Roger Gene: My Furry Fighter for Happiness

Prepare yourself for an overload of cuteness. If you know me at all, chances are you know about Roger. In case you don't (plus I just love sharing our story), here's a recap:

First picture

The first three weeks of my sophomore year were some of the worst weeks of my life. This is a happy post so we're not going into detail, but I knew that I would be able to sleep better and cope with life better if I had my kitty with me. Oliver is my cat at home; he's been with us for almost 12 years. When I was sick in college, Oliver was a constant companion who slept with me, snuggled with me, and could sense when I wasn't feeling good or sad. So how does one get a cat into a college dorm? Thanks to my amazing hall director, I talked with the folks at the student disability resources on campus. They were able to give me the exact documentation that my doctor needed to provide. It took two tries, but my superhero doctor was able to provide the correct documentation needed to bring a cat into the dorm to work as an emotional support animal. As much as I missed my Oliver, I knew he would not be happy in a dorm. He's been living the sweet life for almost 12 years and was getting very spoiled by my parents. I was worried that bringing him to college would stress him out and he would die. Obviously, that would do nothing to help me. So I came up with Plan B: adopt a new cat. The day after I got the "okay" to bring a cat into my dorm, my mom and one of my best friends went to an animal shelter close to my house. It was a complete downpour, but I would have walked through a blizzard to get a cat. We told the sweet girl who was working at the shelter that we were looking for an older cat who was declawed. We explained that the cat would be living in a dorm and acting as an emotional support animal. The first cat I visited was a massive black cat who didn't like to be picked up because he was so fat. I petted the cat and he glared at me. That definitely wasn't going to work. The second cat was a little bit more friendly, but didn't like to be held and liked to "play bite" which translated into the cat chewing on my hand. I remember looking at my mom and shaking my head. I was starting to get worried that I wouldn't find a cat. Plus I felt terrible rejecting the other two cats. My mom asked the girl if there were any other cats.

Car ride home

"Hmmm...I can show you Roger." She went on to explain that Roger was only three years old and had his claws but he was very sweet and liked to cuddle. As we walked towards the kennel, a brown and black cat let out a loud meow and jumped from the floor on to the side of the kennel. Holding on my his paws, he meowed at me. My friend laughed out loud and said, "this is the one!" As soon as I picked him up, I knew that he would be coming to live with me. Roger started to purr right away and loved to be held. Go ahead and call me cheesy, but I had tears in my eyes when I told the girl that I would take him. She said we could change his name, but Roger seemed like a good fit. Roger came from a cat hoarder house. The girl working didn't tell us how many cats were there, but about a month before he was adopted there was a story about a house with 40 cats living in it. Because of this, Roger was used to eating as much food as possible and as quickly as possible. This isn't good for his tummy so we were encouraged to feed him smaller meals throughout the day.  this going to work? After we were finished, we went back to Roger's kennel. I got to put him in a box and carry him out of the shelter. I felt like a new parent: scared but happy. My mom had to pay for him and I had to sign a bunch of forms. The whole time I was wondering, is at the same time. It was still raining so my mom went to drive the car around. Roger tried to break out of his box, which scared the living crap out of me and my friend. Once in the car, Roger meowed for a while before climbing in my lap. We took him to the vet to him checked out. He passed with flying colors and slept on my lap the whole way back to school. Once we got him in the building, he explored his new room (my single dorm room). My mom stayed for a while until we were both settled. After she left, I put in a Jane Austen movie and just watched Roger. He adapted immediately and was giving himself a bath, purring, and sleeping on the bed. Two nights after I got Roger, I slept through the night for the first time in one month!

First night at college!

In the six and a half months that I've had Roger, my quality of life has improved so much. Not only am I sleeping amazingly better, but Roger has been able to help me through panic attacks and moments of high stress and/or emotion. Two of the greatest feelings in the world are when he greets me meowing at the door and when he holds my hand when I'm sleeping. I'm so incredibly thankful for his presence; we rescued each other. Living in a cat hoarder house and then a small kennel with two other cats must have been rough. It makes me so happy to see Roger sleeping on my bed or in my window, where cats belong. Roger loves to eat so he always makes sure I get out of bed to feed him. He knows when I'm upset; he always comes over to me, licks my hand or face, and purrs. Sometimes he'll act really silly and and roll around on the floor while meowing at me, which always makes me laugh.

