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Thread: Anxiety, depression, laziness...Can the nameless wonder change?

  1. #7521
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    One of my cats loves this little mouse toy that you can put catnip into. It's the only thing I've seen this otherwise sedentary cat play with... but the other 5 cats I've tried this with (not all mine; not that crazy) didn't really care for it.

    My mom has harnessed her cat since he was a kitten. He doesn't go on walks like a dog, at all. But she attaches a thick string to the harness and lets him wander around the yard when she's around. He likes exploring like this, and gets hilariously tangled every few minutes. But uhm... you can tell he still hates the harness. Find it uncomfortable and unnatural, I guess. And he was raised with it. So your kitty may not take to one, but it's worth a shot!
    Music of the day/week/month/whatever:

    The Bird and the Bees - Love Letter to Japan https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TWYoIoqJURA

  2. #7522
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    The trouble with catnip is it makes Pumpkin CRAZY. She runs around like a mad cat for a while. Fae gets loopy and then sleeps it off. I'm not sure she'd move around that much when playing with it, but it's worth a shot. I'll just have to supervise play time :P

    Harnesses are inexpensive enough. Just have to make sure I get a larger size since she has a lot of loose skin and is still not very trim. I need to get more kitty litter and a covered litter box anyway. Of course, the recommendations for arthritic cats are to make sure the litter box walls are low so the cat can climb in easily. Fae kicks litter EVERYWHERE even with a high-walled box >< We're just doomed to vacuum daily.
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  3. #7523
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    Two things about Robin Williams' death (both come with trigger warnings for suicide and mental illness because this is rough stuff)

    After a Long Illness | Trout Nation
    This is akin to something I wrote on Facebook yesterday. Depression kills. Cancer kills. Not always, but it happens. Depression is unfortunately a silent killer and the most insidious in that it deceives us into thinking I wasn't really a let's-go-see-this-because-he's-in-it fan of RW, but I did enjoy his work and comedy. I appreciate the impact he had on many people's lives and any death to preventable/treatment illness is sad. I do see him as "one of us" now, in that I relate to the struggle he had. I think that is why his death has been difficult for me.

    https://medium.com/the-nib/i-want-to-live-6a40fbc76ef4
    This is a conversation I've had with myself more than a few times. Only once did I try to press the button, only once did mental illness make a push towards killing me, but there have been enough times when I've just gotten by on "I don't want to be here but I'll do it for someone else". What was hard for me is that I didn't have some concrete reason to be depressed like so many people I heard about. No abuse, no neglect, I had a loving family, and financial stability. It's okay to let other people be my reason to stick around, I've realized. You do what it takes to stay here. Everyone is worth it. Everyone has value.
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  4. #7524
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    Two things about Robin Williams' death (both come with trigger warnings for suicide and mental illness because this is rough stuff)

    After a Long Illness | Trout Nation
    This is akin to something I wrote on Facebook yesterday. Depression kills. Cancer kills. Not always, but it happens. Depression is unfortunately a silent killer and the most insidious in that it deceives us into thinking I wasn't really a let's-go-see-this-because-he's-in-it fan of RW, but I did enjoy his work and comedy. I appreciate the impact he had on many people's lives and any death to preventable/treatment illness is sad. I do see him as "one of us" now, in that I relate to the struggle he had. I think that is why his death has been difficult for me.

