Our Beloved Molly

I have not written anything for a long time.  I went on a vacation with my family for nearly two weeks, had a week with just my 9-year old daughter once we got home (and so I didn't write then) and finally I am waking up early again so that I can write before the day gets moving.  I love this time.

I have just re-read my last blog titled "It's All About the Money" - wow.  I had forgotten that I had written it, but it has so informed my inner musings of the past few weeks.Something to continue to explore and experience.  I have been so trapped in the either/or-ness of It's All About the Money vs. It's Not About the Money at All.  This has been my personal trap and I have just flip-flopped between the two. 

Since I haven't written for so long, there is so much to write about!  In my last blog, I acknowledged and thanked my dog, Molly, for needing to go out early so that I woke up early and could write.  Since then, we have had to put Molly down - a week ago last night on July 22nd - the Feast Day of Notre Dame, Mary Magdalena.  I trust that She is taking good care of  my Molly.

She was diagnosed with lymphoma 7 weeks earlier and we actually considered not going away because of her being sick.  Obviously, we did go away after much deliberation.  Her beloved Anna, our wonderful friend and dog sitter, stayed here with her and took really good, loving care of her.  Molly did really well while we were gone, and was still doing really well when we got back and for the whole next day.  The one change we noticed when we arrived home was that she didn't whine with excitement when we came into the house.  She certainly was excited to see us, coming to greet us and lovingly wagging her tail, but no whining like she has always done.

Very early Thursday morning she asked to go out, but it took me awhile to hear her because she couldn't whine.  I finally grocked a very unfamiliar sound coming from the top of the stairs and it was Molly asking to go out. She seemed quiet after we all got up, and when she went out again, I kept my eye on her, especially when she went down to the ditch in our back yard.  I went down to the ditch and got to see her swim-wade in the water.  She looked so HAPPY and relaxed and at peace with the world.  CONTENT is the perfect description.  I am so grateful that I was a witness to this perfect moment at the end of her life.  For a lab, nothing could be better than being in the water than chasing a ball!

Molly came back up to the house and lay down on the porch.  I noticed she was breathing harder than ever before.  As the day progressed, her breathing became more labored.  Her lungs were clear, but what I noticed is that the lymph on the right side of her neck had gotten very, very large and swollen.  It seemed like it was actually blocking her air flow.  She moved once into the dining room, and then as the day got hotter, she moved into the basement, and that was it.

Molly was my now 20-year old son's 10th birthday present (that's just about 10 1/2 years ago).    She was a little black ball of fur, part of large litter of yellow, black and brown labs.  Both of her parents were owned by a man whose license plate reads "LABLOVER."  Kind of says it all, doesn't it?!  She has been a love, a challenge - very strong and bull-headed, and the best of walking companions.  Let me give you a picture of her challenging side.  When we left her in the yard at our house in Longmont, she would jump the 6 foot fence.  She would then incessantly chase little birds from one little tree to another little tree with complete disregard for me calling her and trying to get her back to the house.  I felt powerless with her.  This happened so many times!  When we tried to crate train her (too late, I might add) she destroyed the hard plastic and metal crate.  We'd come home to find blood all over the door from her working so desparately to get out.  She was alpha dog and it was no fun for any of us.    Finally, we resorted to a training electric collar.  I came across a company called "Sit Happens" - don't you love the name?!  We trained with them to train Molly, and I/we became alpha dog.  We were happier, and I really believe that Molly was happier too.  She knew that we were in charge.  I could now take her for walks and know that she would come when I called her.  If she got out of the house or yard, I knew that she would come when I called her.  We also could get cats.  Earlier, when we had a cat, she tormented it and couldn't/wouldn't give her any respite.  When we moved to our new house 5  years ago and got two cats - a brother and sister that Steve named Moog and Fripp, we could actually train Molly to leave the cats alone. Over the past few years, they actually all became friends.

Despite all of this, and perhaps because of all of this, Molly became a great dog.  She was such a big part of our family.  We went for walks almost daily, and if not a walk, she certainly got the ball thrown for her.  She loved her walks and her balls.  Even yesterday, I found one of her dirty tennis balls in the car.  Sigh...

In fact, this is one of the ways that we knew something was up.  You used to throw her the ball countless times and it was still never enough.  Recently, the kids would throw her the ball several times and she would be done.  Hmmm....plus she seemed lethargic, and when her cousin, an 18-month old Golden Doodle, would come over to play, she maybe played a little but not like the constant running back and forth in the yard with her like she did even as recently as this late winter.  The real moment for me came when Molly got to spend the day at a friend's farm and pond with their lab. She came home exhausted, and didn't recover from her exhaustion for a few days.  Usually, she would have been ready to go the next day, or even that evening.

