Buddhists believe that when the student is ready, the teacher will appear.
Native Americans believe that when a soul comes into our lives it is because it has something to teach us and when we lose someone close to us it is a signal we learned all we could from them.
I believe in both philosophies.
A year ago, my dog, Phineas, came into my life unexpectedly. He was found in the woods, abandoned by his owner and starving. He is perfectly trained in every way except one – he has horrible separation anxiety. He isn’t destructive in any physical way – he just cries a lot when I leave the apartment. He will go long stretches of time without making a peep when I leave, but then goes through terrible spurts of discomfort and stress.
On Saturday, I enlisted the help of a trainer through the company Barkbusters. Though pricier than other trainers, I chose them because they specialize in separation anxiety and they come with a lifetime guarantee. Yes, you read that correctly. A lifetime guarantee – they will return as often as I need them to for the remainder of Phineas’s life and help with any behavior challenge we may have wherever we may live. And my trainer is available at any time, day or night, by email or phone. A worthwhile investment. My only wish is that I had found them sooner, though finding them now, at this point in my own healing journey, brought home a very important realization that only now can I understand and appreciate.
I thought Phineas’s anxiety was from the fear that once I left I may never come back. And while that’s the base fear, here’s the nuance that our trainer taught me: Phineas isn’t worried for himself; he’s worried for me.
He’s on security detail and as such, he feels that he needs to protect me and keep me safe so that way I can continue to take care of him. When I go out into the big, scary world, he’s worried I will be harmed because he isn’t there to protect me. He has no way to control the situation and that lack of control mixed with fear is causing his anxiety. He’s taken on the job of being my body-guard and it’s not a role he is equipped for, nor a burden he should be responsible to bear. He hates this job, but he thinks it’s the only way he can assure that he won’t be abandoned again.
Isn’t that wild?!
Not really. I understand that feeling all too well. Dogs and children process information in such a similar way.
When I was a very young child, I was very aware that my father would never be able to take care of me. I knew that my mother was the only one in our household equipped to take care of me until I got big enough to take of myself. I worried constantly that something terrible would happen to my mother and that I’d be left with my father, which effectively meant I’d be on my own to take care of myself before I was ready.
It was a horrible burden to bear – I developed insomnia, headaches, and intense stress. I did my very best to compensate and cope, but as a young child there was no way for me to logically process my fears. I didn’t have the skills to do that. So I worked very hard in school because I linked doing well in school with getting a good job that would give me the income to provide for myself. I fought very hard to become as independent as possible as soon as I could. And while to the outside world I was a wonderfully adapted and well-adjusted child, I would argue that this adaptation and adjustment came at a very dear price. A price I still pay though am now able to articulate, understand, and repay as I heal. My yoga and meditation practices went a long toward than end. They still do.
Phineas and I are in the same boat – different cause, same effect. And if I can help him heal, really heal on a very deep level, then that will go a very long way toward healing my own inner child who still worries that she’ll be abandoned and still struggles to believe that I will always be able to take care of myself. Truly believing this last piece is the key to the confidence it takes to leap into entrepreneurship. Phineas was part of the Universe’s great plan for me and my work.
I thought by adopting Phineas that I was changing his life, and I certainly am doing just that. But he’s also changing mine, far more than he knows. As I watch him at this very moment sleeping peacefully in his bed, I’m even more determined to help him if for no other reason than to thank him for his soul’s incredible sacrifice for the sake of my soul’s healing.
Cesar Millan is famous for saying that he rehabilitates dogs and he trains people. This is certainly the case for me and for Phin. The calmer and more confident I can become through my own yoga and mediation practice, the more I can help him. And his healing will speed my healing. It’s a virtuous cycle that I am finally ready to begin.
Christa Avampato 