Entry 20 "Doesn't matter how much furniture you stack at the door"
I don't want to feel like I'm beating a dead horse, but this dog has unquestionably brought a different energy into the household, and I'm truly inspired by the changes I've been seeing. Taught him a few new tricks and he learns remarkably fast. Definitely smart, even though he can also be a jerk at times. I also bought him his own nigh-indestructible brand of toys to replace all the old ones he's been tearing through like wrapping paper on Christmas morning. And since the weather has been improving here lately, we've been able to truly go out and spend as much time as we need outside. I've already got my summer tan locked down.
And it's in being active with him and my older dog that I really get the feeling like I'm living the childhood I was deprived of. Getting to run around and laugh, to explore for the sake of exploring, to see how far I can throw stones and balls, to dance like an idiot and not question my lack of social graces. I feel happy for the first time in a long time, which is a feeling so profoundly rare that I can't help but reflect on it and analyze it. It's been a boon for my personal development, and I've come to realize how much of my life I've spent trying to become the person I wished my parents were. I do really feel like a dad for these two dogs. Sometimes I wonder if all humans have this innate instinct to protect and provide for things smaller and more vulnerable than us.
Regardless, it's an odd dilemma feel like a kid and a dad at the same time, especially when you're neither. But if looking like a goofy imbecile is the price to pay for seeing the dumb little smiles on their furry faces, then it's a dilemma I'm happy to bear. They're happy, and they're getting to enjoy the upbringing I wish I had.
I have this reoccurring memory from when I was about 4 of my dad and I going fishing in a nearby creek. I went with this blue Mickey Mouse fishing rod down a steep hill from a nearby apartment complex. Not sure if it was our apartment complex at the time, but I digress. On this particular day I happened to fall into the creek itself. Maybe the hill was too steep for my weak little kid legs, or maybe I was just another young uncoordinated doofus. Personally, I'm leaning towards the latter.
I remember my dad laying himself out to grab me and me ending up completely soaked from my unplanned baptism. I remember being stuck in those cold, heavy clothes for longer than I was comfortable with, most likely ingrained into me during the return trip home from that ruined excursion. It's weird, remembering such a rather uneventful event 28 years later. It's not like I was scared or traumatized, or that my father had such an amazing outburst that it's etched into my head. I don't remember anything particularly negative from that day at all. It was more a situation of me getting my clothes wet for the first time and not knowing what to do next. A simple bout of confusion for a feeble-minded child.
But I think the reason why I remember it so well is because it was the last time I can remember my father or I getting to hang out or do anything together. There's always been a longing for that moment again, not the part of falling into a creek, but when a time when I could go out and have fun with someone. I had a fairly sheltered childhood, and looking back I think a large part of it was due to this moment. I've long suspected that my mom has lived with undiagnosed anxiety, and her chronic worrying more than likely caused this to be my last outing with dad as a child.
I think it's invariably true that people will sooner or later become their parents, and my guess is likely because they end up instilling their fears into us. In many ways I've always been afraid of taking risks, of making a mistake, of failure. Maybe I’m making this memory more seminal than it deserves to be. Perhaps it only cemented itself into my head from all the times I would come across that cheaply-made plastic fishing pole over the years and recalling the last time I got to use it. Regardless, I’ve always had a sense of apprehension and caution around people, often going out of my way to be of use or service to them to lessen these anxieties. For the most part, it keeps me out of conflict and in the positive esteem of most people, even despite the total lack of meaningful connection between us.
Sometimes I wonder if my dad was the same way. Going out of his way to please my over-anxious mother in order to keep me safe and her as free from worry as he can make her. It also makes me wonder if I’m doomed to undermine any possible relationship from being too concerned about others and never taking the risk of imposing myself on them. My tendency to mind my own business and leave others in peace probably has more to do with how toxic the relationship was between my parents more than anything else. A control-freak with a people-pleaser reeks of codependency issues, and if true, likely suggests that my inability to find or make a loving relationship stems from the fact that I was never really exposed to one. Every time they suggested a divorce, I actually encouraged it. It was something that always made perfect sense to me, so it came as no surprise when they inevitably got one.
The unfortunate thing about anxiety is that it’s almost always rooted in some type of trauma. I know my mom has had her fair share of negative experiences growing up, and I see it more and more in myself the way I act around other people. I don’t have much faith that people can ever do the right thing, and I don’t know how reflective of reality that really is. Are most people truly thoughtless and lazy and only willing to do the bare minimum to get by or whatever else happens to be most convenient? Or am I so focused on mistakes and flaws that I lose the forest for the trees? Do I really trivialize hordes of people over relatively minor details, or are my concerns validated by the relatively awful ways we treat each other? I can’t say that I know for sure.