Molly was diagnosed with lymphoma in early June.  We opted to not do chemo and decided to give Molly steroids and Chinese herbs to reduce the inflammation.  I love our vet - he has his feet in both worlds. He gave Molly 3 to 12 weeks, and while I didn't believe it could happen that fast, she lived another 7 weeks.

Andrew, my 20 year old son, came home from work to Molly's labored breathing and he knew that she could not got through the night like this, only to die from suffocation.  I knew it was bad, but wasn't yet prepared to know it was that bad.  It never occurred to me that when I woke up early that morning to let Molly out that it would be my last day with her, or my last morning to get out of bed to let her out.  Andrew shows up and is present in such a profound and loving way in moments like this.  Truthfully, he led the way and helped Steve and me to make the decision.  I am not sure we could have done it without him.  So that night at about 8:30, we took Molly to the emergency pet clinic to have her put down.  They were wonderful with us, and with her.  There was no rush.  We could spend as much time with her before and after.  There was such a respect of the process, of the relationship, of the love, and of the challenge of releasing one's beloved pet.  I was so grateful.  Andrew (our oldest), Grace (our youngest), Steve and I were with Molly as we shared our good byes, our love and our profound gratitude with Molly.  Alea and Michael were still back East staying with my sister and her family.  It was so hard to not have them with us, and yet somehow it felt so right to be the four of us. 

There is nothing like the moment of when you know that the soul is no longer in the body.  You cannot prepare, no matter how prepared you are.  I felt a grief and a sadness so deep within my belly.  Tears and sobs wracked my body.  I cracked open.  I witnessed my children, and especially Andrew, be torn open with grief and loss.  He picked up her limp body into his lap and held her.  I held my dear Molly's body.  We all cried, and grieved and gave thanks for this beautiful girl who had been a part of our lives for the past ten plus years.  And we said good bye. 

As one friend described it, our dogs are like the bass note.  They are a constant, resonant note playing and centering/grounding the family and the home.   Now that Molly is gone, our bass note is silent.  Over this past week, I have noticed so many times that I would have expected her, or would have fed her, called her in, called her out, taken her for a walk.  I saw something black on the dining room floor, and felt my heart leap open, only to find Steve's running shorts.  I was gone for several hours on Tuesday and was getting concerned about being gone too long for Molly, until I realized that I could be gone for longer.  There was no need to go home to let her out.  I was at a coffee shop yesterday where they had dog treats at the cash register, and I almost picked one up for Molly, until I realized there was no need.  Little, but not little habits and accustomed ways of being that have been dramatically altered with her passing.  I didn't realize how much of my day quietly revolved around Molly.  I miss her.  I miss her presence.  I miss the grounding and centering that she gave to me.  I miss my walks with her.  I realized actually as I have been writing this that I have not walked since Molly died. I had been blaming it on the hot weather, but I know now that it is because it is so hard to go on a walk without her, knowing that I will never walk with her again. 

I have actually felt angry that she has died, that she got sick in the first place.  Why did she have to get lymphoma?  Why did her body have to give out on her?  Why did she have to die? 

Molly was a love, a challenge and unconditional love.  I will be forever grateful for her loving presence, her strong will, and her delight in life, in guinea pigs, in balls, in water, and in each of us.  Thank you Molly for being with us for as long as you were.  May you be chasing balls in the lake for as long as you want, and know that you are so loved, so appreciated and so missed. 

You go, girl. 

Thank you for reading this.  I know that I needed to write this for myself, my family, and for Molly. 

Suseya!
Sahara

 

It's All About the Money

Thank you, Molly, for needing to go out so that I woke up earlier than my alarm and now have time to write this morning.  Feels good to be up.

Over the weekend I had an awareness that I would like to explore here and see what it opens up for me.

The awareness is this: 

I have identified myself primarily by money. 

Do I have it?  How much?  What does this mean in terms of how successful a person I am?  Every decision is colored by money.  How powerful do I feel?  How confident do I feel?  How successful do I feel?  When I am around people, what is the primary filter that I use to gauge my relationship with them – how much money do they have, how much money do I have, how successful are they with their money, how successful am I with my money?  How good am I? 

My self-worth is based on how much money I have, how well I manage it, and how capable I am of earning it/spending it wisely/investing it.

 All of which I have not done at all well with – which then reflects my low level of self-worth.

