Wednesday, March 05, 2014

I Quit, I Begin, I Continue

The panic-driven globradoodle who bites me and pulled me down had another incident this morning because a dog crossed the street. 

I was shaking in my own panic when I walked into their building and, while I was successful in making the dog sit and watch the other dog do its business, I decided it isn't worth it. 
I'll put up signs or trust the universe or something but I came home from my morning rounds and wrote the owners an email.  I think I've even gotten the dogs in with the best walkers I know who are able to walk psychotics with six other dogs and be happy.

Of course I felt like a failure and of course I'm nervous about money.  Then I remembered that I had to quit one other dog who was aggressive with me only to see a succession of walkers come and go because the dog had become aggressive with every interloper into the house.  I was right to quit that gig.  Having more panic in my life is not worth $480 a month.  I can hang xeroxes as well as the next person.

So I'm approaching Lent with one less reason to panic.  I am resolved to say the rosary every day.  And I am resolved to blog every day.

Funny how three such different things can all be a part of my attack on my panic attacks.  I'm removing a reason, settling down for an intimate conversation, and baring parts of my psyche here.

It's possible that if I blog every day, I'll get to a point where I don't whine all the time.  Maybe I'll start laughing again or notice the world more -- although it's still a world of packed ice ridges gone black with soot at this point.  Maybe I'll get publicly grateful.

I have to go walk the hyena in less than an hour and I've only now started to calm down.  I chatted with the walker I recommended and that felt nice -- I like her and I respect her ethics.  And after tomorrow, I'll only have Daisy to be scared by.

Kind of the cobbler's shoeless children syndrome except that she's much easier whenever anyone else walks her.

I'm considering naming my next dog "Abilify".


Unknown said...

Thank you, thank you for writing. I look for your writing all of the time. My father died recently and the pain is great and I find comfort in my favorite writers and their blogs. I know we can't take the pain away, but know I am out here listening and looking forward to hearing from you.

Sue said...

So good to hear your honest voice again. A promise of spring, someday soon.

Unknown said...

You made me laugh at the end and I am so glad you are back and writing.