My baby kitty Spyder is dying. I’m pretty sure of it now. We’ve ruled out pretty much everything but cancer or autoimmune disease, with cancer looking most likely. He hasn’t eaten for 3 days now and is getting weaker and weaker. We’ve tried everything we know. Spent well over $1,000 to try to get him well in the past month.
He is around 14 years old, so at least he has lived a good length of life for a cat, but my heart is breaking. About 3 days ago it is almost as if he suddenly decided it was time to prepare to die. Since then, he has refused to eat, wants to hide away and sleep, and gets weaker every day. He does not seem to be in pain, except when he has to go to the bathroom and try to get stool out. Luckily, that isn’t happening often as he has very little to expel.
Our only other options at this point would be a feeding tube, and if he does indeed have cancer, I don’t want to just prolong his suffering and death. I know we couldn’t afford all the treatment that would require, nor would I want to put him through all that. Spyder is a quiet, shy cat and I know he would rather go at home quietly. He is one of the sweetest cats I have ever known. Knowing him has been an honor.
Spyder got his name from a dream of mine. Right before he showed up in our lives, I had a dream that I had a baby of my own and named it Spyder for some reason. So, when we got this kitty soon after, I figured it was fate and gave him the name from my dream. He indeed became my baby. The kitty that I was closest to. The one who pulled my heartstrings hardest for some reason. I am hurting.
Been really fighting off a depression slump again, and I’m losing. Today I slept in until after noon – that is often one of the first signs that the depression is getting real. The longer and later I sleep in often correlates directly to a diminishing mood.
You may ask if there is something triggering this slump. The holidays often seem to be related to the issue. Last night I had a dream about revisiting the house my dad died in when I was 12, I’m sure that might have something to do with it – approaching the holidays and thinking of all the family losses again.
My cat, Spyder, really has me down too. He has been sick for over a month now. We’ve spent a ridiculous amount of money on 3 vet visits, 3 rounds of antibiotics, special diet foods, and medical tests – all to be no closer to a real answer about what is wrong and with him not getting any better, at least not for long. He’ll get a little better on the antibiotics, but once they stop, he quickly gets sick again. Yesterday and today he hasn’t even been eating and just sleeps all day.
Feeling pretty low and hopeless at the moment.
I fear I may be
the unfortunate reincarnation
of Sylvia Plath.
Born fifty years to the day
from her initial entrance,
I draw the parallels
between our lives –
lines that connect
far more than astrology.
Both of us poets,
living through our literary confessions.
Desperate to be taken seriously –
a gift freely granted
to the masculine,
but almost impossible to achieve
with a soft voice and gentle hands.
Both with daddy complexes
due to the abandonment
of an early death,
we seek that missing link
in other men
(some more worthwhile
Our final connection results
in a morbidly strengthened bond –
a certain disregard
for our own lives.
We dream of being free
from this earthly game,
but lack the forbearance
for a lengthy battle.
Instead, we choose to dream of release –
and in our darker moments,
even plan it.
Yesterday I had my regular neurologist visit to follow up about my migraines and while there I was also diagnosed with Essential Tremor, a genetic condition that is often confused with Parkinson’s from the symptoms. It most commonly affects the hands, head, and voice, but can affect any body part. It can also affect balance, mood, and possibly memory.
My balance, hands and voice are already affected pretty bad at times which scares me since it can be a degenerative condition and it can eventually become hard to speak, eat, write, or in my case, make art, since I am an artist.
My tremors started out in both hands a few years ago and have definitely worsened. At first, I only noticed that I could never take a good picture because I couldn’t keep the camera steady enough to take one. It has worsened since then and affects more daily activities, such as writing, typing, pouring/drinking liquids, dropping almost everything, etc. I noticed the voice tremors starting probably a year or two after the hands.
My balance has noticeably worsened to the point that I often start to fall over while just walking around the house or even standing still. It isn’t unusual for my husband to push me back up as I start to fall over like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
For a long time I tried to dismiss it because I didn’t want to think something might really be wrong. I tried to blame it on anxiety or weird medicine side effects. I am glad that I don’t have MS or Parkinson’s which I feared sometimes. What finally made me bring it up with the neurologist is that the geneticist I saw for my Ehlers Danlos testing a few months ago seemed concerned by how much my hands shook.
