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joyfinderheroSo. The truth, at the moment, is that I have no idea what I will end up choosing to do about Tammerlin the Dog.
Usually in the past I have agonized over all the conflicted emotions, gathered all the information I could, made lists and notes and "evaluated the pro's and con's" of every suggestion ... and, at some point, come to a decision. Then announced the decision. And then watched as the whole universe lined up behind my decision, and all resistance to it melted away, anxiety lessened, and life became easier and smoother again. (This is what I was expecting to happen, within a day or so at most, after yesterday's post.)
Sometimes the universe has immediately lined up against my decision, brought forward new information, and promptly caused me to either a) set my heels and dig in stubbornly to do what has now become "the wrong thing", or b) change my mind and have the universe line up to help the new decision go forward.
This time I dunno what's happening. My anxiety level has increased, if anything, after yesterday's post looking for a new home for my beloved and beautiful high-energy dog.
At the same time, the universe has brought forward two tentative local offers that could be wonderful, both in situations where I might occasionally visit or dog-sit (which I think we would both enjoy), and it has brought forward a couple of long-distance possibilities that she might well find perfect, where I'd never see her again.
I'd have thought these possible lovely solutions would make me feel better. And they do, but ...
Here on the ground, it's as if (and why would I doubt it?) this dog has heard me crying and talking to people about the situation and understands exactly what I'm talking about. And wants to stay. And is maybe even looking for ways she could change to make it possible.
Item: She spent two sessions locked up in my bedroom alone today (but not in her crate), once for 3 hours and the other for 2 hours, and did no damage to anything at all.
Item: Instead of leaving for the other end of the house (and possible mischief) while I'm at the computer, she's been lying less than 10 feet away almost all the time I've been home since I started typing yesterday's post (except when we're out together, or asleep).
Item: Several times this morning she stopped herself from jumping up on people. Some of those times she just had to jump, but lifted herself in mid-air rather than 'onto' anyone.
Item: This morning she came over to say good morning to C, who is the most unsteady of us and the one most afraid of falling. Instead of acting bouncy and unpredictable, Tammerlin sat down.
I'm really sure I can't take her with me to Guatemala this winter, if that's where Second Summit ends up going. I'm nearly sure she won't be happy aboard that big boat, but not 100% certain ... and I could still try a visit if I wanted to check it out. I'm fairly confident she needs more exercise and attention than I've been giving her (and that she would likely get while at sea, come to that). AND I'm pretty sure that I need more 'time off' and 'time in my office' than I've been getting.
But suddenly I'm not sure, after all, whether 'letting her go to someone else forever and never see her again' is really the right thing.
I spent some time yesterday talking about it with my shrink. Who asks me to think about "emotional cut-off" as a phenomenon in my family of origin, and in my adult relationships. And so I remember the several times I decided to "never" speak to my mother again ... and in the event, was talking to her by phone again within weeks (once, after several times of hanging up when she called). I remember the husband I divorced because of a misunderstanding. I remember the whole set of cousins she never spoke to, or was catty about when she had to see them.
My shrink asks me to think about "overwhelm" and my experience with "24/7" obligations. And I remember how difficult I found being a stay-home parent. I remember how much the dailiness and having to undo the damage done by other people's thoughtlessness used to get to me.
I feel weird about thrashing this out in public.
I feel embarrassed about not "knowing my own mind" or "looking wishy-washy."
I feel so in love when I look at her, and so in pain when I can't give her what she needs ... or when I can't get what I need because she's 'in the way of that.'
I know that the best I can do is to sit here in it, so that's what I'm doing. I haven't said 'yes' to anything. I haven't said 'no' to anything. I haven't stopped crying, either.
Usually in the past I have agonized over all the conflicted emotions, gathered all the information I could, made lists and notes and "evaluated the pro's and con's" of every suggestion ... and, at some point, come to a decision. Then announced the decision. And then watched as the whole universe lined up behind my decision, and all resistance to it melted away, anxiety lessened, and life became easier and smoother again. (This is what I was expecting to happen, within a day or so at most, after yesterday's post.)
Sometimes the universe has immediately lined up against my decision, brought forward new information, and promptly caused me to either a) set my heels and dig in stubbornly to do what has now become "the wrong thing", or b) change my mind and have the universe line up to help the new decision go forward.
This time I dunno what's happening. My anxiety level has increased, if anything, after yesterday's post looking for a new home for my beloved and beautiful high-energy dog.
At the same time, the universe has brought forward two tentative local offers that could be wonderful, both in situations where I might occasionally visit or dog-sit (which I think we would both enjoy), and it has brought forward a couple of long-distance possibilities that she might well find perfect, where I'd never see her again.
I'd have thought these possible lovely solutions would make me feel better. And they do, but ...
Here on the ground, it's as if (and why would I doubt it?) this dog has heard me crying and talking to people about the situation and understands exactly what I'm talking about. And wants to stay. And is maybe even looking for ways she could change to make it possible.
Item: She spent two sessions locked up in my bedroom alone today (but not in her crate), once for 3 hours and the other for 2 hours, and did no damage to anything at all.
Item: Instead of leaving for the other end of the house (and possible mischief) while I'm at the computer, she's been lying less than 10 feet away almost all the time I've been home since I started typing yesterday's post (except when we're out together, or asleep).
Item: Several times this morning she stopped herself from jumping up on people. Some of those times she just had to jump, but lifted herself in mid-air rather than 'onto' anyone.
Item: This morning she came over to say good morning to C, who is the most unsteady of us and the one most afraid of falling. Instead of acting bouncy and unpredictable, Tammerlin sat down.
I'm really sure I can't take her with me to Guatemala this winter, if that's where Second Summit ends up going. I'm nearly sure she won't be happy aboard that big boat, but not 100% certain ... and I could still try a visit if I wanted to check it out. I'm fairly confident she needs more exercise and attention than I've been giving her (and that she would likely get while at sea, come to that). AND I'm pretty sure that I need more 'time off' and 'time in my office' than I've been getting.
But suddenly I'm not sure, after all, whether 'letting her go to someone else forever and never see her again' is really the right thing.
I spent some time yesterday talking about it with my shrink. Who asks me to think about "emotional cut-off" as a phenomenon in my family of origin, and in my adult relationships. And so I remember the several times I decided to "never" speak to my mother again ... and in the event, was talking to her by phone again within weeks (once, after several times of hanging up when she called). I remember the husband I divorced because of a misunderstanding. I remember the whole set of cousins she never spoke to, or was catty about when she had to see them.
My shrink asks me to think about "overwhelm" and my experience with "24/7" obligations. And I remember how difficult I found being a stay-home parent. I remember how much the dailiness and having to undo the damage done by other people's thoughtlessness used to get to me.
I feel weird about thrashing this out in public.
I feel embarrassed about not "knowing my own mind" or "looking wishy-washy."
I feel so in love when I look at her, and so in pain when I can't give her what she needs ... or when I can't get what I need because she's 'in the way of that.'
I know that the best I can do is to sit here in it, so that's what I'm doing. I haven't said 'yes' to anything. I haven't said 'no' to anything. I haven't stopped crying, either.
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(no subject)
Date: Friday, September 28th, 2007 02:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: Friday, September 28th, 2007 12:24 pm (UTC)Much love to all of you,
Swan
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Date: Saturday, September 29th, 2007 02:22 am (UTC)