This Valentine’s Day marks my three-year “adopt-a-versary” with Millie. It was the worst Valentine’s Day of my life.
I adopted Millie too soon after my soul dog, Tovi, died, naively thinking that getting another dog would make my insurmountable pain disappear — as if relationships could just transfer. I was wrong. So wrong. If I thought my grief was bad then, it only worsened as I grieved my dog's loss, and the reality that my impulsivity had once again landed me in a bad situation.
I literally chose the first dog I saw at the shelter. In fact, I hadn’t…
More than I should, I find my mind wandering to that dangerous area where I think about how much easier my life would be without Millie (my dog). I know how terrible this sounds, but it’s my truth. Isn’t dog ownership meant to enhance our lives? Aren’t we supposed to have these carefree, loving, fun relationships with our dogs like we see in the movies?
Apparently, not always.
If we were in a relationship, upon breaking up, I would cry and tell Millie it’s me, not her. And it is 100% me. She is who she is, and it’s me…
Getting separate beds may have been the best thing that ever happened to our marriage — on a daily basis level, obviously.
After getting married, two light sleepers trying to navigate different wake times proved challenging — really challenging. A few days a week, my alarm went off at 4:30 a.m., and despite lying my gym clothes out the night before as not to shuffle through the drawers while Jared slept, the ever so gentle sound of stepping out of bed would wake him, and if it didn't, our dog — assuming it was time to get up — did…
When I sit down to write about Tovi, I freeze. Is it writer's block or writer's pain? It’s a fine line I often wonder about.
Writing can be a great way to cope with loss. I have found solace and self-forgiveness through journaling. Writing for a broader audience, though, is more complicated. My thoughts have to be composed, maybe even have a subtle takeaway — something more coherent than my journal's loose sentences blurred by tear-stained ink.
Why does it matter if I write about the dog whose loss has left me in so much pain — pain that reawakens…
“Thank you for your thoughtful feedback.” My typical first sentence to a heartfelt comment, and I go on from there. And I mean it. Forming relationships — no matter how temporary —are what fuel me as a writer. I feel seen in a way unavailable in the physical world, and I get to see others in a way I never would by passing them on the street. Or even as a co-worker, for that matter.
We share our insides here.
I write in the nude, so to speak. I feel like I disrobe and run outside to get the mail…
The internet is saturated with articles on body acceptance, body neutrality, body positivity, body shaming, weight discrimination, diet-culture (I could go on…and on…and on), and this is the last thing I want to write about right now. I am to the point of nausea writing and reading about it. Don’t get me wrong; I’m eternally grateful that these articles exist because they have given me perspectives that pulled me out of the diet-culture abyss, but I loathe that I feel so compelled to write yet another one.
I woke up to an article someone wrote based on a comment I…
Melting away in dreams of winter
as my depression ripens in the sun.
I yearn for the days when thick white flakes fall from the sky
where I spend my days aimlessly walking through the snow
music transporting me to cherished memories of a time that no longer exists.
Doggie jackets and house sweaters
fleece-lined leggings under snow pants
thermal shirt and thin fleece
covered by a long, puffy, maroon coat
the one I used to only wear on special occasions until I learned life is short.
Frozen hands under thin gloves gripping the leash
a wool hat warms…
I’ve always been obsessed with Hallmark movies: Their idyllic towns, beautiful actors, perfect families, and predictable happy endings transport me to my happy place where I forget reality in a neat 2-hour package. I’m well aware that these movies are far removed from real life and perpetuate traditional beauty stereotypes. Still, it’s nice to shamelessly indulge in my adult version of make-believe once in a while.
Among the obvious stereotypes, there is one so insidious I didn’t notice it until I adopted an imperfect dog.
It’s what I have come to refer to as the “Hallmark Dog.” I went so…
Dogs have the most beautiful souls: They love unconditionally and with every ounce of their being. They live in the moment. Not knowing the meaning of a grudge, they forgive. They know just when our emotional wounds need licking. The simple act of petting a dog releases Oxytocin, which can reduce stress and anxiety. I could go on…and on, but if you’ve shared a connection with a dog, you know this.
I’ve heard the phrase, “humans don’t deserve dogs,” floating around over the years. Some humans truly don’t deserve dogs, but as an eternal optimist, I like to think most…
Forever a work in progress. Writing about pets, body image, self, and other reflections. Always written with vulnerability and authenticity