The last few months have been especially challenging. Struggling with my ability to forget myself has been a constant battle, a lifelong theme if there ever was one for me. Finding a balance is often very hard for me as a result. I want to give, I want to help, I want to do those things while taking proper care of myself. Therein lies the struggle. There is a part of me that still holds on to the belief that I've never deserved to be properly cared for, that properly caring for myself equated selfishness, only in taking care of everyone and everything will I ever be worthy (and even then it's pretty conceited to believe it). It's so ingrained that I quite honestly talk myself out of believing it every single day and I am 44.
I've often wondered why the animals that fill most of my time don't fall victim to what eventually happens when turning myself inside out starts to hurt so much I shut down. Goodness knows the people in my life do; I have references. The animals, not so much.
I'd like to say I don't understand why, I think I might though.
If I were to look at Leo for example. Leo is on Benadryl twice a day, he has allergies to fleas and recently had a horrible bout with the same. Leo is on a grain free, filler free diet because it's best for him. Leo gets probiotics that I have to put in wet food or otherwise disguise cause he doesn't like them. Leo gets coconut oil to help him with the skin problem that has creeped up due to the earlier mentioned flea/allergy problem. Leo has separation anxiety and quite literally spends two minutes yelling (not barking) at me when I come home from work. Leo gets a treat everytime we go to the store because he expects it, I will go back and get one if I am silly enough to forget. Leo destroys our bed every night digging a circle in the sheets only to sprawl about as if the entire bed is his. Leo has ate shoes, destroyed couches, sheets, blankets, bruised me like there is no tomorrow, has given me a black eye, and cost me a small fortune. There has never been one second of resentment for all I do for Leo, not one single regret, and never a second thought when it came to his needs. Leo also kisses away my tears if he finds me crying. Tonight I was lugging hay to the barn and dropped an unusually heavy bale three times (sucked). By the time I was at the barn door, bent over the wheelbarrow, dripping in sweat and breathing harder than I care to admit, Leo snuck between my legs and licked my forehead. Why? I was sweating and it was dripping off me. He was doing all he could to help, he always does. We're partners, plain and simple. I don't forget myself in his "care". I do the opposite, I remember myself.
Strange? Maybe, or maybe more people should behave like dogs.
I've often wondered why the animals that fill most of my time don't fall victim to what eventually happens when turning myself inside out starts to hurt so much I shut down. Goodness knows the people in my life do; I have references. The animals, not so much.
I'd like to say I don't understand why, I think I might though.
If I were to look at Leo for example. Leo is on Benadryl twice a day, he has allergies to fleas and recently had a horrible bout with the same. Leo is on a grain free, filler free diet because it's best for him. Leo gets probiotics that I have to put in wet food or otherwise disguise cause he doesn't like them. Leo gets coconut oil to help him with the skin problem that has creeped up due to the earlier mentioned flea/allergy problem. Leo has separation anxiety and quite literally spends two minutes yelling (not barking) at me when I come home from work. Leo gets a treat everytime we go to the store because he expects it, I will go back and get one if I am silly enough to forget. Leo destroys our bed every night digging a circle in the sheets only to sprawl about as if the entire bed is his. Leo has ate shoes, destroyed couches, sheets, blankets, bruised me like there is no tomorrow, has given me a black eye, and cost me a small fortune. There has never been one second of resentment for all I do for Leo, not one single regret, and never a second thought when it came to his needs. Leo also kisses away my tears if he finds me crying. Tonight I was lugging hay to the barn and dropped an unusually heavy bale three times (sucked). By the time I was at the barn door, bent over the wheelbarrow, dripping in sweat and breathing harder than I care to admit, Leo snuck between my legs and licked my forehead. Why? I was sweating and it was dripping off me. He was doing all he could to help, he always does. We're partners, plain and simple. I don't forget myself in his "care". I do the opposite, I remember myself.
Strange? Maybe, or maybe more people should behave like dogs.
0 comments:
Post a Comment