- Joined
- Mar 8, 2018
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- Purraise
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Warning: This is a long post. I hope it's in the right place. If you don't want to read it all there is a "too long; didn't read" at the very end.
Introductions first. I'm 28, I work at a company that manufactures snowboards (mainly), as a finisher. I take the "raw" snowboard, which is a rectangle with curved up ends, start with cutting it out on a bandsaw and end with polishing, removing the protective coat on the top artwork and putting a sticker with my name on it. Monday through thursday, 3:30pm to 2am. It's an awesome job and I absolutely love it. I get to work with my hands in a super laid back shop environment. During the interview I responded to a description of all the things that a finisher does by saying "that sounds like heaven," and I wasn't far off. It's a very physically demanding job, and for the most part we're left alone as we go about our work, which means I can pop headphones in my listening holes and laser-focus on my job. At first I listened to music, but I quickly changed to audio books. The problem with music is that you can tune it out when you're doing something you're familiar with, which leaves plenty of unused brain for thinking. Not always a good thing. Audio books make you pay attention. I'm familiar with making snowboards, I don't have to think about it like I did when I was learning, so I need something else to occupy my mind. Anyway, that's me, here's the kitties.
Primrose (I call her Prim, or primprim, or sugar face...there are a lot of nicknames. Primrose is for when she's in trouble) is a 4 year old calico. I got her when she was about 9 weeks old from my friend's mom. The moment I saw the litter, my eyes went straight to her. I've always had a thing for uniqueness, not just in cats, I like making and building things that are one-of-a-kind, I find it charming and special. Naturally, there being an infinite number of variations of patterns in a calico, it appealed to me. I also already had another calico named Katniss, so the name kinda came naturally (if you've seen Hunger Games). Prim is just gorgeous. Her eyes are normally a light yellow, but they change with her mood. When she's on my lap getting all the daddy attention, they're bright emerald green. When she's irritated, they get darker copper colored.
![IMG_20180226_044501[1].jpg](data:image/svg+xml;charset=utf-8,%3Csvg xmlns%3D'http%3A%2F%2Fwww.w3.org%2F2000%2Fsvg' width='400' height='300' viewBox%3D'0 0 400 300'%2F%3E "IMG_20180226_044501[1].jpg")
Graycie is almost a year old. She's gray. Not solid gray, she has a beautiful pattern, especially on her face. Her eyes are normally gold around the outside with green around the pupil, but I recently noticed that her eyes change with her mood too. Last night she was getting some cat-gasmic chin scratches and I noticed that her eyes were now green around the outside with light blue around the pupil! Super pretty. 15 minutes after I'd stopped petting her, they had gone back to gold/green. Graycie is a sweet girl, still has some kitten tendencies and likes to knock stuff off of high places, like a heavy airless paint sprayer that was up on a shelf and which, magically, didn't break anything when it fell the 7 or so feet to the concrete floor. We got Graycie from a friend when she was 7 weeks old (but weaned and litter box trained like a pro) while we had Prim and my (now ex) girlfriend's cat Calvin.
View attachment 221822
If life has taught me anything, it's that crap happens. Mid-december, the girlfriend and I broke up after more than 2 years together. Literally, one minute everything was fine, we were headed back from the farmer's market that she'd been wanting to make a trip to for weeks, the next minute we were arguing about something stupid and she was packing all of her stuff into her car. The next day she came back to get the rest of the stuff while I was at work, then left, sending me a text saying she was sorry and she loved me. The following weeks were a rollercoaster, obviously. Within a few days I had myself thinking that this was a good thing. We argued a lot, we're both incredibly stubborn and proud, and that caused stress. I had also just started a new job a week prior after being unemployed for a month. The unemployment caused a lot of stress, but we had pulled through, and the new job didn't go away with her. Basically I was remembering all the stressful times and that had me feeling confident that the breakup, although painful, was ultimately a good thing. I'd learned a lot about myself, and grew and matured in ways that I seriously needed to, over that two years. Just because she was gone didn't mean that I had to lose all that personal progress. I maintained that confidence for a few weeks, all the while she's being just rotten to me through text, literally blaming everything on me while telling me that I need to take responsibility for my mistakes. Now, I'm not a saint, but one thing I am is honest. I've lied and been lied to way too much and my momma raised a good man. My dad also instilled a sense of pride and responsibility. Granted it may have taken a while for me to pull my head out, but I finally learned. I can count on one hand the number of serious screw ups from me during the 2+ year relationship, and I never denied a single thing. I also asked for forgiveness and never made the same mistake again, because after the first time it's not a mistake, it's a choice. That said, for her to tear me down even further by putting all the blame on me while telling me I never take responsibility was...painfully ironic.
