First things first. I want to say thank you for all of the support and love. It’s been moving and much appreciated. The same goes to all of the people in my life who’ve been there for me. I’m finally back after my long hiatus.
I did an outpatient dialectical behavior therapy (DBT) program. DBT is like cognitive behavioral therapy mixed with zen, so it was cool. While I wouldn’t say I’m 100-percent mentally stable, I am feeling better. I spent at least a month of my life on the couch from the side effects of new medications and then the withdrawal when they inevitably didn’t work. Bipolar pill cocktails are no joke. I’m still on the same shit I was when I went in, but now I have a whole world of skills to use when I’m feeling crazy.
Anyway, on to the felines. I heard of cats in nursing homes sensing when a resident was going to die and curling up on their bed with them until they passed away. I find that almost other-worldly and it makes me tear up a little. People always tell me that my cat is mean. She hates children, blocks their path when they try to walk by her, and then hisses at them and scratches their little hands and legs, completely unprovoked. She isn’t really into people.
My sister would come over and sit down and out of nowhere something would grab on to her ponytail and just slam her head into the back of the couch. It was reminiscent of a horror movie. But it was just my little Jasmine showing her love for her aunt.
She doesn’t like to cuddle. She plays rough. When she’s hungry and I’m sleeping she crawls up under the covers and sticks her claws into the bottoms of my toes. The things everyone views as her personality defects are the reasons I love her. I’m weird. Why wouldn’t my cat be a little eccentric? She’s my fur baby and has converted me into a raving cat lady. She loves me in her own way. She follows me room to room, albeit at a distance, cries when I leave, and waits by the door when I come home.
While I’m constantly kicking my intuition in the throat and second guessing myself, my regal cat’s intuition is on point. One might not expect a lot of empathy or compassion on her part. They would be wrong. As seen in one of my last posts, I’ve been sad. She hasn’t left my side. The whole time I was on the couch crying, sleeping, and/or throwing up, she rested right above me. When I curled up under my covers in bed, she nestled up against my legs. When I paced the house endlessly because of the hell known as akathisia, she paced with me.
They say petting an animal triggers the release of serotonin and dopamine in your brain. Well, I pet the shit out of her to soak up as many feel good chemicals as I could. I know it’s going to sound crazy, but that ball of fur, paws, and whiskers truly helped me. For that, I’m buying her a brand new cat fountain.
“I have studied many philosophers and many cats. The wisdom of cats is infinitely superior.”- Hippolyte Taine
Old Hippolyte was wise as hell.