Echoes

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This morning, as I grabbed some food from the kitchen, I thought I heard a familiar meow from upstairs. I honestly thought that I heard Sammy, letting loose his “I’m hungry and you need to feed me” cry.

I stopped what I was doing and looked towards the stairs. I was about to rush upstairs in order to feed the cat.

Then I remembered: the cat isn’t here. That is something that I am still trying to get used to and still trying to remember.

The weather has turned hotter and a bit more humid; the weekend is going to be bad, with temperatures near 90. And it will be humid, of course. I can hardly wait for that.

I am tired, both physically and mentally. I’m off tomorrow and I’m forced to wonder if I’ll even get out of bed. It might be the hear that forces me to get up and get out of the bedroom. That’s been my default mood as of late: I don’t want to leave my bedroom, let alone get out of bed. I don’t want to do anything, don’t want to eat, and nothing cheers me up at all. I get it; I’m in mourning, I’m still grieving for the cat. I don’t know how long I will be mourning. There’s no set amount of time for grief.

That seems to be my problem. I have no idea how long this will last, either.

Again, I know it’s depression. I know that I’m upset and mourning. I just don’t have a timeline that can tell me when I might start feeling–if not completely normal–somewhat better. There is no road map that can guide you out of this.

It takes time, a lot of time.

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About Silverwynde

I'm a Transformers fan, Pokémon player, Brewers fan and all-out general nerd. I rescue abandoned Golett, collect as many Bumblebee decoys and figures as I can find and I've attended every BotCon since 1999. I'm also happily married to a fellow Transfan named Prime and we were both owned by a very intelligent half-Siamese cat, who crossed the Rainbow Bridge on June 16, 2018. We miss him every day.
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