You accept responsibility for the dog you just adopted and know that the dog must be walked everyday. Wether it is going for its essential needs or just to let go of some energy, it has to go. It has to be.
However, this dog hasn’t been getting out of the house lately.
It had moved countries and its routine was completely changed. It’s not doing too good. There are days were zoomies take over and it is a joy to be around it and there are others where it sleeps all day and doesn’t want to be seen.
Now here’s what I consider to be an interesting thought.
I kept thinking of how dog owners have the responsibility of walking their dogs everyday and how I don’t even walk myself everyday.
Not to sound dramatic, my days have been mentally terrifying. It’s as if I am locked at home but I am the one holding the key. Why don’t I set myself free? God knows.
My life has been through immense changes recently (I think we can all relate on this). Quarantine, changing countries, deciding to wait up a year to do god knows what… I don’t regret any of my decisions but it’s been rough.
Although I am certain it’s all for the best and for the interest of my future, my mental health doesn’t care for reason.
You are home? You are alone, lonely, you have no one around.
You are having fun? You’ll soon leave and nothing of this will matter.
You are being productive? Well but look at the shit job you are doing, you shouldn’t have even started.
My heart is runs marathons while I am silently enjoying a book. My watch tells me to breathe.
I practice mindfulness. I meditate. I try yoga once again. I sign up for the gym. I start learning French. I make embroidery. Sculpture. Cross-stitch. Paint. Decorate my bedroom. Tidy everything around me. Post a picture on social media. Make sure to put more stuff on my Etsy or people will think I quit. Make illustrations. Try to put on makeup. Feel good about myself. I love myself. I hate anxiety. I take a pill, it does nothing. I breathe. I write. Write. Write. Write. Go pet my dog. Now the dog wants to come inside and is crying. I try to ignore it. I play. I get tired. I wait. I do nothing.
I have achieved nothing.
I get in bed and look at past photos with a knot in the throat. Can’t believe I am not there anymore. Can’t believe they are not here. If only I had a reason to go out. Just for a walk.
Why don’t I just go alone? Why don’t I just go visit family? Are any friends available? Probably not. Beach? Not a big fan. Cinema? Alone? And in the middle of a pandemic? Garden? What’s there to do?
I keep dreading walking myself. As if when you are not well emotionally everything outside sounds daunting.
I tell myself that I am okay. I convince others of the same. Everything is well. Everything is great. Everything is fine. Everything is okay…everything is not okay.
Realizing this becomes the greatest epiphany.
I took myself and my dog (ironically enough) out for a walk. She got tired and so did I. She was exhausted of walking on a hot summer day. I was exhausted socially. We turned back.
I came back worse. I guess I don’t need just a walk.