Angel's Eyes

I am trying out a new product called Angel's Eyes. It is a product that helps to reduce epiphora, which, on my dog, is the amber colored stain that is beneath her eyes and around her mouth. Apparently when these areas are moist all the time they are ripe for the production of bacteria and yeast. Upon better inspection of Roxie's eyes, I realized the discharge had a little bit of a yeasty scent too. Since she had all the symptoms of epiphora, I felt like I had diagnosed the problem. I ordered the product, complete with free delivery.

I was skeptical, but hopeful, because up to this point I had tried many different products, as well as cleaning techniques, to clear up the unsightly stains. I also wondered if the stains were a symptom of something uncomfortable for her. I know when my eyes are watery, it is uncomfortable for me, and I could see that she would paw at her eyes, almost daily. I wanted relief for her. As I waited for the shipment, I cleaned, and cleaned, but nothing would get those eyes to stop producing that amber stain and excess tearing.

Finally, the product arrived, and I gave her a dose right away. Since Roxie weighs about 16 lbs., I needed to give her 1 teaspoon of the powder with her food every day. I decided to split up the doses into 1/2 a teaspoon because I feed her two small meals a day. I wanted the product in her system as much as possible, and I didn't want her to have an adverse reaction to too much product.

Tomorrow it will be one week since we started using Angel's Eyes, and I notice such improvement that I felt like I should write about it. Here is a picture of Roxie's eyes before treatment...

Here she is after one week of treatment. I call this "during" treatment.

When I've given her all of the product in the bottle, I'll post an after picture.

Controlling the Uncontrollable

In two weeks it will be six months since the dog attack. I am feeling better emotionally, but I am still grieving and I still make decisions based on fear. I am working, but I miss staying home and the slower pace of my life when I did. On the other hand, it is good to have a sense of purpose, and I feel that sense when I teach. Something I notice more and more is that I truly look at everything differently now. Absolutely everything.

Before I started back at work I had a long conversation with my boss about how my perspective had changed. It was healing to have that conversation. I was someone who walked around a little naive and oblivious to the bad things that can happen. I think it was a sort of positive thinking. I thought if I didn't pay any attention to all those bad and depressing stories I saw on the news, they wouldn't exist in my life as much. Of course, this was only me trying to control the uncertain events that are not controllable. I guess it was my way of deciding not to perpetuate the unfortunate events in my daily life. But looking back, it seemed like my attitude was a little like denial that bad events exist at all, and they do.

I continue not to focus on the unfortunate things that happen, but now I realize that they are out there, and can happen at any moment. When there is peace and harmony, we owe it to ourselves to fully experience that calm and beauty because when it's gone, life is a little like hell. I prefer thinking about my world as more of heaven. But a little healthy skepticism is important for survival. For example, when I go for a walk with my dog, I put myself in danger each and every time. Will something bad happen? It could. But I prefer to simply keep a watchful eye out. I don't just assume, like I used to, that everything will go off without a hitch any longer.

Mother, Daughter, Sister

My daughter spoke to me worried that Roxie didn't like her. She was a little sad, and she was clearly frustrated, that our new dog wasn't bonding with her as much as she would like. It was morning and my family had taken a visit to our Santa Cruz condo. I had recently got out of bed and taken Roxie out for a potty break. When I returned, she expressed her concern that Roxie followed me around everywhere I go, and she seemed to accept my husband as a leader in my absence, but my daughter wanted to be accepted that way too.

I agreed with her, and I brought up my hypothesis that I thought Roxie needed to accept my daughter as a sort of "sister" in our family pack - based on what I'd learned after reading the book, Animals Make us Human, by Temple Grandin. In her book, Grandin writes about the research that postulates dogs, if they were living in the wild, were most likely family members. They were not a pack of unrelated dogs, but parents and siblings living and functioning together in as family unit. It makes sense that wild dogs could have been living this way. Not the way that has been previously postulated: like a random pack of unrelated individuals.

I suggested that my daughter could try to use "calming signals" to help Roxie begin to accept her as an extended family member, and more importantly a benevolent leader in our newly formed "pack." It was obvious to me that Roxie had accepted Chico into our unit, based on how they treated each other, likely because they've been left alone together at home on a regular basis. I suggested that it was possible Roxie thought of my daughter as Chico's mom in a separate family unit, and that Roxie was confused about my daughter's role in her life. Since we were a blended "pack" she needed to assume a role as a 'sister" with a high rank.

