dog whisperer I am not

dom·i·nant [dom-uh-nuhnt]
–adjective
1. ruling, governing, or controlling; having or exerting authority or influence: dominant in the chain of command.
2. occupying or being in a commanding or elevated position.

al·pha [al-fuh]
–adjective
a. (esp. of animals) having the highest rank of its sex in a dominance hierarchy: the alpha female.
b. being the most prominent, talented, or aggressive person in a group

Neither of these adjectives describe me at home. Now, at work-- that's a different story. As I've mentioned recently, I am two different people: one, at work, is self-assured, authoritative, and unafraid. The other, at home, is meek, still, and quiet. I could be neither one without the other-- one is my relief from the other.

I will fully recognize that I let Bub run my house too much. He's small and doesn't ask for much, so to let him lead on walks or beg for food or jump on the couch without asking really didn't affect my life that much in any negative way. Throw this big, lumbering, clumsy, teenage puppy into the mix, though, and we've got a problem. And I think he's big now... no telling the mess he'll be able to make when he's full grown if I don't nip this in the bud right now. By the way, we've named him Boone.

I've been researching puppy training. I've always watched the dog whisperer and agree with his reinforcement and calm-assertive techniques. The problem isn't the dog; it's me. I feel myself getting frustrated, pent-up anger boiling inside my chest, yelling instead of calmly and directly giving instructions. I wouldn't yell or get angry at work, so I don't know where that comes from at home. I guess it's because I am the other person at home, the quiet one who expects her world at home to be quiet as well, so when anything disturbs that it upsets me.

But I'm working on it, and we're getting there. It's a learning experience for both of us. I knew better than to get a puppy... but as puppies go, he's smart, well-meaning, quite calm actually, and can entertain himself for the most part. I've begun getting up at 7 a.m. to walk him before work, and I go home at lunch as well. At night we walk again, but anything beyond 15 minutes outside is too much. It's 104 here today. Fetch will come later this month, when the sun decides to stop trying to fry us like eggs.

He walks on a leash perfectly, I'll give him that. He occasionally gets excited and tries to pull, but one Cesar-style quick tug on the leash and he's back in line beside me. He can also sit on command about 90% of the time. The other 10% comes from him being a puppy with an attention span of about 3 seconds. He knows what to do, he's just not always listening.

We're learning down-- that's an easy one. Stay is the big problem. Again, with such a short attention span, to get him to pay attention to the fact that he should remain on his hindquarters for longer than it takes for me to step away is quite a feat. I need him to learn stay, though, because he bolts in and out of doors so quickly I know he's going to take me and Bub down with him eventually-- it's only a matter of time. I make him sit every time he wants something, whether it's food, a toy, to go out, or even a pat on the head. He's working for me. He resists my commands much more often than my husband's; I've decided it has to do with the tone of his voice, so now I boom out in a deep timber when I say SIT. It seems to also help if I over-enunciate the T, with a little spit at the end. Can you tell I'm over-analyzing?

I know what will help me the most will be to see continued progress with him and to gain confidence from that progress. What he needs from me most is for me to be a confident leader, like the people at work have, and not the quiet girl my husband knows best. I have to train myself first.

Boone and Bub, on their first day together. Bub has claimed Boone's new bed, and Boone is trying desperately to get Bub to play with him.

signs that your husband loves you

6) Even though he's not quite sure about the whole thing, he lets you adopt a dog in need, and then comments on how good it does feel to save one and very happily tries to think of a name with you.

Meet the newest member of our clan... yet to be named (Buster? Buddy? Ernie? Petty? Hesus?), a five-month-old lab/pointer mix from the local shelter, found abandoned and starving at a run-down apartment complex, now to be loved and spoiled and cherished his whole life:

7) All these things and so many more tiny things, like reaching out and squeezing my knee while he's driving, or running his hand down my back while we wait on a table at a restaurant, or letting me have the last of the peach cobbler, or sending me flowers even when I told him not to, with a handwritten card so sweet it brought tears to my eyes...

If I could give any advice to anyone on how to find a mate, I would say, "Find your best friend, and marry them!" Living every day with him is a joy, not a job, and I wouldn't trade any of it, not the worsts, not the struggles, not the sicknesses, not any of it.

signs that your husband loves you

5) He has to kiss you goodbye three times before he leaves for the day.

signs that your husband loves you

2) When he uses his earned free Chinese buffet (buy 9, get the 10th free) to take you to lunch.

3) If he can't make reservations at the restaurant you want because it's closed for a private party the night of your anniversary, he makes plans to take you instead to the restaurant where you had your first date, and then makes reservations for Sunday brunch at the restaurant you wanted to go to in the first place. All to make you happy, even though a frozen pizza would be fine, as long as you're with him.

4) When you get up for work on the morning of his day off, he cajoles you to spend an extra five minutes in bed so you can rub his head and talk to him about his plans for the day.

signs that your husband loves you

Friday is my fifth wedding anniversary. In celebration, I'm going to be naming things this week that show, even after five years, an international move, loss of loved ones, buying a house, finding jobs, and becoming adults, it's possible to still be totally and completely in love with someone. 

