My Dog Jumped Through A Second Story Glass Window
I’ve been going through it. And by “it” I mean the dips of life, the parts where they get low and you think they can’t get too much lower until they do. It’s not health, it’s not death, it’s not intense heartbreak. But it’s the time when you have real life challenges that knock you down. Then you get up. Then another one knocks you down. Then you get up. Then you get knocked down. And you feel like a disoriented jack-in-the-box.
Right around the 4th of July my dog jumped through my second story glass window. Yes, through the glass. Thankfully, he’s ok. The apartment looked like a crime scene, blood everywhere. But I learned blood comes off white walls and tiny glass shards always manage to escape a vacuum’s pull. I learned that this would be Kona’s new habit, jumping through glass to the sounds of loud booms.
I started crate training him, but each time I felt like I was making progress he pulled out some new obstacle. He threw temper tantrums. He bit the metal crate doors until his gums were bleeding and the bars bent. After one successful hour of semi-silence I hop in the shower only to hear thunder after getting fully soaked. In the same amount of time it took me to jump out of the shower and into the bedroom, Kona had bust entirely out of the metal crate. As I’m wrapping a towel around my body I hear nails clicking on glass in the living room and catch him just as he tries to jump out the window once again. By the way, he slid the window open himself.
I broke down. I was sobbing in my living room, feeling complete despair, and of course Kona comes over, nuzzling his face in my lap. I pull myself together and call a highly recommended trainer. I hear so much compassion in her voice, and I already begin to feel better. Support is everything. I set up trainings with her and begin to see a light at the end of the tunnel. I feel brighter, back to my optimistic self.
And then something else happened. And then something else. And then something else. I get knocked down. I put my head back on. And then I get knocked down again. The details of all these somethings isn’t the point. The point is that I’ve felt pushed and pushed and pushed. I’m a pretty resilient person, but there’s only so much a human being can take before losing it. So I lost it. A few times. I cried. I cried some more. I screamed in my car. A few times.
Something is happening in my life. I usually write these articles once I’ve learned the lesson. But I think it’s important to acknowledge the turmoil as it’s occurring. I know part of my suffering is that I want things to be different. I want things to be a little easier. I want one problem to deal with at a time. I want my freedom back. I don’t want to put people out. And all of my wanting is causing me to suffer.
I’m also learning to ask, even when the answer might be no. And I’m learning to keep asking even when I’ve been told no (asking other people, of course). I’m learning to let people do things for me even if I sometimes feel like I’m asking for too much. I’m learning to trust that people will tell me when it’s too much, and if they don’t than that’s something they need to work on. I’m learning to take people up on their offers. And I’m learning to focus on what I’m grateful for and express it as much as I can.
When we’re in the midst of difficult times it feels all consuming. It feels like the most difficult thing in the world to find even one thing that is good and to really feel its goodness. But when we do, it’s transformative.
Right now, more than ever, I need to practice my preaching. I’m in the thick of it, working on rebalancing myself, focusing on the goodness in my life, embracing what is, and breathing.
Thank you all for being here with me.