Your cat cares that you didn’t remember to scoop the litter before you left which means now I’m very upset and I’m going to poop on the floor – and you know how I can’t stand it when there’s poop on the floor.
That upsets me even more so I will cover the poop with your shirt from the laundry basket. There. That’s better. I must now suck on the blue blanket to comfort myself.
If I cannot access the blue blanket because the bedspread is in the way I will claw it out of the way. You left me no choice.
I want to talk about therapy. As of 2018, I have collectively been in therapy for 13 years.
You’re welcome, Earth.
I have a history of severe depression, anxiety, and a delightful sprinkling of suicidal tendencies, a.k.a. MENTAL ILLNESS. (Insert dramatic music and crowds running away in black and white b-movie terror). When it first showed up so many years ago I was very blessed that I had friends in my life who insisted I wasn’t okay and pointed me in the direction of getting professional help. I send them little prayers every day.
I’ve wanted to write this blog for about a year. I’ve been trying to come up with the right word. That’s what’s been slowing me down. After all that I went through from 2014-2017 (which I’m now coining “The Business”) I’ve been lacking the right…word…for what it is I’m doing with myself now after such extreme change.