Lovey Dovey, Except That I'm A Loon

Now, it's true that in past "relationships" I've been known to blame things on myself that were not my fault (See: Every single post about a year ago and that whole year prior) and I often forgave people who probably should have just been cut right out of my life.  

And then I came back home. 

These days, I'm fully aware that I deserve better, and I've watched myself move past a fairly fucked up set of trauma symptoms.  

Don't get me wrong here, I still have some and I will always have some things to work through, with and around.  
That does not mean that I cannot live my life the way I want to live it.

I've also become a little paranoid, assuming that I must always be wrong about people and no longer trusting myself.  I'm working with that.  
The fact that I'm actually pretty content (besides not seeing most of my friends NEARLY enough) means that I'm somehow more afraid.  

Having stuff to lose is scary for me. 

And then there is Rob.  

My other housemate is also endlessly sweet (and single, ladies!) but for some reason his sweetness doesn't freak me out besides making me feel like I should be baking him cakes or something.  I don't know.

But Rob...  He freaks me out.  
He thinks I'm pretty in the morning: 

And he makes sure that I actually eat: 

He is TOO nice to me and kind and open and I have trouble believing that I deserve that.  

I spent so much time getting settled in the idea that I was being treated poorly for a reason, that it is now hard to feel anything else.  

When I'm crying for no reason or having a panic attack or whatever comes with being me these days, he is calm and comforting and supportive.  

Sometimes, I wonder if he really understands what is happening: 

He actually, openly wants to spend time with me.  
He doesn't want to hide me away as some embarrassment like so many other people have in my life.  
He doesn't call me crazy, and does not let me call myself crazy, even when I'm doing incredibly crazy things.  

That being said, he is also really excited to see me, all the time, beyond what might be normal.  
This works, because he and I are both pretty clingy with each other, and we both know to give each other space when needed.  

On days where, with anyone else, I would have just hidden away and hope I survived, he texts me when he can't be there...

 ...and holds my hand when he can.  

I am not yet used to that. 

I'm sure it makes everyone around us ill, but I'm too thankful to hold it back. 

It's only four months in, and we've seen each other every day.  I'm sure this will wear off eventually.   

Right?  

...Or, we'll be like my parents, and that would be nice too. 

Cat-astrophe

As you may know from Laundry Day is a Very Dangerous Day, our cat has been shitting all the goddamn where.

She had already been to the vet and been dubbed healthy.  We've tried new cat toys, litter, litter boxes, no litter boxes, too many litter boxes...

Finally it was decided to clip off the hair from her butt and see if that would help.

The cat is trolling us, so we decided to humiliate her.  No, not really.  Really, it was supposed to make her more comfortable.  She was also going to get another check up just to be sure.

Getting her into the crate was an adventure.  My mother told me to secretly get the crate while she tricked the cat enough to pick the cat up, facing her away from said crate.

Then, we had to pour the cat into the crate, with the crate facing upward.

 

 I shit you not.  The cat was most displeased.


The car ride was horrible, if only for the amazing amount of sad, SAD cat whining coming from the back seat.


 

Made worse by my mother's amazing ability to say horrible things as though they are not horrible.



 Once there, she was equally difficult to dump out of the crate.

 

 When taken away to have her butt hair clipped, I drew this at the office:

 

 Accurate.

Getting her back in to go home was easy, and she was very quiet on the ride home.

Since then, she's just been vomiting instead.

...On my purse.