I have a tendency to get lost in transitions. I long for healing, for newness, for the adventure of change. I intentionally make choices that I know will be challenging because I know the resulting outcomes will be much more abundant and fulfilling than the results of taking the easy road.
But in the middle of things, when the past is too far back to return to and the outcome is too far forward to see clearly, I get lost. I forget. I second guess. I question my hearing, my motives and my ability to make choices that will actually accomplish my dreams.
The transition of New Puppy has me tipped and mucking around in the ditch right now. Not enough sleep. Not enough down time. Not enough of me to go around.
What was I thinking? Adding a pup. Now.
Still in the tunnel of the 20th anniversary transition of my marriage. Still in the tunnel of healing childhood wounds revealed last October. Still in the tunnel of finding the end to a career and discovering a new outlet for my talents.
I was thinking about the warmth and joy I know only a dog can bring. I was thinking about the daily reminder of the importance of being in the moment - there is no being more in the moment than a dog. Especially a puppy whose attention span is only a fraction of a moment long. I was thinking about the feeling of celebration and love that comes from having a companion who lives to be happy.
I was thinking he'd be a perfect source of lightness and fun while I did the hard work of writing my book.
I hadn't planned on not getting to write at all. I figured his nap times would give me plenty of time to write. The four cats and the unbelievable extra amount of mess and a fatigue-soaked brain have more than filled that time. I'm grumpy, irritable and impatient.
This isn't what I planned.
What I realized this week, however, is that there is a surprise abundance to this time. The exhaustion has left me vulnerable and less able to contain the childhood feelings that have been waiting decades for a safe release. It's impossible to maintain status quo in a marriage when routines are being rewritten on the fly and both partners are stretched thin. The career it's time to leave has become a haven of sorts. I savor what I know are lasts and enjoy the ease of the automatic.
The book is being written - just not in the time or way I had planned. My life is being lived - just not as neatly or safely as I'm comfortable with. Change is happening - never as quickly or smoothly as I plan.
Toby is doing his job - well, thoroughly, and with no worries about not being enough. He is all puppy all the time. And when he got me up at 4:30 this morning unbelievably happy to see my unshining countenance, I could be grateful and almost as happy to see him.