Holding Our Ground

So much of my "what does healthy mean?" question begins, at its heart, with emotional and spiritual health. I really believe that if I can stay in integrity emotionally and spiritually, my mental and physical health will naturally align. Conversely, when my emotions are running wild and my spirit is giving me messages I'm ignoring (or furiously denying, or twisting and contorting until they are indecipherable), I find myself feeling mentally confused or frustrated, and physically depleted.

Too often, I tangle myself up in the issues of those I love and want to help or protect. Even when I know intellectually that those are not only NOT MY PROBLEMS, and when I know intuitively and concretely that when I get overly involved I am not really helping ... I'm impeding the progress of the one I love toward his/her OWN growth and ability to handle their own issues.

It's difficult for me to perceive that I am "needed" and not to respond in a way that is giving of myself, not just empowering of the other.

Am I making sense? It's hard for me to simply hold my space and be empathetic, but not respond to the impulse within myself (and the request, at times, from the "other") to "fix it" for them.

Even when I've been verbally very clear that the response the "other" wants from me is not available.



It's healthy to hold my ground -- for US to hold OUR ground (John and me) -- even when a little sacrifice on our part might ease the squeeze the "other" is feeling as a result of the choices they have made.

We have settled into a comfortable quiet lifestyle that we have become quite happy with in the year or so since our loyal and true companion, Cinnamon, died. We have seriously considered adopting a very young, very athletic, very energetic, fairly large dog -- not because we are tired of our quiet lifestyle, but because there is a "need" that we could fill. It would turn our world upside down, remove the relatively new found freedom we enjoy (including the ability to leave home for extended periods of time without worrying much about what the pets are doing -- the three cats can pretty much take care of themselves for an entire weekend!), and would need to become the focus of our lives in order to give him consistent training and exercise.

Waffle, waffle, waffle. Serious mood swings. Serious consideration, in both direction. This is a serious decision -- one that will impact us for the next 15 years or so, if we decide yes.

We decided "no."

When and if we decide to add another dog to our household, it will be because both of us have come to the decision that FOR US, it is time to do so. And we will carefully consider the personality traits that we believe will fit in well with our pride of cats. And us.

It doesn't mean we are any less compassionate about the dilemma facing our loved one. It doesn't mean that we are unwilling to give counsel and solace in the hard times ahead.

It does mean that the pet will have to stay elsewhere, even in the next week or two while a new family situation is arranged.

Holding our ground is so difficult. But in the end, it feels good to know we are honoring not only ourselves and our relationship with one another, but also the relationship we have with our loved one -- and respecting her enough to believe that she will handle this situation in her own way, with her own resources, in her own time, to the best of her ability. And that, in doing so, "the best of her ability" is growing and blossoming and getting stronger. So that she can both handle the next challenge with more skill and ease -and- use a larger reservoir of experience in order to avoid laying the foundation for similar situations in the future.

It's called loving detachment. But it's so hard.