Later next month, it will mark the third year going through hell, thanks to fibromyalgia. During most of this time, I didn’t have a pet and spent six of the seven days of the week mostly alone at home until my wife arrived from work (I visit my parents and my inlaws on Sundays if my lack of health allows it). Spending most of the day alone, coupled with the pain, was disastrous to my mental health: the thoughts of suicide occasionally lurked, especially when the pain was more intense. This culminated in an attempt to jump from my balcony. Luckily, the wife entered the apartment when I tried to climb the balcony to jump to my death.
The suicide attempt didn’t occur on my worst pain day so far, but during one of the worst and the worst in terms of sensory overload. That seemed to be the only way to stop it. I was in immense pain and felt like my body was DDoS’ing my brain.
A few days after, after things cooled down, I began thinking about getting a pet to keep me company and, based on what I had read about animal therapy, help improve my mental health. Some months passed, and we got a cat, Chico. He’s been with us for ~7 months, and my mental health has improved heaps and bounds. The pain is ever present, slowly getting worse as time goes by, but I honestly don’t remember the last time I had a suicidal thought.