I was confident that Roxie had already accepted Chico, based on what I observed one morning prior to letting the dogs out to do their business. I watched in awe as they stretched together before being let outside. At one point they were side by side, and in unison, they reached forward and shifted their weight back with their front paws outstretched in a play bow. After that, they shifted their weight forward stretching their hind legs behind them one by one. It looked a little like a sun salutation in a yoga class. I was disappointed that I wasn't able to capture a video of it, because it was adorable watching them move together slowly and methodically like yoga masters.

My husband, my daughter and I were all still waking up that morning, when I began to describe several calming signals my daughter could try to get Roxie to relax. My thinking was that if Roxie could relax, she would realize that my daughter was not a threat to her in any way. My daughter accepted my ideas, willing to try the calming signals, performing them one by one as I talked. The result was fascinating and immediate! It was as if by magic my little frightened doggie began to bond with my daughter, right in front of my eyes. Furthermore, Chico sat quietly by my daughter's side without intruding in any way - unlike the behaviors I'd observed prior to this moment. In fact, I noticed Chico throwing out calming signal after calming signal. Just like the yoga class I observed earlier in the week, watching the bonding take place was astonishing.

Hardy's Garden

I've finally had the courage and confidence to work in Hardy's Garden. It took me several days to get the place up to speed, because I had neglected it for so long. There were weeds, and stickers, and rocks, and thorny holly bushes coming into the place. There were also some of the plants I wanted there, but a lot of mess in between. I began with cleaning out the unwanted items.

Before I knew it, the garden started showing promise. I had already put in a new beautiful mosaic bench, as well as butterfly wind chimes. I moved a Miniature Schnauzer terracotta planter next to the bench, so when I sat there I would be able to conjure his memory. Back in July, not a very good time for it, I planted pale yellow Nasturtium seeds, and these were finally coming in. With all of the weeds and junk cleaned out, I discovered that it didn't look that bad.

The next day, a set of Schnauzer wind chimes that I had recently ordered from Heritage Pewter were delivered to my home. I had been waiting for them for weeks, and receiving them inspired me to work a little more in Hardy's Garden. I decided to transplant some Shasta Daisies, because they are white and Hardy was white, and I also transplanted Rosemary for remembrance. I recently learned this phrase comes from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Act 4, Scene V.

I also plan to plant pansies someday, since they are also included in the line that is delivered by Ophelia, "There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray, love, remember: and there is pansies. That's for thoughts."

I hope to continue working on Hardy's Garden, and doubt if the garden will ever be complete. I want it to be a continuous work in progress. It made me feel wonderful working there; thinking of him. We had so many fun times together. We had hard times too, but my memories of those were made easier because of him. I like to remember the fun times, and hope my thoughts will wander to those whenever I sit there.

Roxie Hated Halloween

Roxie hated Halloween as much as Hardy hated the Fourth of July. She barked and trembled all day from fear. I'm not sure exactly what she was afraid of, maybe just the unfamiliar faces and costumes. Maybe its because I didn't allow her to eat any candy?

She growled every time someone came to the door. She barked at children young and old. In fact, it seemed as though she barked at the young ones even more. It made me wonder why. I've noticed that she doesn't like children at all. She has grown a ton since I adopted her, but obviously she still has a long way to go.

My son came back for the weekend and we had a wonderful time catching up with him. The first thing he said to me when I got home from work was how much better Roxie had behaved. He said she greeted him warmly when he arrived, and he noticed how she doesn't dart away from him. He said she sat in the family room with him, and he enjoyed being with her at our house while waiting for me to arrive.

My daughter, in contrast, said that Roxie doesn't like her much. She said that Roxie doesn't seem interested when she comes home, and that Roxie is a little reclusive. She simply waits for me to arrive home from work in another room. She was disappointed when she opened up the toy basket today, and couldn't entice Roxie to play with her.

Roxie gets excited when my husband comes home from work though. She likes to greet him at the door, and she welcomes him home with glee. It's cute how she jumps around the room, and wags her tiny cotton tail. It's getting to the point when I get up in the middle of the night, she will not follow me. She feels comfortable staying with him until I come back.

But yesterday was hard for her. Our neighborhood does Halloween up big. People from all over our tiny city come to our neighborhood to trick-or-treat. My neighbors across the street have a graveyard, with zombie like characters climbing out of the graves. They also put up a gallows with a hanging zombie and a strobe light. There was a "haunted house" way down the street (past where the attack occurred). There was even a costume parade in the afternoon.

During the parade, I wore my witch's costume and my husband and I sat on our lounge chairs out by the curb. I brought Roxie on a leash, but eventually had to put her in the house because I could NOT get her to stop barking. She growled at our neighbor's sweet little girl, and I just couldn't stand for that. I love that little girl, and we were both dressed, quite nicely if I do say so myself, in our awesome witch costumes.