The last thing I want to do is take yet more prescription medicines, but I am considering it in hopes that it might slow down the progression and alleviate the symptoms a bit. The only bad thing is that all the meds they use to treat this condition can worsen my depression, so the neurologist wants me to get the ok from my psychiatrist before we decide on a med to try.
Today my husband and I finally have the time to go see the Joker movie. I am really excited. I hear it is quite dark and nihilistic, similar in some ways to the Heath Ledger version of the Joker from The Dark Knight movie. I know it probably doesn’t help my depression, but I love dark, bleak movies like that.
Maybe I relate to them because of my depression. I have too much empathy for people to become a mass murderer or abuser, but I must admit that there are many times that I feel like life is pointless, everything we do is pointless, happiness is pointless, pain is pointless, etc. I feel like that most often when in a severe depressed state. I think that is why I look up to artists like Kurt Cobain, Vincent Van Gogh, Edvard Munch, Sylvia Plath, etc., because they expressed similar feelings at times.
This week I also have been catching up on the tv show American Horror Story and watched the 8th Season called Apocalypse. I loved this season! They brought back the witches from the Coven season which was one of my favorites, and I always love an apocalypse-themed story, but my favorite part of the season was Michael Langdon. Partly because I found him kind of hot, and partly because I found him often hilarious as the Antichrist. The poor guy showed us how uniquely stressful and confusing it could be to try to figure out how to bring about the end of days! Why doesn’t this “son of satan” stuff come with a guidebook???
The past few days have not been the greatest. I’ve been both super anxious and fairly depressed. I guess it is probably what most people would call a mixed state in the bipolar community. I feel on edge all the time. My brain is constantly telling me something is wrong and that I need to fix it, but I don’t know what it is. The depression is telling me that I am worthless, no one really likes me anyway, and everything I do is pointless.
The depression is making me feel never good enough. It is times like these that no matter what I achieved, I would probably still feel a failure. If I suddenly won the Pulitzer Prize in poetry or had my art showcased at the Louvre, I would still find fault with it and myself in this particular mood. It is a hellish feeling.
This depression is interlaced with anxiety that pushes me to want to achieve, achieve, achieve right now, but in this state I am so all over the place that it is hard to concentrate on anything for long. Not to mention that the depression makes me feel like it is all futile anyhow, even as my whirling mind is telling me that I’m not trying hard enough.
All of this is heightening my chronic pain. I hurt so bad deep in my muscles, I feel like I have been tortured on the medieval rack.
Have you ever had a relationship in your life, whether it be a family member, coworker, boss, neighbor, schoolmate, or other social acquaintance, who makes you feel like you need to prepare yourself for for battle every time you come in contact with them?
Perhaps they are masters of the subtle put-down, love to give sneaky guilt trips, always manage to make you feel inferior and “less than”, or simply bring out the worst in you, leaving you feeling regretful and exhausted after the encounter finally ends.
I have a meeting like this coming up soon and it has been stressing me out. While I was laying in bed a couple nights ago stressing about it, I suddenly realized how much effort I had to put into steeling myself before the encounter. I have to put on emotional and mental armor and make sure none of my weak spots are showing. I have to be strong and hide any reaction to their attempts to get to me while in their presence, otherwise it will only encourage them.
It made me sad to think that it has to be this way. It also made me realize why the whole experience causes me so much anxiety and exhaustion. Preparing for battle is exhausting!
(Art for sale on my Ebay store)
The last few days have been rough. I’ve been dealing with dark, obsessive thoughts that I know aren’t healthy for me to dwell on. Dark thoughts of restlessness, dark thoughts of jealousy and resentment, dark thoughts about relationships and craving attention, and dark thoughts about life and death. Craving attention might not sound like such a bad thing, but the negative part is some of the twisted ways my brain comes up with to get it. Luckily, I don’t act on these dark thoughts, so I must have a good amount of self-control, but the obsessiveness of the thought patterns bother me.
I feel a little bit like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde at times (which I actually reread recently for the first time since childhood). There is a really good side to me, but there is definitely a dark side as well, and when that dark side becomes obsessive and stuck in a groove, the intensity of my thoughts and emotions can become a bit frightening to myself.
I’m not entirely sure what causes these bouts of dark fantasizing. The ocd? The C-PTSD? Mood disorder? The anxious/avoidant attachment style I developed from a dysfunctional family system?
Today I’ve been trying to stay busy in an attempt to distract myself and it has helped some, but my brain is like a boomerang that just keeps circling back around to the same place again and again. It is exhausting to be honest.