Anywho, we broke up 3 months ago, just a few weeks before Christmas (for which I had 11 days off in a row from work, 5 of which were paid). Over the last couple of weeks I've started to fall a little more into depression and I've been finding it more and more difficult to pull myself out. Last weekend was particularly bad. I "quit" drinking almost a year ago (march 31st, actually). I say "quit" because I still allow myself the occasional special-occasion beer. One is my self-imposed limit. The last beer I had before the breakup was november 11th, ex-girlfriend's birthday, and I didn't finish it. First beer I had after the breakup was new years eve, with a friend, at around 9pm (so not even party time yet). I had one two weekends ago as well, just a random occasion to go out and socialize. Last weekend, I was feeling super down and my will broke and I went out and had a beer. It may not seem like a big deal, but I felt like I'd failed. When I quit drinking it was a matter of lose the alcohol or lose the woman I loved (ex girlfriend). It was an easy choice. Since that day I still have not had liquor, but like I said I have had a few beers (and always with her "permission" or "blessing" or whatever you want to call it. I always made sure she was ok with it before I had it) The whole situation is definitely one of the fingers on which I count my serious screw ups. For me to go out and have a beer 2 weekends in a row made me feel even worse. It wasn't until mid-way through my weekend that I realized why I felt so lonely. I spend most of my at-home time in the garage. I've got my computer set up in here with a recliner and a workbench. It's my man-cave, and I have the kitties out with me 99% of the time (even when I'm at work, they love it in here). This weekend was part of the 1%. My roommate had asked me to move them into my bedroom before I left for work thursday evening because she needed to work on something in the garage with the door open. When I got home from work at 2am friday I was so pooped that I went into the garage, put a youtube video on and passed out, well into friday afternoon. For some reason the lack of kitties never really hit me until saturday night (after I'd gone out and had the beer). It hit me like a sack of bricks though. I brought them out (along with their food/water bowls and litter box. Like I said they love it in here) and immediately started to feel less lonely. I talk to them, kitty-talk mostly, they snuggle with me and they're always up for being pampered and petted. It had an immediate effect and I realized that if I hadn't had them during the hardest part of the breakup, I'm not sure what condition I'd be in. Depressed me is a weak-willed me, I've come to realize. To say they saved my life is a bit dramatic, but they certainly helped me. I've always loved animals. Dogs are great, they're dopey and adorable and love unconditionally, I love dogs. Cats though...cats are picky. If a cat loves you, it actually loves you. Prim loves me, she is daddy's girl through and through. I come home from work and she's curled up in the laundry basket cuddling my clothes, I say "hello babies" and she meows a greeting at me and yawns, I walk over and pet her and she starts purring madly before I even get to her. She doesn't do that with anyone else, she doesn't really like most other people (much like myself). She's not a forced snuggler, she wants to snuggle when she wants to snuggle, and it's usually not for long unless I'm asleep. She gets annoyed at being jostled around as I move my legs to find a comfortable position to lay or something, so she jumps down until I'm asleep. I wake up with her almost every day though. Graycie, on the other hand, she's a snuggler. She doesn't care if she gets bumped around while I get comfortable, she just wants to snuggle! Even the first night we brought her home, when we went to bed she hopped up and curled up on top of the blanket between my legs. She'll usually stay all night, but only recently started to really enjoy being petted. The combination of the two brings a smile to my face, and I don't know what I'd do without them. Oh, I also love that I can do the "cat I love you" at them, where I make eye contact then slowly close and open my eyes, and they do it back every time.
Long story short, if you read it all: the last few months have certainly helped me better appreciate my babies, and I'd be stupid to think for a moment that they don't know what they're doing. Depressed daddy doesn't play with and pet them as much, they know I need comforting and they don't hesitate for a moment. Cats are really just the best.
tl;dr: breakups suck and hurt, kitties make everything better.
