That Was the Sound of Me Peeing My Pants...

So, my landlord just told me I can have a cat.

Wait.

Did you just hear that sound?

That was the sound of me peeing my pants in excitement!

If you know me at all, or read my last blog, you might get the inkling that I like cats.

A lot.

Like, a lot a lot.

But not in a, “I need as many as possible so that my house smells like cat piss and litter box” way, but in a, “I just need one” kind of way.

Cats are awesome.

If you disagree it’s probably because 1. You suck, 2. You’re allergic, or 3. You never owned a cat.

I always enjoy a story that starts out as, “So I got this cat…”. That intro tells me the following things: 1. Poop may be involved in some hilarious way, 2. The cat is most likely missing a limb or eye or both or all, 3. Something was found dead somewhere (which may or may not include the cat depending on if you start the sentence with “has” or “had”), 4. Something ridiculous happened, or 5. You are about to tell me the most pointless story ever.

That’s what I like about cats. They are all-encompassing. You never know what you are going to get with a cat.

Ever.

And not in a bad way (usually). They live these lives unlike any life we will ever understand. House cat, alley cat, whatever kind of cat…they do the most random, bizarre shit and no matter how many times you have seen your cat flip out and tear ass around the house for no reason what-so-ever, it is still the funniest damn thing you will ever see. In fact, it almost gets even funnier the more often they do it.

So back to the fact that I now have this huge door open to me. Whether or not I will open it and actually get a cat is for me to know and for you to ponder. I am at the age where I now see what a pain in the ass having a cat can be. I live upstairs so the most outside my kitty will get is on my 5’ x 5’ outside patio. I am not sure how I feel about a cat box in my small apartment bathroom and if I leave, who would I trust to give it the love an attention it will be used to from me? I don’t know. But the fact that I now have an opportunity to get one, something I have dreamt of since I moved out, just makes my world all the more amazing.

Call me spiritual, call me crazy, call me whatever (I’m sure you do anyway), but I think ever since I stopped drinking, all the things I wanted, all the things I had hoped for, small and pathetic as they might seem to you, but gargantuan in my eyes, have all been trickling towards me. A job I love that actually pays the bills; the opportunity to snuggle a kitten again; an amazing, beautiful man who treats me like a queen; time to go to the gym and meditate on all the things I am thankful for; time with my friends…all these things most of you might take for granted, but for me, it’s priceless.

There were nights when I was crumpled on my floor, broken and exhausted. Exhausted from working continuous 18 hr days with shit pay at jobs that belittled me despite all my efforts and hard work. Broken and exhausted from heartache and self-hate, wondering continuously why I felt so unwanted and shitty about myself. Exhausted from worrying how I was going to pay bills, despite how fucking hard I worked everyday…disappointed in the fact that despite it all…after everything...this is where I landed…face down in my room, bawling, praying and trying to drink it all away. Scared and hopeless…bitter and angry…fragile and weak. There were weeks where I just couldn’t get my shit together…weeks where I would uncontrollably break down and cry…in the middle of work. The world, after everything I had gone through, was finally too much.

In all my other weak times, I always had something that depended on me. A cat. An innocent lover that looked up at me, pathetically, after tearing ass all over the house, or curling up in my lap as I cried. It was because of them that I forgot about my mom passing, or the divorces, or anything else that was going on. All they knew was of that very moment when I held them and loved them. All they needed was me, and in the end it brought peace to me that maybe all I needed was them.

So in the time I had dealt with giving up my first love, all my pride, my securities, and my money, I did it with the hope that one day I would be ok…I would have a kitten again; something that told me it was going to be ok. So the significance of this “cat” that I can finally get is more than just a cat, but a dream come true. I told my mom and dad through tears, “All I want is such a simple life. To get passed this heartache and worthlessness; to find a simple job...and to get a kitten. Just a sweet, loving kitten to make it all better…it’s so simple. I gave up everything to find myself and to live a simple life…I gave it all up and now I’m paying for it…”, and my voice would trail off and I would sob, thinking of all the days I worked, and worked, and worked. Days on end. Some days I worked 3 jobs in one day…starting at 4am and not getting done until 11pm. I thought that because I drudged through it that I deserved what I had been begging for. I didn’t. Not then. I had to sink further and try harder. And in my heart I knew there was something that I wasn’t doing to get to where I wanted to be.

Initially I let go of the idea that anything was owed to me. NOTHING was owed to me. Next I took a moment to look around and appreciate everything that I had in front of me. Forgetting the bills and the things that I did to myself, but instead appreciating what I had at that moment…family, friends, a safe place to sleep and food in my belly, and multiple jobs, which was a shit ton more than a lot of people. I felt like a glutton when I sat down and looked at all the blessings around me…and then I felt like a selfish spoiled brat for thinking I deserved more. And I hung my head for a moment, reflecting in my childish behavior, but then I realized that it was time to move on, to stop feeling sorry for myself and take the next step into becoming a better person. But something was still holding me back.

I kept telling my girls, “God is not letting me go any further because I haven’t done something. There is a key part in all of this that I am missing. There is something I haven’t done yet. I thought I did it all. What more do I have to do? I have nothing left to give!”

Today I realized that my drinking was that final step. I didn’t stop drinking because I thought if I did I would get a kitten. That would be ludicrous (and had I known I would have stopped drinking a year ago!) No, I stopped because I wanted to. Because I felt in my heart that in order to really see life the way I needed to make a difference in the world, I would have to let go of the crutch…the thing I thought was saving me throughout all of this, when in reality, it was weighing me down. And in the end, it seems to have been the answer I prayed for as I lay on my floor in a pathetic heap, bawling my eyes out at what a fucking failure at life I was.

And so in a way, I traded whiskey for a kitten. In my eyes, that’s pretty much the most awesome trade ever! I may not get a cat any time soon. I might go out and grab one tomorrow. Who knows. In fact, it doesn’t even matter. All that matters is that the opportunity, one I dreamt of for so long, has come to me. A desperate prayer, that cold and broken hallelujah that I cried one night for salvation…for that one thing to carry me out of this has finally come…after I had already saved myself…