My life revolves around my dogs
And while I'm certainly much happier than I've been in recent years, I do wonder if this is ultimately going to cement my loneliness in. I've always been someone that valued my own time, whether it's to pursue interests, to work on myself, or simply to recuperate from the demands of being an adult with responsibilities, and so I've invariably ended up quite solitary by nature.
But with two energetic dogs with needs of their own, I find that I'm dedicating much of my free-time to making sure they're physically active, mentally stimulated, and emotionally nurtured. It's beyond a doubt the highlight of each day and a deeply rewarding call to action, but it is quite time-consuming.
I find that I often have to reprioritize a lot of things on my agenda to make sure there's time for them, and it's become inevitable that there's very little room to socialize outside brief interactions at the dog park, empty platitudes with uninterested cashiers, or compulsory small-talk at work or with passing neighbors.
I think that's really the appeal of a place like this in which, despite my lack of friends, there's actually room to express whatever thoughts I wish to express. The hope has always been that I'd make at least 1 good friend here, but it seems my personality is too repugnant for anyone to bother. Regardless, it's the only form of socialization available to me, so I try to utilize it as best as I can.
Whether it's the wall of anonymity here or the invisible chariot these dogs drag me around in, the opportunities to meaningfully connect with another person are but tiny windows one can hardly see through. I wonder if life will ever slow down enough to just take some time to talk to another person and perhaps build something from it, but so far it doesn't seem to be the case.
Feeling alienated is nothing new to me. It was there long before these dogs and I have no reason to believe it won't be there after, but the part of me longing for more can't help but ponder if there's anything beyond the horizon worth chasing. So far, the people in my life have been massively disappointing. Having these creatures that actually bother returning the love you give them has been the second most reliable thing following that.
Still, they're not much for conversation and don't really offer any alternative points of view. It's hard to broaden your mind or challenge your beliefs when you're busy playing fetch and going for walks. There's only the knowledge that there people all around you and you don't really know a single one of them. Nor they you.
Empathy functions a lot like a muscle, and when it never has a chance to work out, it atrophies. The parts of you seeking to be cared for and embraced as a complex creature never get a chance at satisfaction since time constraints boil you down to being a mere role player. Like a chess piece that never gets to advance while the board around them seems flush with action. A spectator constrained to their seat.
I do deeply love these dogs, but they can only do so much for me. My needs are a little more complex than their simple minds can process. If this is my fate in life, then I suppose it's not that bad. I can certainly learn to be content with this arrangement. But once you're in your 30s, you realize that youth is a fading commodity and the feeling that life is passing you by hits a little too hard some days.
Having people that can enrich your life experience through their own would be such a welcome respite from the tangled webs of obligation, but the method and means of obtaining such a luxury seem beyond my grasp. Then again, it always has been. These pets of mine are far better than having only yourself at the end of each day. They're much easier to understand than people are.
But with two energetic dogs with needs of their own, I find that I'm dedicating much of my free-time to making sure they're physically active, mentally stimulated, and emotionally nurtured. It's beyond a doubt the highlight of each day and a deeply rewarding call to action, but it is quite time-consuming.
I find that I often have to reprioritize a lot of things on my agenda to make sure there's time for them, and it's become inevitable that there's very little room to socialize outside brief interactions at the dog park, empty platitudes with uninterested cashiers, or compulsory small-talk at work or with passing neighbors.
I think that's really the appeal of a place like this in which, despite my lack of friends, there's actually room to express whatever thoughts I wish to express. The hope has always been that I'd make at least 1 good friend here, but it seems my personality is too repugnant for anyone to bother. Regardless, it's the only form of socialization available to me, so I try to utilize it as best as I can.
Whether it's the wall of anonymity here or the invisible chariot these dogs drag me around in, the opportunities to meaningfully connect with another person are but tiny windows one can hardly see through. I wonder if life will ever slow down enough to just take some time to talk to another person and perhaps build something from it, but so far it doesn't seem to be the case.
Feeling alienated is nothing new to me. It was there long before these dogs and I have no reason to believe it won't be there after, but the part of me longing for more can't help but ponder if there's anything beyond the horizon worth chasing. So far, the people in my life have been massively disappointing. Having these creatures that actually bother returning the love you give them has been the second most reliable thing following that.
Still, they're not much for conversation and don't really offer any alternative points of view. It's hard to broaden your mind or challenge your beliefs when you're busy playing fetch and going for walks. There's only the knowledge that there people all around you and you don't really know a single one of them. Nor they you.
Empathy functions a lot like a muscle, and when it never has a chance to work out, it atrophies. The parts of you seeking to be cared for and embraced as a complex creature never get a chance at satisfaction since time constraints boil you down to being a mere role player. Like a chess piece that never gets to advance while the board around them seems flush with action. A spectator constrained to their seat.
I do deeply love these dogs, but they can only do so much for me. My needs are a little more complex than their simple minds can process. If this is my fate in life, then I suppose it's not that bad. I can certainly learn to be content with this arrangement. But once you're in your 30s, you realize that youth is a fading commodity and the feeling that life is passing you by hits a little too hard some days.
Having people that can enrich your life experience through their own would be such a welcome respite from the tangled webs of obligation, but the method and means of obtaining such a luxury seem beyond my grasp. Then again, it always has been. These pets of mine are far better than having only yourself at the end of each day. They're much easier to understand than people are.
31-35, M
