A Conversation for Robin

When I came across a post from NBC News announcing Robin William’s death, I gasped. “No!” I said, and immediately went to check to see if it was a hoax. I found similar articles from the LA Times, CNN, New York Times. It wasn’t. Robin Williams was gone, and had apparently taken his own life. Facebook and Twitter lit up with posts expressing shock, sadness, and sympathy for his family. I knew it was only a matter of time though and braced myself for the inevitable-and wasn’t disappointed.

this guy was a drug addict and now his pain is over but now his friends and family have 2 deal with the pain, he made a very selfish choice 2 take his own life, nice role model!

I’m not here to judge a man that I only met a few x in San Francisco; however, using suicide as the last arrogant and self-centered act is profoundly SELFISH! He had ZERO regard for his children, family, friends, and the ‘so-call’ charities he professed to love; clearly he didn’t love anyone; not even himself! COWARDICE in the extreme.

And on it went…whenever news of a suicide breaks, the scorn, the judgment, the hate starts flying.  It’s the recipe for STIGMA, especially the incredibly destructive stigma surrounding mental illness.

Robin Williams struggled with deep depression for years. Why you might ask. Why would a man who had gained acclaim, adoration and wealth have any reason to be depressed? There is no simple answer. Depression can be genetic. I know, I come from a family where there is both a history of depression and substance abuse. It can also be due to chemical imbalances in the brain. Depression is as much a disease as diabetes or asthma, and like those other diseases, sometimes they can be controlled with proper treatment-and sometimes not. For Robin Williams, the disease won. He was not selfish. He was not a coward. He was a man. A husband, a father, a flawed and simple human like the rest of us-and one in agonizing emotional pain.

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Ringing In Spring!

There was a an orchid show at the park last weekend. What a perfect way to welcome spring, don’t you think?

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Think About Your HAVES Not Your HAVE-NOTs!

Life is not perfect, but if it was, how boring would that be? There would be no lessons learned and no need for blessings to be counted…what a loss that would be! This economy is hitting most of us hard and it’s difficult not to worry and be angry-my husband and I are good, hard working people. We pay our bills on time and live within our means. Yet like many, we sometimes struggle to make ends meet. However I’ve found a sliver of a silver lining. It makes you appreciate the HAVES in your life a whole lot more. Here are mine:

I have a wonderful husband who loves me and a strong and happy marriage.
I have a group of friends who are just the most terrific and extraordinary people I’ve ever met.
I have a clean, warm apartment and a kitchen full of food.
I have a cat who gives me joy and unconditional love.
I have the luck and good fortune to be making a living doing something I absolutely love.
I have good health.
I have a clear conscience and an open mind.

What are your haves?

I leave you with this:

“I complained I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet.”

Count your blessings, look for that silver lining and give thanks for your HAVES! 🙂

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On Faith

Heard on the news this morning that the #1 survival weapon (whether you’re trying to survive a life threatening event or just the lousy economy), is faith. Reminded me of this quote:

“When you have come to the edge of all light that you know, and are about to drop off into the darkness of the unknown, Faith is knowing one of two things will happen: There will be something solid to stand on or you will be taught to fly.”

~ Patrick Overton

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He Wasn’t Just a Cat………

He was my buddy.  Yesterday started out normally. My cat Roddy woke me up, and we snuggled and played for a bit. About an hour or two later, my husband came home from a job interview and joked that Roddy was doing a good job blocking passes. He was lying on the floor by the bedroom door as he often did, and as I walked by to go to the bathroom, I commented that he was having a good snooze. Little did I know..

A minute later my husband started screaming.

“Something’s wrong with Roddy!”

“What?” I replied.

“Something’s wrong with Roddy!”

“What do you mean? I am using the bathroom, you have to tell me what you mean!” I called back.

He was freaking out. “He’s unconscious!”

I ran out to the living room where he’d carried him and took him in my arms. He was warm, but completely limp. His eyes were open but there was no life in them. I checked for a heartbeat, a breath….

“Oh baby no! Honey, I don’t think he’s breathing! Get the carrier, QUICK!”

I was shaking, pleading with him and God to be okay. Sobbing and pleading…

We rushed him to the vet, only a few minutes away, but it was too late. Roddy was gone. They worked on him feverishly in the emergency room but couldn’t get his heart going again. The vet said words like cardiomyopathy and rupture of the fibers surrounding the chordae tendineae, but it meant nothing. All that mattered was Roddy was gone. He was only 8 years old…far too soon.

We adopted Roddy when he was just 5 weeks old. Some monster had put him in a plastic bag and tossed him in a trash can. That experience left him absolutely terrified of bags for the rest of his life. He was so tiny we carried him around in our pockets. He was very sick with a URI and conjunctivitis, but we nursed him back to health. He grew into a curious, playful cat who loved to chatter with the birds outside the kitchen window, “talked to us” all the time, and would do anything for a goldfish cracker. He was our buddy, our baby. We aren’t able to have children, so Roddy and our older cat, Minky, were our family. Some people don’t understand how pets can become family, but for us they do.

Unlike Minky, Roddy was not a solitary fellow. He wanted and needed to be near his people all the time. He slept with us every night, waking us up with a chirrp in the morning to announce it was time for his breakfast. When I was working at my desk he laid across my feet. He was not a solitary cat; he needed and wanted to be near his people. I work at home so he and I were together all the time. When he wanted attention he would get up on his hind legs, lean against my chair and pat me repeatedly with his front paw. If that didn’t work he jumped on my desk and walked between me and my laptop.

He loved boxes-not a single box came into this house that wasn’t taken over by him. He loved naps in the sun, the fuzzy pink ball he’d has since he was a kitten and bug hunting. He ran races up and down the stars and around the house, always full of energy.

I have an anxiety disorder and Roddy always seemed to know when I was having a bad day. He’d stay close and occasional reach out and pat me with a paw. When I was sick, he was an excellent nurse.

Roddy wasn’t just a cat, he was my friend. I don’t understand why he was fine one minute and gone the next, and I don’t think I ever will. I will always remember the night before he died. He was snuggled in bed with my husband and I purring away and all was right with the world. I dreamt about him last night. He was in a field of green grass and it was a sunny day. He was running and playing. I hope that means he’s okay.

We spent awhile with him at the vet’s. We kissed him and stroked him and told him we loved him, then we said goodbye. We had him cremated and will bring him home soon.

It will never really be goodbye though. He’ll be in our now broken hearts and in our memories forever. Someday our hearts will heal and welcome a new cat, but not now.

Gentle journey baby, until we see each other again.

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