    https://medium.com/the-nib/i-want-to-live-6a40fbc76ef4
    This is a conversation I've had with myself more than a few times. Only once did I try to press the button, only once did mental illness make a push towards killing me, but there have been enough times when I've just gotten by on "I don't want to be here but I'll do it for someone else". What was hard for me is that I didn't have some concrete reason to be depressed like so many people I heard about. No abuse, no neglect, I had a loving family, and financial stability. It's okay to let other people be my reason to stick around, I've realized. You do what it takes to stay here. Everyone is worth it. Everyone has value. Depression lies.
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  5. #7525
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    I've wanted that button a fair amount of my life. After my near attempt ( a friend talked me out of it), I no longer wanted that button. Not because the depression had magically vanished, but because I knew that if I died, others would follow me, or want to. No, it's not fair for a 16 year old to stay alive only because the guilt of killing her Mom is too much, but it worked. It's no fair to ask an 18 year old boy in a harsh circumstance to talk you out of suicide, but it worked.THere have been times I've sat with a knife and stared at my wrists, drawing up the list of people I'd hurt more by leaving than staying. In my darkest hours, that list is mighty slim, but it works. I've also realized that, if there is an afterlife, it'll be a long 20-60 years without them.
    You don't do what's perfect. You do what works.
    Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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  6. #7526
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    Quote Originally Posted by naiadknight View Post
    You don't do what's perfect. You do what works.
    Yeap. Makes me feel more lucky for even my worst coping mechanisms.
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  7. #7527
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    Many of us have been at that cross roads - where you must decide do I stay or do I go? I have been there - mostly in the contemplation stage - but once I took too many pills thinking it would be my end. I just woke up 15 hours later thankful that it didn't work. This was in the midst of the hardest time dealing with step daughters and a clueless hubby. I couldn't see any other way out - and I could find no end to the stress and deep feelings of hopelessness. In my younger years, suffering from the pain of lost love (who I am now married to) I've stared down on coming semi-trucks wondering how quickly the pain would end if I turned my car into its path. As a child, living in a home with a dis-connected alcoholic mother, I would go to the medicine cabinet in the dark hours of night to see if there was something in there that might end my loneliness. I knew aspirin wasn't going to do the job - that's all I could ever find. I was too scared to cut my wrists, although I contemplated that as well. I could never accept leaving that kind of mess for someone else to clean up.

    Life is hard, depression grips your mind and heart and strangles the life blood out of it. But there is always a reason stay.

    I've never heard anyone say - "I wish I would have gone through with it". But instead I've heard, "I'm so thankful I'm still here".

    I'm thankful you're here.

  8. #7528
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    One of the times I was involuntarily committed I sort of became friends with a woman in there. She was about my age (mid 20s) and was serving a sentence of 3+ months for attempting suicide. It was actually pretty miraculous she survived. She took all of her medications at once, along with a bunch of OTC pills. Usually overdoses don't result in death, but her kidneys were failing. She spent a while on dialysis before they shipped her to where we were.

    Her father had committed suicide, and then a month later so did her husband.

    As anyone who's been committed or sentenced to jail (I've done both and they're basically the same) knows, life is boring as hell when you're locked up. They never have any good books in their tiny bookcases, so you either have people bring you reading material or you sit around playing cards or watching TV. Or something. She liked to draw and make stationary, which she used to write to her mom and friends. On the day I was getting out, we talked for a bit as we had been, and she gave me a few pages of her stationary. She wasn't an amazing artist or anything, but it was somehow a powerful gesture. Really she had nothing to give and no real means to make me feel better, but she was kind enough to think of me and do what she could. I don't know what was going through her mind at the time. It could be she was still planning on dying, and wanted to leave behind some small reminder of her own goodness before she went. Maybe she was just being friendly. Whatever the case, it made me feel a lot of things.







    Guess this was February 2013. Who knows where she is now...
    Music of the day/week/month/whatever:

    The Bird and the Bees - Love Letter to Japan https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TWYoIoqJURA

  9. #7529
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    Thanks for sharing, ladies.

    My memento from the mental hospital's day program (they wanted to commit me for a week or two full-time at a psych hospital, but my parents fought it successfully) is a pair of men's jeans, size 29 waist. The punk kid who was crushing on me gave them to me on my second day. I have them boxed up now, as they no longer fit, but I can't bring myself to throw them out. I have some weirdly good memories from being there. I think it was the first time I felt like I got to dictate my own life, even though I was there on someone else's schedule. Summer camp didn't feel nearly as freeing.

    I've thought about going back just to peer in from the parking lot, or maybe see if I can get my records. I have only gotten as far as obtaining my hospital records from the 4-5 days I spent with a tube up my nose and down my throat, to treat my liver. It's 10 years past now.
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  10. #7530
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    There are no official records of my Almost. THe only thing there might be is if someone from Ma Bell listened in, and I highly doubt that. My Dad still uses that knife, the one that's seen two Almosts (one from me, one from my Mom), to cook dinner most nights. It's eerie to go home and chop meat with the same knife I Almost.
    There are official records, somewhere at my university, of my therapy sessions with a psych resident, and I probably mentioned my Almost in those. Or maybe not, I know I held some stuff back out of fear of being Invol. I couldn't afford (literally and figuratively) missing that much school.
    The poor Guys that helped me through so much of my emotional wreckage really do deserve more than I can ever give them. Dallas Guy, Lubbock Guy, and Geek saved my ass.
    Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
    My Latest Journal

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