1. Denial and Isolation
I didn’t immediately go to this one. My immediate response was this deep sense of loss, with hysterical crying. But, I did come back to this one later.
Yesterday, I swore I heard meowing in the house. I swore I saw his shadows in the house. Today, I looked to where his food bowl was. I tried to make sure that he wasn’t running past me when I was leaving for work and coming back home. I swear I saw him laying on my bed. I keep thinking I’m going to run into him on the bathroom and see him spawled out on the bath mat.
I was so infuriated that someone would do this to a kitten. To my kitten. I was enraged that this person could walk free and suffer no consequence. I wanted vengence. “If I ever find out who did this, I will take a baseball bat to their knees. They’ll have the rest of their life to think about it while they’re in a wheelchair,” I said in a IRL Facebook post.
During the original hysteria, I went to this one. “I was going to call him in before bed. Why didn’t I call him in? If I would’ve called him in…” and “Maybe if I would’ve been a little more proactive. Maybe if they had seen he was wearing a tag, they wouldn’t have hurt him.” and “I knew I shouldn’t have let him go out at night. I knew it wasn’t safe.”
Don’t get concerned. I am not actually depressed. I know what bipolar depression is all too well. This is bereavement. I was devestated yesterday. Today, I’m sad, but this isn’t an episode. It’s kind of ohnoui – a French term for just feeling generally down.
I find ways to accept it. I’ve told myself, “Nothing I can say or do will ever bring him back”. Yesterday, I did those graphics. As it stands, one of those graphics is my current IRL FB profile picture. Today, I made a beautiful yarn bracelet, with his tag on it. Tomorrow, I intend to trek out to my backyard and find a stone that would be suitable to carve as a grave marker.