My son got called to DJ a Halloween party, so he went home. My daughter had plans to go trick-or-treating with a teenager that she's been babysitting for years, so the house was empty except for my husband and me. I finally gave up trying to get Roxie to relax. We had only three pieces of candy left (what began as three fairly big bags), so I turned off the porch light to make it look like no one was home.

I checked one last time to see if anyone was coming, and there were two little monsters sashaying  up our walkway, so I gave away two more pieces leaving three for Paul and me. I watched our neighbor snapping photos of his graveyard, complete with dry ice smoke wafting around the scene.  I put Roxie in my lap and brushed her until she stopped trembling. When we both couldn't keep our eyes open any longer, I carried her up to bed. It was not what I had expected for Halloween. I wonder what will happen next year.

Halloween at School

Getting back into the swing of things at work has been tough. I am having trouble remembering all of the details about school while running a classroom. Our Halloween celebration, for example, was held on Friday the 29th, which was a day off for me. I knew that I had to be there either way, but my body was protesting the whole time.

A few days before the event, I had decided to go to work with my daughter to see her work as the music teacher, and afterward we planned to go to my classroom for our Halloween parade and celebration. While we got through the day with all of its festivities, we both were exhausted by the end. Once home, we relaxed in front of the television, but I couldn't remain awake much passed 8 PM,  so I went to bed without watching the end of a funny and entertaining movie.

My daughter is a great music teacher. I met her bosses and co-workers, and everyone had nothing but praise for her and the work she does. I sat through four different music classes, instructed by her, noticing how talented she was and how much the students adored her. It was inspiring, and uncanny. I knew that the teaching gene was in her, but I had no idea how deep. She was a professional, interesting, entertaining, and educational teacher. She looked great in her, "angel of music" costume. I was proud of how much passion and joy came out as she taught.

After spending about two and a half hours at her work, observing, we came home to eat lunch and then it was on to our second classroom visit. I was starving, and felt a headache coming on, but there was no time to relax before our next adventure. We arrived at the school where I work just in time to walk in the parade. My daughter walked along with me, as well as my substitute. They both commented that it was a little like walking along with a celebrity.

Halloween is a fun time for teachers. We get to see all of our prior students dressed in costume, and say hi to them as the parade passes by. The route is lead by our principal, who was dressed this year as Gandalf from Lord of the Rings. It's a time for the students to reconnect with their former friends and teachers, and visit their siblings classrooms without getting in trouble, for parents to run their cameras until the battery runs out, and for the students to go a little crazy on a sugar high. I have a costume I've been wearing every year since I began teaching, and I wore it once again. Even though it's been seen over and over, I still get compliments on my black, flowing, witch costume. This year was no different.

The best thing about this year's celebration is that I have instructed students from every graduation year at our school up to this year's fifth grade class. Because this is our school's fourth year since its grand opening, it is the first year I saw students, who were once my students, from all of the grades greater than this year's second grade class. So every grade level had at least 20 students who I knew and loved. I remembered every one of their names. Every one. It was heartwarming to say hello to them, and acknowledge their progress.

Amidst (maybe because of) all of the joy and celebration, I was exhausted. So about a half hour before the festivities were to come to a close, my daughter and I decided to hightail it out of there. We waved good-bye as the volume of the classroom seemed to mount beyond what any human ear should have to endure. My head was pounding, and I was ready to collapse. For the first year, I didn't even take pictures - a huge disappointment for me. But I just can't seem to remember every little thing anymore. I hope and pray that I am doing enough to maintain my popularity and excellent reputation.

Big Black Dog

After four months one would think I’d be over the trauma of the attack, but I still struggle with it. I was walking my daughter and our dogs on the Alamo Creek Trail when we came across a large, black dog coming slowly towards us. When we came upon the dog we noticed that it was off leash, and it’s owner was nowhere to be seen.

Nothing bad happened, but it was extremely anxiety provoking. I held the leashes of both dogs tightly, and I began walking slowly in the opposite direction. Soon I met up with another couple that was also walking the trail. They were acting scared of the black dog too. Finally the owner rounded the bend of the trail, and yelled ahead to us that the dog was not dangerous, but it was too late. All four of us were frightened anyway.

When the owner came by, the couple mentioned that the dog looked like it was going to attack, and I said that the dog should be on a leash. The man simply walked by without calling or leashing his pet. There was the vibration of conflict in the air. I’ve heard people say there is no such thing as a bad dog, just bad dog owners. It makes me wonder what they mean. How can a dog be harmless, if its owner is hostile? This man was hostile, and vehemently defending his right to walk his dog off leash when it is clearly posted on our trail that dogs may NOT be off leash. How could his dog be friendly, if the owner wasn’t?