Introductions first. I'm 28, I work at a company that manufactures snowboards (mainly), as a finisher. I take the "raw" snowboard, which is a rectangle with curved up ends, start with cutting it out on a bandsaw and end with polishing, removing the protective coat on the top artwork and putting a sticker with my name on it. Monday through thursday, 3:30pm to 2am. It's an awesome job and I absolutely love it. I get to work with my hands in a super laid back shop environment. During the interview I responded to a description of all the things that a finisher does by saying "that sounds like heaven," and I wasn't far off. It's a very physically demanding job, and for the most part we're left alone as we go about our work, which means I can pop headphones in my listening holes and laser-focus on my job. At first I listened to music, but I quickly changed to audio books. The problem with music is that you can tune it out when you're doing something you're familiar with, which leaves plenty of unused brain for thinking. Not always a good thing. Audio books make you pay attention. I'm familiar with making snowboards, I don't have to think about it like I did when I was learning, so I need something else to occupy my mind. Anyway, that's me, here's the kitties.
Primrose (I call her Prim, or primprim, or sugar face...there are a lot of nicknames. Primrose is for when she's in trouble) is a 4 year old calico. I got her when she was about 9 weeks old from my friend's mom. The moment I saw the litter, my eyes went straight to her. I've always had a thing for uniqueness, not just in cats, I like making and building things that are one-of-a-kind, I find it charming and special. Naturally, there being an infinite number of variations of patterns in a calico, it appealed to me. I also already had another calico named Katniss, so the name kinda came naturally (if you've seen Hunger Games). Prim is just gorgeous. Her eyes are normally a light yellow, but they change with her mood. When she's on my lap getting all the daddy attention, they're bright emerald green. When she's irritated, they get darker copper colored.
![IMG_20180226_044501[1].jpg](https://thecatsite.com/data/attachments/221/221934-45f745b1fed87745fc88d222ca288096.jpg "IMG_20180226_044501[1].jpg")
Graycie is almost a year old. She's gray. Not solid gray, she has a beautiful pattern, especially on her face. Her eyes are normally gold around the outside with green around the pupil, but I recently noticed that her eyes change with her mood too. Last night she was getting some cat-gasmic chin scratches and I noticed that her eyes were now green around the outside with light blue around the pupil! Super pretty. 15 minutes after I'd stopped petting her, they had gone back to gold/green. Graycie is a sweet girl, still has some kitten tendencies and likes to knock stuff off of high places, like a heavy airless paint sprayer that was up on a shelf and which, magically, didn't break anything when it fell the 7 or so feet to the concrete floor. We got Graycie from a friend when she was 7 weeks old (but weaned and litter box trained like a pro) while we had Prim and my (now ex) girlfriend's cat Calvin.
![IMG_20180226_044523[2].jpg](https://thecatsite.com/data/attachments/221/221935-9c40c5ac756a86c5ddb9ed5e8357bb07.jpg "IMG_20180226_044523[2].jpg")
View attachment 221822
If life has taught me anything, it's that crap happens. Mid-december, the girlfriend and I broke up after more than 2 years together. Literally, one minute everything was fine, we were headed back from the farmer's market that she'd been wanting to make a trip to for weeks, the next minute we were arguing about something stupid and she was packing all of her stuff into her car. The next day she came back to get the rest of the stuff while I was at work, then left, sending me a text saying she was sorry and she loved me. The following weeks were a rollercoaster, obviously. Within a few days I had myself thinking that this was a good thing. We argued a lot, we're both incredibly stubborn and proud, and that caused stress. I had also just started a new job a week prior after being unemployed for a month. The unemployment caused a lot of stress, but we had pulled through, and the new job didn't go away with her. Basically I was remembering all the stressful times and that had me feeling confident that the breakup, although painful, was ultimately a good thing. I'd learned a lot about myself, and grew and matured in ways that I seriously needed to, over that two years. Just because she was gone didn't mean that I had to lose all that personal progress. I maintained that confidence for a few weeks, all the while she's being just rotten to me through text, literally blaming everything on me while telling me that I need to take responsibility for my mistakes. Now, I'm not a saint, but one thing I am is honest. I've lied and been lied to way too much and my momma raised a good man. My dad also instilled a sense of pride and responsibility. Granted it may have taken a while for me to pull my head out, but I finally learned. I can count on one hand the number of serious screw ups from me during the 2+ year relationship, and I never denied a single thing. I also asked for forgiveness and never made the same mistake again, because after the first time it's not a mistake, it's a choice. That said, for her to tear me down even further by putting all the blame on me while telling me I never take responsibility was...painfully ironic.
