Posts from the ‘Cats’ Category

Things I Am Thankful For Day 3

Okay. I’ve realised that even on just the third day, this is going to be hard for me to keep up with, but I will try to perservere.

Today I am thankful for….
Friends and family who know how much I’m struggling and are there for me in a heartbeat.
Lola being a stinker and trying to drink all the tree’s water. Getting her mischievious tail wag every time she tried when she thought I wasn’t looking. (She’s one of my cats and was quite sick for a couple weeks so seeing her run, play and get into mischief is nice)
Finalising my place to stay to go to NYC and check out Sons of an Illustrious Father. Plus, you know…just going to NYC again helps.


My Newest Tattoo – The Meaning!


I got a new tattoo on Saturday from my highschool buddy (who’s now a tattoo artist in London, On). This one is of two cat paws. One of the paws is slightly bigger than the other one. As « crazy cat lady » as it sounds, it’s a little symbol for my cats, Lola and Annabel Lee. The first part of it is for them being my first two cats that I’ve owned « on my own » (I’ve grown up with pet cats but they were always « family cats »).

The second meaning is a bit more serious. I don’t know if you read my blog post from last year or not, but it was a tough year for me. Between depression, anxiety and agoraphobia, I had I guess what you would call a « mental breakdown ». I was seriously trying to kill myself at one point and had began cutting. Not the typical sideways cutting that usually goes on, but actually along the veins and I pressed as hard as I could. This, of course, started becoming a habitual routine. I wasn’t trying to kill myself (I have awesome friends that helped me get through that and I started seeing a therapist) but I WAS cutting for the release…but still. It was always following the veing in nice, clean cuts with a knife. I was still recovering and still had a hard time going outside. Luckily, this year is going 100000000x better and I’m back in a healthy state of mind.

Anyway, back to why I got the paw prints. This may sound crazy, but I couldn’t cut in front of my cats. The one time I did, they were both physically upset. Lola was staring at me and meowing her panicked meow and Annavel Lee was yowling like I was actually cutting her with the knife, as opposed to my wrist. I had to put the knife down and they both ran over to me for pets and stuff. I don’t quite know how to explain it but they followed me around more after that, especially if they heard me with silverware. This wasn’t their typical « I want food » thing either. This was a « run into the room and make sure she’s not hurting herself » thing. They would always run up for a pet and lead me out of the kitchen, therefore distracting me from cutting. This happened nightly until the « cravings » to cut myself stopped. They still follow me around and cuddle but they’re more relaxed now. I guess you could say they are my « therapy animals ».

Plus, as an additional little « stop » if I ever do feel like I’m going to that place again, there’s a tattoo there now. I cannot bring myself ever to do anything that’ll mess up my tattoos. Lol.

But yeah, a little symbol to remind myself that I made it through last year with the help of my two lil key keys and to remind me that I SURVIVED.


– Megan

A post about Cats






To keep being stressed to crap? Or to be slightly miserable?

These are my choices. I need a job. A job that pays the bills and a job I can stand. Once I find this job, I will no longer be stressed. This week has been pure hell money-wise and I actually had panic attacks. Not one, not two but every day this week. I couldn’t get out of bed. No, it wasn’t that I didn’t WANT to get out of bed. It wasn’t because I just wanted to sleep Not at all. It was pure, panic attacks. I laid in bed awake for hours this week, staring at the wall and just thought. Just thought about what the FUCK I am going to do. Didn’t help that I was running a fever and whatnot I suppose…but I literally couldn’t get out of bed. It’s a scary feeling that I would never want anyone to feel. I would sit up and start breathing so heavy, I almost hyperventilated and passed out again so I would lay back down for a bit longer….and repeat.

I visited my parents this weekend and they knew about the whole money/no job situation. They cornered me and told me I could move back in with them. (I can’t quite say « home » in this case, since I’ve never lived in their current house and it has never been my « home ») So there’s something to think about..then I can go to college for some accounting courses, reception/business courses and the like. Something I could never do living on my own. This would mean moving back home after living on my own for 3 years. This would mean giving up a lot of my privacy, freedom, etc. I’m not saying my parents are « nazis » by any means..they’re very easy going. I’m just saying going from living by yourself to living with four other people and abiding by their rules, their schedules, etc. You know, being respectful and the like. That part was ‘meh’ to me. ‘If I absolutely have to do, I will.’ I thought. But there’s a catch (isn’t there always?). I would have to give up one or both of my cats. Give my cats away. My dad doesn’t want four cats living in one house. Okay, again..I can see how four cats is a handful and all that, but I can’t. I can’t give either one of them up. Annabel Lee is one years old..has only ever known me..she runs to me when she’s scared..she wakes up to eat and always checks in for a pet before going to eat. She’s still young, still learning and looks to me for everything and looks to Lola for everything. I couldn’t give her up, leave her by her little self in some shelter for some stranger to buy her and give her a new home. The little kitten I raised..I just couldn’t.

And Lola….I got Lola from the Humane Society so she’s already been abandoned once. She’s a wonderful lap cat, friendly, snuggly..everything I’ve ever wanted in a cat. She was the perfect pick out of all the cats at the shelter for me. She’s also eight years old. If I gave her back to the shelter, not only would she have been abandoned twice, but she’s also an older cat so therefore may not get adopted again. People go to the shelter looking for kittens. Not eight year old cats, no matter how soft or how snuggly she is. She was the first pet cat I had on my own as well, so I could never give her up either.

These are the things I have to think about, as I may or may not continue having panic attacks. Moving back to my parents’ house is the last of all resorts, understand….but I’d only give my cats up over my dead body.

So here’s hoping I find that job soon.

A little funny for today!

For those who have pet cats, you’ll enjoy it!

My cats

My cats like to play. Sometimes they play like this.

Humpday Hunk

The mau5 himself, Joel Zimmerman.

So what if I have a thing for skinny, tattooed white guys who love their cats?