So it’s the holiday season and I’ve been trying to catch my cat since October, for to put fake reindeer antlers upon her. I figured it’d match her freakish primordial pouch that hangs down from her mid-section. I’ve always been highly suspicious of humans who successfully dress their cats in festive holiday wear. I have a feeling that drugs and alcohol are involved somehow. Why else would they risk the chance of feline violence and destruction? I mean, I put a pilgrim hat on my cat last year and so far she’s puked on my favorite chair, clawed up my carpet and caterwauls at me morning, noon and night. And yes. I believe it has a direct link to the pilgrim hat.
If I were the human that dressed these cats, I’d fear feline retribution to my grave.
I wasn’t going to say anything. But then I was like, “Screw it.” I’m Depressed. Not depressed…Depressed. With a capital “D”. The clinical kind that requires a lifetime of meds and cognitive behavioral therapy. Sometimes I’m scared to say that out loud. Which is why I limit my social involvement. Not everyone understands the logistics of mental health. I live in the south, so you can just imagine what I hear. Instead of “Snap out of it”, it’s more like, “Hunny sugar plum, bless your messed up little black-as-dirt heart! You need to perk on up, get dressed and be charming!”
Now. Those who share my struggle can understand my less-than-enthused response to such suggestions. It’s a good thing I have a sense of humor and have learned to bite my tongue until blood drips off my chin. It’s also a good thing that my spouse has the good sense to remind me it’s not a good idea to visit the Mall. There’s a slight possibility I might shake a fist at the Mall elves which may be witnessed by a church member who will promptly put me on the prayer chain for less-than-stellar public behavior.
It’s also a good thing that I have an awesome doctor who appreciates my slouching and eyeball rolling as she runs through the check-list of preventative tips and whatnot. It’s probably a good thing she can’t hear the snide running commentary that’s taking place in my head, even though I know she’s right.
1) Expect the worst. Seriously? I totally already do! Which is why I don’t answer my phone or go outside.
2) Beef up your support. Yes, I have a hidden stash of excessive carbs.
3) Avoid toxic people. Does “everyone” count?
4) Know thyself. I know I’m going to have a negative reaction when you tell me how much my copay has increased.
5) Travel with polyester instead of linen. By that I mean lower your standards. Check. I haven’t bathed in three days.
6) Make your own traditions. Like maybe visit your family during the summer. I love this doctor!
7) Remember the choice is yours. You can see the sun or bask in the darkness. Your choice. How ’bout you see how many more times you can say choice?
8) Above all, laugh. Oh I’m laughing. Laughing at that snag in your pantyhose and your stupid list of totally unreasonable suggestions.