But anxieties can be lessened, and maybe that’s the best compromise I can reach until I have a definitive judgement on the state of humanity. When this dog first wandered into my life, I couldn’t help but notice how wrinkled his forehead was. In my naivety, I just assumed he was an ugly dog with a lumpy head. I didn’t think much of it until I’ve recently started to notice how smooth his forehead is now. It wasn’t until last night that it occurred to me that his brow was furrowed from his anxiousness. He was wearing his worry on his face in a brand new environment, while I was mostly focused on how annoying his anxious behavior made him.
I’ve been reflecting on this and realize that I can be pretty dutiful and diligent in my approach to things, but it’s a kind of cerebral rigidity that sets a standard that many others are unwilling or unable to meet. Thankfully, I’m quite affectionate with my dogs and the love and support I’ve been giving them acts as a perfect balance for the structure and the stability that I’m trying to instill in these dogs. I don’t think caving in to his every demand just because he’s a little rattled by his circumstances would be sustainable in the long run.
I’m realizing now that it’s hard to have a balanced approach when dealing with people’s feelings. I’ve been so accustomed to rationality from my own emotional neglect that I’ve grown to rationally neglect the emotions of others. Being happy and carefree is all fine and good, but when you start shirking or minimizing your responsibilities, it ends up bringing everyone else down. At work, while not outspoken or confrontational, I’ve still tended to be pretty harsh and critical towards people’s lack of effort when they’re around me. Most of my coworkers avoid talking to me in large part because of this intolerance. I often find myself biting my tongue because I know my brand of sarcasm is too bitter for their tastes.
I wish I could be softer in my dealings with people. When you’re so accustomed to disappointment, it hardens you to the point where you lose confidence in the people around you. I turn cold and dismissive when I would really like to be more assertive and demanding. Then end result is roughly the same for me, because people don’t want to risk making me angry, but I feel like if there was more warmth to balance out this out, I might not be so isolated. It’s not like I’m critical because I want to tear others down or silence some insecurity, but because I want to bring out the best in them. Probably the way my parents wanted to bring out the best in me.
I always rank pretty high in conscientiousness in every online personality test I take. That, and introversion, are the only facets of my psyche that never really deviate between different test results. I guess it’s a natural impulse for people to want others to be more like them. Extroverts tell introverts to speak up more, carefree people tell those more serious to lighten up, religious people tell the non-religious to turn towards their God. I guess it’s par for the course that I would want people to handle their sh*t and focus on the consequences of their actions. Maybe there’s nothing to fix here and some personalities are simply incompatible.
I guess that’s why people struggle so much with relationships. There’s always a disconnect between the way a person is and their idealized self. We fall in love with someone’s potential rather than what they actually bring to the table, and difference is more than likely going to provide a constant source of tension for those hoping to find that mutual understanding. That’s really what the biggest problem is at the end of the day. We just don’t understand each other, and after enough failed attempts, we give up trying.
I have no doubt that this is why political discourse has completely fallen apart in the US, and why people are becoming increasingly isolated in our new digital world. You only ever get to see snapshots of what another person contributes to the discussion, and there’s no real balanced approach to build the trust needed to understand another. Part of why this dog has made such incredible progress in his separation anxiety has been because we see more of each other. There’s love and affection there to make up for the times we butt heads in order to ensure our own needs. Ultimately, we both want security and stability, but getting past our own fears and anxieties to reach that place of equilibrium takes time. I still worry he’s going to misbehave in public, even though he’s a sweet dog that just wants a little positive attention. Isn’t that what we all want?
It’s tough to toe the line between hoping for the best and expecting the worst. Lean too far one way and you’re liable to get burned. Lean too far the other way and you’ll end up alone. I wish I knew a better way to achieve satisfactory results without stepping over people who aren’t on board with the mission. I have a reputation for reliability on the job, and maybe that’s the best place to start. Could be that it’s all a waste of effort and most people are too set in their ways to care. I don’t know yet, but I do know that you don’t get very far if you don’t try something.
