[KelseyRose]

I can’t really say I remember last year's Christmas, or the one before that…I can’t really say I remember much of anything from the past four years. I just wasn’t really there. I have bipolar disorder. It sounds funny to me to be said so bluntly, as if it’s something so simple, as if it’s something I understand. It isn’t and I don’t.

Bipolar disorder is a psychiatric illness, not unlike depression or adhd, and for four years it consumed me. I would go for days on end without sleeping and then suddenly slept for what seemed like months at a time. My mother described me as catatonic; only because my mind was racing so fast it drowned out what was going on around me. Though now that I think about it, I lied, I do remember something quite clearly about that time. The sadness was nearly as overwhelming as the thoughts darting in my mind. I wanted to die.

I was committed on February 2nd to a psychiatric hospital for suicidal intent. It was late at night and shortly after I was escorted to my room I realized it past 12. I lay down in my bed and wished myself a happy birthday, I was finally 13. For 8 days I stayed there, my meds were adjusted, I was observed, poked and prodded and finally sent home. But the sadness was still there and now instead of staying up for a week on end and then sleeping it off, I just slept. Everything was in a fog.

I couldn’t go to school because I was so anxious, I felt terrified and cornered like a small animal that I just froze. I hated myself because I thought I was letting my parents down, I didn’t understand why I couldn’t just go. All they wanted to do was help me, but I couldn’t stand not being alone. I wasn’t suicidal and my moods weren’t rapidly changing from grandiose to irritable, but it didn’t take away the sadness. Things continued like this for two years or so, constantly trying new medication. Sometimes it would feel like we found the right cocktail, but shortly after I started taking the new pill it would stop working.

Just before last summer, we found it, the pill that worked. It’s an extended release stimulant (stimulants basically reeve you up, but are used in add and adhd patients to help them focus, like adderall or riddlin) that woke me up and cleared away the fog. Yet I still wasn’t happy. Finding joy in the things around me was difficult, I lacked drive, ambition; something to push me in the right direction, something to get me interacting with the world outside my head. My parents were willing to try anything to make me come out of my shell, so one day my mother told me to start researching yorkies.

It struck me as strange, mind you, that they wanted to get me a dog…I don’t like dogs. I don’t like animals. I don’t like small children. Not in a box, not with a fox, I do not like them here or there, I do not like them anywhere. But I was thankful for the distraction and poured myself heart and soul into finding out everything I could about yorkies. The more I learned the more I was surprised to realize I was becoming excited, not anxious, about the possibility of a puppy. The emotion was so foreign I was first taken aback. Once I let it wash over me though I couldn’t help smile.

The first time I saw a picture of Josephine I instantly fell in love, I felt my face getting closer and closer to the computer monitor, as I all but squealed, trying to somehow make contact with her. She was perfect. My mother had a coworker with a yorkie from this breeder and she was impressed with the temperament of this dog as well as the rave review about the breeder. They scheduled for my parents to pick up the puppy in a few weeks…I wasn’t sad.

My mom and I spent the little time we had before Josephine came, getting ready for her to arrive. We reviewed the notes I had taken, making a checklist of new items we needed and went all around town checking off each box after the purchase. It was the most I had seen outside of my room in a long time. All of it was so overwhelming, scary even, that when my parents left to go pick up Josephine I panicked.

I don’t like dogs. I don’t like them here or there, I don’t like them anywhere. I won’t like her, I won’t bond with her, and nothing will change. I’ll get tired of her. Mistake. That’s what this is, one huge mistake. I’m breathing so fast, yet I can’t get enough air, my head is swimming and I can feel the sting of tears welling up in my eyes. There’s nothing I can do, it’s hopeless. I was foolish to think things were getting better. Having a dog doesn’t change the fact that you’re alone. The whole time my parents were gone my mind tortured me with doubt. Bitterly familiar in the whirlwind of new excited feelings, one step forward, two steps back.

And then Josephine arrived. I was called out to the front yard when my mom and dad came home and there hopping around in the grass like a little bunny rabbit was Jo-Jo. A smile crept up onto my face and I ran to go play, all of the doubt and worry was pushed back to the edge of my mind, I had more important things to do. That became a re-occurring theme with Josephine and I, me having to push aside self-loathing and whatever else my disability entailed in order to take care of her. She didn’t care that I wasn’t feeling well, she needed to go potty now or so help me god she is not afraid to go pee on the carpet.

Of course, then there were walks. I had never been motivated to go on walks before, it just seemed so pointless to me. The exercise, the people, I just never had the motivation before, but Josephine gave me that drive. If Jo-Jo needed a walk, I guess I’d have to do just that. It’s not as if I’d have to talk to anyone or anything, right? Wrong. You see normally when I had to do something outside the house and I was in one of my moods I could just slap on some chains and dark eyeliner and people would leave me be. Turns out a little yorkie puppy is so cute that no matter how scary I looked people still felt the need to talk to me.

Eventually it turned from being forced to talking to people to wanting to talk to people and as long as Josephine was by my side I was okay. She went everywhere with me that summer and for her sake I had to keep my cool. I felt myself becoming less and less anxious and more like how I used to be before my illness. People weren’t scary anymore, they were just people. Carrying on a conversation became enjoyable instead of a battle. To my surprise when September rolled around I found myself going to school, even without Josephine by my side.

I don’t spend much time in my room now-a-days to be honest, a lot of my free time is spent with Josephine, whether we’re exploring new places on the bus or just playing in my living room. I talk and hang out with my friends now, they really missed me these past four years, and I really take part in family get- to-gethers instead of just being there like I was before. They’re so happy I’m doing better and I can tell because I remember and I never want to forget. Getting Jo-Jo changed my life and thanks to her I actually get to make some Christmas memories this year and even though my Christmas list is long, I’m just happy I have her.

Thank god for Yorkies
Happy Holidays
Kelsey