We’re 25 days in to the new year, and I am still dealing with depression and suicidal thoughts. I’m managing. Work is getting done, bills are getting paid. But I’m miserable. I wonder sometimes how long the part of me that wants to live can fight off the part that has decided it’s time to die. It’s a scary place to be.
The one thing that has been my refuge is Fawlty Towers, the John Cleese/Connie Booth comedy from the 70s. For some reason, my darkened mind can concentrate on the show. I can laugh and not feel terrible about it. I can lose myself in the troubles of Basil, and for 25 minutes or so, I’m in someone else’s life.
My cats save me time and again. People can understand the concept of suicide, even if they don’t understand the reasons behind it. Cats will just feel abandoned when one of the people they love stops coming to see them. This has been my life force of late. I know that, as long as my cats are alive, I will not follow through with my suicidal thoughts. I just can’t imagine outliving those cats for long.