I’ve been taking some time to explain myself to my coworkers whenever they do have to deal with me. Not in any kind of ultimatum, just letting them know why I get things done the way I like them done. It’s a little tedious and not often timely, but I feel like it’s at least getting us to the beginning stage of bridge-building rather using that effort to put up walls and shield myself from their more lackadaisical attitudes. Not sure how much progress will end up being made, but even if it all blows up, at least I know I’m well-versed in doing things on my own.
And it's in being active with him and my older dog that I really get the feeling like I'm living the childhood I was deprived of. Getting to run around and laugh, to explore for the sake of exploring, to see how far I can throw stones and balls, to dance like an idiot and not question my lack of social graces. I feel happy for the first time in a long time, which is a feeling so profoundly rare that I can't help but reflect on it and analyze it. It's been a boon for my personal development, and I've come to realize how much of my life I've spent trying to become the person I wished my parents were. I do really feel like a dad for these two dogs. Sometimes I wonder if all humans have this innate instinct to protect and provide for things smaller and more vulnerable than us.
Regardless, it's an odd dilemma feel like a kid and a dad at the same time, especially when you're neither. But if looking like a goofy imbecile is the price to pay for seeing the dumb little smiles on their furry faces, then it's a dilemma I'm happy to bear. They're happy, and they're getting to enjoy the upbringing I wish I had.
I have this reoccurring memory from when I was about 4 of my dad and I going fishing in a nearby creek. I went with this blue Mickey Mouse fishing rod down a steep hill from a nearby apartment complex. Not sure if it was our apartment complex at the time, but I digress. On this particular day I happened to fall into the creek itself. Maybe the hill was too steep for my weak little kid legs, or maybe I was just another young uncoordinated doofus. Personally, I'm leaning towards the latter.
I remember my dad laying himself out to grab me and me ending up completely soaked from my unplanned baptism. I remember being stuck in those cold, heavy clothes for longer than I was comfortable with, most likely ingrained into me during the return trip home from that ruined excursion. It's weird, remembering such a rather uneventful event 28 years later. It's not like I was scared or traumatized, or that my father had such an amazing outburst that it's etched into my head. I don't remember anything particularly negative from that day at all. It was more a situation of me getting my clothes wet for the first time and not knowing what to do next. A simple bout of confusion for a feeble-minded child.
But I think the reason why I remember it so well is because it was the last time I can remember my father or I getting to hang out or do anything together. There's always been a longing for that moment again, not the part of falling into a creek, but when a time when I could go out and have fun with someone. I had a fairly sheltered childhood, and looking back I think a large part of it was due to this moment. I've long suspected that my mom has lived with undiagnosed anxiety, and her chronic worrying more than likely caused this to be my last outing with dad as a child.
I think it's invariably true that people will sooner or later become their parents, and my guess is likely because they end up instilling their fears into us. In many ways I've always been afraid of taking risks, of making a mistake, of failure. Maybe I’m making this memory more seminal than it deserves to be. Perhaps it only cemented itself into my head from all the times I would come across that cheaply-made plastic fishing pole over the years and recalling the last time I got to use it. Regardless, I’ve always had a sense of apprehension and caution around people, often going out of my way to be of use or service to them to lessen these anxieties. For the most part, it keeps me out of conflict and in the positive esteem of most people, even despite the total lack of meaningful connection between us.
Sometimes I wonder if my dad was the same way. Going out of his way to please my over-anxious mother in order to keep me safe and her as free from worry as he can make her. It also makes me wonder if I’m doomed to undermine any possible relationship from being too concerned about others and never taking the risk of imposing myself on them. My tendency to mind my own business and leave others in peace probably has more to do with how toxic the relationship was between my parents more than anything else. A control-freak with a people-pleaser reeks of codependency issues, and if true, likely suggests that my inability to find or make a loving relationship stems from the fact that I was never really exposed to one. Every time they suggested a divorce, I actually encouraged it. It was something that always made perfect sense to me, so it came as no surprise when they inevitably got one.
The unfortunate thing about anxiety is that it’s almost always rooted in some type of trauma. I know my mom has had her fair share of negative experiences growing up, and I see it more and more in myself the way I act around other people. I don’t have much faith that people can ever do the right thing, and I don’t know how reflective of reality that really is. Are most people truly thoughtless and lazy and only willing to do the bare minimum to get by or whatever else happens to be most convenient? Or am I so focused on mistakes and flaws that I lose the forest for the trees? Do I really trivialize hordes of people over relatively minor details, or are my concerns validated by the relatively awful ways we treat each other? I can’t say that I know for sure.