I thought we were done for – again! I moved slowly away because I wanted to slow time down. I needed time to think about what I should do. It was as if I was willing time to stand still so I could come up with a plan to safely get us out of there. I was so relieved when nothing bad happened. I was literally bracing myself for blood and guts, and nothing like that occurred. I wondered how I could have missed the "calming signals" the black dog was sending out. I’d been studying the signals so I can help Roxie feel comfortable, and it’s been working.

A couple of the signals were evident, when I reviewed what happened later. The dog had it’s nose towards the ground as if it was sniffing (calming signal #1), it was also walking around and away from us in a curvy line (calming signal #2). Because the dog never looked away, or broke eye contact, I jumped to the worst conclusion. I panicked, and thought it was a threat. I was wrong, and here is why.

I believe dog to person eye contact can be misleading. We often reward our dogs by doing two things until they learn that these human signals are not a threat. The first is eye contact. We love it when our dogs make eye contact with us; we interpret it as looking at us lovingly. The second is showing our teeth. We smile, and it means we are happy, amused, or in a good mood. Dogs that have been in close contact with humans have learned that eye contact and showing teeth from humans is not dangerous. This may be the reason that black dog felt okay when it made eye contact. I still wonder about the temperament of that black dog, but I will likely never see it again.

I Saw the Owner!

Yesterday I went out for a walk with the dogs, and I saw the owner of the attack dog. He was outside mowing his lawn with an electric mower. First I recognized the electric mower, and not realizing where I was, I commented to myself, "Wow. Someone who cares about the environment."

Then I realized where I was, and I realized who it was. Even though he was mowing away from me, I became very scared. I thought ...if that's the attack dog's owner, he's probably not a very nice guy. But he looked nice. I saw him from the back. He was tall, lean, and had short, light brown hair. He looked young - about twenty-eight. I was scared to look at him, and I began running to get further down the block.

Since his garage door was open, I was reminded of the first attack by his dog. I was told that it attacked and killed a chihuahua because attack dog's owner had left the garage door open. The owner of the chihuahua was walking his two chihuahuas by the house (not the one in my neighborhood), and the attack dog killed one of the chihuahuas. I wondered what happened to those people, and the doggie that survived.

The next thing I knew, I was approaching the trail head. I had run far without noticing. The dogs were panting, and so was I. I slowed down and caught my breath. It caused me to focus on how far I had come, both figuratively and literally. I felt forgiveness. At the same time, I realized that I was still not healed from the attack. I was able to let it go, and walk around the circle that has become my new route, but in doing so, I realized several realities.

I still have not walked on the same side of the street as my home in the direction towards the creek trail alone. I have not walked back in the return direction from the creek trail (the way we walked the day of the attack) alone, nor have I done so on the same side of the street. I avoid driving in that direction when I come home from work so I don't have to see the house from that perspective. I continue to consciously choose my walk route when I depart from my home to keep myself feeling safe.

The last time I spoke with my psychologist, I didn't want to do any more EMDR. He said I didn't have to, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I felt like I still needed to. I realized yesterday that I do still need to, but I still don't want to. I guess I'm still avoiding that place, and feeling the feelings that come with remembering. I still think about Hardy fondly, and sometimes there is grief that hurts. I have a new doggie that I love, but I still don't think there will be another dog as cool as my Hardy.

It’s Not Easy Being a Teacher

My job as a second grade teacher is rewarding, but ever so challenging. It isn’t like any other job I’ve experienced. I’m sure any educator would agree that it is the multitasking that is the most difficult aspect. Mothers are the closest people who may be able to understand and sympathize with what we have to do every day, and the moms with more children understand even more. We are now up to twenty-five students in our classrooms. The addition of five extra students makes the job so much harder.

Imagine how difficult it would be simply babysitting twenty-five children. Now factor in not only a six hour stretch, but also being responsible for the children’s education. Next add in the fifty, or more, guardians that the teacher must know personally, and don’t forget that the children have siblings, most of whom the teacher already knows. Then there is all of their supplies, backpacks, lunches, homework, and other daily checks that must be made. It's a recipe for disaster - unless the teacher is 100% mentally on top of things.

Guess who’s not mentally on top of things?

Even though my schedule has been reduced to three days a week for my first six weeks back, I am exhausted, and unfortunately, in pain. I’ve been having at least two headaches a week since last week when I was getting ready to go back to work. The headache I got yesterday before school let out was relieved with my prescription, Ibuprophen, but it’s back again this morning. Since the headache didn’t go away, I’m assuming that it’s a migraine, so I’ve now had to take the migraine medicine, Imitrex. It’s taken most of the pain away, but not all.

