I miss my tuxedo.

You know what’s fucked up?


I say that memories are fucked up because of what they were and what they are now and how your brain, body, etc, tries to get everything sorted out.

I want to start out by saying that what happened today is not the person’s fault. They literally did not know, because memories are all fucked up to hell and back. However, things kinda went downhill because I wasn’t prepared for what popped up and I had to try to put an extra effort into keeping shit together. Not just at work but I had obligations after work in the form of running a D&D game that added to everything. Sometimes something you don’t expect really knocks you off center. Are you ready for the horror?

This cat was my doom today.

See before the picture I was trying to be funny because I can only mock my own pain. It made me wonder if deep down is this picture the picture that actually had my ex want to adopt our Tuxedo cat Mitzy.

(Cue: “Bill it was your fucking cat. Fuck her.” Thanks folks, you know who you are.)

Abuse and trauma are things that stupid things like this cause you grief that you have to do major self correcting to try to get it fixed, and sometimes that leads to self sabotage to try to make you feel better. One of my D&D players asked me about giving up caffeine because I brought 4 Arizona Teas to my game and I said “I just need it after the day I had.”

(Did you know Arizona Tea is 3 servings per can? At least the RX Energy one.)

I have not had a happy life. I had a happy 5 years of my overall life. Those happy 5 years were really good years. Unfortunately this is where the cat comes in. When my ex and I were dating in the first year all I had to do was show her this picture and she would laugh, no matter what happened. I could always bring a smile to her face and listen to the jingle of her laugh because it never failed. This is what my friend Donnie would call the Roman Reigns Chairshot Effect, as whenever I was down at work he would post this gif to our chat to always brighten up my day.

Roman sold that like he was shot.

I fought through my day basically thinking about how a stupid cat was fucking things up for me was forcing myself to not fall down the rabbit hole into memories that would drive me into a major depression. Yes I talked to my therapist about this. However when you are told to think happy thoughts it goes to thoughts of times you were happy, and when your time being truly happy was limited to someone who caused you trauma and abuse, it’s like you are abusing yourself over and over again. Here I am going “Stupid cat, I don’t have it bad as some people I got to get over stupid things like this.”

Then later this followed up on my feed by another facebook friend.

My trauma is real, but it also made me think of my perspective. I don’t want people to feel the way I do. I don’t want people to be deprived of the things that they need and I will deprive myself before I deprive other people. While I deprived myself in that relationship to needs I needed (like to get the fuck out of it earlier), I didn’t. I think in some cases my trauma has made me more empathetic to what can I do to help other people because I don’t want people to be in pain because it manifests pain in me. I regularly say that I don’t have it as bad as other people and what can I do about it while I can be sitting in mental anguish over my own traumas. Instead of dealing with my own traumas I worry about others to distract myself from the pain.

Until the pain punches me in the head gut and knocks the wind out of me. I’m tired of the pain that gets buried getting spit up like lava when I least expect it. Yet I can’t blind myself to it because then I can’t recover from it.

Remember when I said I had 5 happy years? I had followed that with two years of trauma and abuse. Mostly emotional and mental, some physical. The only thing that showed me love in that household was the cat, that everyday I feel like I abandoned. I should have fucking taken the cat and made sure it was with someone who would let me visit whenever I needed headbutts. I’m sorry Mitzy and hope you are still having the best kitty life possible.

I’ve been on the verge of tears most of the day and the only thing that has been covering it up has been sugar.

So I leave you today with a cat picture. The only tuxedo cat that matters.

My all time favorite headbutt artist.