Tag Archives: anger

My Best Friend :Soul Training

Sometimes you meet someone new, and you just instantly know that you will be friends.  You are not sure why, or what it is you have in common, but something flows between you that is almost effortless, and it is like a breath of fresh air in a world full of stifling pollution.

Usually it happens at “just the right time.”  “Just when you need it most.”  You may even feel “saved.”

Is Dog, God?

I’ve been seeking some sort of salvation my whole life.   Mostly I want to be saved from being lonely.  Lonely isn’t just a word, though; it is a big concept.  It’s definition isn’t even vast until you start researching the synonyms… “godforsaken” is my favorite.

Godforsaken!  It sounds pretty profound but it breaks down to “forlorn, desolate, miserable,”  basically Emotional Shitsville in a country called Isolation.

I’ve come to accept that I don’t think like a mass majority of people, and that can be scary for both parties.  Words are steeped in various meanings and history has shown that  words are manipulated and it isn’t rare to rule with an Iron Fist.   “A certain amount of violence is needed to keep them in line”- sort of mentality that I am way too familiar with.

I’ve written five chapters thus far.  It’s time to talk about my failures as a human.  My dog has been gone for 24 hours.  I’ve been unable to censor myself online about this journey.  The only thing I hope to gain from it, is a living record for myself and anyone who cares for whatever reason.  I haven’t been perfect, and none of us are.  Is a dog God with such unconditional love?

Have you ever just brushed someone away, and said, “No, not now?”

Or, maybe had a bad day and then poured all that anger on to an unsuspecting person?

Yeah.  I do.  I think that this is an unavoidable byproduct of life if you don’t become aware of it.   One of the shittiest feelings in the world is when you know you harmed someone else.

In the beginning, both Claddagh and I had our own quirks.  Her nervous behavior and my own anxiety would clash and being the dominate in the situation, sometimes I would take it out on her aggressively.   The worst thing she ever did was chew on stuff that she shouldn’t and occasionally steal my food and coffee, if left unattended.  I didn’t get mad a her about that stuff… I would express aggression toward her when other things were going wrong in my life, and she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

One day I had a melt down and she really took the brunt of it.  Afterward I felt so guilty and ashamed, so much so that I consulted friends about finding her a new home.   I didn’t deserve her.  That feeling never left me.  I didn’t deserve her affection and love, because I did the one thing that you should never do, which is fly off the handle and harm someone you love.  Somehow in that large heart of hers, she always forgave and came back to my side.

She was able to see the intangible sadness that had always existed in me.  She knew that there was a certain sense of Godforsaken loneliness inside that she wouldn’t be able to fully fix for me, she was a willing “band-aid.”

That is the interesting thing about animals, their senses tell them so much about their world, yet they can’t articulate the depth of their experience to us in ways that we can relate.  So we find middle ground that makes us both feel good.   That was the goal anyway,  so any deviation from that goal feels like devastation.

I’d like to say that I never got mad at Claddagh again, but incidences did arise.  I was never as aggressive with her again, as the time I thought I should re-home her but that didn’t matter.  I hated expressing anger at her because I knew above all that she was just a pure spirit.

Today was day two of waking up without her.  I slept in until noon just to avoid the reality and because writing all of this out and drinking vodka is very tiresome.   I still want to cry but I feel resistance. My eyes go through patches of cloudiness that I can’t seem to rub away.  I know I am dehydrated.  I just want my dog.

Here are some weird facts about my Claddagh;

1.) She never, ever would shit on the trail.   She would always find a place off trail to do her business, and I thought that was super respectable.

2.) She never once peed or pooped in the house.  Not one accident like that.

3.) One time she got sick in my car, she purposely puked in the removable cup holder.  Another time she got sick in the barn loft and made sure to puke on the tile and not on the carpet.

If a dog could be considerate, I think that these three facts really represent that about her.   She knew that I could get into stressful states, and it’s like she did everything she could to not make that worse in me.   She knew that if she stayed out of the way, that I would come to her in defeat and just hold her and cry.

It took a while for us to learn that in each other.  When to walk away, to calm down so that everything could be handled with more patience and decorum.  No doubt these are useful attributes with all living beings, and Claddagh held space for me to work on cultivating those traits.

In twenty four hours, I am missing attributes Claddagh had that I took for granted; from catching pesky flies and mosquitoes, to not helping me finish the last quarter of the hamburger… just weird small things you don’t think much about.  Last night I was eaten up by bugs, and I made myself sick by finishing the last of the burger because it seemed somehow wrong to throw it into the trash.  I just sat looking back and forth and the burger and the empty spot on the floor where Claddagh would be patiently waiting for her portion.

She could have food sitting in her bowl all day, and yet she would wait to eat until I was eating.   I wish I was as good of a human, as she was as a dog.

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Get Clean!

I hate cleaning. Unless I’m angry.

My initials are M.E.S.; let me break some of this down.

Growing up, my Step Mom was quite the “Martha Stewart” (huh, I wonder if Martha’s middle name is Elizabeth, too).  Each weekend my brother and I had to have our rooms clean by the end of the day on Sunday.

