Cats Trump Depression

Can hardly blame myself. Realistically, that is a bunch of shit. Of course I can blame myself.

Should blaming yourself be a thing for your own depression and lack of progress on a new path, then that path may seem further away than ever. Out of reach even.

If there is no viable point of light at the end of the tunnel, then what is the point?

You lose the light, become heavy. Weighed down with the armour of the past.

Did not use a lot of drugs last night. Did not use any. Should I be happy or proud about that? N.A would suggest yes. They can piss right off. I don’t want to use. I feel like it. But… fuckit….

And now that it is 11am, Saturday 15th August 2015 it is an hour past the time where all the local junkies have done their deals and quietened down for the day.

 Of course there are other avenues. But… fuckit…

Due in court for sentencing on the heinous crime of sending text messages to the mother of my child in a few days

(breach of protection order is what they call that – for fucksakes these laws….. Don’t get me started…. Oh, was I starting myself? Sorry….)

Am sick of saying sorry. Am sick of stuffing up. Am sick of feeling really bad. Am sickly.

They say you shouldn’t put all your eggs in one basket. My eggs were all in one basket. The basket was MOVING A FEW HUNDRED KILOMETRES AWAY FROM MY KIDS MUM, MY KID and THE TEMPTATIONS THAT CONSTANTLY SURROUND ME.

This would have worked well for me. And others involved with me. There are projects and paths that really really really would be so much easier and more successful and fulfilling with two people on similar journeys helping each other.

I put my name down with a rental management lady to get a house on Tuesday. Am worried to bits that it is not working. They have not contacted my references at all. The Housing New Zealand people I rent from currently have not returned two phone calls and three emails over the last week.

And the Judge is going to look unfavourably at me living within 5km of my kids mother. They may want to keep me on a ankle bracelet as my kids Mum says she is so scared of me. I have never once threatened her, hit or injured her. She has punched me in front of the kids and been found guilty of assaulting me. Yet I lose the kid and have to move out of town.

DON’T GET ME STARTED ON THOSE STUPID LAWS AGAIN.

I can only blame myself.

But then why can’t I rent a house? I have enough money. I have a pretty clean renting record (no tenancy hearings, no rent owing, always get my bond back… that kind of thing)….

Enough excuses.

THOSE ARE THE REASONS WHY I FEEL SICK.

I want to use drugs, but can’t. I want to move, but can’t. I want to have some say in my own life, but – it appears – can’t.

BUT and CAN’T’s do not make for a healthy positive outlook.

BUT THEN I GET MY BROKEN ARSE OUT OF MY COCOON OF NO PAIN (death by duvet) AND LOOK OUT MY WINDOW.

I see FEJIOA TREE. Nothing special there, until remembering it was grown from a seed my daughter and I germinated. Avacado, lavender, lemon, even banana’s. All grown from the ground up by little old me. Then the worm farm. Started with a handful of worms, now millions. Have emptied and filled these large car tyres three or four times. Still I put food in for them. This starts to remind me that if I really was that negative and pointless there would be no reason for growing these things. You must have some faith in the future to waste your time doing anything of the sort.

And then, something else catches my eye.

Is that the neighbours scrawny horrible kitten sunning itself on the roof of the shed? It look so peaceful making the most of the few hours of sun we have had this week. It looks content.

No way that fucken kitten has a stress induced headache and is worrying itself to bits.
Lessons to be learnt from a narcissistic feline? Maybe….

And then the kitten picks up its head and looks at me. It is living in the now. Just how it knew it was being observed closely is a matter for my higher power to work through.

The content looking kitten is a five year old cat.

I have been living here too long. Time to call that property management person and put my misery and worry to bed.

cats_trump_depression

Advertisements

Say something, we want to know...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s