Due to going through this depressive swing before, I know what things give me a lift in my mood. I need to seek things out that normally give me an enormous boost because they now give me smaller, but still wonderful ones. I find that being with familiar things makes me more comfortable and happy, yet at the same time new experiences give me a breath of fresh air from the mundane. And it’s very easy to get sucked into the mundane when you are depressed. It’s almost as if you settle for the lackluster because you’ve thrown yourself headfirst into the depression with everything you can muster. It’s difficult for me to find the motivation to do things that I know would improve my mood.
I mentioned before that when I moved out my happiness plumeted. I am not the lone wolf I always claimed to me apparently, and missed the dynamic I had when living with my parents and brother. I confided in my sister that I was lonely.
“You really need a cat”, she replied.
I know I did, and do. I’ve had cats growing up all the way until I left home and moved into my new apartment. I missed having animals and would visit my parents and one of my sisters sometimes just to see the them (not that I didn’t want to see my family…but hey…if we are being honest…). Unfortunately the apartment complex I live in charges a 150 dollar deposit for animals. Then it’s 20 dollars a month added on to rent. I was reluctant to sign onto that deal. One of my sisters who does the apartment-cat thing does hers on the sly without alerting the complex so she doesn’t have to pay fees and extra rent. The saving of money is very appealing, but the dishonesty isn’t. I couldn’t do it unless I paid.
Lo and behold, my sister surprised me with a trip to the shelter. It had the highest kill rate in all of Michigan. She paid the complex and told me to pick a cat. It was a wonderful and heartbreaking choice. They were ALL wonderful. And they all were affectionate. And they all cried. Every. Single. One. I decided on two cats, and my sister still paid for the other. Both she and my brother-in-law are very generous people. One was older and I chose him because of how affectionate he was and that I figured people usually try for kittens first so no one would make a move for him. He’s now sleeping next to me quietly on the couch. The other had a notice on his cage that he was set to be put down. I couldn’t leave him. He’s now in the kitchen being a huge pig. In a minute he’ll be laying on the couch next to me trying to grab my hand as I type so he can rub his cheek on it and nibble a bit.
I am now the proud owner of….
*Drumroll*….
…two boy cats. The older of the two is named Walter and the other named Garfield. I considered changing their names, but Walter reminds me of two of my favorite TV characters. Garfield just needs to go. It doesn’t represent his personality, and he’s too needy for his own good.
It was strange because at the shelter he was recluse, shy, and refused to come to the front of the cage to be pet. When the worker took him out for me to see, he was shaking and cried. Now that I’m home he has more personality than I bargained for. My sister told me he probably gave up on life at the shelter, but now he’s happy to have a home.
I want to be just like Garfield. I’m in the emotional shelter, and I’m gonna break outta this joint and go nuts!
But seriously, I can’t imagine a better beginning for permanently planned wellness.
As a side note I feel compelled to add:
PLEASE ADOPT PETS! THEY ARE WONDERFUL AND DON’T DESERVE TO BE PUT DOWN WHEN THERE ARE SO MANY WONDERFUL HOMES THEY COULD BE IN!
/end Bob Barker rant.
Chaos Follows Me 