1) When you turn over in the middle of the night, half-awake, and the cover slides down off your arm a little, exposing some skin, and you feel your husband reach over and quietly and gently slide the sheet back up over your arm to protect you, you know you're really loved.

the real me

Please excuse the cryptic nature of my last post. It was a late-night thought, one that was rattling around in my head as I tried to find sleep after a tough Friday, and I figured if I put it out there, on "paper," it would stop assaulting my brain so I could get some sleep. It worked, thankfully.

I also think, on occasion, you get better answers if you lead with the question rather than the explanation, and that also worked this time, thankfully. Thank you for your comments, they were all very provoking.

On to the explanation. My boss forced me to have a conversation with Emily on Friday. He sat down as the mediator and made us talk to each other honestly about the tension that's been between us for the last couple months. She explained that this is her first real job, and as she watched me take on new duties in my stride, she began to get nervous about her place here, plus with all the growth we've had she's been stressed out anyway. This caused her to freak out and tell me a couple different times that she "didn't care anymore" and that she wanted to quit.

I, in turn, stopped caring about her. In my mind, if she was done with us, if she was on the way out the door, then what was the point of having conversations with her and debating points with her? Why should she get a say in anything if she didn't care anymore?

She told me that she's fine now, that she's over that feeling, that she's found her place and she's happy. It's true that she and my boss aren't fighting anymore, which I'm sure was causing some of those issues.

But I, being me, feel myself not being "over" it. I still feel uneasy with her, unable to trust that she's not going to get stressed out and threaten to quit all over again. I feel like maybe she showed me her true colors. We all get overwhelmed and worried and panicked sometimes, but I see now how she  reacts to that-- like a child throwing a tantrum rather than a rational adult. Of course she and I are exact opposites (quite literally), so I probably shouldn't expect any different, but I would at least hope that she would recognize that both as her friend and the manager of HR for our company, she shouldn't drag me under with her when she starts to flail. It wouldn't help either of us.

I suppose I, as her friend, should have recognized what her struggle was really about, but I've never been very good at reaching out to those in need in any emotional way. I am guarded. I give rational advice, not a shoulder for irrational fears. I always have been and probably always will be this way. I learned very early on that I am too soft-hearted to let most people in. I nearly lost myself at 12 when my brother threatened to rip me to pieces, and so the wall went up. I really think if I took it down for the wrong person I could lose myself again.

I steel myself up continually, swallow down that part of me that really just wants to weep for the state of the world, and face the day bravely, with a cold stare and a raised eyebrow, because it's all I know how to do. I think if I were to let go, there would be nothing left to gather back in. The world sees me as cold and stoic, but those that I've let in know the truth about me, that I'm a blubbering idiot with a heart of mush. Just ask my husband. I feel schizophrenic, that there are people in the world who, when I do something at work like laugh and lightly skip down the hall, look at me and say, "Wow, I've never seen that side of you before." While others, when they visit me at work or listen to me speak to an outsider, say, "Where did that come from?" in reference to my cool or logical tone.

I am both of these people, I need both of these people in order to survive, and one is not whole without the other. The problem occurs when they try to meet, like when a coworker is also a friend, or when a family member becomes an outsider by breaking my trust, and my heart. Then I get confused and am never sure how to react or who to be. Which one is the real me? Which one do I prefer? Neither, and both.

self-reflection

My trust is not easily won and then not easily lost. Once lost, however, it's near impossible to win back. I don't think this is a good thing. If I know this about myself, why can I not change it?

some days

There are some days that I just want to physically assault people.

I am so fed up. I feel like my soul is boiling in my chest, that if I open my clenched jaw an ear-piercing scream will emerge, my hands so tight in fists I nearly puncture palms with fingernails. I can't abide ineptitude, incompetence, and I have absolutely no patience for backhanded, sweetly-veiled threats. Absolutely none. Say it or don't, but tell the truth, and don't expect to hear from me anything but the truth in return.

A coworker, Emily actually, someone who up until recently I counted as a friend as well, has been driving me up the wall. I'm at the point that I just can't take it anymore. The fighting between her and our boss (her close friend) got to a point where they finally exploded and now they don't talk unless it's purely for business. It's actually worked better for the most part, for all of us, but she's decided for some reason that she'll fight with me instead. Every favor I ask of her is met with some sort of remark, every challenge I present her in a discussion is met with harsh disdain. I don't know if it's jealousy or fear at how quickly we're growing or just stress, but I'm so tired of it that I catch myself snapping back at her for no good reason. Mostly I just ignore her comments and only talk to her about work-related things, and 80% of the time we're ok. It's the other 20%, though, that's going to do me in.

