Bupropion Diaries – Cat Pee

So, a friend of mine is having a rough time so I had dinner with her. I came home to cat pee on my bed and my brand new sheets…

You know, I realize that it’s not a “Big Deal”. Sure, I JUST got these sheets, sure it’s you know, my BED, but I have a sleeper sofa with LIKEWISE new sheets on it. Cat pee comes out. It’s doused in vinegar right now and tomorrow it’ll get doused in nature’s miracle. Thursday after work I will find out how much more I have to do before the smell is gone, but then I am going to be out of town till the 25th. I’m sure that’s plenty of time for everything to be smell free.

Bottom line is that It comes out.

I’m a meticulously clean person. Like, I mean that, I have people make fun of me all the time for how spotless I keep house. So on that visceral, OCD level, I’m extremely bothered. I keep popping upstairs to make sure that the smell isn’t really seeping down them. It’s sort of an all round testimony to how bad my depression has been. I can’t really remember the last time I cleaned that cat box. Hell, I think it was like a month since I vacuumed (I did it this weekend though).

This leads me to beating myself up. I should have just cleaned it on Sunday or Monday when I cleaned everything else. I thought about it, why didn’t I do it? This temporary setback (and it is temporary) is really bringing my mood down. I feel like it isn’t temporary and that my room and bed will smell forever even if logically I know that this isn’t true at all. I’m not lazy or dumb, I’m depressed.

I wish I knew why I blamed myself for my brain. Why I feel like if I was just “enough” that I could get out of bed in time, keep the place clean, keep everything settled and make my lunches. I have an asthma inhaler, I don’t beat myself up about that. Yet… when it’s my broken brain or when I can’t make people not upset with me, I can’t do anything but yell at myself. It’s as though I’m somehow responsible for not only my own word going smoothly, but everyone’s around me. That’s not healthy or normal. So why can’t I just let it go and admit that my brain is sick?

So I just went up and checked and then put my air purifier in the room so the window could be closed.

The doctor had my dosage upped on my medication. I’m going to slowly taper up, so it should be alright. Despite this small event knocking me back down, I’ve really felt very good, really really so NORMAL. That’s what I think, really bothers me. I just wanted one day of happy of normal, of wanting to write. Just one. 


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