Anywho, we broke up 3 months ago, just a few weeks before Christmas (for which I had 11 days off in a row from work, 5 of which were paid). Over the last couple of weeks I've started to fall a little more into depression and I've been finding it more and more difficult to pull myself out. Last weekend was particularly bad. I "quit" drinking almost a year ago (march 31st, actually). I say "quit" because I still allow myself the occasional special-occasion beer. One is my self-imposed limit. The last beer I had before the breakup was november 11th, ex-girlfriend's birthday, and I didn't finish it. First beer I had after the breakup was new years eve, with a friend, at around 9pm (so not even party time yet). I had one two weekends ago as well, just a random occasion to go out and socialize. Last weekend, I was feeling super down and my will broke and I went out and had a beer. It may not seem like a big deal, but I felt like I'd failed. When I quit drinking it was a matter of lose the alcohol or lose the woman I loved (ex girlfriend). It was an easy choice. Since that day I still have not had liquor, but like I said I have had a few beers (and always with her "permission" or "blessing" or whatever you want to call it. I always made sure she was ok with it before I had it) The whole situation is definitely one of the fingers on which I count my serious screw ups. For me to go out and have a beer 2 weekends in a row made me feel even worse. It wasn't until mid-way through my weekend that I realized why I felt so lonely. I spend most of my at-home time in the garage. I've got my computer set up in here with a recliner and a workbench. It's my man-cave, and I have the kitties out with me 99% of the time (even when I'm at work, they love it in here). This weekend was part of the 1%. My roommate had asked me to move them into my bedroom before I left for work thursday evening because she needed to work on something in the garage with the door open. When I got home from work at 2am friday I was so pooped that I went into the garage, put a youtube video on and passed out, well into friday afternoon. For some reason the lack of kitties never really hit me until saturday night (after I'd gone out and had the beer). It hit me like a sack of bricks though. I brought them out (along with their food/water bowls and litter box. Like I said they love it in here) and immediately started to feel less lonely. I talk to them, kitty-talk mostly, they snuggle with me and they're always up for being pampered and petted. It had an immediate effect and I realized that if I hadn't had them during the hardest part of the breakup, I'm not sure what condition I'd be in. Depressed me is a weak-willed me, I've come to realize. To say they saved my life is a bit dramatic, but they certainly helped me. I've always loved animals. Dogs are great, they're dopey and adorable and love unconditionally, I love dogs. Cats though...cats are picky. If a cat loves you, it actually loves you. Prim loves me, she is daddy's girl through and through. I come home from work and she's curled up in the laundry basket cuddling my clothes, I say "hello babies" and she meows a greeting at me and yawns, I walk over and pet her and she starts purring madly before I even get to her. She doesn't do that with anyone else, she doesn't really like most other people (much like myself). She's not a forced snuggler, she wants to snuggle when she wants to snuggle, and it's usually not for long unless I'm asleep. She gets annoyed at being jostled around as I move my legs to find a comfortable position to lay or something, so she jumps down until I'm asleep. I wake up with her almost every day though. Graycie, on the other hand, she's a snuggler. She doesn't care if she gets bumped around while I get comfortable, she just wants to snuggle! Even the first night we brought her home, when we went to bed she hopped up and curled up on top of the blanket between my legs. She'll usually stay all night, but only recently started to really enjoy being petted. The combination of the two brings a smile to my face, and I don't know what I'd do without them. Oh, I also love that I can do the "cat I love you" at them, where I make eye contact then slowly close and open my eyes, and they do it back every time.
Long story short, if you read it all: the last few months have certainly helped me better appreciate my babies, and I'd be stupid to think for a moment that they don't know what they're doing. Depressed daddy doesn't play with and pet them as much, they know I need comforting and they don't hesitate for a moment. Cats are really just the best.
tl;dr: breakups suck and hurt, kitties make everything better.
You weren't lying when you said it was a long post! I read the whole thing, though skimmed a bit through the relationship part. 
I'm glad you have them to bring you comfort when you are feeling low.
We're here, any time.
