Almost As Good As Medicine

When I’m having a bad day, and my energy levels just aren’t there, often I’ll feel bad for Maven. ๐Ÿ˜ฟ She’ll wanna play or follow me around or whatever… but since I’m not really doing anything – sometimes she’ll just sit and stare at me, sometimes she’ll flop down next to me, and sometimes she’ll just piss off to the basement to do who-knows-what for a couple of hours. ๐Ÿ˜ But it’s weird that a cat, with just a certain look, can make you feel like you’re letting her down in some way.

But this weekend I’ve kept busy (off and on) and was doing enough “stuff” that she was actually getting a little bit twitchy. ๐Ÿ˜พ She doesn’t like change either, especially when it probably doesn’t have any reason to her, so whenever I would sit down and take a break she would join me. Almost as if she was relieved that I “stopped doing stuff” so she didn’t have to wonder what the heck I was up to and when I was going to stop. ๐Ÿคจ

You probably have to be a “cat person” to really get this… but this cat, when I first got her, she didn’t like to have her belly touched – let alone petted, rubbed, or scratched. ๐Ÿ˜ฏ But over the years, with just me and her here, it’s molded her into a critter who shares a lot of personality traits with me. Plus she absolutely trusts me now, and has turned into a kitty that (most of the time… heh) loves belly rubs. ๐Ÿ˜„

So, shortly after I finished folding, hanging, and putting away my laundry… using up the last bit of oomph that I had for that moment, I sat down on the floor for a short break and ended up with this in my lap… ๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜Š

Sorry about the large blurred edges, but the only way I could record this properly was in portrait mode… and if I uploaded it “as-is” the video would be taller than the height of the actual page. But anyway, knowing how she used to be, seeing how she is now… this is one of the very few things that can take my mind off of all the bad things swirling around inside my brain, to where all I’m thinking about is how lucky she is to have me, and how lucky I am to have her… and that sometimes I don’t make too bad of a critter daddy, I guess. ๐Ÿ˜Š

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Why Am I The Way That I Am

Sometimes I get down on myself for being as screwed up as I am, often without any way for me to control it, but today I was reminded that I could be a hell of a lot worse. I don’t know if “worse” is the right word… but I sure know that I’m different than what I saw on display from so many people on Twitter and FB over the past 24 hours.

For Mom it just came naturally, but for me it takes a considerable amount of energy… but I still do it. I approach each day without judging people unfairly, and when I go into a new situation I keep an open mind and I give people a chance or the benefit of the doubt by default. And even if those people do end up letting me down or screwing me over, or if I find out that someone is pulling some bullshit on someone else, I don’t make it my absolute priority to find an outlet to shout and tell everyone what worthless pieces of shit they all are.

Look, I’m not wanting any fucking cookies or anything… but I can honestly say that I go out of my way each day to be polite, kind, considerate, respectful, empathic, helpful, forgiving, entrusting… generally just acting the way that humans are supposed to act towards each other, at least as far as my anxiety issues will allow it. That’s why it’s hard for my brain to process how the humans can be so nasty, so quickly, with so little facts, when it comes to things like that Joel Osteen issue from the past few days.

People screaming to the world, with such passion and need to do so, about something that they’re only postulating about at best. What the hell is wrong with these people? How did they get that way? Were they once like me, and just ran out of energy from trying to “act right” themselves, while getting emotionally smacked down from their own experiences along with the things that they’ve witnessed in their lifetime? As weak as I can be at times… how is it that I’m able to stay different from them?

It would probably be a lot easier if I was one of those jerky, mouthy, angry people. Where facts aren’t important, and neither are other people’s feelings or opinions. But I’m glad that’s not how I was raised. Somehow Mom and Dad prevented me from becoming just another generic asshole to encounter along the landscape and I have to think that the world is better for it, even with the extra weight that I sometimes feel from it.