I am really feeling sorry for myself at the moment – not positive for anyone but pulling out of this chasm is proving frightfully difficult. Jeremy is struggling with school and needs a momma who can act and be positive, not continually bury her head in the sand.
I am lucky because about a year ago I started seeing a psychologist when the tricky balance between my work and home life was overwhelming me. This gentle woman has helped me balance what is happening in my life and to see past the immediate problems and to move past the behaviors of those around me.
In my last session she asked me who I spoke to. It may seem an odd question to many but I have not lived with a partner since I left Jeremy’s father over five years ago. I am ok with that. But there are times when, as one of my friends put it, a conversation with someone late at night as heads lie on pillows can be just as therapeutic as a session with my psych. She’s right too, the thing that I miss about being married is that adult to adult conversation, productive or not. It was like being part of a team where troubles could be halved and triumphs doubled. In theory anyway.
So her question got me to thinking, who do I talk to. Here is where I realised that I have gathered around me a group of extraordinary people, some I have never met face to face, who offer the gift of their time or experience or even a hug. I have friends who will just sit with me when I need to, or let me cry, who are generous in their affirmations about how they see me. They are all amazingly beautiful in their own ways and my life is all the richer for having their contact. In the last 48 hours the collective lifeline has helped me turn a corner too. For that I thank you.
In March, on impulse, I looked at the Lost Dogs Home website and saw Zeke. This wee man reminded be of my beloved Ron dog with brown eyebrows and floppy ears. He was smaller than my Ron dog too and at 8 years old I wondered if he would be adopted. So I put in the call and the universe decided that Zeke, due to go to another home, would be my dog. When I went to meet him he sat on his bed, just looking so lost, while all the other small dogs came bounding up to the front of their enclosures. He was unsettled and anxious and the handler at the the Lost Dogs Home told me that he lost his kennel mate since his arrival and just wanted to be loved. As we left the Lost Dogs Home he would only settle if cuddled, and in the car he sat next to me with his wee face on my arm. The boys tell me that when I leave the house he sits next to the door and cries a little and is perfectly behaved but is happier when I am home.
Zeke isn’t a replacement for a partner, but I relish the warmth of a little body curled up next to me on the couch, I revel in the delight of his little face in the morning when I wake up and I have discovered again that the love of a dog is a precious thing.