If I sound a little down.

It should not be surprising to know that I have difficulty letting things go. I wear my depression and anxiety like a second skin.  I remember being told that I was over thin skinned and over sensitive.

Over sensitive never made much sense to me as being a problem.  The problem I felt was that everyone else was under sensitive and out right mean sometimes and not just to me but to other people too. The neighbor boy who punched me when I first said hi to him was just being a boy and somehow I was "over sensitive" for crying.

I've been told to turn it off. That must be nice. I image there is a switch inside normal people, maybe a fuse box for emotions and they can simply pull the switch and the feeling go away.  I can't find my switch. My feeling stay on. I carry my pain, my distress, my fear, my joy, my hope, my amusement with me everywhere. Even in sleep.

So I know when Im going to cry. And it won't be over the latest mean word, or raised voice, or lost remote. That will be just the thing that scratches through this thin skin of mine letting the sorrow seep out.

My cat is dying by inches. he has two open wounds that aren't healing. The first from a cyst that burst and the second from I don't even know where. he's in too much pain to groom so his hair is matted and mangy looking. Every night michael and I have to trick or force a tiny anti-biotic pill down his mouth.  When your forcing your cat to take a pill you can't help but feel like a loathsome evil being oppressing this tiny creature that you love, restraining him from moving forcing his mouth open than shut until he swallows the damn pill. Tricking him into eating the pill would be fine except he's a picky eater, so it never works twice.

He's peeing on the rug outside the litter box. for the last two days he's peed on me and he's so miserable I just let him.  Michael and I started to have "the talk."  At what point do we...how much sicker does he have to get before–My husband is very sensitive too and Basil is the first cat that ever bonded with him. He doesn't bring up the talk as a matter of duty it is with dread and a heavy heart.

 So I'm going to cry a lot for a while.  Because I just want my cat to get better, but he's soo old now; If I could take the time off work I'd stay at home with him and just hold him and let him sleep on me which is what he only seems to want to do. For as long as it takes him to die.

Sometimes its ok to be depressed I think.  Sometimes your supposed to be depressed. If this didn't depress me, I think i'd be afraid that I wasn't very human.

sound of the day: Office Central Air pumping hot air through vents
smell of the day: cat pee.