Depression Hurts; Nothing Helps

Dear Reader,

It's funny. I was rereading some of my older posts from a few years ago, and noting how sad I seemed. I have been sad in many ways most of my life. I can remember feeling alienated and alone on the playground in First Grade! I have been in therapy for depression and other various problems since I was 16 years old. There have been gaps, until I had some kind of major crisis which got me "back on the couch," as they say.

I am in therapy now. I am also on anti-depressant medication; a good one that has a positive history. It does not impinge on my mental faculties, which I really need to do my work. It also hasn't had any of the negative impacts so often listed in the late-night medicine ads we see nowadays, with nice animations or little wind-up dolls.

I also drink too much. Yes, I am a drunk. Not an alcoholic; I'm not taking that medicinal term. I'm a drunk. I come from a family of drunks. It is genetic in many ways, and social in more. I've been through rehab, I know that drill. I really get no pleasure from it, and I don't "want" to, but I am choosing to drink these days because the pain I am feeling is so great, it can't be handled by medication, sobriety, or anything else I can come up with.

I had always thought that when my Dad died, my life would essentially be over. I would have no one who really cared for me left, and no reason to keep on living. I didn't want to hurt him by going before he did, but after he was gone, I figured it wouldn't make any difference. I was right about most of it, but I didn't anticipate getting my beautiful dog Hunny. She made life worth living, and she needed me. I think she also cared for me.

So, after Daddy died on November 11, I was okay. He had had a good life; he was 91 1/2, he didn't suffer (much) and I think/hope he went out the way he wanted to. Of course, I had sadness and a couple of episodes of deep depression, but because I had Hunny with me, I had an external focus and someone to care for. She even knew Daddy was gone when we went home for his funeral, but she worked through it, and continued to help me.

We got home to NYC, and got our new kittens on December 4, as planned. Hunny was becoming a great dog big sister to the kittens. We were getting close to a pile of kittens and dog, then I totally screwed up on Christmas Eve. We stopped at the grocery store which was part of our regular walk, to drop off a Christmas card to the night manager, who had always been helpful to me, and was a friend of Hunny's. He really liked her, and she responded in kind.

It is my fault she ran away. I attached Hunny to a trash container that I thought was heavy and stable, but was not. I was going into the store for no more than 30 seconds to drop off our card, and something spooked Hunny and she pulled the contained over and ran off. Part of the container remained attached to her leash, and clanked after her, scaring her further. After she ran across the uptown side of Broadway, her harness broke (I only found this out later, because the Manager I had left the card for followed after her and picked up the harness and leash where he found it, and kept it for me), and she then continued across the downtown side of Broadway, and 1/2 block on south. That was the last time I saw her.

Friends and I have been looking for her since. There have been some terrible episodes, which I may write down here just so I remember them. We/I have done all of the things prescribed by the various sources on the internet, and by other authorities, including a pet detective and psychics. I have tried to do more, but nothing has accomplished the goal of finding Hunny. I don't know if she is dead or alive. One psychic said dead; the other said alive. The pet detective said probably alive. My gut says alive somewhere. That doesn't make me feel better.

I am so blackly depressed that I can hardly move, or get out of my apartment. The only thing I have been able to do is go to work, barely.

I hate my work, so being in this mindset on top of it doesn't help. I wish work were an escape, and it is, in that I am miserable about something else besides Hunny when I'm at a client. Under other conditions, most of my clients would be considered cool, or interesting or even inspirational, but for me they are just a bunch of pains, who have no idea or appreciation of what I do for them.

Honestly, if I could think of a way of dying which didn't hurt, and that I knew was fool-proof, I would do it at this point. I am so tired of this struggle, and now I really have nothing to keep me going. My kittens will find homes. I've lost my girl, I have no friends, my sisters don't give a crap. What's left?

Sorry to be such a bummer,

Catbird

Checking In, Sadly

Dear Reader,

It's again been some time since I've written anything here. So much has happened even since my last entry, I hardly know where to begin; so I'll begin back in November.

Everything was status quo, until my Dad died on November 11. Although this wasn't entirely unexpected, it still was very upsetting and traumatic. I got through my 11/13 concert, then went "home" a few days later. We got through the memorial service, complete with full military honors, and then I fell into a deep depression which lasted for a few weeks.

I was pulling out of that, and got a pair of kittens on December 4. This had been in the works since October; carefully thought out and considered. These were for both Hunny and me. My older cat has never gotten along with Hunny, and I wanted her (both Kootie and Hunny) to have a couple of kittens to interact with. For the dog it would be socializing with cats who grew up with her; for the older cat, it would be getting some interaction and exercise with a couple of younger cats. The kittens were (and are) doing well. They were fine with Hunny, and Hunny was learning how to gently interact with them. She never made any effort to harm them, but there was a learning curve because she was so much larger than they were.

We were getting ready to have our first Christmas on our own in NYC. Prior to this past year, we had always gone to my folk's home for Christmas, first alone, then with Hunny over the last two years. This year, because Daddy was gone, I decided it was time to have Christmas in New York at our home. Early in the morning of Christmas Eve, as I was dropping off a Christmas card to the night manager of the grocery store we go to, Hunny got scared and ran off. It is now the eighth week that she's been gone. This has been the most traumatic and heartbreaking thing I have ever been through.

I spent the first couple of weeks putting up flyers, following leads and sightings, trying to find the resources on the internet and elsewhere to get the word out that she was missing, getting her face out there. Then, depression caught up with me again. In addition to that, we had the worst spate of winter weather I remember in years; snow, cold, more snow, arctic cold, wind, a day of temperatures above 30, then frigid again. It's been awful. I spent a lot of time nearly paralyzed, unable to get out of bed or leave my apartment. I wasn't able to interact with the kittens; I was barely able to feed and clean up after them.

Looking for a lost dog in New York City is a very difficult process. It isn't addressed in the sites and documents one finds online; those are all geared towards suburban and rural conditions. In addition, there is no support structure in NYC for finding lost animals. There is no municipal department that helps with searches, or even picks up stray animals. The private animal rescue organizations only help after an animal has been picked up and brought in (by a citizen). The online resources are plentiful, but not really effective; they all rely on someone seeing the lost animal, then reporting it to the website, or listing it on the lost/found site, of which there are many.

Fortunately, I've had friends who have helped with putting up flyers, spreading the word among pet and dog organizations, and gotten the word out. I've also had help with the depression, but it's a tough slog.

I was beginning to feel a little better, and thinking I could start really getting out and looking for Hunny, until I got word a week ago that my youngest sister was in the hospital with liver disease. They don't know yet whether it's curable, or whether she will continue to decline. The last update I got, she also caught pneumonia in the hospital, and was intubated to help her breathe.

So, I am just trying to wake up every day, and force myself to get out of the house, if only to go get coffee and a roll. It takes every iota of will I have. And nevermind work. I have been managing to get to clients, but again, it takes everything I have, and I'm emotionally and physically spent by the time I get home.

I am hoping this will end soon. I keep hoping I'll find Hunny, but it's been two months. Of course I've heard dozens of stories about dogs returning home after weeks, months and even years, but this situation feels so much more hopeless than that.

As to my sister, I once told her that if she ever needed a body part, I would donate it. I might be giving up part of my liver; we'll see how things go.

Sorry for all of the bad news; I wish I had something more pleasant to report. I hope to keep things updated on a more regular basis, as well.

Catbird