Learning to Let Go
This weekend I wasn’t able to read much of my current book, Atlas of the Heart by Brené Brown, but I did spend a lot of time with my new puppy Milo, which was mostly characterized by flip-flopping between “OMG you’re so cute!” and “OMG Milo please just cooperate!” He doesn’t eat when he’s supposed to, chews on things he’s not supposed to, pees and poops inside even after I JUST took him outside, demands all of my attention and whines when I take my attention off him for a single second, seems to have endless energy, gets the zoomies right before bed time, and just generally wreaks havoc on my daily life. I can’t eat when I want to, sleep when I want to, shower when I want to, go out when I want to, exercise when I want to, even use the restroom when I want to, without taking him into consideration. And because he is a living, breathing organism with a soul and a mind of his own, it’s not like I can control him and just fit him into my daily routine like it’s no big deal. Even though to some degree I do need to get him accustomed to my routine, I also have to make room for him in my daily life. I have to consider him in every decision I make, whether it’s going out to dinner, when I shower, when I go to bed, my nightly routine, everything. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely adore him and do not regret getting him at all, but I do get frustrated now and then because my life has completely been turned inside out.
That being said, I do think that maybe that’s a good thing. I have always had a deep need for control and independence, and Milo challenges that need in a healthy way. I want to have control over every aspect of my life, and I have liked being able to, for example, keep my room clean and tidy according to my liking. I liked being able to just randomly choose to go out to eat, or decide last minute to join an exercise class, or decide to just forego my nightly routine and go straight to bed some days. I liked my independence. But with Milo, I can’t do that. I have to take him into consideration, and I have to think about what is best for both of us, not just what I want or even what’s best for just me.
Even more, I’ve always desperately wanted to be able to control every aspect of my life and my environment, which is an illusion that I logically know isn’t possible, but my heart can’t seem to recognize this truth. I want to have control over what my work environment is like, what I do for work, my interpersonal relationships, my emotions, and everything in between, and that’s just not possible. Emotions, for example, do not follow our directions – they just do as they please, and our job is to just ride the wave and use the information they give us to make the best decisions we can. Being an only child probably contributed to this, as well as growing up in an abusive household, of course. I want to maintain my control over every interpersonal situation, and I tend to flip out when I feel small or out of control. But with Milo, it’s not possible to maintain control. He’s a puppy – he isn’t like a child, who can eventually speak the language I do – and even if he did, he has a mind of his own and can decide what he wants to do. I can’t force him to not chew on my power cords, I can’t force him to only pee and poop outdoors (though obviously I can train him to eventually do so), and I can’t even force him to eat the food that I provide for him. I can guide him and do my best to keep him safe and happy and healthy, but the minute-by-minute decisions are for him to make. Plus, there is no way for him to communicate what’s going on in his brain, so I can only guess based on the information I get from his behavior – if he’s whining, if he’s growling, what his body language is, if he’s sniffing around, if he’s standing next to the door to indicate that he wants to go outside my room. It is such an exercise in letting go of control, and I think his presence has been therapeutic for me in more ways than one. Of course there’s the snuggles and the kisses and the playing with him, but there’s also a realization that I have to accept that I can’t control everything, and I can’t control him. What I have had trouble learning all these years, perhaps Milo is teaching me.
And I think this is an important lesson for me to learn now. I’m sure that my need for control has insidiously made its way into my interpersonal relationships and reared its head, and there’s no doubt that my need for control has also affected my own view on life and my mental health. But not only is it important for my own health, it’s also important for the health of my future relationships, particularly relationships with a romantic partner or with a child. In fact, I think that everyone who wants to have children should first pass the test of whether or not they can successfully raise a dog. Can they deal with not being in control? Can they deal with not being able to communicate with the one that they are caring for? I’ve seen so many parents who try desperately to control their child’s environment or even the child himself, and this can only be detrimental to the child. Children need to be able to explore the world directly, learn from their own experience, and decide who they want to be based off what they experience. Trying to control the child’s environment prevents them from developing an accurate and proper relationship with the world around them, and trying to control the child will only result in trauma.
I am grateful that I get the opportunity to learn this lesson from Milo, and although I’m no master at this, I think I’m on the right track.