“A cat has absolute emotional honesty: human beings, for one reason or another, may hide their feelings, but a cat does not.” – Ernest Hemingway

Cats are, hands down, my favorite “domesticated” (I quote bc 😆, riiiiight) animal. I have loved cats since the first one – which I named Tinkerbell – when I was a wee lass living on the mesa in Moab, Utah. I don’t remember much about her, honestly, but it’s been 4 decades… I’ve slept since then 🤷🏻‍♀️

I have had a plethora of cats grace my life over those many decades, though, and I loved every single one of them. Each one has been unique in their own right, not just in their general appearances. Their personalities are as different as any humans. And, their lovely, individual names: Tinkerbell, Gonzo, Jack & Jill (brother/sister), Sweet Pea, Lucky/Clarence, Buddy, Booger (yes, Booger), Squamel (a mashup of Squirrel + Camel, don’t ask lol) & Lizzy, Batman, Red (named by my kiddo), Sally (also named by kiddo), Mars & Comet (brother/sister)… I know I’ve missed a couple, for sure, but both my sucky memory and a desire not to bore you come into play here 😜.

Batman, who turns 14 in July (we use the 4th, he was found by The Plague, in a dumpster, as a tiny kitten, his eyes barely open), carries the honor of being the longest living cat in my lifetime. He is my Void, and we’ve been through SO MUCH together. I named him the first week I took care of him, in my first apartment after my divorce. Sadly, with being a newly single, working mom of a special needs (autistic) kiddo, I had to ask my mom to take him. And that is where he lived for most of his life, until the Mass Exodus (my mom, son, and me escaping The Plague last year). When my son and I moved out, we took all 3 of the cats. And, as you know by now (provided you’ve read my previous posts), Batman, Mars, and Comet all moved with me here to Colorado.

Buuuuuuut… here I go digressing, again 😆

On December 21st, 2022, I wrote my “FWB/ex” (The Dementor), a final goodbye/No Contact letter, and sent it via his email and Discord. This, after a solid week of his silence, following whatever shitty argument we’d had (there were plenty over the course of our relationship). I had a panic attack, seeing that he’d come online to our Discord DM, but I was determined to make good on my absolute conviction to cease ALL contact with him, and immediately blocked him there and everywhere else – deleting his contact info and all traces of him from my phone and social media… aaaaand legit burning the (very few) material things he’d given me.

This is the day my brain “broke” completely. It broke my codependency on him, taking every last shred of ability to feel positive emotions with it. And I remember the exact moment as though I’m living it again, right here and now, as I do every time I recount this story (in my mind, at therapy, etc). I devoted 9 years of my life, my heart, every fiber of my being, to loving that “man” (boy trapped in a man’s body, really, given his stunted emotional immaturity). So yeah… the trauma inflicted on my brain with choosing myself and my future over a single moment more of his toxicity? It’s no wonder, honestly.

At the time, in that moment, I had no idea what had truly happened. The panic attack subsided in an instant (this is not typical for me) after finalizing all the No Contact things, and I felt a weird sense of peaceful contentment. I went into Zombie Numb Mode until the reality of it hit me square in the face a couple of days later.

As usual, I was sitting alone in my spot at the table on the back deck of my parents’ house, smoking and watching YouTube. A funny cat compilation video came up with 8 scenes of hilarious cat behaviors that had me cackling uproariously about 3 scenes in. I was in utter tears by the end of it. The thing is… because of therapy and my own self-reflecting, I would randomly “check in” with how I was feeling in any given moment. I chose that moment, at the end of the video, to do so. My tears of [what I thought were] joy and amusement turned swiftly into sobs of despair and confusion. Despite my brain and body reacting “normally” to this humorous video, I felt… nothing. There was NO enjoyment, happiness, or any other positivity in that moment. It was as if my heart wasn’t even there, cut off and devoid of all good feelings. I was not getting a single drop of dopamine from something I logically knew in my head that I should be.

