catharsis_logs | to my shame... (Reply)

I finally adopted a dog... and I couldn't handle it for more than a fucking single night. I don't think i've ever been that kind of anxious before, like... literally nauseous with anxiety. So that very night I had a heart-to-heart with my dad while doggy was in my room where I was like... "I can't do this, i'm gonna return this poor dog". She's a shelter dog... was a stray, was terrified, didn't know how to walk on a leash, wasn't house trained, and I realized that... i'd liked my life the way it was before she entered into it. So I went back and hopefully she'll find a better home than me. I paid $600 for a really cute dog to spend one night with me. but that's cheaper than vet bills, and training bills, and my energy levels being depleted. Was a harsh look at the particular idealized idea I had of having a dog. It feels particularly shameful to admit that I wasn't ready, that I went through all of that, putting the dog through that night, and... yeah.

I'm mostly nervous right now about how my PT will react. I've been seeing her for like a year now and in that time I have agonized about wanting a dog and so how humiliating is it that once I finally gain a dog, having a telehealth appointment with her where I show her the dog and say how exited I am! To say, actually. I couldn't hack it! I feel like a liar.

My dad has said that he's actually proud of me for being able to realize when I'd gotten myself into deeper waters than I'd expected and for being responsible enough to recognize that this dog will probably be happier in a different home than ours and that I should take her back in order to find her that better home, rather than slip in my care for her. And while it took two separate anxiety medications to walk back into that place with the dog I'd only walked out with the day before the shelter person did thank me for bringing her back. So.

But I still feel so achingly ashamed. And I'm not sure how to explain all of this to my PT, who I want to consider a friend, but she doesn't really know me, really. I don't want her to be disappointed in me, or like me any less, and while my chant as I walked into the place to give the dog back was "my dad loves me and said that this is okay and his is the only opinion that matters" seemed to help (along with the anxiety meds) it's still another to talk to this person I have a kind of friendship (the only friendship I currently have) about a failure that could easily be seen as a moral failure.

I hope I don't cry when I see her on saturday.