I am prone to chronic depression; the kind of long-term loss of interest in anything good not necessarily caused by any event. I've been treated for it in the past, and told that likely it would be something I'd have to deal with for the rest of my life.
So I met my new Minnesota doc last week and asked for help. I knew that talk therapy wasn't the answer, but that medication potentially was. Prozac sort of did the job previously, but only sort of. I had already done my research and asked about Wellbutrin, which she agreed was appropriate for me. So I've been on it for 5 days and experiencing some of the side effects like insomnia and dry mouth, which I'm told should go away in a week or two. It also makes me feel a little hyper, like I drank too much coffee. But I guess that's a sign that it's working.
In an effort to try and help myself, I'm trying to be more social and give of myself. I took a painting class last week, and am taking a glass class Saturday.
But the biggest change is my work with the cats at the local pound. Since I was off last week, I got my training on Friday morning, with a complete kennel cleanout. By the time we were done I was exhausted - my legs ached, my knees hurt from kneeling on concrete floors, and I was all sweaty. And I loved it so much I came back the next day. This time, the head volunteer left the room for long spaces at a time, I think perhaps as a bit of a test. I must have passed, because she said I could work Sunday morning if I wanted, this time without her.
The shelter has full-time employees that do the feeding, watering, and cleanout every day. There was only one on Sunday, and if I hadn't been there she would have been responsible for taking care of 72 cats and 15 dogs by herself. With just a little help, she let me loose on the cats. I fed them, cleaned their litter boxes, gave them fresh blankets, gave them water, and let them out to play for awhile. All 72 of them. While cleaning the lower cages I'd often feel a paw grab my hair from above and pull - not my best hair day. And I took time out to cuddle most of the cats and kittens, some as young as 1 week old. By day 3 I was getting to know many of the cats and their personalities. Jack, who recently had 21 teeth pulled. His faithful companion Jingles, who never goes far from Jack. Their owner died and they came to live at the shelter.
Lee, a black kitten that would stand on his back legs with his front on my shoulders when I opened the kennel. And when I'd hold him he'd just purr away, content just to be there. I will probably adopt him if he's still there when my house is ready. Along with Meep, another tiny kitten who is blind in one eye and is cute as can be. The shelter is trying to raise grant money for the surgery to remove the bad eye.
Zephyr, a Bombay cat about a year old, with fur that looks like patent leather. When I'd let him out, he'd follow me around the room. In his kennel, he was very vocal, trying to get my attention.
I came home with my hands covered in scratches, and one on my face as well. And haven't felt that happy in a long time. I'm going back this weekend for more kitty loving, and to see who steals my heart this time.