I have been trying to increase my self-worth by increasing my money, by improving my relationship with money, by earning more money, by managing my money, by being more responsible with money.  It feels like trying to fill the well from the outside, but there’s a major leak in the well, and it just keeps going out as fast as it comes in.  The well cannot be filled, so it’s an endless and crazy game.  No matter how much I put in there, it leaks out.  And it clearly affects my ability to earn, receive, cultivate money on my own, so it’s always someone else’s money, which effectively increases the leaking as well.

My lack of self-worth is the split.  As I was writing the above paragraph, I realized that I was back to the split. The major leak in my well, in my belly, is the split.  My lack of self-worth, of loving myself, is the cause of the split.  The split is the result of my low self worth.  No wonder embracing your worth – embellying my worth – is at the core of my work, the foundation of Own It, Sister.   This is the work.  This is the task, and the journey.

I keep trying to fix the leak with money, or thinking that money will fix the split, so that then I can feel whole, empowered and successful.

I put money first, when I should be putting myself first.  I have put all this energy into money, and my relationship with money, when I could have been giving myself this attention, and time, and love, and caring.

Everything keeps leading me back to home, to myself.

It’s not about the money.  It’s not about anything outside of myself.  I have made it all about the money. 

It’s funny.  While writing this, I have felt tired, distracted, and unfocused.  I know that I am onto something here, and that this may be the elephant in the closet.  This just may be the piece I have been avoiding.  As long as I focused on the money, it kept me busy chasing, managing, working really hard, looking good, and at the same time, disempowered, frustrated, challenged, chasing, looking outside of myself.  How convenient.

It’s not about the money.

It’s about me.
 

I’ve got to love myself.  I get to love myself, simply because I am me.  Not because of what it may bring me, how much money I may earn.  It’s not at all about what will happen because I love myself.  It’s that I get to love myself because I love myself, because I am me.  Period.

For who I am, not for what I do or for what I have.

For me being me, loving me, accepting me…all of me, the dark and the light parts of me; the lovable and the not-so-lovable reflections of me.

Because I was not loved and accepted by people who had money, I have unconsciously made it that “I will be loved, and will be lovable, when I have money” but I never loved myself enough to have the money to be loved by anyone else.  Then there’s the whole crazy part that it’s not about the money anyway.   I could never even fulfill my own set of rules because I didn’t love myself in the first place anyway, so everything became a self-fulfilling prophecy.  They don’t love me because I don’t have money à I don’t have money because they don’t love me.  I don’t love me ß I don’t have money.  I don’t have money à I don’t love me.

Kind of convoluted, eh?  No matter which I way I look at it, it always about the money.  And yet I’ve done everything to not make it about the money, so I’ve made it about debt instead. 

The depth of the debt reflects the depth of my lack of self-love and acceptance.  Debt reflects lack of money; lack of self-wroth reflects lack of self love and acceptance.   Money reflects love, and worth.

I have been acting like the little girl who’s been told that “you will never be one of us.”  How I interpreted this is that “I will never be loved, or be good enough (rich enough, wealthy enough, have enough money) to be like them and be loved.   I am unlovable.  I am poor.  Poor little girl.  Poor me.

Given my growing up in a very rich area of town, money was everywhere, even though no one spoke about it. It was the unspoken litmus test, and either you were acidic or not.  Either you ranked and counted, or you didn’t.  Underneath it all, it was all about the money.  Who you are, and who you aren’t.  What you did and what you didn’t do.  What you had and what you didn’t have.  It was all about the money.

So I decided it wasn’t, and couldn’t be, all about the money.  And have tried to live accordingly.

Unfortunately, on a deeper, less conscious level, it was all about the money. My very being and whether or not I was successful, loved, capable, was all about the money and how much of it I have had or not.

This reflects the split too.  Oh my god.  It’s all about the money /  it’s nothing about the money.  And to prove this to you, I’ll go out and just create a lot of debt to show you it’s not about the money.  That I can do what I want and not have it be about the money. 

Because when I recognize this relationship I have created about money, and how who I am depends on money, and then when I recognize how I have not been able to earn, receive, generate my own money, and that I have had to depend on my husband, debt, parents, etc to fund my dreams and my life, I then get to see reflected back at me how little I respect, honor, accept and love myself………

And that sucks. It hurts.  It’s painful.  And this is the place I have been avoiding.  Ohhhh, I’m getting sleepy again.

Avoiding until now…now it is time to go into my belly and embrace my worth.  I feel kind of nauseous as I write this.  And scared.  And confused…like I don’t know how to do this. 

I am standing on the edge of the split looking down into the cavern.  How do I make the choice to go into the cavern?  What do I need to jump?

Suseya!

Sahara