I have had my dog since February 2011. My former dog Snowball passed away in
September 2010 and I was heartbroken.
My daughter was young and I wanted her to grow up with a pet—especially
since I didn’t have that luxury.
Unfortunately, I ignored the fact that I was still dealing with my
issues from my dad’s death and turmoil with my mom. I picked up a cute little West Highland White Terrier, which
I aptly named Beanie (after my dad).
But from day one it has been a struggle. Beanie was terribly difficult to train and after two and a
half years, he still messes the floor (in spite of being taken out
regularly). I am not home as much
as I need to give him the attention he deserves so he has some major separation
anxiety. Furthermore, I just don’t
have the patience I once had.
After about two weeks, I became aware that I made a decision that wasn’t
really in my best interest and I needed to rectify it. However, I didn’t listen. I came up with any and every excuse
that I could to keep Beanie. In
the meantime, my frustration has done nothing but simmered. In between frustration, I have always
asked, What am I supposed to learn from him? Unfortunately, I have yet to grasp
the answer. Two years later, and
I’m still just as frustrated as I was then. But I’m not frustrated with him. My feelings are all directed at the appropriate person. So fast forward to Monday and I come
home after dropping my daughter at theater camp. I let Beanie out and I decide to clean. Five minutes later, Beanie comes
upstairs with me and proceeds to pee on the floor . . . right in front of
me! I was instantly struck by the
same feeling that I had two weeks after I brought him home. This dog is not a good fit for my life
right now and I became aware of the lesson. My relationship with Beanie is a direct reflection of my
relationships in general. I have
always allowed people to go beyond my comfort zone. I’m always willing to give, do, and be more than I know that
I can. I ignore my intuition when
it tells me to draw boundaries or just let go. I feel “bad” for thinking and feeling it. So I stew in unhealthy relationships
and grow resentful, giving away my power, failing to realize that I had the
power the entire time.
My other lesson came from my beautiful daughter. I have known since the moment I found
out that I was pregnant, that this person I would birth would teach me great
things. Little did I know just how
true that would be. In her short 6
years on this earth, this little woman has taught me more about myself than I
have ever thought could be possible. I had a "bad" Mommy moment, and in the
moment, I felt as if I was watching myself take the wrong turn, but was somehow
powerless to stop it. After my
baby left crying to her room, I was compelled to follow to continue in my poor
decision, but I instead chose to take a moment, be still, and give in to what I
was feeling. Then I asked myself, "What lesson am I to learn from
this?" What I got was that I
was not taking care of myself. I
have been so busy and so immersed in taking the Fizzle to theater camp and
making sure that I'm a "good" Mommy that I was neglecting
myself. I have not taken the time
to do just one thing that I love.
I've been all about being Mommy.
I haven’t done anything that I love or need to center myself. No yoga, no Zumba, no reading, no
writing. I haven’t even taken 5
minutes to meditate. So because I
have been going full steam ahead for The Fizzle, I have been tired. Soooo tired. Being tired has led me to being frustrated. But instead of recognizing this, I gave
in to my frustration and then had the audacity to take it out on my
daughter. After taking a moment to
center myself and then forgive myself, I went upstairs, got my baby and
apologized. I could have allowed
pride to keep me stuck. But
thankfully, good sense prevailed and I instead chose to go to her to apologize. I explained that I was having a bad day
and I inappropriately took it out on her. I explained how I will make conscious choices to make sure that I do not engage in such behavior again.
While I do not like that the moment is etched into our history, I’m proud
that she can at least remember that she has a mom who takes responsibility and
holds herself accountable.
Hopefully that will mean more to her than my poor judgment.
While I was somewhat shocked to receive my lessons from these two, I’m
so thankful that I did. The
lessons brought me to the book If Life is a Game, These are the Rules. Lesson #1 is lessons will be repeated
until learned. Here’s to not
having to repeat these two lessons (at least I’m holding on to the belief that
I won’t).