I truly missed my classroom. I enjoy working with the students immensely. I know the material intimately, and I feel gifted in the way I present it to my students. I love sharing knowledge with others, especially young people. I enjoy sharing time with the little ones, and I like that my profession gives me a chance to be silly, funny, entertaining, and smart. I love reading books, doing math and science, creating writing and art projects with children, and I like watching the kids develop and grow.

It’s difficult for me to accept that I am not physically cut out for much more of this job that I love. But next year the state is threatening putting in another three students, and I can’t even manage to get through the day with twenty-five. Twenty-eight students in the classroom sounds impossible.

I’m looking at four days off until the next time I will return to work. I have a TON of things I’ve brought home to review, correct, analyze, and prep. I’m not sure how I will get all of it done, but I know I have to do something because conferences and report cards are looming out there in the next four weeks. For now, my goal is simply to get my headaches managed. It’s difficult to even remember the turtles when it feels like there is pain throbbing through the brain. I guess it’s time to email the doctor.

First Day Back

It was a wonderful day back to work and worth every day I took off to get better. Everyone has been supportive and kind to me from my boss, to the teachers, to the parents, and even the students. My boss suggested that I begin by working the first day back with the woman who has been substituting for me while I was away. It was fun to tag teach with her.

I discovered that my substitute was the student teacher of a dear colleague friend of mine who has the classroom next door to mine. My teacher friend is likely my favorite teacher at our school. From the day I met her, I’ve felt a kinship with her. We have children similar to the same age, we both enjoy teaching primary grade levels, and we both adore teaching and especially teaching children to read.

My first day back was filled with supportive people and I was welcomed back with aplomb. My closest friend brought me a bouquet of sunflowers. I bumped into my boss at Peet's just like nothing had ever changed. When I walked out of the coffee shop, I said, "I was hoping I'd bump into you here." He smiled as if to say... Me too.

The parents of at least ten students in my class made it a point to introduce themselves to me, and some even went further to tell me how happy they were to have me as their child’s teacher. Smiles were everywhere. It was heartwarming, and without even trying, the confidence I was longing to feel was present and thriving. Even the substitute said that she enjoyed watching me teach, and she was learning from watching me with my obvious experience.

I won. I didn’t let the attack beat me. I worked my butt off to get better. I got better, and I came back stronger than ever. I feel like I have become a better person, a better friend, a better family member, and a better teacher. I will never be able to state that what happened was a blessing, because I lost a lot that day. But I’ve made the best of the worst situation I’ve ever experienced. In the end, I won.

Roxie's First Bike Ride

My daughter and I went for a bike ride today, and Roxie and Chico rode too. I recently purchased a bicycle basket for Roxie, so she got to ride in her own new bike basket. I've been working all week on getting Roxie to stay inside that basket, but I had no luck. She kept jumping out, no matter what I tried. I decided to solicit some help, so my daughter helped me train her to stay put inside the basket. Together we put her in, and slowly walked her around inside the house. The whole time, my daughter kept praising her and keeping her from jumping out. I thought we would have to do this several times before we would be able to ride, but it was so effective, we were able to go for a lovely ride after only about 10 minutes of practicing.

Roxie's First Ride

We got a lot of comments about how cute we looked as we rode to to a nearby park. It was fun for me because I saw that Roxie was able to relax inside the basket.When she let all of her body weight go and rested her head on the edge, I was certain that she was enjoying herself. She looked adorable. Once at the park we went for a walk to let the dogs stretch their legs, and then we rode back home. It is challenging pedaling around an extra 16 lbs, but we both figure that will just burn more calories.

This cool pet product is called the 3-IN-1 Bike Basket, and it's made by a company called Pet Gear. I bought one online at a company called Pets2Bed. It triples as a car seat, carrier, and bike basket. I think I can use it on an airplane or BART. I'm glad I made the investment, because it is serving as a tote and also helping my scared little doggie to find her mojo. I was so pleased by the time I got home, I ordered another one in the same color for Chico. They call it lavender, but it's really more of a blue color. The manufacturer suggests that the carrier is best for a 13 lb. dog, but it worked just fine for my 16 lb. Miniature Schnauzer.

Outpouring of Love

Everyone has been so supportive at work! It has been incredible. I have received a plethora of emails from parents welcoming me back, or telling me how glad they are that I am returning, or that they are looking forward to working with me. It's such a great feeling when others validate my going back to the classroom.

