Meow-y Christmas

I had an in-depth conversation with my cat today.  She sauntered to the computer desk, yawning and ohhhhh, she can't even!  She seemed to be having an existential crisis and I could kind of relate.  Somewhat, anyway.  She was like, 'oh, life is so grand as a cat.  I can sit in any chair i want and do nothing all day and I have owners to pet me and love me and take a million pictures of me all the livelong day.  But is this all there is to life?'  And I was like, 'Penelope, don't even!  Would you rather your life be filled with panic and anxiety and worry and taking crap from people and feeling like you're just floating from one job to the next for years on end?'  Suddenly, her PTSD kicked in and she scurried to safety from an unknown fear that strikes her out of the blue sometimes.  I didn't see her for a few hours, and then when she jumped up in front of the computer again to get my attention, she had a look in her eye.  She understood me and head-butted me and meowed and cooed and snuggled.  Then I tried to pick her up and she ran like she always does.  She's an independent little thing, but even independent little things need Good Bonds in their lives.

Anyway, I told Penelope today that I wanted to get rid of the bad energy faux friend bonds from days of yore and use my animal instincts to forge more of those Good Bonds in life.  She's gonna hold me to it, I think.

Les jours de decembre

Well, a few things.  Firstly, I am stressed TO THE MAX with job security issues.  There's that whole push to shop local and shop small, but I don't know if the general population really understands WHY.  Most people these days prefer to shop online, where the workers processing their high dollar transaction totals are most likely earning a minimum wage to fund those rock bottom warehouse prices.  Online shopping is not contributing to a COMMUNITY nor supporting local jobs.  So yeah.  There's that.

Secondly, I have high anxiety levels and am back to relying on Ativan to get me to sleep each night.

Thirdly, I have wanderlust and although my husband doesn't share it, I'm planning some trips as soon as I can pinpoint the best fare.  I'm even looking into airline careers to see if I can become a frequent traveler again because a fantastic trip is really the ONLY thing that pulls me out of bipolar depressive episodes.  Somehow, when I enter into a foreign country I am no longer a mentally ill career-stalled loser, but I become a happy little butterfly on a soul-enriching new journey who doesn't even think a smidge about tragedy or adversity.

Fourthly, I am fighting here to get through this life in one piece.  When the therapist talks me down from my catastrophic talks about drifting from job to job and how this crushes my core everyday, I am battling to feel WORTH and that I matter somehow.  

It's December and if my economist grandfather were still around to talk, he'd let up on me now that he understood my earlier struggles in life when I couldn't get through college.  And if grandmere Mimi were around she would cry with me and smooth my hair out of my face to let me know she understood depression and frustration.  I'm hoping they can come along to guide me some because some days I just don't know what to do.