But anxieties can be lessened, and maybe that’s the best compromise I can reach until I have a definitive judgement on the state of humanity. When this dog first wandered into my life, I couldn’t help but notice how wrinkled his forehead was. In my naivety, I just assumed he was an ugly dog with a lumpy head. I didn’t think much of it until I’ve recently started to notice how smooth his forehead is now. It wasn’t until last night that it occurred to me that his brow was furrowed from his anxiousness. He was wearing his worry on his face in a brand new environment, while I was mostly focused on how annoying his anxious behavior made him.
I’ve been reflecting on this and realize that I can be pretty dutiful and diligent in my approach to things, but it’s a kind of cerebral rigidity that sets a standard that many others are unwilling or unable to meet. Thankfully, I’m quite affectionate with my dogs and the love and support I’ve been giving them acts as a perfect balance for the structure and the stability that I’m trying to instill in these dogs. I don’t think caving in to his every demand just because he’s a little rattled by his circumstances would be sustainable in the long run.
I’m realizing now that it’s hard to have a balanced approach when dealing with people’s feelings. I’ve been so accustomed to rationality from my own emotional neglect that I’ve grown to rationally neglect the emotions of others. Being happy and carefree is all fine and good, but when you start shirking or minimizing your responsibilities, it ends up bringing everyone else down. At work, while not outspoken or confrontational, I’ve still tended to be pretty harsh and critical towards people’s lack of effort when they’re around me. Most of my coworkers avoid talking to me in large part because of this intolerance. I often find myself biting my tongue because I know my brand of sarcasm is too bitter for their tastes.
I wish I could be softer in my dealings with people. When you’re so accustomed to disappointment, it hardens you to the point where you lose confidence in the people around you. I turn cold and dismissive when I would really like to be more assertive and demanding. Then end result is roughly the same for me, because people don’t want to risk making me angry, but I feel like if there was more warmth to balance out this out, I might not be so isolated. It’s not like I’m critical because I want to tear others down or silence some insecurity, but because I want to bring out the best in them. Probably the way my parents wanted to bring out the best in me.
I always rank pretty high in conscientiousness in every online personality test I take. That, and introversion, are the only facets of my psyche that never really deviate between different test results. I guess it’s a natural impulse for people to want others to be more like them. Extroverts tell introverts to speak up more, carefree people tell those more serious to lighten up, religious people tell the non-religious to turn towards their God. I guess it’s par for the course that I would want people to handle their sh*t and focus on the consequences of their actions. Maybe there’s nothing to fix here and some personalities are simply incompatible.
I guess that’s why people struggle so much with relationships. There’s always a disconnect between the way a person is and their idealized self. We fall in love with someone’s potential rather than what they actually bring to the table, and difference is more than likely going to provide a constant source of tension for those hoping to find that mutual understanding. That’s really what the biggest problem is at the end of the day. We just don’t understand each other, and after enough failed attempts, we give up trying.
I have no doubt that this is why political discourse has completely fallen apart in the US, and why people are becoming increasingly isolated in our new digital world. You only ever get to see snapshots of what another person contributes to the discussion, and there’s no real balanced approach to build the trust needed to understand another. Part of why this dog has made such incredible progress in his separation anxiety has been because we see more of each other. There’s love and affection there to make up for the times we butt heads in order to ensure our own needs. Ultimately, we both want security and stability, but getting past our own fears and anxieties to reach that place of equilibrium takes time. I still worry he’s going to misbehave in public, even though he’s a sweet dog that just wants a little positive attention. Isn’t that what we all want?
It’s tough to toe the line between hoping for the best and expecting the worst. Lean too far one way and you’re liable to get burned. Lean too far the other way and you’ll end up alone. I wish I knew a better way to achieve satisfactory results without stepping over people who aren’t on board with the mission. I have a reputation for reliability on the job, and maybe that’s the best place to start. Could be that it’s all a waste of effort and most people are too set in their ways to care. I don’t know yet, but I do know that you don’t get very far if you don’t try something.
I’ve been taking some time to explain myself to my coworkers whenever they do have to deal with me. Not in any kind of ultimatum, just letting them know why I get things done the way I like them done. It’s a little tedious and not often timely, but I feel like it’s at least getting us to the beginning stage of bridge-building rather using that effort to put up walls and shield myself from their more lackadaisical attitudes. Not sure how much progress will end up being made, but even if it all blows up, at least I know I’m well-versed in doing things on my own.
31-35, M