My boss was amazingly supportive, as well as a true professional. He called me in for a meeting, just to touch base and see how I was doing. I joked that I thought he wanted me to prove that I was able to get out of the house now. He nodded in agreement, but went on to discuss a movie called, Race To Nowhere. He wanted me to know that he hopes that our school will adopt the philosophy from the movie. This is a philosophy I can stand behind.

When I walked into the main office of our school, I was greeted by one of my best friends with a hugs and love. Even my boss gave me a hug to welcome me back. I felt welcome. During our meeting he described what I had missed, and brought up things I had mentioned in emails about not being comfortable doing but knew were necessary as a teacher. For example, what if someone brings a dog to school in the morning, did I feel comfortable being able to function during a disaster drill, or was I able to take responsibility in an emergency.

It made me realize that I have come so very far. I felt confident when I told him that I could do all of those things, and even talk about my medical problems without encouraging dialogue. I've had lots of practice. I've done the work.

Say what you will about Kaiser Permanente, but they have been with me the whole way. I have had a team of three doctors helping me from the start. Whenever I've needed to talk, or had questions, or needed to discuss my concerns, they've been there. From doctors to technicians, to receptionists, to pharmicists, they've all stepped up when I needed them. Some of them have gone above and beyond the call of duty. Like the time I needed a prescription refill over a three day weekend, and it was pushed through late on a Friday afternoon.

Here I am ready to go back to work, and they've helped me come up with a plan for what will undoubtedly be a successful reintegration too. I hear people complain about their HMO, but mine is wonderful. I highly recommend them.  They even support dog therapy!

I met a woman at the dog park today who disclosed a story about her husband coming down with an incurable cancer and how the dog was therapy for him. She said her husband had now passed, and the dog has become therapeutic for her as well. She also raved about Kaiser. It was nice to meet up with such a kindred spirit. As we sat there and discussed our families, pets, joys, and sorrows, I soon discovered I had found a new friend. She has a sweet Cock-a-poo named Flossy that wasn't scared of me (she said that was rare), and my Roxie and Flossy seemed like best friends.

Going Back To Work

I visited with all three doctors in less than 24 hours, and I came away with a plan to go back to work as a second grade teacher in my ocean theme classroom. First I mulled over my decision with my psychologist. He looked bored as I went around and around stating my reasons to go back versus not to do so. It was actually nice to see him relax for a change. We’ve been so intent on our goal of making me feel brave and confident that talking about the decisions I needed to make seemed almost insignificant by comparison.

We discussed my teaching job, and other ideas I had for career possibilities, but I kept circling around the same idea. I wanted to see if I could handle my old job, and I wanted to come away from the attack a winner. I wanted to feel like my misfortune was not going to get the best of me. I also wanted to see if the best aspect of my job was still going to inspire me. I wanted to learn the answer to my burning question: Do I still LOVE working with children?

I learned that the largest obstacle to my being able to return to work was my belief that I would become extremely stressed out in no time. I know how challenging my job can be. I am intimate with the important characteristics that make a good teacher a great one. Character traits like patience, excellent listening skills, intelligence, and a healthy dose of good humor are necessary for the great ones. Stress can snuff those traits out very fast. It accumulates over time at a rapid pace after the first day of school.

It was suggested that I begin transitioning back to work on a part time basis, so that I could feel confident and relaxed as I reenter my classroom. It made perfect sense. Instead of diving in and racing to get back in the groove, it made me stop and consider the turtle’s way: slowly and methodically. So I decided that I wanted to go back, but not at full capacity. Not yet. 

One of the problems with returning at full capacity is the stress, but there are more reasons. The school year and those little minds and hearts needed to be considered as well. While I felt it was important that I slowly become the students’ teacher, I also needed to consider parents’ motivations too. For this reason, my psychiatrist included a statement on my work status report that noted if my employer could not accommodate the part time hours, then I should be considered disabled until Thanksgiving. It wasn’t a request, and it made me feel safe and protected by my team. This is something I don’t feel very often.

I felt like my doctors were reading my mind. I felt like in some magic way, they were able to understand that I am easily persuaded to do things for the greater good without considering what it might do to me over the long haul. But more than anything else, I felt safe to come out of hiding, and I felt ready to face the questions, concerns, and even the uncertainty. I hope I’m ready.

Too Many Naps

I’ve noticed that I have little motivation to do much of anything. I procrastinate working out. I don’t really want to take the dog(s) for a walk. I haven’t ridden my bicycle in ages. In addition, I feel like I want to nap practically every day in the afternoon. If I lie down anywhere in the afternoon, I will most assuredly fall asleep. It feels like a tired headache is looming most afternoons, and I’m so accustomed to having the headaches, it’s a challenge to identify whether it’s a migraine or if I’m simply tired. 