I’m grateful that I was alone at that moment, though, because I probably looked like some psycho that had just cracked under the weight of ten thousand tons of pressure. I’d bet anyone (my mom or The Plague specifically) witnessing it would call the authorities to have me taken away for psychological evaluation. And I certainly wouldn’t have blamed them, of course, but holy shit, dude… I’m glad I didn’t have to face another human being while I was like that. *shudder*

Once I’d calmed down enough, I went straight to bed for a nap. I didn’t know what else to do and didn’t want to risk having anyone see my sad state of affairs. Having to lie about why my face was so wet and puffy just to avoid breaking down again? No thanks!

Over the course of the next few days, I tested this newfound discrepancy on other things that I “logically” would get positive feels from. One of them being my son. Giving him an “easy squeeze” (his version of a hug, but lighter)… nothing. I excused myself pretty quickly from that and escaped into my room to have another breakdown. I can’t explain how difficult it was, as a mother, to encounter this tragedy… there just aren’t any words…

The other test was on Mars, who – I’ll have you know – is actually my favorite (shh, don’t tell the others)… he’s my chonky cuddle-buddy. His unique and favored trait? Belly rubs. He loves them, and I was the only one allowed to give them… not just with my hand, but my whole FACE! Ugh. Legit the best, feeling his soft belly fur and purrs on my face. And once again… nothing. I felt bad for him, given how wet I made his belly from crying into it. But… he was a trooper and didn’t abandon me in my grief. This one was a quiet despair at the loss… silent tears soaking into Mars’ belly in droves until I finally just passed out from exhaustion.

It’s been 2 years, 3 months, and 30 days since my Brain Break into full-blown Anhedonia. Most of it has been utter hell, naturally. It’s fucking difficult to exist like this, on top of everything else I have to endure (Treatment-Resistant Major Depressive Disorder, anxiety, PTSD, and ALL the chronic physical issues/pain). Saying that I’ve had a severe lack of motivation to do literally anything “enjoyable” is a gross understatement. What’s the point in creating art, writing my fantasy novel, or any other thing I used to enjoy… if I get no satisfaction from it?!

And, as I’ll probably mention many times (apologies in advance 😅), “Healthcare” in Arkansas sucks major whale anus. It took this move to Colorado to get the diagnoses of Anhedonia and PTSD (cPTSD, actually, but their Bible – DSM5 – doesn’t recognize that… yet). After months and months of trying medications that either caused early symptoms of Serotonin Syndrome or completely stopped working after 2 months (ugh, seriously… my body is an asshole), I’m finally on a new one – there’s not even a generic yet – that’s been shown to help specifically with Anhedonia. I’m coming up on the 2 month mark after increasing the dosage once so far.

I can’t say that it’s helping yet, but mostly because it takes time for the body to acclimate and for the medication to start working. I’ve also very much avoided doing a full check-in… as I’m justifiably scared of the abject disappointment and despair that comes with the absence of positive emotions. I have tried, tentatively, a couple of times during a quiet moment with Mars or hilarious shenanigans with The Boyfriend… but I – a fairly articulate individual – just can’t put this variegated emotional chaos into words… especially regarding the positive side of things.

All that being said, and thank you so much for making it this far (!!!), I’m still chugging along, partaking more in the things that used to bring me joy… and doing my best to gleane whatever I can from them. The Boyfriend, our 4 cats, the various therapies I’m involved in, and a socializing with People (ew) once in a while… fill my time and give me a sense of purpose and things to live for. And some day, with luck, effort, and support inside and out… maybe I’ll feel that spark of joy again.

Until then… I thank you for coming along on this journey with me. I “hope” (that 4-letter curse word will be explained another time) that this peek into my life can – at the very least – be entertaining. I mean, the best kinds of entertainers have the worst experiences in life and come out pretty hilarious, no? 😜