The idea of adopting a puppy was mulled over for many seasons. I wanted control over the situation but I knew I had to push Kyle to do it. To Kyle we were bringing home a puppy but to me it felt like we were bringing home a baby.
I never worried about Kyle being a good parent, but I did worry about myself. I worried that I wouldn't be patient with the puppy and I worried I wouldn't be patient with Kyle.
Getting the puppy was perfect timing but preparing for him was not.
I was overwhelmed and my drinking habits had taken a turn I was deeply uncomfortable and frightened about. I was in the process of cutting back but it was a constant effort which didn't compliment the sudden chaos which took over my home in preparing for a small baby animal. My car window smashed on the highway on my way to see my family for thanksgiving, my favorite holiday, and both the overwhelming cost of replacing it and being denied a familial visit I clung to for weeks caught me completely off guard. I was scrambling to get the money to pay for a new window and I ended up calling my grandmother for funds. My pride took a great blow from this. The mental health of a close friend was also failing, and though I suspect he may have connected the dots, I could never tell him how heavily his depression weighed on me. There were days where that anxiety buzzed between my ears and I took up smoking in a way that wasn't for pleasure, perhaps to substitute for alcohol. Whenever this happens I typically lose my appetite and this was no exception- for what felt like a solid week I could barely stomach more than one meal a day.
I felt an unsettling mix of serenity and anxious restlessness in those quiet evenings before Jefe. I had nightmares where the puppy would transform in to an infant in my arms. I am not ready for a human baby. So much of the preparation for Jefe- the nesting, the preparation for sleepless nights early on, picking names, telling our friends, and discussing discipline emulated bringing home a child. The physicality of my home, this newfound nurturing nature in my boyfriend, and the anxiety in my heart all emulated bringing home a newborn and somewhere deep in the recesses of my hormonal brain chemistry something clicked and suddenly my body had thrown me in to a well of an awful unstable hormonal cocktail.
After we brought Jefe home I lost nights of sleep at a critical time. My mental health was in jeopardy and it was nothing I'd ever felt before.
It was like sliding down a pebbled slope. At first you're just sliding down to get to the solid path below. It was expected, I could see there would be a period of sliding, and it was all part of the plan. You allow yourself, cautiously, to slide a few feet. You temporarily give up control but you remind yourself that this is a choice. But then your feet don't catch and you're past that anticipated solid ground. You panic for a moment and reach out to spindly tree roots and in moments you have stopped
sliding, but your legs ache and you have to let go again, each time less and less under the illusion that this is just part of the plan, that you'll catch the next path down below, that you're merely backtracking a bit. You keep sliding but you lose the illusion that this is a controlled slide and then you're crying at red lights and your hands are shaking and eating and drinking are motions you neglect. I slept a lot and when my boyfriend would sneak in to bed and hold me I felt gross and contagious. I could feel the acrid change in my brain chemistry. I was overjoyed by Jefe just as much as I was distraught that he wasn't making me better.
My greatest fears came true when my job performance began to suffer to the extent that an ultimatum was presented- get help or be moved to a position where I didn't need to be a beacon of mental health to succeed. My work was very compassionate and considerate of the whole situation, but that didn't change the debilitating shame, embarrassment, and humiliation I felt. For every obvious show of pity, even if it's intentions were legitimately to be helpful, I cringed and cried in my car. I found myself performing as myself instead of being myself. My relationship with my best friend suffered the most. It was a really awful month.
But I had 24/7 support. I couldn't be alone if I tried. I suppose this is where I worry most about my friend- he doesn't have what I do. I cannot be what my roommate, boyfriend, and workplace were for me when I struggled. When Jordan and Kyle go through bouts of depression I know how to help them. I can tell them I love them and they will believe it. I am not trained enough, constant enough, or objective enough to help him the way he really needs it.
