrong. So losing one is like losing a part of me, and not just any part--one of the best parts.

I won't go on and on about all of the little reasons Lucky was a special cat. Anyone who met him already knows, and anyone who hasn't looked past his dirty fur and into in his big, innocent eyes could never imagine. There was the time he stuck his head behind the curtain to hide and started dropping deuce on the kitchen floor. Or the times I came home from a weekend away and he stood in front of me and near-yelled like I'd been gone for six months. And then there were the times he'd sleep quiet as a mouse on the pillow next to me. I'm thankful for all of it.



I wasn't prepared for being the only person who can decide whether or not to end the suffering. No matter who tells me it was for the best, that sliver of doubt is going to stay with me forever. I hope I never have to make that decision again.

So I'm a two-cat owner, now. It's taking the crazy out of my cat lady, and I am sad.

entertaining.

Since I last posted, I started a new job, my dad was released from detox (into the cold, cruel world without a sobriety plan), and one of my cats has a life-threatening ailment of unknown origin.

I don't know why things are the way they are, but I know all of the bad stuff will pass. Maybe it will get worse before it gets better, but I've quit saying, "I don't think I can take much more."

Why? Because it's self-limiting, as well as self-fulfilling. 

"I can't take much more of this shit," is a line in the sand. Because it's within your power, you draw the line. Pretty soon, more of this shit (over which you have no control) crosses it. Before it does, you've added another problem to an already long laundry list of shit you don't want in your life. In spite of and because of the line, you worry about what's going to happen to you when the shit crosses the line. I say, "you," but I mean me and anyone who feels anxious and depressed, just to clarify. Maybe you're going to cry. Maybe it's going to get so heavy that you yell at everyone you love. Maybe you're going to feel disappointed and hurt...again.

What's getting me through is something I told a friend recently. It was, "You're stronger than you think you are." However, it dawned on me not soon afterward that I hadn't lately been thinking it about myself. I came to a point where I had to--I was out of Ativan. By then, screw ups at the doctor's office as well as the pharmacy had kept me that way for a week. I probably could have included this in the "Since I last posted" paragraph, but whatever. I survived. 

Without a line in the sand, it didn't really matter that much, and the problem was solved by the next day. That brings us to yesterday. I took my Ativan (finally!) in the morning, took a shower, drove my sickly cat to the vet, came home, dressed for work, went to work, picked up the cat (and forked over $320 to the vet), and cooked dinner while prepping an apple crisp for the oven. After that, I still had to hand feed the cat and give him a pill, then feed him water from a syringe. I fell asleep at 10:30, having taken everything the day had dished out.

I'm still not miserable. I'm sad about my cat. I'm happy that my boyfriend doesn't even flinch when our budget takes an $805 hit because of my sick cat. I'm sad that my dad called me while he was wasted on Tuesday (and me without my Ativan, oh lord). I'm glad that he shared a funny memory about our old dog, even if his speech was mostly slurred. I'm ecstatic that I have Ativan again. I'm happy about my new job, even if it is part-time. It's part-time because I'm self-limiting in a healthy way for me. I'm sad because health insurance costs almost $400 a month, and I haven't quite figured that part out just yet. I'm sad because people I know and care about suffer terrible anxiety like I do. I wouldn't wish it upon anyone. I'm happy that my sister offered to pay for a month's worth of Lucky the cat's prescriptions should he need them. Unbeknownst to her, they were $8. I think I'll take her up on it, while I'm busy taking much more of this shit.

Anyway, sometimes you hold it together. Sometimes you buy a bottle of wine on a whim, then get a snow day, in exactly that order.