Like most kids I liked to play outside, read books and watch cartoons.  Who in their right mind would want to be inside cleaning, on the weekend?

I saw the down side of cleaning at a young age- that down side, is the strong urge to immediately make another mess.  See, when it is always messy, it just goes through degrees of discord but everything is already out, ready to use at a moments notice.  When it was clean and organized, I would want to use it all, at the same time- right way!

I’d hate to totally misrepresent myself with a false sense of simplistic organization.

The weekends it was easiest to de-clutter and clean, were the weekends I was most upset about something, and may or may not be confined to my room as a sort of punishment.  These were the best cleaning days.  I would take the entire weekend to “disassemble to reassemble”, fueled purely by rage, passion, angst and melancholy.

I would take the rage out, by dumping everything onto the floor, and passionately sorting it all out, pain-painstakingly putting it in it’s  new right place.  The melancholy was evident as I wiped clean the drawers while listening to moody music.  I would clean it ALL, and not just the knick knack shelves and obvious flat surfaces I was required to dust.  I would process my emotions by attempting to control order.

By the time our rooms were to be checked on Sunday, I would be running low on energy and I would end up with a small pile of miscellaneous, which would be dedicated to the perpetual epicenter of chaos that is a junk drawer.

Cleaning, to me represents anger, isolation and process.   It is the absolute feeling of controlling ones own environment.  It can be a safe, yet violent upheaval with peaceful results.  Rearrangement or superficial change are the quickest ways to to feel renewal, or personal shift.  How much we actually settle into the temporary nature of it, depends on the individual.

For me, I am a mess.  I can keep it together for everyone else.   For them, I can color within the lines and organize like no ones business…. but for me, it just doesn’t take a priority.  And that is weird, because I really appreciate cleanliness.

We all know what it is like to stay overnight somewhere and the bathroom is filthy.  “Like, how many years of pubic hairs have accumulated at the base of your toilet?” kind of gross.

My Step Mom helped me to appreciate the not so subtle and subtle nuances of cleanliness.  I am forever grateful that she made me and my brother take turns cleaning the bathroom.  I appreciate the fact that I now have an ingrained disgust for piling amounts of filth.

-Side note, I remember (way back when) I was nineteen, looking for places to live in the SF Bay Area, and I was checking out roommate situations.  I found a Craigslist Ad for a woman looking for live in help/ roommate in the downtown Oakland area.  I figured out how to get there on bus to meet with her and the minute I walked in, I wanted to walk right back out.

I don’t have animal allergies but the minute she opened the door I saw the draft catch a massive amount of cat hair and it was whirled into the air, falling like a cat hair shower.

As she showed me around the place, I mentally noted how it was absolutely puuurfect, except for her inability to clean up after seemingly, anything. The four cats, obviously were not pulling their weight in this household,  rather they were just letting it accumulate in the corners.   I quickly found my way out and back to the bus.

I could tell you more stories about gross roommates, but I will save you your stomach.

I try to be a self contained mess.  My room is organized, overall… but it is cluttered at times mostly with clothes.  If I am in the middle of a project, or a show, my stuff get’s scattered in public areas; I keep this to a minimum.

Then, there is the work space.  It’s much like my childhood bedroom… it goes through a revamp when I am frustrated.  My creativity and cleanliness are both tied to boiling emotions, or anxiety.  Sometimes the anxiety is positive, but it seems rare to have that kind of feeling. ( A For Instance is wanting to impress some one but I kind of run with a “No Fucks Given” kind of attitude, so that kind of thing is rare.)

I think I might want to reevaluate my relationship what what I think Cleanliness and/or Order, are.   My Facebook Cleanse has been good, and I am more bored than before! I like creating content that may be useful… so I am thinking about taking my relationship to Clean to a new level and understanding, especially if it means your interaction and support.

I will start with 10 days and see how it goes. Everyday, I have to clean something and write about it. Deep Clean and Deep Dialog.  Maybe it will be a Conversation with Clean.  What can I deep clean over ten days?  How will it make me and my grandma feel?  (She already thinks I clean too much.)

Where will I start?

Last September, I deep cleaned and reorganized my room from top to bottom.  It had been a few years since I had rearranged.  It felt good, and I was sleeping better. I was able to maintain all of it for just under two months, when a kittery came into my life.  Over all, it’s maintained, but I noticed the layer of dust last night and felt a spark of inspiration to renew, again.

There are plenty of places in this four bedroom, one and a half bath home with an attached garage and basement that need attention, yet again.  Maybe I can reprocess parts of myself by taking note in the journey.  Do you want to hear about healing through cleaning?  They do say that “Cleanliness is next to Godliness”.  This could be interesting.

The nice thing about writing, is the accountability in publishing a series.  I don’t really market or advertise my work.  My follow-ship is pretty small.  If you do like my writing, and benefit from it in some way; I will remind you that it is always okay to share and that I do have a paypal link on the homepage for this site.   I won’t complain a bit if you throw a bone or two my way as an appreciation for the content, and I will make sure to shout you out in the next article.

I hope you enjoy reading these as much as I enjoy writing them.  If you have inspirational ideas or insights, please leave a comment or send me message. I appreciate you and Thank you for your patronage!