Sometimes it’s a dog that fills the void. The room feels so different when she isn’t in it.
People come and go and they will repeatedly let you down. They make promises they can’t keep, love you – but with conditions, and leave when things get hard. But a dog? A dog just stays. No questions, no demands. She’s just there, filling the empty spaces you didn’t even realize you had growing inside you.
It’s strange, isn’t it? How something so small can take up so much room in your life?
Well no, not strange. It’s just … rare. The kind of love that doesn’t ask for anything but still gives you everything in return. The kind that’s always there when you need it most, and somehow, without a single word, it reminds you that you are worthy of being loved.
Zoey, my 9-year-old yellow lab, is lying beside me in my hotel room tonight. She’s bringing a desperately needed sense of calm to my anxious nervous system. I have been in and out of fight, flight and freeze all week. We traveled 5 hrs today and checked in to a hotel for the night. In the morning I have an appointment for a special medical test that can only be done in this particular hospital.
I am an amputee. I lost my left arm in a car accident 10 yrs ago so I have been living with just one hand. Last week I seriously injured that hand and it has had devastating consequences. Life changing. I am looking at partial to full loss of use of the full hand and wrist, which would strip me of most of my independence.
I’m scared. This test tomorrow will determine which type of surgery they will be performing and whether or not it can be repaired. There are a lot of unknowns and the fear is trying to strangle the life out of me.
But as I lay here with my girl beside me, listening to her deep relaxed breathing I am reminded to take a deep breath of my own. I realize that there’s nothing I can do tonight other than rest. Worrying is only causing more suffering. Tomorrow will come and I will face each challenge as it comes. So for now, I’m going to pause and appreciate the presence of my beautiful furry companion.
I’m going to reclaim my peace tonight as I allow the love of my dog to calm the fear and anxiety within me. With no questions or demands, I know Zoey will bring comfort to my hurting soul.
Did you know that butterflies don’t fly when it’s raining? Their wings are incredibly delicate and the raindrops would be damaging.
So they rest. They wait it out. Its self-preservation.
So it’s ok to rest when things get stormy in our lives. It’s ok to take whatever time we need to recharge. It doesn’t make you lazy, worthless, or ineffective. It’s a necessary part of life.
Unfortunately, this is a life lesson that I have struggled with tremendously. I developed a belief that resting, apart from nighttime sleep, is not ok and it does nothing more than make me ineffective. I’ve battled with great amounts of guilt and shame when I have been forced to stop ‘doing’ and must simply ‘be’.
Life has been pretty intense the past couple of weeks. Lots of family drama has been stirred up and old hurts have resurfaced. Loved ones are unwell, both physically and mentally, and my presence was needed. There were birthday celebrations for a very special little girl and there’s been some long hours spent traveling. On top of that, I lost a girl friend. Not by death, but through mutual agreement. Neither of us is good at communicating things with each other when we struggle with things in life and it has resulted in some deep hurt. While we (and our spouses) have agreed to remain civil, as community involvement will sometimes cause us to be together, we’ve agreed to go with no contact from here on.
It’s been pretty stormy.
And I have done an extremely poor job at this self-preservation thing. Unlike the butterfly, I have not taken steps to protect myself. And as a result, I find myself bedridden today. My body said enough is enough. CRPS (Complex Regional Pain Syndrome) is attacking my neck and shoulders, the majority of my spine, and both of my lower legs. Burning, throbbing, electric sensations are rapidly firing. My legs buckle beneath me when I attempt to stand, refusing to continue carrying me. I cannot feel the floor beneath my feet yet sensations of broken glass trapped in my socks are making it difficult to even breathe.
It’s pouring rain here today. The storm has destroyed my wings. And once again I find myself in a state of forced rest. Will I ever learn?
As soon as I sit up in the morning the attack begins. The team of critics living inside my head open their ugly mouths and just let loose.
“You should go out somewhere today. You should socialize. You need to meet some people and at least pretend to be a participating member of society. You are such a baby! You can’t even handle calling someone and inviting them over for coffee!! You hate being alone … just as much as you like it. You’re impossible to please! Remember how awful the loneliness feels?!! You feel invisible. Forgotten. You’re very existence on this earth is pointless! You crave attention. You long to be part of society.
Yet as bad as it all feels you can’t get out of your own way! Grow up!!! Stop acting so foolish. You panic just thinking about allowing another person to get close to you. Fear paralyzes you when there’s a knock at your door. Ppl tell you to give them a call sometime but your hand trembles even at the thought of picking up the phone. Useless is what you are. You’re just a stupid, fat monster. No one would want to be around you anyway. Ppl are embarrassed to be seen with you. You’re deformed. Ppl stare at your shoulder and wonder why you only have one arm. Your ugliness is impossible to ignore and it’s all ppl see. You turn their stomach!! You stupid b!t@h …”
And on and on it goes.
