Apparently I have nothing better to blog about...

This is another post about a cat. Sue me.

Actually it's about my other cat. The girl. The boy is normally the freaky-weird one who does crazy stuff.

But lately my girl has taken to eating the strangest things. Strawberry yoghurt. Potatoes. Vegemite toast.

Tonight she topped the list with the best one yet.

Yep. She's eating tomato soup.

???

Feline Frustrations...

 My cat is an idiot.

I have a glass sliding door in my bedroom and he has gotten into this habit lately where he scratches on it in the middle of the night wanting to go out. There is an open window 5 metres away, but still he scratches on the door. Every. Night.

So I wake up. I get up. Out of my nice warm bed. Out from under my soft fluffy doona. Into the freezing cold night. I turn on the light. I open the door.

And he bolts. The other way. Away from the open door. Into the house. Under my bed.

So I shut the door. I turn off the light. I go back to my nice warm bed. I get under my soft fluffy doona. I curl up on my side. I close my eyes.

And the cat scratches madly on the door.

So I get up. Out of my warm bed. Out from under my doona. Into the freezing cold night. I turn on the light. I open the door.

And he bolts. Away from the door. Under the bed.

So I shut the door. Turn off the light. Get back into bed. Snuggle under my doona. I curl up. I close my eyes.

And the cat scratches desperately on the door.

I fly out of bed, throwing the doona off me in a frenzy, tangling myself in the sheets and tripping over myself as I jab wildly at the light switch causing the light to flicker disorientingly. Lurching towards the door, I sway uncontrollably, almost falling on my face as I yank it open. The cat freaks, fleeing towards the bed but, thinking I'm clever I anticipate that, tripping over him in my haste to get to the bed before he disappears under it again. He proves he is cleverer and eludes me by faking left, then going right and vanishing beneath. I. lose. my. shit. Swearing loudly, I grab the nearest God-knows-what and start jabbing blindly under my bed, attacking the dust and shoes and odd bits of crap like a crazy person, chopping and swinging and making a complete ass-hat out of myself. Exhausted and totally out-witted, I stop, put down my weapon, take a few deep breaths and look under the bed. The cat is staring back at me innocently, licking himself.

I go and close the door. I turn off the flickering light and trudge back to bed. I collapse on the mattress and roll on my side. I snuggle deep under the covers and close my eyes. I calm my racing pulse and relax.

The cat scratches on the door.


The cat is not an idiot.

I am.

Cat. Not an idiot. Apparently.

Independence day?

Tomika applied for her first job today.

Yep. I am that old.

She's just turned 15, and so legally allowed to work. When did THAT happen? There's nothing I can do about it. She wants to work. She's old enough. I'm sick of giving her money for clothes and makeup! So it makes sense right?

Where the hell did the time go? When did my little girl go from this:

To this?

Help!

Oh yeah! And...

I forgot to give a brief update on the thing that sent me away in the first place!

My physical health.

So after countless tests, the winner was, wait for it...

Inflammatory Bowel Disease

I'm on fire... on the inside.

Not to be confused with Irritable Bowel Syndrome which is apparently exactly the same except that there is no permanent damage.

Yay! ...not.

Basically, after all that angst and pain, I got a course of antibiotics and told to come back for a yearly colonoscopy.

Great. Thanks a lot body. Seriously.

Adventures in depression. And some other shit...

So I've been away for ages and it's been gut wrenching and sad and blah blah blah. I'm so not going there to relive it. Not all in one go anyway.

Suffice to say I went to the bottom of my own personal hell hole and came out fighting.

Do I feel better? Eh....

Will I write about it? Maybe...

Is it over? I don't know.

It was these two posts from two of my favorite bloggers - Jenny The Bloggess and Allie from Hyperbole and a Half - that made me realize that I REALLY AM NOT ALONE. In that good, fuzzy, deep down inside, I'm-not-the-freak-I-think-I-am way.

I mean, everyone who has had even one depressed day in their life has heard the form response "you're not the only one", from well meaning friends and family. But that has always made me feel worse. It always makes me feel guilty for feeling depressed. Like I can't take ownership of the shitty way I'm feeling because every man and his dog feels bad sometime. Like the people who are trying to help are saying, "Snap out of it, you'll be right, everyone feels like shit occasionally, stop feeling sorry for yourself." and the ever faithful, "Smile, you'll feel better." I know I'm not the only one. I know everyone feels shitty sometimes. That doesn't make my depression any less valid, does it?

And I really, seriously know you are trying to make me feel better, and I really, seriously appreciate you trying but...

Please, please. Stop helping.

You really want to help? Get me a Bourbon/Valium smoothie and let me cry. I don't know why I'm crying, I can't answer that so please don't ask, it only makes me cry more. Stop staring at me helplessly and put on Van Wilder: Party Liaison and laugh with me instead. Then maybe we'll both feel better.

Now I guess this isn't the best "I'm back!" post you've ever read. And I know this post is narcissistic. And I know It's all, "poor me I'm depressed". I guess I went there after all. But you want to know something?

I'm okay with that.

I am back.

I've missed writing. I need it.

Over the next weeks and months I'll try to find me again.

I promise.