Like a Cat on an Adobe Roof

I had a Christmas meltdown yesterday. In mid-November. I freaked out, got high anxiety then shut down emotionally. I thought it started when somebody I used to work with in radio posted on Ye Olde Facebooke that he was tuning into the satellite radio station already playing Christmas music 24 hours a day. Can't fathom his holiday excitement and when others commented they too had started tuning in, I knew The Christmas Crash might visit early this year. Later in the day, another person innocently posted a 'meme' telling us how to find our Christmas elf name. I could feel my face redden and the blood start to boil. I retreated further inside of myself and posted a slightly offensive anti-holiday rant on my page. I ate a package of gluten-free crackers and some sharp cheddar cheese, hoping for the calm healing of carbohydrates. I went to bed 2 hours early.

When I awoke at 3am this morning, I examined yesterday's thoughts and behaviors. Why does Christmas put me in such a state? I thought I'd figured it out, intellectually, two years ago. Last year, while I wasn't jolly, I didn't sink into deep malaise, like I have every year in recent memory. Why was I reacting this way now? Then it came to me - the cat on the adobe roof.

For the past week and a half, I was cat sitting for a lady in town. She has a gorgeous adobe home with the most comfortable bed I've ever slept in and two soft and sweet kitties who live inside and two skittish and fluffy feral cats outside. My world was filled with petting and purring for nearly two weeks. All was blissful for eleven days and nights. On the twelfth day, I returned back from working as an elder caregiver, and the inside cats wanted to venture out of doors for a while. Since their mommy told me it was OK, I let them out. After about an hour, when the younger cat, who always rushes back inside when called, didn't return, I got nervous. I repeatedly shook a can of cat food and called her name. Finally, I heard a frantic little meow from up above. Little Skye was traipsing on top of the adobe roof, trying to find a way down. She was scared. I was frantic.

I found a step ladder and gingerly climbed. Each step higher made my head spin (vertigo), but I was desperate to reach the kitty and pull her down. I kept failing. It was getting dark and coyotes were howling, so I decided to call a friend in town who has a soft spot for young men and always has at least one 23 year-old hanging about, to ask for her help. I thought she could loan me a young nimble boy to scamper up on the roof and quickly scoop up Skye to bring her to safety. Surprise! People don't usually react the way we think they will. Instead of offering up sympathy and one of her friends, she took it upon herself to chastise me for my irresponsibility and ineptitude. I sure did not need that. I needed a supportive friend who could offer me some help! I was sucked into a vortex that took me back to my childhood and the overly critical voice of my mother. Not a happy place.

After five dark hours of panic and pleas, I was finally able to lure the kitty to the lowest part of the roof, where, after climbing to the top rung of the step ladder, I got her to come close to my quivering hand. Grabbing her by the scruff of the neck I pulled her down to the ground and shuffled her inside. It was not how I intended to spend the last day of cat sitting. But, I was relieved she was safe.

While the situation had resolved itself, I was still pushed into a state of  childhood PTSD by my friend's words and my own self critique. For the following two days, I found myself overly tired and irritable. Then I stumbled across the Christmas songs and Facebook posts. It all combined into a mini-meltdown. I don't want to spend half of November and December, this year, in the fetal position or acting out dramas from my past. Am praying that this insight will enable me to calmly face the holiday season without feeling the anguish of being unloved. Poor little Skye. She didn't know what her dalliance on that adobe roof would do to me.