Walking My Dogs
When my world fell apart almost eight months ago things changed. In big ways and in small. Immediately. Slowly. Easily. Difficultly. I had to build my life up again. I had to look at who I was and who I wanted to be. I had to take actions to lead myself towards where I wanted to be. I was never one of those people who didn’t believe in the ability to actively change. We control who we are. We consciously act until we subconsciously are. Aristotle said it years ago and I believe it still applies today. This active reflection was caused by a huge disruption, a collapse, a destruction of everything I complacently believed, lived, was.
That was a blessing. Falls can only lead to rises. But sometimes you have to rise without the fall; you have to reflect without the motivation; you have to build upon a structure without repairs being necessary. Repairs are driven by necessity. They are easier to notice and easier to fix. It is harder to look at yourself, work on yourself without a blatant invitation, a blatant cause.
When my world fell apart almost eight months ago I built my supports in five areas: self, family, friends, work, and my dogs. I began taking action. It’s what I do best. Nothingness doesn’t suit me. I started riding my bike. I walked my dogs constantly. I leaned on my mom. I started reaching out to people, putting myself at risk. Throughout all of this my dogs were my constant, dependent on me. I couldn’t disappear without them.
Lately, I have been stuck in dissatisfaction. I knew something was wrong but instead of actively changing the world I kind of laid back and accepted it. I attributed the problems to external causes removed from my abilities. Sometimes the world doesn’t fall apart in big ways. It falls apart in small ways. I watched structures I had built start to chip away. And I watched them chip and wear away, and accepted it.
Until tonight. I walked my dogs. Separately. Which was the key. I had been avoiding walking them. Together they were too much and pushed me too far, past anything I wanted to be, wanted to feel. But I would keep trying to take them out together and it would continue to fall apart every time I tried. It fell apart in a big way. In a big way. I fell apart in a big way. In front of people. In front of a guy who had been checking me out. In front of a guy I would want to check out. And then the answer was there staring me in the face, waving its arms desperately trying to get my attention. I shouldn’t walk them together, but separately.
In walking them, separately, I started to actively begin to build myself back up. With every step I was moving forward, pulling myself out of the helplessness I had sunk into and stayed in for too long. I started to build back the understanding that had been made so clear eight months ago: if I wanted anything I had to work for it, reach for it, move towards it. I was in control of myself, in control of who I wanted to be. Walking them reminded me that I had me and that was the best thing I could possibly have, but I had to be there for myself. Somehow I had fallen back into old routines of depending on others for myself, needing others and not trusting myself and when others went away, when they weren’t there, when I was alone, I truly thought I was alone. I forgot that I had my dogs and I had myself. That my value, my sense of self was not determined by others but by myself. I didn’t need others to do things. I needed myself. I needed this reminder.
I am not helpless. I am empowered. And the disappointment weighing my shoulders down wasn’t in the people around me, the people I had felt failed me, the people who had disappeared when I thought I needed them most, but in myself. I was disappointed in myself. I had forgotten that I can’t need people to build myself up. I could feel the strong part of myself shaking the weak side, incredulous that it would fall after everything it had gone through, after everything it had conquered.
Again, another lesson wrapped in unpleasant experiences but necessary to grow. But I am walking my dogs. Separately.
That was a blessing. Falls can only lead to rises. But sometimes you have to rise without the fall; you have to reflect without the motivation; you have to build upon a structure without repairs being necessary. Repairs are driven by necessity. They are easier to notice and easier to fix. It is harder to look at yourself, work on yourself without a blatant invitation, a blatant cause.
When my world fell apart almost eight months ago I built my supports in five areas: self, family, friends, work, and my dogs. I began taking action. It’s what I do best. Nothingness doesn’t suit me. I started riding my bike. I walked my dogs constantly. I leaned on my mom. I started reaching out to people, putting myself at risk. Throughout all of this my dogs were my constant, dependent on me. I couldn’t disappear without them.
Lately, I have been stuck in dissatisfaction. I knew something was wrong but instead of actively changing the world I kind of laid back and accepted it. I attributed the problems to external causes removed from my abilities. Sometimes the world doesn’t fall apart in big ways. It falls apart in small ways. I watched structures I had built start to chip away. And I watched them chip and wear away, and accepted it.
Until tonight. I walked my dogs. Separately. Which was the key. I had been avoiding walking them. Together they were too much and pushed me too far, past anything I wanted to be, wanted to feel. But I would keep trying to take them out together and it would continue to fall apart every time I tried. It fell apart in a big way. In a big way. I fell apart in a big way. In front of people. In front of a guy who had been checking me out. In front of a guy I would want to check out. And then the answer was there staring me in the face, waving its arms desperately trying to get my attention. I shouldn’t walk them together, but separately.
In walking them, separately, I started to actively begin to build myself back up. With every step I was moving forward, pulling myself out of the helplessness I had sunk into and stayed in for too long. I started to build back the understanding that had been made so clear eight months ago: if I wanted anything I had to work for it, reach for it, move towards it. I was in control of myself, in control of who I wanted to be. Walking them reminded me that I had me and that was the best thing I could possibly have, but I had to be there for myself. Somehow I had fallen back into old routines of depending on others for myself, needing others and not trusting myself and when others went away, when they weren’t there, when I was alone, I truly thought I was alone. I forgot that I had my dogs and I had myself. That my value, my sense of self was not determined by others but by myself. I didn’t need others to do things. I needed myself. I needed this reminder.
I am not helpless. I am empowered. And the disappointment weighing my shoulders down wasn’t in the people around me, the people I had felt failed me, the people who had disappeared when I thought I needed them most, but in myself. I was disappointed in myself. I had forgotten that I can’t need people to build myself up. I could feel the strong part of myself shaking the weak side, incredulous that it would fall after everything it had gone through, after everything it had conquered.
Again, another lesson wrapped in unpleasant experiences but necessary to grow. But I am walking my dogs. Separately.
posted by tayjay at 8:08 PM
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