Today, she asked me if I thought she could get a raise. She framed it with "I know we're struggling financially right now, but I really need a better car [hers is nearly dead], and I can't afford it on what I'm making now." Our company has been in the red the last few months as we struggle to finish up some projects. We're a small company, a start-up, and we rely very heavily on each other. She was the second of the twenty employees we have, and she carries a lot of responsibility no one else could pick up right now. She knows all that very well. Not to mention that I'm not sure she's earned the raise either. She works hard, sure, and does a lot of work, but she makes sure that we all know exactly how hard she's working, and she's threatened three times in the last six months to quit. She's cut back on her hours and has asked to leave the leadership team as well.

When I told her I didn't think raises would be possible til December, she said she was going to be looking for a weekend job, but that she's also going to be polishing up her resume to send out, "just to see what's out there." Oh, and "please don't say anything to anyone."

Maybe I'm just taking it the wrong way. Maybe it's the day I'm having. But what that looked like to me was "Give me a raise, please. Oh, you can't? Well, why don't I just see who will," without any understanding of the fact that we all, all twenty of us, are working our fingers to the bone towards a common purpose, a common aim, and that none of the rest of us are so self-important as to think that we could just give up on that purpose and walk away from this. I can't imagine quitting. I would feel tremendous guilt for those I had left behind to pick up my pieces. I care about the people here and about our work, but apparently having a newer car is more important to her than that. I'm busting my balls here, struggling, pushing pieces of my personal life to the side, so that one day I can say that I helped my friend, my boss, create an amazing company that does amazing work, and sit by his side around a large Board of Directors table, a Chief in front of my title, and look back on the meager beginnings we had. But apparently she'd rather have an SUV than see the rest of us and herself succeed here. Apparently she doesn't care as much as I thought she did. And I don't know what to do with that, other than to clench my jaw,  swallow it down, and get on with my work.

temptation not quite resisted

I'm eating an apple, a petite fist-size Pink Lady, juicy with a purse-your-lips-sour afterglow, the way I would think this magenta-pink color would taste if colors had tastes. But I don't want it. I want a Kit Kat. And a Dr. Pepper.

Last night for dinner we had baked salmon, brown rice, and sauteed squash (fresh from my backyard), but I didn't want it. I wanted a cheeseburger (veggie-burger, please) and steak fries. Even though I had had mac and cheese, sweet potato casserole, and cornbread for lunch.

I'm on a junk food kick. I want to fill myself up with cheesy biscuits and soft drinks and mint ice cream and chocolate brownies and McDonald's fries. And, yes, all at once is fine. In fact, it's better.

I'm sucking down this apple bite by bite even though the sourness is parching my throat and the chewiness is hurting my teeth. It's not even a good apple. I have cash-- that's the problem. There's a gas station next to my office, full of Ding-Dongs and M&Ms and caffeinated drinks, and I have cash in my wallet that's begging to be spent. I never have cash, they only take cash, and I'm hungry for junk food. Sounds like a no-brainer, right?

Yep.

Hey, at least it's a Coke Zero

no pill for "old"

I splashed cold water on my face and, cross-eyed, I watched the soapy water drip off the end of my nose into the sink. It's already July 1, I thought, half the year gone. How old am I? 27. No... that's not right. I was born in '82... it's 2010... I'm 28. How am I 28? Shit, I'm almost 30. Old. My heart palpated in my chest a little as I reached for the navy hand towel. I remember that show, 30-something, that was on when I was a kid. My mother used to watch it, and I remember thinking how old they were, how adult-like, and how long it would take for me to get there, there where my mother was too. And yet now I'm here, and she's quickly approaching 60 herself.

As I was sitting in the puce vinyl chair at the doctor's office this morning, flipping through a somewhat sticky copy of Lucky, I finally heard my name called so I stood up and walked down the hall, obediently following the nurse in purple scrubs. Thirty minutes and three games of iPhone soduku later, my doctor finally came in to talk to my about my birth control options. She pulled out the little green pill book from the pocket of her white coat and flipped to the page that had my original triphasic pill listed.

Basically, she said, I have four options:
1- Try an IUD. Not recommended because I haven't had children, therefore my cervix may have trouble accepting it. Plus she had a patient whose IUD got lost and she got pregnant-- that's how she found out it was gone. Not good for a control freak like me.
2- Try the ring. Good because it's less to remember than the pill and it's low-dose estrogen, but it's different progesterone from my current pill so it may cause side effects, one of which is going crazy.
3- Try the generic for my current pill. A good, cheap option.
4- Switch to another pill, a low estrogen pill, that has the same estrogen and progesterone as my original pill (hence the same medically as the generic too). Recommended because I'm getting older and need to be on less estrogen in order to prevent blood clots.

She used those words, getting older. Nonetheless, we went with option 4 for now. She gave me six sample packs of Loestrin 24 Fe as well as a card that will get me the prescription for less than $24 a pack for a full year. I can't beat six months free followed by 1/3 price pills, not even with a generic. She thinks this will work for me since it's medically the same hormones and also a lower dose. And she kept saying we need to prevent blood clots now that I'm older and that when I'm 34, I need to switch to either an IUD or something non-hormonal. Apparently that's a you're-too-old cut off point. But that's years and years away, right?