One of my favorite pictures

Having a cat in the dorms has worked really well. I've only had two negative encounters with people who didn't know what to say about Roger so they said the wrong thing, but other than that everyone has been excited there's a cat and glad that I have him with me. Roger has a steady fan club and his own Instagram account (the_rog1029), follow him! :) So there you go, that's the story of my furry fighter for happiness!

It's Not Over Yet,
Sarah (and Roger Gene)

Just a few of my favorite pictures :) 

All I Want Is Freedom

March 2016

"All I want is freedom...a day with no more night." These words are sang beautifully in the song All I Ask of You in Andrew Lloyd Weber's musical, Phantom of the Opera. My family has always loved this musical; my brother and his wife danced to his song at their wedding; I recently discovered a connection with this song while playing it on my piano over spring break. Ideally, this song is sang by a young woman sharing her love to her sweetheart. Gag. Yeah, it would be nice to have a sweetheart to sing sweet lyrics to, but that's not happening anytime soon so I looked at the lyrics, especially the lyric quoted above, as a way to express something that has been happening frequently with me: panic attacks.

Panic Attacks
Google defines panic attack as a "sudden feeling of acute and disabling anxiety." Google definitely nailed this one. I would describe a panic attack as what you feel when you're home all alone and hear a door shut upstairs. However, much more intense and lasts longer. Each person is different, but since I'm pretty much an open book, I'll describe my symptoms for you:

• Intense fear 
• Inability to breathe normally or at all
• Shaking
• Racing heart
• All my muscles tense
• Inability to swallow or talk
• No sense of control of anything
• Inability to move
• Crying

Sounds like a blast right? If I wasn't so used to panic attacks, I would probably think I was dying. In October, I was diagnosed with panic disorder by a counselor. I knew I had been having panic attacks since the summer, but having another diagnosis wasn't encouraging. I try not to keep track of how many panic attacks I have, but I've been having more than I ever had in the past month and a half. 

Why?

Again, each person is different. All of my panic attacks have been triggered by something. This something can be seeing a person or place with a bad memory, smelling something, tasting something, seeing a picture of someone or a picture of someone who looks like somebody else, memories, etc. While it definitely sucks, I know of people who have panic attacks and have no idea why. At least with me, I can try my very best to avoid situations and/or people that could possibly trigger a panic attack. I don't understand a lot about the brain, but I do know that different parts of our brain react and remember things. So while I fully know that I am in no danger when I have a bad memory or see a picture of someone who looks like somebody else, my brain tells me the opposite (thanks brain). I don't think I've ever had a panic attack triggered by my health journey (see other blogs), with the exception of Dr. Satan in Iowa City. All of my triggers come from my freshman year of college and last semester. I'll spare both of us the probably-panic-attack-inducing details, but I want to reassure you that I am safe place now and am slllllloooowwwwllllyyy working towards being in a healthier mental place as well :)

