My Cat From Hell (2020)

 

Depression is a bastard. 

Somebody once told me that everybody gets 'depressed' at some point. They might call it 'the blues' or 'the miseries' - they might say they're 'down in the dumps'  - but it's just a phase. Sadness. Misery. Depression. It's all the same, isn't it?

People get 'down' when they lose their job or go through a break-up. Aren't we all miserable when plans fall through or somebody lets us down? It would be pretty messed up if we didn't feel crappy when the shit hits the fan. 

But we're supposed to get back on our horses, pull ourselves together and go looking for all the other fish in the sea... presumably after we've wiped off all that fan-spun shit...   

But then there's another kind of misery. It doesn't smack you in the face or trip you up suddenly - there might not be an obvious cause - it just starts to gnaw at you... 

You can have a good job... You can be loved and respected by friends, family and colleagues... Everything looks as if it's going great... 

But you don't feel right.

Something is creeping around you. Something wants to stop you in your tracks. You know it's there but nobody else does. Suddenly it's a struggle to get out of bed. You stop going out. You don't answer the phone... 

Other people might think you're self-indulgent or lazy because there's no reason for you to behave like this.

But something has landed on your head and burrowed into your skull. You can't think about anything else. 

You don't know why you feel miserable and low and heavy and hollow but trying to pretend you don't is bloody exhausting.

 

Some people call depression 'The Black Dog' - but I've always thought of it as a cat. And I love cats - but they're bloody awkward creatures. 

Cats are unpredictable and a bit sneaky. 

Sometimes, cats let themselves into your house and make it their own. 

Sometimes they disappear for days on end - and just when you think they've gone for good - they're back. 

And they sit there and give you no explanation for their sudden reappearance. 

But they're hungry. 

They're nearly always bloody hungry. 

Cats can sleep quite happily on your lap for hours and just when you feel safe and warm... they wake up suddenly - digging their claws into your legs and drawing blood.

 

I try to think about these thoughts and feelings - these low moods - like I think about my cats; they can be absolute bastards but I can't just get rid of them. 

They're a part of the family.

Depression isn't a Black Dog it's more of a Twatty Catty.