As people who’ve already read or are friends or family know last year was a horrific year. What many people have difficulty with is how I feel. It’s not just about two cats that were murdered. They weren’t just pets to me. I’m 46 now and I don’t have children.
When I got Luna as a kitten I babied her, I taught her what she needed to know living with human’s. She was born in the wild when I took her in. Gandalf we adopted from a local animal shelter and he was also a kitten and Dexter was a kitten and got him from an ad on Craig’s list.
People dismiss that I called them my babies. I don’t have children anymore. I had my babies, the first to go was Gandalf with his “Dad” when he moved to Michigan.
Then I moved back to Wisconsin 2 years ago and little by little I had this man slowly but surely break me down. Keep me from friends, keep me from family, keep me from doing things I like to do, change me. What he did to me is domestic violence, mental and emotional abuse is domestic violence, it’s not just the woman beaten. It’s the man that controls you, tells you how to do things, when to do things, what to do, etc and so on. It’s not just something I can get over so quickly and move on. Imagine if you will had I stayed and he finished what he begun, HE WOULD HAVE FUCKING KILLED ME TOO.
This is why I have severe PTSD, I’m agoraphobic and why I’m on so many different meds and I read all kinds of books and things about how to handle trauma and how to handle stress and anxiety. Cause it’s not just going to go away on it’s own. And that’s why I have tried explaining my situation cause I can’t just do it with Drs, therapists, psychiatrists, groups. I’m not going to stop helping myself and finding new ways to try to cope with what I was left with.
It’s not wrong and I wouldn’t and am not the first to consider the fur-babies their children. You don’t have to agree but accept that. They were therapeutic unconditionally loving and helped with my anxiety and now with all the trauma I’ve been through and them taken away by that trauma it is difficult. Today marks the day Paula and I took Dexter to the vet after I received the ‘your shitball cat scratched me and pissed and shit on the floor’ and he was found in a closed closet in the litter box covered in his own urine with carpeting embedded into his nails and one eye shut and puffy. I do have a hard time letting it go and not beating myself up for not getting out that day, taking him and leaving that day a year ago today. Except I brought him home and nursed him back to health with the antibiotics and my love and comfort and keeping him safe or so I thought in my room. At least he was safe until October 8th when he finished what he started.