Panic Attack Coping 101

Roger Gene

I'm still pretty new at this whole panic attack life so I'm still learning how I cope best. I got through the vast majority of panic attacks on my own  by the power of God, but lately I've been blessed with people who have been able to come to me and help me out. Whether it's my mom, my best friend Ellen, or a woman who works with the campus ministry at my college, these people have been there almost every time. Trying to remember to breathe on your own is pretty hard so having someone to lean on always helps. And of course, there's always my Roger. Roger is my beloved emotional support animal. During a recent attack, I couldn't breathe until my mom laid him in my arms. Even touching him during an attack helps. If I'm not with Roger, I will look at the 400+ pictures of him I have on my phone, and that also helps. Music is another powerful aide. During one attack when I was on my own, I listed to the song Shoulders by my favorite band, For KING & COUNTRY over and over again until I felt better. Recovering from panic attacks is also a challenge. I always feel very disorientated, guilty, emotional, sore, and dead tired. Coloring really helps me focus on something else while my body is transitioning back into a normal state. I always listen to my For KING & COUNTRY playlist, which has been a lifeline in so many situations, to help settle my mind and spirit. I'm a big believer in aromatherapy. I've mentioned in previous blogs about smelling the soap that my two favorite doctors use, and recently I discovered the calming properties of lavender essential oil (side note: if anyone is interested in essential oils, my sister-in-law is a freaking genius and has her own essential oil business; she will be able to help you!). Smelling these two scents has been able to help calm me when I'm anxious as well as recover after a panic attack. Going back to triggers, I can never predict when I'm going to see/hear/taste/smell something that will trigger an attack. However, lately I've been able to stop four panic attacks before they've happened! I may not feel like I'm making any progress but that is pretty huge! I can usually sense an attack coming if I've been having lots of bad memories/flashbacks all day. When I start to feel anxious and have trouble breathing, I do lots of things. I put my earbuds and my trusty For KING & COUNTRY playlist in. I start praying. I smell my doctor soap and spray my lavender essential oil on myself. I look at pictures of Roger. I reach out to others through text message or if I'm with someone I tell them what's going on (if they're one of the blessings God has put in my life).

What Can You Do?

Ah yes. A very few select people have been with me when I'm having a panic attack. Three to be exact. This is pure pride talking, but I don't want people to see me in the state I'm in when I'm having a panic attack. Unless you're one of these three Godly women, you would probably think I'm dying if you saw me having a panic attack. I'm sure it's incredibly difficult to know what to do in a situation like mine. The people who have been with me have all done the same things:

• They pray with me
• They hold me
• They speak the truth
• They don't panic (or at least don't show it!)
• They understand
• They encourage me and don't belittle me

The support and love these women have showed me during what I would call the worst moments of my life has been an incredible thing to witness. One time I was having a panic attack in a bathroom on campus. I texted one of my friends and she immediately called me. Of course I didn't want to pick up because I was embarrassed (hello again pride) but I did, and I discovered that I actually recovered faster because talking forced me to breathe. I'll never be able to tell these people how grateful I am for their presence during these moments.  I've also been blessed with friends who know what I just experienced and offer comfort while recovering. I really like hugs. Like I really really enjoy hugging. It's just wonderful. After every attack that's happened recently, there have been people around to hug me. At home it was my mom (and she hugs me a lot; I love it), but at school it's been my amazing friends. Even though it's hard to admit to people that I'm struggling, the understanding, compassion, support, and love from my friends are so rewarding. 

What Now?

Like with everything else related to my health, I have NO idea how long I'll be having panic attacks, and I don't like to think about it. One time during an attack, my mom told me this: "take it one second at a time." That's been my motto with life in general ever since. I never want to be that person who doesn't do anything because there's a possibility that she could have a panic attack. I've been that person before, and I don't like her. That's not who I am. Yes, bad things have happened to me. Yes, these things have obviously left a mark on me, mentally. Am I still a full time college student? Yes. Am I still studying hard to be a pediatric dietitian? Yes. Am I still a child of God, deeply loved and cherished by Him? Yes. No matter what happens to me, nothing will change that. My identity isn't found in what has happened to me, and it isn't found in my panic attacks. Satan wants me to believe that because I have panic attacks, I'm not a good enough Christian. There was a time after an attack when I believed that. I thought maybe I didn't pray enough or try hard enough. When I voiced my concern to a friend, my friend helped me realize that none of that was true! My friend told me to rest in Jesus and what He has already done. 

"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present of the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."-Romans 8:38-39

The thing that I love about the verse above is I can identify with every possible thing that could separate me from God. Literally, everything! The great thing is that NONE of it ever will separate me from my Heavenly Father.

The purpose of writing this post was to

 1) inform and educate others on panic attacks

 2) share a bit of my story, which ultimately brings more healing to me and hopefully more understanding the hurricane that is my world :P

3) to help stop the stigma associated with panic attack and other mental health disorders. 

Like I said earlier, this demon doesn't identify me or change who I am and it certainly won't separate me from the love and grace of God.

It's Not Over Yet.