I also have this really painful stab of pain sometimes when I rest on my left elbow. I don’t have the same sensation in my right elbow, just my left. I believe there is a leftover injury from the attack like a chip in the bone, or a bruise on the bone. I often wonder if there is something broken, but I have full use of my left arm, so I think it’s okay. I can use my hand weights, not that I am doing that regularly enough, but I know I can do all of my arm exercises. I did them this morning with no trouble at all.

For these reasons, I was glad to visit to my personal physician this morning. We’ve been working for over a year now on managing my migraines. She is the one who made sure I was seen by a psychiatrist back in June. Over the years we’ve developed a collaborative relationship, and so, I decided to talk to her about the headaches, tiredness, and elbow pain to get her thoughts. 

She said she thought the elbow pain was tendinitis, but she ordered x-rays of my arm just in case. She prescribed another medication for the headaches called Imitrex. I was directed to take the Imitrex daily - when the headaches are present. She seemed most worried about the tiredness. We discussed how the daily medications I'm taking may be the reason, and she suggested changing the time of day for taking the meds to evening, before retire at night. She also asked me to self check my blood pressure when I am feeling tired and to email her the results, just in case the tiredness is a low blood pressure symptom. She was interested in my resting heart rate in particular. My resting heart rate is a little low – around 55.

I have a feeling that changing the time of day that I take the medicine may just do the trick. I hope so. I want the motivation to get out there and do things. I know the PTSD holds me back a little, especially when I’m in Dublin, but I think the tiredness is more of a culprit. It’s just that it crept up from behind so slowly that it was difficult to recognize until I realized I was taking a nap any day I took the time for one. Naps are fine, but I’d rather have a restful sleep during the night, and I’m not old enough to require a nap in the afternoon.

To Work or Not to Work

I have been discussing my work status with anyone who will listen. The general consensus from my friends and colleagues is NOT to work, at least, not yet. I am stressed out trying to make a decision one way or the other. Next week will be a doctor marathon. It’s all about trying to answer the “should I go back to work” question. I am due back on October 18th.

On the one hand, I want to go back for several reasons. The first one being I feel like I can do my job now. I can talk to others, I’m not incapacitated when dogs frighten me, and I’m able to handle stressful events without losing it. A more compelling reason to go back to work is so I don't let that awful dog win. I want to beat this thing altogether, and walk away victoriously. I’m not sure if I will feel victorious if I don’t go back to work. I like earning my own money too, and I LOVE that I don’t have to rely on my husband for my source of revenue.

At the same time, I don’t want to go back at all – not ever. The main reason for this is that my job is HARD – extremely hard. Last year I was plagued by stress headaches, and it is painful to think about the noise level and the energy it takes to handle twenty-five little seven year olds for six hours straight five days a week. When my head hurts, I can’t do my job well. More than that, I’m feeling like this is the perfect opportunity for a career change.

The headache thing is an indisputable problem because as the date gets closer for me to go back to the classroom, I am having more and more headaches. I had three this past week – I had one on Sunday night, I had one on Tuesday night, and I had one last night. I decided this merited a check-in with my personal physician. One of my meds is supposed to manage the headaches, but it feels like I am having more headaches than usual these days.

My psychologist says I may feel the head pain because I am blocking my memories. I feel like I’ve done a lot of work with the EMDR, but I can sense there is more work to be done. I still have small flashes of memory, but it’s not the whole story any longer. It’s just bits and pieces. I hate doing the EMDR work because it’s so emotionally draining, yet I’m feeling less afraid everywhere I go because of the EMDR treatment. Of that, I am certain.

One of my friends said, “Tell them to set you up for success.”

I liked how that sounded. My main goal should be for me to succeed. But the question remains: Is success finishing the school year as a teacher, or is it to be strong enough to leave and begin a new career?

The Cute Pink Shopping Bag

I had been neglecting my car for too long. It was time for a visit to the muffler shop. I received my annual auto registration notice in the mail, and noted that my car needed to pass a smog test. This is something I actually LIKE to do. I believe that it is possibly the best legislation in California. There is already too much smog in our world. By taking this measure we are insuring that our cars are not inadvertently polluting. My car is a 2002, so it was time to make sure everything was working correctly, and from the sound of it, everything wasn’t.