Ultimately, I got better. I got counseling, I worked diligently on my appetite and I learned a great deal of humility stepping back and taking care of myself. Jefe is a wonderful puppy. Though I may get frustrated at times, his existence in my life has been consistently positive and I am grateful for every moment he kisses me with his silly little face. I got better and it is cliche but I absolutely came out stronger for it. All of the empathy and compassion practices I researched to help renew my job performance resulted in my being a better support for everyone, including myself. And every morning I bask in the youthful energy emanating from Jefe as he leaps and wiggles and skips around me. He isn't like an infant. I caught my footing. All is well
I never worried about Kyle being a good parent, but I did worry about myself. I worried that I wouldn't be patient with the puppy and I worried I wouldn't be patient with Kyle.
Getting the puppy was perfect timing but preparing for him was not.
I was overwhelmed and my drinking habits had taken a turn I was deeply uncomfortable and frightened about. I was in the process of cutting back but it was a constant effort which didn't compliment the sudden chaos which took over my home in preparing for a small baby animal. My car window smashed on the highway on my way to see my family for thanksgiving, my favorite holiday, and both the overwhelming cost of replacing it and being denied a familial visit I clung to for weeks caught me completely off guard. I was scrambling to get the money to pay for a new window and I ended up calling my grandmother for funds. My pride took a great blow from this. The mental health of a close friend was also failing, and though I suspect he may have connected the dots, I could never tell him how heavily his depression weighed on me. There were days where that anxiety buzzed between my ears and I took up smoking in a way that wasn't for pleasure, perhaps to substitute for alcohol. Whenever this happens I typically lose my appetite and this was no exception- for what felt like a solid week I could barely stomach more than one meal a day.I felt an unsettling mix of serenity and anxious restlessness in those quiet evenings before Jefe. I had nightmares where the puppy would transform in to an infant in my arms. I am not ready for a human baby. So much of the preparation for Jefe- the nesting, the preparation for sleepless nights early on, picking names, telling our friends, and discussing discipline emulated bringing home a child. The physicality of my home, this newfound nurturing nature in my boyfriend, and the anxiety in my heart all emulated bringing home a newborn and somewhere deep in the recesses of my hormonal brain chemistry something clicked and suddenly my body had thrown me in to a well of an awful unstable hormonal cocktail.
After we brought Jefe home I lost nights of sleep at a critical time. My mental health was in jeopardy and it was nothing I'd ever felt before.
It was like sliding down a pebbled slope. At first you're just sliding down to get to the solid path below. It was expected, I could see there would be a period of sliding, and it was all part of the plan. You allow yourself, cautiously, to slide a few feet. You temporarily give up control but you remind yourself that this is a choice. But then your feet don't catch and you're past that anticipated solid ground. You panic for a moment and reach out to spindly tree roots and in moments you have stopped
My greatest fears came true when my job performance began to suffer to the extent that an ultimatum was presented- get help or be moved to a position where I didn't need to be a beacon of mental health to succeed. My work was very compassionate and considerate of the whole situation, but that didn't change the debilitating shame, embarrassment, and humiliation I felt. For every obvious show of pity, even if it's intentions were legitimately to be helpful, I cringed and cried in my car. I found myself performing as myself instead of being myself. My relationship with my best friend suffered the most. It was a really awful month.
But I had 24/7 support. I couldn't be alone if I tried. I suppose this is where I worry most about my friend- he doesn't have what I do. I cannot be what my roommate, boyfriend, and workplace were for me when I struggled. When Jordan and Kyle go through bouts of depression I know how to help them. I can tell them I love them and they will believe it. I am not trained enough, constant enough, or objective enough to help him the way he really needs it.
Ultimately, I got better. I got counseling, I worked diligently on my appetite and I learned a great deal of humility stepping back and taking care of myself. Jefe is a wonderful puppy. Though I may get frustrated at times, his existence in my life has been consistently positive and I am grateful for every moment he kisses me with his silly little face. I got better and it is cliche but I absolutely came out stronger for it. All of the empathy and compassion practices I researched to help renew my job performance resulted in my being a better support for everyone, including myself. And every morning I bask in the youthful energy emanating from Jefe as he leaps and wiggles and skips around me. He isn't like an infant. I caught my footing. All is well
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