Hi. It’s been a while. How have you been? Are you good?
I have been -- not so good. It’s confusing to be a person who processes things by writing them down, since I know that by sharing the process, the thing I need to process no longer belongs only to me. It starts to belong a little bit to everyone else. And then maybe I won’t be able to fully process it.
Are you processing this? Yeah me either.
I always want to talk, write, share. Hear what you think. I want to know if you like the wallpaper I picked out for my dining room. But I don’t want you to say no. I want you to like it. I want you to feel like I’m making the right decision. I need to feel, constantly, like I’m making the right decision — without really devoting time to think that decision through.
I go to a new gym class and I want to join that gym right away, declaring it *the* perfect workout for me. I’ll commit to hairstylists without really even knowing if I like the way they’ve done my hair. I’ll hastily pick out couches, paint colors. I committed to an apartment’s worth of furniture when I first moved in and quickly realized I hated because I couldn’t wait for it to be done.
Because what will happen if it takes me a long time to pick out a couch and then I don’t have a couch? What happens if I go on one date with someone and then I have to figure out how to eventually break up with them or be stuck with them forever? After. One. Date. What will happen if I take the time to actually learn about — and get what I want? It’s too scary to live in the now. I have to worry about what’s next.
And I make these manic decisions for the benefit of others. Do you think you did a great job with my hair? Do you like me? Do you need to be saved? Don’t worry, I can save you. I can rescue you. I can fix you. No one can do it like I can. Do I need a break during a workout? Of course not. I can do it. Are you a medically needy dog who needs to be taken care of by someone with no experience caring for medically needy dogs? I can do it. I’ve never done it before — but I can do it. I don’t need anyone’s help. I can do it by myself.
My dog Joni was supposed to be a foster. I was going to be her foster mom while we worked to find her the right home. And then I started finding ticks on her. I started noticing that she was underweight. I saw how skittish she was and how much she wanted to be loved. I saw her beautiful face and her floppy ears and the way she put her paw on my leg. I saw how much she seemed to like walking over the bridge from Brooklyn to Manhattan with me as much as she liked resting at my feet while I worked on the couch. I loved how she gave me a purpose, gave me a reason to be responsible, gave me an excuse to say no, gave me a way to leave places when I actually wanted to leave them and not when I think others want me to leave. I made the decision quickly — she was my dog.
So she can’t control her bowels, at least it’s not pee. So she’s 70 pounds living in a studio apartment. She only bumps into things a few times per day. So she snaps at other dogs sporadically and seemingly without warning. I’ll pay money to special solo board her when I need to go out of town. So she seems to be prone to UTIs. I’ll take her to the vet. So she can’t go to the vet without being injected with sedatives. I’ll pay the hundreds of dollars on top of the astronomical cost of animal care in New York City by myself each time she has to go. I’ll sit on the floor of the vet’s office sobbing with her in my arms trying to get her to calm down enough for them to inject the sedative in the first place. I can do it. I can do it by myself. Don’t you tell me I can’t do it. Because I can. I can fix this, I can do it. If I don’t do it, who will?
But I can’t do it.
And you know what? A lot of people knew I couldn’t do it too. They didn’t tell me I couldn’t do it. I don’t react well to being told that I can’t do something. This might very well be the first time in my life (really) that I’ve admitted that I can’t do something. But they knew. My friends knew. My therapist knew. My family knew. The night I told nana I was adopting Joni she asked me, in all seriousness, if I’d asked my mother before I made the decision.
“I’M AN ADULT. I AM A FUCKING ADULT,” I screamed. Because nothing is more mature than screaming at your grandmother about being an adult. I was mad for so many reasons (a newsletter for another time) but what stung the most, what is always so hard to admit, is that there was a part of me that felt like she was right. Not right about having to ask for permission — right about this maybe not being the best idea.
I was sitting in the park with my friend Rachel a few weeks ago when I had the breakthrough that I can’t handle it. That I need to find Joni a better home. The realization was excruciatingly painful.
But it was also not the whole story.
“You like to solve unsolvable problems,” my therapist said from inside her little Zoom box, as I looked down at the floor, mid-breakdown over the reality of my situation, a sliver of my new wallpaper in frame (natch). Rescuing Joni wasn’t an isolated incident.
Of course it wasn’t.
I have been doing a version of incontinent dog rescue since I was a kid, when I’d secretly usher my dad into my bedroom to lay down, closing the door behind me so that maybe my mom wouldn’t notice he was using. That he could maybe just sleep it off and no one except me would have to know. I would sacrifice my sense of safety so that my mom, who was already dealing with so much, could stay safe. In my 9-year-old mind I could keep the secret from her. I could protect her.
Now I was sobbing. Big sobs. This wasn’t about saying yes to things I can’t do or overextending myself. It’s about needing to protect, to rescue and save others -- at my own expense.
But now it’s not only at my expense. It’s at Joni’s expense, too. My manic decision to adopt her and want so badly to give her a better life when I am not able to properly care for her puts her sense of safety in jeopardy, too.
I’ve made excuses not to try Al-Anon for as long as my therapist has been recommending I try it out. Too hot out, too cold out, it’s raining! I have to write. I need to stare at my computer and pretend to write. But I was out of excuses and I was in too much pain to keep ignoring it.
I felt the manic decision making instinct come on after attending just one meeting. “I should probably buy the book, right? When is the next in person meeting? What should I do next?”
“It’s recommended that you attend six meetings before you decide that this is the right thing for you,” someone calmly explained.
Huh. Six meetings. Time. Time to observe and think and digest. Time to make a sound decision, to think clearly and be present. What a concept.
I’m still in a lot of pain. I keep feeling like we’re going through a break up, Joni and me. To love someone so much and still know it’s not the right situation for either of you? It’s been harder than any actual breakup/relationship ending I’ve ever been through.
And I’m worried about judgment. I know finding Joni a better home is the right thing for both of us (and I’ll have her with me until that happens) -- but I also know there are people who won’t understand. I have tried tirelessly to give Joni a better life. The people who know us and who have spent time with us know that. I now know that.
When it hurts I try to tell myself that this is a chapter in both of our lives that has helped us each in different ways. I got her out of a bad situation. She taught me where my boundaries are. I have given her love and tons of peanut butter. She has taught me how to self-protect, how to admit that I’m not OK. How to admit that I need help. How to actually feel things instead of pushing past them toward the next hasty decision.
I’ve been sitting with this for a long time, wondering if I should even share it. I like to be honest about times when I’m not doing so well, but I think it’s hard to really believe that on social media even when someone says it (it is for me, anyway). I have had to work really hard to treat myself gently and with kindness over these past few weeks (er, years, er, life) but I am just now starting to understand the importance of self-protection.
I hope if you’re seeing this and struggling to do the same that maybe this helps you give yourself permission to start, too.
I love you. Thanks for reading.
Love,
Jamie AF
Love you so much ❤️
Jamie, if you need outside affirmation of your value, your kindness, your amazing sense of humor, your all-around wonderfulness... then - here you go! It's time you gave credence to what your family and friends see when we look at you. Please love yourself as much as we do you. You Go Girl !(https://www.scheels.com/p/gogirl/09492243296.html?store=&gclid=CjwKCAjwruSHBhAtEiwA_qCpphKt045wFMdSphW9UK26OdsJ-U__FGTGvUBS859Qf2_esOuH_mOLQBoCtiQQAvD_BwE)