Depression and depressive thoughts are so familiar that they almost comfort. It's that kind of messy part about things that are common. Even the negative aspects can become cozy.
I used to feel so lonely that I would befriend just about anyone. It's hard to know that about myself and not send abrasive comments up and down my psyche. When you grow up like I did, it's not a surprising way to be, though. Boundaries and how to differentiate between good and bad intentions from others takes time, attention, and confidence, and that's not always available to us as we change through the years. When we can move ourselves in and out of tears, up and down through pain, we are so much closer to what is: an emptiness that mingles with meaning.
People in general, including my own human self, have confused me from a very early age. I didn't really get why everyone was so awful to each other. I tried to be this better person, a bigger person or whatever. Then friends and family used, abused, and ditched me time and again. My family wasn't the therapy type. It was too expensive or unnecessary or potentially dangerous. So when I first started seeing therapists, I paid for myself to go. I went through a lot of them over time. It was really hard to learn what it meant to feel comfortable with someone because discomfort was the norm in my family of origin. Eventually, I would realize that I didn't feel comfortable with that person, that particular therapist, and I would have to learn how to exit from the bond. It was kind of a huge mess. Worth it, though, because therapy teaches how to redefine stories. For instance, "they ditched me" gradually becomes "they were going through their own issues."
My lovely cat passed recently. I cried so much the first weekend that I called into work rather than show up puffy eyed only to cry at my desk. Now I miss her most in the mornings and at night, the times when her tiny body would curl next to mine. I berate myself here and there for how I treated her during our final months together. It got so stressful, me not knowing what was happening, her likely in pain and unable to do anything except meow howl at night. Just thinking about it makes my eyes water up in grief and self-hatred.
I didn't know, though. I did eventually discover. And now I will know for the next time, whenever, if ever that happens. She resides in my heart and mind now, a constant. It is very painful to lose a pet. It's times like these that I do rely on the idea that I will see her again in an everafter. She meows to me and I pray for her and all of us who have cherished and said goodbye to beloved pets.
Well hello there.