While this is all true I did not choose this solitary lifestyle. Rather it chose me. I keep my distance from groups of people while often avoiding one-on-one interactions as well. The stress of human interactions has become something I now need to keep at a minimum because it seems as if my ability to tolerate stress and anxiety has dropped extensively.
I cannot withstand stress the way that I used to. All my life I have thrived on adrenaline and often find myself seeking out situations that will provide me with some sort of a rush but these days I find that the rush I get from the stress is a bit too much. I feel myself buckling under the heavy load that I carry around on my shoulders. I do my best and commit myself to things even though sometimes I push beyond my limits. I push and push and push until I break and fall apart.
Today though I am going to accept my limitations. I will not push myself to the point of breaking – physically or emotionally. What I have to offer today is all that I am going to give.
My in-laws are here visiting for a few days. They come 3-4 times a year and stay with us for a few days. And every time I end up falling apart behind closed doors. The pressure to be the perfect daughter-in-law gets me every single time. But I’ve had enough!
They are here in MY home and I refuse to give them the power to destroy my peace and joy. After arriving yesterday evening I prepared lasagna for them. David was at work so I was on my own. That part didn’t bother me because it was only for that evening, and then he’s off for a few days.
But I need to vent here for a minute because I’m just so … exasperated! They made a big deal about missing us and wanting to come and spend some time with us. They dropped their bags on the floor in the kitchen and sat at the table, their attention going to their cell phones. I sat and chatted with them but it would have been more entertaining had I just talked to the wall.
So I busied myself with the meal and clean-up and they got up and left the room. But not before pulling several bottles of alcohol from their bags.
By 8pm both of them were slumped over on the couch, asleep. David got home from work and just shook his head in disbelief. We know that they both have a problem with alcohol. But to drive 4 hours to visit your kids only to drink yourself into a semi-coma state within a few hours of arriving is ridiculous, in my opinion.
But I can’t take this personally anymore. Usually, I would beat up on myself by thinking that I was boring. I’d tell myself that they hate being around me and that I am so fat and ugly that they can’t stand to be in the same room as me. I’d spiral into believing that my house was not good enough. It’s too hot, too cold, not clean enough, my couch isn’t comfy, too much dog fur, the scented candle is too strong, my shower curtain is ugly, it’s too dark, too bright … and on and on and on.
No more. It has to stop! Over the years I’ve allowed my sanity to crumble every time they visit. It usually takes about a week after they’ve left for my nervous system to settle down. And I’m tired of it! This is MY home. It is my safe space and no one should have the power to ruin it for me. They will no longer cause me to become physically ill from the stress.
They are responsible for their behavior and if they decide to come here and be rude and disrespectful then that’s on them. David was looking forward to spending a few days with his mom and step-father. His mom keeps saying how she misses us but now that she’s here she shows no interest whatsoever in our lives. David was telling them something about his job and she literally interrupted him to show him a picture of a garden ornament that her friend had just bought. David looked as if she’d slapped him in the face. It broke my heart.
When we went to bed David and I were talking and agreed we can’t let this get to us. We will not allow this to pull us down. I’m done catering to them and walking on eggshells to avoid doing anything that they don’t like. I’m gonna go about things as I always do. I’m going to sit in my favorite spot. I’m going to have the temperature the way we have it every day. My dogs will play and make noise and I refuse to shush them or take their toys away. I’m not letting them turn my week upside down. I’m not going to stand in my closet to cry and I’m certainly not going to spend today in the bathroom throwing up from the anxiety like I did yesterday. Nope!
I’m not letting my peace be ripped away from me by other ppl. I work too hard to maintain my sanity on a daily basis to let you come into my space and strip it away. You can be you but I will be ME and I’m not going to end up sick from the stress of your presence in my home. Not this time.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of safety. It came up in a therapy session a few weeks ago and I’ve come to realize that I don’t know how to recognize what safety ‘feels’ like.
I know that I’m almost always on guard. I don’t know if it’s fear, anxiety, or nervousness, or what it is, that I’m usually feeling but I certainly don’t think it’s safety. It also seems like there are lots of situations where I FEEL like I’m in danger but the facts state otherwise. How does one bridge the gap between real and perceived danger? I am not living in a dangerous environment by any means but it’s like my body thinks I am.
It’s incredibly uncomfortable to be in a state of hyperarousal most of the time. And exhausting. Lately, it seems like I’ve been having an overwhelming amount of trauma surfacing, especially on a somatic level, but I have very little capacity to create any sense of safety in the midst of it. It’s wreaking havoc on so many levels. I wish there any way that I could somehow learn how to feel safe.
I feel so stupid saying that. To admit that I don’t know what ‘safe’ feels like seems so ridiculous and it feels awful.
Her Complex Musings 
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