living on your own is hard, you know? especially in the beginning, especially when you’re a student, especially when you have mental health issues, especially when you also have chronic physical health issues. it’s hard and if you’re like me living in a studio, like, actually by yourself, nobody around to hold you accountable—or to gently remind you, hey, you haven’t eaten in a while.
and while for most of us, moving out is an overwhelming gust of relief, i think it’s just as important to acknowledge that sometimes, it’s hard.
if you have barely managed adhd like me, and sometimes the bare minimum of self care seems unattainable—well, you’re on your own. it’s easy to let yourself slip into unhealthy patterns and neglect yourself.
but then, here are some ways my cat pulled me out before i could slip too far.
there are 2 constants i can always count on, day in day out, no matter how chaotic or disorganised i am, how out of routine; his feeding times. morning and evening, he has to have food. this little creature is everything to me. it’s my job to keep him safe and happy and healthy.
and then, as i pour kibble into his little bowl, i might remember i also haven’t eaten in a—wow, it’s seven p.m. already—so while i’m up, i might as well throw some leftovers in the microwave or grab a slice or 2 of dry bread. i’m in the kitchen anyway. giacomo absolutely scarfs down his dinner and i watch him.
he’s a kitten, still. he wants to play all of the time and when he doesn’t he’s sleeping but oh my god he loves my feet. he’s bitey. i absolutely cannot get too lost in my own head when he wants to play. i have to be careful to emerge with all of my fingers still attached to my hand. fucking ow, dude, what’s wrong with you.
his litterbox needs to be maintained regularly, too. i can’t let it get disgusting because a clean littlerbox makes for a happy cat, so i have my little poop baggies that i deposit by the door and then when i go to school i can take them down to the trash, but if i’m going to the trash anyway i might as well grab my own human trash too and throw that out as well, and then that’s one more task crossed off the list.
speaking of litter—that shit runs out fast. i don’t know how big you guys’ bags of cat litter are, but i can get around 3 uses out of a 10L bag, and then i have to go to the store to buy more. and, you know, i’m at the store anyway, so i may as well grab some essentials that i know i’ve run out of—pasta, tomatoes, cream cheese, bread—and then i have enough to eat for the next few days again. and i’m outside, too, at least while i walk to the store, which is a 2 minute walk and that’s doable even on a bad day, and 2 minutes outside is better than no minutes outside.
my little man needs to be safe and happy and healthy. i have to be at least some degree of functional to be able to provide that for him. and as thanks, he bites my toes and jumps at me in the face and shoves his cold little wet nose in my ears like they hide forbidden kitty treats and whines until i cuddle him and climbs in my lap and naps there, purring so loud i can feel it reverberate in my whole body.
and it’s just, he needs me, you know? so i have to be at least a little bit okay. and because he doesn’t allow me to actually deeply spiral into the throes of depression et al, it’s easier to pull myself out again.
i wasn’t sure for a while if he’d be allowed to move in with me, and then when i got the green light i found out that his adoption fee would be a lot higher than expected and i couldn’t afford it, but one clandestine extraction mission later (shoutout to Quinn, you’re a real one) (nobody cancel me, i did not actually steal him from a shelter) and he was napping on my lap like he’d never known any different.
so i just can’t help but feel like this was kind of meant to be, you know?
and i’m really grateful. like, really, really grateful.
so even on days where i can’t do anything—when it feels genuinely impossible—you can count on me to drag my ass to his food bowl when he screams at me that it’s dinner time. and maybe i’ll grab a slice of bread on the way.
(the toe biter in question, giacomo poopy)
(feel free to add your own toe biters to this post. this is a Creature Appreciation Post)
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The all powerful urge to cancel a super important Drs appt you've been waiting months for cause you're given another 'well meaning' lecture from a family member who is once again trying to tell you 1000% of your symptoms are cause by you being fat. I have been actively working on my weight but it's a slow process.
And to have someone tell me to my face that I'm experiencing symptoms like multi limb numbness and tingling on and off, weaknesss on and off, intense migraines, visual snow, limb spasms that are involuntary, sometimes gaps in memory/tripping over my speech, and crippling body pain that sometimes includes shock like sensation, all symptoms of my weight? Is a little crushing.
The Dr I'm waiting on btw? Is a neurologist
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