Bipolar Me

Kittens. Jumping. I want to go home to bed with my kitties. These are my mantras. Or something. I repeat these phrases, under my breath if anyone is around who doesn’t know I do this. At least I think it’s under my breath. I have at times walked out of a restroom stall to see people looking at me strangely. My husband says they are “grounding statements,” though I understand proper grounding statements are usually more like affirmations – “I am safe.” “I can handle this.” “I am a good person.” How I ended up with mine I don’t quite know. I do know that I mutter or say them when I am anxious. “Kittens” indicates a general level of anxiety, while “jumping” is reserved for increased levels. “I want to go home to bed with my kitties” is an all-encompassing statement of stress or dissatisfaction and the only one that I can say nearly out loud around people with only mild looks of incomprehension. A very few people who know me well are used to this phenomenon and even have responses. When I say, “kittens,” my friend Leslie says, “puppies,” and my husband says, “Do you like them?” When I say, “jumping,” he says, “up and down?” and my friend Robbin said, “You must really be nervous.” My husband occasionally joins me in a chorus of “I want to go home to bed with my kitties.” (The extended version is “I want to go home. I want to go to bed. I want my kitties.” The short form is “Home. Bed. Kitties.”) I know that I use these vocalizations a lot when I have anticipatory anxiety or after a protracted spell of having to be competent, social, and appropriate. I say them a lot in my car or after coming home from braving the outside world. In a crowded, noisy space like a restaurant, I say them in a very matter-of-fact manner, as if I’m having a conversation with my husband. I assume the background noise covers them up. The National Mental Health Association says, “People with obsessive-compulsive disorder try to cope with anxiety by repeating words or phrases.” Fair enough. I do have a few OCD-like traits, though no diagnosis. (That’s all I need – another diagnosis!) But to me, the grounding statements explanation makes the most sense. I would argue that for me, home, bed, and kitties are all things that remind me of safety and bring me comfort. How jumping fits in, I’m not sure, except that I have hyperactive nerves and do a fair amount of it. But it certainly isn’t associated with safety or comfort. Quite the opposite, in fact. The New York Times called it “kitten therapy” in a personal story of how a kitten helped lessen a man’s depression. I can testify to that effect. Cats or kittens have stayed up with me through bouts of insomnia, snuggled when I needed touch, purred gently when I needed quiet, demanded attention when I needed distraction, and yes, even jumped on me when I needed amusement. Home is a touchstone for me. My parents’ house was home to me, but after I moved out, nothing ever seemed like home again. Not the dorm, of course. Not the sorority house. Not the basement apartment. Not the house I shared. Not the apartment. Not the second floor. Not the half-double. Not even the rent-to-own house. (That one came close.) But the house that I found, looking like it grew up out of the ground, has felt like home, has been home. Even when it was destroyed by a tornado and had to be rebuilt, it was home. While we moved among motel, hotel, rented home, and crummy apartment, home was just waiting around the temporal corner for us to come back to. Bed is wonderful. I can stay in it all day – and have, when depression hits hard. It’s sturdy Amish furniture that made it through the tornado. In fact, I was lying on it when the tornado took the roof off and all I could do was put a pillow over my head and hope for the best. I love its solidity. I love the cozy quilts that I can wrap myself up in like a burrito. And yes, I love it especially when the kitties come and join me. Is it any wonder that “home, bed, kitties” is my mantra?