There have been several deaths in my family, but I was not close to any of them. I have far more experience with the grief of simply existing on this planet, struggling with mental illness, than I have struggling with loss.

The worst day of my life was when I had ten rapid cycles in only seven minutes. Rapid cycling is a term that those of us with mood disorders understand. This was several years before I was diagnosed with sleep apnea which can severe mood swings. These rapid cycles involved being absolutely depressed and wanting to kill myself that instant, and then feeling elated and top of the world as if my hands were the very tools used to create reality itself, then almost instantly back to suicidal feelings.

When I rapid-cycled ten times in seven minutes, I broke down. I hid in my car in the parking lot of my college dorm and hoped no one would hear me. I cried, I moaned, I was in agony. I felt like the fabric of my soul was tearing apart and I couldn’t do anything but watch it happen. To KNOW that you have no control over how you feel at any moment…there aren’t any words to describe just how damaging that is to someone.

For the last four years it has been a constant theme for me to get depressed, want to kill myself, then go straight into a hypomanic episode where I am excited about something and I put all my energy into making that thing a reality which is then followed again by a major depressive episode. As much as I wanted to believe that there is something in particular that triggers me to feel depressed or excited, there was no catalyst. The moods happened as they did when they did.  Until science understands it more, I just have to do my best to ride the wave of productivity associated with hypomanic episodes, and sometimes, literally,  survive my depressive episodes.

I was taking antidepressants for a short time. Not even three full months. They did not help me. The side-effects were far too numerous and far too strong. I am one of those people that intends to master how I deal with my mental illness without medication, and I have made significant improvement in doing so.

I have experienced so much grief dealing with past traumatic experiences and relationships, paired with mood cycling, paired with untreated sleep apnea (where I would gasp regularly because I couldn’t breath while I slept). Grief itself is not so interesting anymore.

When I was seven years old, my sister’s cat passed away. My heart ached unimaginably for this cat that I barely had any relationship with. I vowed at that moment that I would learn to understand my grief so that I would never again feel this much pain.

When I was nine years old, my mother brought home two kittens. One we named Roxy, the other Skittles. My sister took Skittles when she moved out and we kept Roxy. Roxy was my cat. I couldn’t help but love her so much. She was mine from the second I saw her, or so I believed. First she seemed like she liked my mom the most, and then my other sister. I believed that if I kept petting her and kissing her head a lot that she would learn that I gave her the most love out of everyone and that she would favor me the most. Well I guess it worked, because she ended up as my cat.

Throughout my teenage years I felt like I had no one to talk to. Almost every single one of my relationships were not healthy and the ones that weren’t unhealthy, weren’t very strong. My cat was the only living thing I could look at that made me feel love inside of my chest.

When she was sixteen she was very sick with high blood pressure. None of the medication was working even when we doubled the doses and tried different types. I had her put down soon after. When I grieved her loss, it was brief. She was incredibly important to me, but I didn’t have many tears to give because I was no longer interested in grief. I have felt so much of it already. Grief wasn’t something I particularly wanted to feel anymore.

Of course there are always things I could cry about. There are many different types of sad things in this world. But my tears will most likely be brief.

How did I become disinterested in grief? For one, I experienced it a lot. Secondly, I rationalized exactly what grief is. Grief is what occurs when we focus on what we have lost. The end of grief or even appreciation can be birthed by focusing on what was gained. I gained a lot of emotional support and good memories from my cat while she was alive.

Grief only lasts as long as we pity ourselves for losing what we love. It’s a tough truth. But it is the truth.

The next part of grief is missing what was lost. That can prove very challenging. But why? Missing someone or something that has passed is largely dependent on triggers. Removing those triggers from our purfew is an option, but not always. You can remove a shirt that reminds you of someone you loved, but what can prevent you from missing your old cat when you see another cat?

Not even three months after my cat passed, my mother bought a new kitten. I was not ready to have another cat in the house to replace my dear Roxy. Though she wasn’t attached to Roxy like I was, so I understand her position. Every second I heard laughter from my mother about how cute she thought the kitten was, it reminded me of how we used to laugh at Roxy playing about. It’s an ugly thing when even laughter makes you feel bad.

When it comes to missing what isn’t around anymore, the only thing that worked for me was to remember the good memories I had with Roxy. It’s kind of like in Harry Potter how you have to hold on to a loving memory in order to produce a patronus to thwart off the dark soul-sucking dementors.

Grief is when you focus on what was lost. Transmuting grief into love is when you focus on what was gained. Appreciation and gratitude for the gift of beautiful moments is how we heal.