Recognizing & Responding to Signs of Depression
Officially, this story is about my cat, but there are very good reasons why many parents hear it. Walk with me a moment and you’ll see there’s a method to my madness.
I have two cats - a boy and a girl. The girl is pretty lovable, drops into many of my virtual meetings to bring smiles to faces, even does a surprising number of tricks. She’s also not shy about letting me know when she’s ready for food, attention, playtime, or anything else she needs. She seeks me out and definitely makes sure her needs are met.
Her brother, on the other hand, is huge - twice her size and the most gentle cat I’ve ever seen (I may be biased). He’s also very emotional - absolutely loves people and can’t get enough pets, playtime, cuddles, even belly rubs.
As much as I might like to, I can’t give him 100% of my attention every day. Work, house chores, spending time with friends, illness, hobbies, personal development - plenty of things pull my attention away from him at times. Usually, he’s ok with it - his sister helps a lot.
Sometimes, though, he pulls off into one corner or another, just staring. He’ll slow down on eating, maybe not even want to eat. His toys will lay on the floor, untouched, no interest in them at all. Sometimes he’ll put his head down, but keep his eyes open just staring around, and any loud noise will scare the crap out of him. And he’ll just sit there, silent, not saying or doing anything, waiting for hours at a time.
He doesn’t have the capacity to tell me in words that he needs something from me, but he’s definitely telling me something is wrong. I need to pay attention to all the signals he’s giving me.
When I notice that he’s been gone for a while, or see him just sitting in his same worry spot looking around, or laying there with that look in his eyes that won’t close, not interested in the treats he normally stands on two legs to get, I know something’s off. His behavior has changed, and sometimes it can get dangerous (especially if he’s not eating). With enough time, he’ll probably pull himself out of it, but I don’t want him feeling that loneliness or whatever other pain he might have, especially pain I might be part of.
For him, pulling out of depression is pretty easy. When he’s in his worry spot, I make a point to take 5-10 minutes to sit with him, pet him, scratch his cheeks, even let him jump in my lap if he’s wanting to. Sometimes, his sister even comes along to give him face licks. If it’s really bad, I break out the big gun - his brush (apparently reminds them of mama cat licking them as kittens). He wants love, and I’ve learned this is what says it to him despite his never speaking a word - he can’t.
Those five minutes aren’t going to kill my schedule, but they mean the world to him.
It would be a lot easier if he could tell me something’s wrong, come to me with his needs, just as bluntly as his sister, but that’s not who he is. As someone who loves him, it’s up to me to learn his language, and I have not always gotten it right. This story is the product of years of trial and error just even figuring out there was a problem, and we’re still working. He’s already started going to his worry spot more often BEFORE he stops eating, once or twice even meowed to catch my attention, and we defused the problem much faster.
He’s learning to communicate his needs in a more helpful way, and I’m learning how to help him meet those needs. Maybe even more important, he’s learning he can put trust in me.
It’s easy to understand that a cat can’t verbalize his feelings, but just as critical to remember that teens, spouses, friends, parents, and more may not be able to say what they’re feeling - or what they need - for a lot of reasons. Listen for more than words, and learn the language that speaks to them.
