Wednesday, August 13, 2014

I didn't go back yet, to the birthdays thing. I'm not sure anymore where I was going and I don't know what else there is to say about it. I mean, we got a dog, yada yada, life was really hard. We fought like crazy, almost hating each other. Almost? Maybe we did. The air was certainly icy cold for a while. The dog permeated every moment of my day. Every single moment. From the second I opened my eyes in the morning, when I knew that the minute my foot hit the bottom stair, when I would have to get the dog out of her crate and take her outside, to the last thing before bed when I put her back in her crate, I was responsible (unhappily) for a being that wasn't small and fluffy or independent or crazy smart. Nope. I was up and down, in and out, cleaning up pee and vomit and often enough, dog shit. The kids couldn't grasp how to teach a dog not to jump, so two were afraid and one, the one who should have been afraid, was instead fearless and constantly being nipped and bitten.

I became the worst possible version of myself. I was trapped, trapped in a house in the worst winter in decades, dealing with an animal I felt no common ground with. No joy. No connection. My little old man dog, my pal, my guy we got before we were even married, was miserable. I felt guilt and anger for this, too.

I became that person with a bigger dog (she wasn't that big but she wasn't small, either). I hate going to someone's house and having their dog sniff my crotch, jump at me, snag my clothes, get dog hair on me, and here I was, inviting people into my home to do just that. My house smelled, of urine and dog. There was hair everywhere. We burned out a furnace fan because there was so much dog hair clogging the vent. I wore my beautiful black jacket and was horrified to realize it was covered in long blond dog hair.

This wasn't our finest moment. Even looking back I see how completely and totally unhappy I was, and how that then translated into everyone else completely unhappy. I was the captain of the ship, and in my estimation, the ship was due to sink any minute now.

As I write this I waver. On one hand I'm embarrassed. Who can be so unhappy over a dog? Who is such a bitch? Funny. More shame. Why couldn't I be better? Why couldn't I train her? What was my problem. On the other I want to share more, more of the complete heartache I felt. How I felt usurped in my own home. Actually, I felt I had no home anymore, truth be told. I had no escape. No privacy. I no longer owned my moments.

It will take a while, I think. To work through this. To deconstruct it, label it, learn. To be able to talk about it without feeling as though everything is made of delicate glass and will smash loudly and wholly if it's talked about too much.

But this is a start.

No comments: