Something To Hold Onto

 I spend the most of my time alone in my own home. My parents do live very close to me, but not close enough so that I could call them over every time I'm having an episode. So I tend to deal with them on my own accord. Sometimes it gets really lonely: there is no one in the apartment with me, just me and my shaking body. I feel so isolated from everyone and the whole world: no one knows what goes on behind these walls. Maybe my neighbors have heard my uncontrollable sobs, but that is all. 

In a lot of ways, it takes me back to my childhood. When I was sitting in my own room, silently crying while trying to understand what it was that was making me cry in the first place. I kept myself hidden from the rest of the world, because I didn't think anyone would care enough to listen; because the people who I thought would care about me didn't. I had to hide myself away, especially from other people but also from myself, I think. It took me a very long time to finally realize why I was crying myself to sleep so often. 

Little me loved plushies, absolutely adored them. Every time I saw another cat plushie in a department store, I insisted on my mom getting it for me. Dozens of plushies filled up my tiny room, and almost half of them were cats, kitties. Little me loved kitties of all kind, real and cartoon ones alike. Hello Kitty was my best friend. Did you know she is five apples tall and weighs three apples? Thinking about that still makes me smile. 

kitty.

I've tried to make my home look as much like me as possible. I have surrounded myself with things I loved as a kid, and still love to this day. One of these things is plushies. A lot of plushies from my childhood bedroom, but also a lot of completely new plushies that I have bought myself recently. Plushies of characters from Japanese popular culture, Hatsune Miku and Hello Kitty among many others. 

When I can feel myself trembling and notice it getting worse by the second, I quickly make my way to my bed and lay down. There are always multiple plushies on my bed, and I reach for one of them, usually one of the kitty ones (they're very soft and easy to cuddle). I squeeze the plushie tightly against my chest, close my eyes, and let my body do its thing. The shaking starts from my thighs and makes its way down to my calves and ankles, until eventually, my legs are kicking air. 

As my legs are convulsing, I squeeze the plushie even tighter and feel tears starting to form behind my closed eyelids. Soon, my entire body is completely consumed by the tremor attack, and my head gets thrown back and forth, against the pillows. It hurts, it hurts so fucking much, and I can't do anything but wait for it to stop. I start sobbing quietly, press the kitty against my cheek as my tears wet its soft fur. 

And I feel a bit less alone. 

The Kid is giving me the plushie, extending her arms with a sad smile on her face. She whispers to me, "a kitty always makes me feel better". 

And the same goes for me.

Petting all kitties,

ichigonya