A Desire for Certainty
A Desire for Certainty
These last few months, my life has been in a holding pattern. The veterinarian told me my sweet doggy, Güera, only had a few weeks to live. Being a caring, maybe over-devoted dog mom, I have done everything I can to provide her favorite foods and experiences “for the last time.” But there hasn’t been a last time. Being ever so stubborn, my doggy’s “last week” has lasted four months now, and counting. Which is a blessing, and it has also been difficult.
Given the symptoms and an educated diagnosis, I accepted with certainty Güera’s days were numbered. I chose to put my needs and routine on hold to serve her. I spent some time prematurely grieving. And if I am completely honest, I also thought of what’s next. What will I now be able to do without a 23 kg (50 lbs.) dog in tow. What is this new life opening to me?
In this waiting time, I was anxious. I watched every move of my dog looking for the certainty of her fate. As the time wore on, I also felt frustrated that I chose to put my life on hold but felt too guilty to not focus on my furry friend. I wanted certainty. How long did we have? Should I bring her to the vet for more tests or wait? Could I go out with friends, or did I need to be home with her? I wanted certainty so I knew how to act.
Truth is, there is no certainty.
As humans, we desire consistency, certainty, a life of black and white. Yet life is not consistent, certain, or binary. This is becoming more and more apparent to me, either as I age and/or because of the time we live in. Either way, accepting, and dare I say embracing change is coming to the forefront for me.
Just a few years ago, I fell in a rut. I spent hours every day walking my dog in the miles of mountain trails near my house. I loved it, and yet, after months and months of walking, I started to wonder if that is all I was meant to do. I have a clear memory of consciously accepting that if my life was only meant to walk through wilderness with my sweet furry friend then I have a pretty good life. As soon as I accepted my new life as a dog walker, everything changed. First, little by little, all our favorite trails became less and less accessible. Open areas were being purchased and built upon. Quiet dirt roads became filled with construction trucks. Pathways were blocked. Next, my little Güera started to show signs of aging. She didn’t want to walk as far as we had before. We no longer had long meditative walks in nature. Our time outside became part walk and part sit-and-watch the cars go by. I had been so certain that I would spend my golden years walking nature paths with my dog, and it all changed in what seemed an instant.
Through all of this, I learned more deeply to stay in the moment. Enjoy what is good right now. Be fully present. Don’t ask why or how long. Be in it. Experience it. If things are not so good, know that this too shall pass. Be present in the pain. Most importantly, I learned I do not know anything for certain, and I need to stop pretending or hoping that I do.