I began my smog adventure by driving to The Smog Station – there is a mechanic there who I trust, I think his name is Troy. My car had been making awful noises and I thought I had a hole in the muffler. It sounded loud and obnoxious whenever I stepped on the gas pedal. My daughter would comment, “Dad paid lots of money to make his car sound like that.” We would chuckle out loud. Unfortunately, Troy doesn’t do exhaust work, but he recommended a place called Minuet Muffler. Wow. The mechanic, Scott, was amazing.

Scott ordered my part, and said he would call me when it arrived. After he called, I went down to his shop, and he informed me that it would take about thirty minutes to install. I decided to walk to Safeway to pick up a few things, thinking there was no way it would be done when I got back. 

I felt strange walking alone on the busy street from Minuet Muffler to Safeway. While inside shopping, my psychologist called me to see if I could pick up a canceled appointment later that day. At this point, I wasn’t sure about my car, so I turned down the offer. Car repair is such a hassle; it really disrupts the timetable. When I hung up the phone, I was choking back tears. I had to cancel my appointment last week, and now I couldn’t take this appointment either. We did carve out a time that I could go next week, but I still felt lousy about not being able to talk to him. I feel so vulnerable when I come out of my shell.

I finished my shopping, and went to check out. The cashier asked if I wanted to make a donation to breast cancer research. October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and this is Safeway’s way of helping the cause. I donated a couple of dollars and received the cutest pink shopping bag. Because of my new little female doggie, Roxie, pink is my color of choice these days. The cashier thanked me over the intercom for the donation with a cheer, and bagged my groceries in the pink shopping bag.

I felt proud walking back to Minuet Muffler on the busiest street in Dublin. I hoped everyone saw me carrying my groceries in that pink bag. My mother-in-law lost her battle with cancer when she was 57 years old, and a couple of years ago, a friend of mine lost his sister to cancer. For both of them breast cancer was only the beginning of a string of cancers they had to battle. Both of them lost. I can sure sympathize with that. I still feel lucky to be alive.

I arrived back at Minuet Muffler pink bag of groceries in hand, and my car was already done! Scott charged me only $40 to fix the problem. I was impressed to say the least. Just a month ago a different mechanic had told me that I likely needed a new exhaust system. Thank goodness for honest people.

Roxie and the Pink Shopping Bag

A Healing Napa Valley Excursion

Roxie went with my husband and me on a “date.” I wanted to do something fun and out of the ordinary to keep me going on the right track. Before Hardy’s death, we loved to go to wine country and mull around, dine, go to parks, or just go sightseeing. I believe it’s one of the most beautiful valleys on Earth. I always feel relaxed and comfortable there, so we decided that was the place to take her.

It was a lovely drive, but she still trembled when we first set off in the car. It took her around ten minutes to stop trembling, but the car trip was about an hour and a half, so by the time we got there she was relaxed. Our first stop was Mumm Napa Valley. Since it was early afternoon, we thought that stopping there would be a good idea. My husband found a parking spot in the shade, and we went to see if the place was “pet friendly.” It was!

When we first walked into the tasting room, we were surprised to see that it was really more like a restaurant. Roxie was trembling again, but when our waitress brought her a bone and a stainless steel bowl of water, she began to perk up. People commented about how cute she was, and spoke kindly and softly to her. Very soon, she was having a good time, and so were we.

Next we were off to our favorite pet friendly restaurant in St. Helena called, Tra Vigne. Again Roxie came in trembling and left contented. What dog wouldn’t LOVE going to a restaurant with waiters carrying around delectable tidbits designed to tantalize the taste buds. She seemed to really like one of the waiters, one who I’m disappointed to note, wasn’t serving us. No matter. We sat comfortably in the warm afternoon dappled shade, and relaxed with our lovely Sunday brunch treats.

After that we were off to Dean and Deluca St. Helena. We had planned to stock up on a couple bottles of Napa wine, but just couldn’t seem to locate the perfect bottles, so we opted for a delicious caramel, chocolate chip, bar cookie for the road trip home. We made our way to the Silverado Trail and went looking Miner Family Vineyards. I am a huge fan of their Viognier. We were both disappointed in the wines we tasted, however. Maybe it was because we had just consumed a deliciously sweet cookie, but even so, I’m not sure their 2009 whites are as good as last year’s release.

Roxie seemed relieved to be home again. She really is a lot like me. We aren’t scared of the same things, but we are definitely wary when we are not in our home. From my perspective, this was the best trip out since the attack. I realize that my mind stays engaged and I am distracted from fearful things because I feel obliged to attend to Roxie’s fearful state. It was an excellent therapeutic trip for both of us, and I believe we both developed in complexity from our time in the Napa Valley.

Two Strikes and A Hit

It was a rough day today. I went over to our rental home, just to say hi to my husband. I also felt like it was time for me to make sure it looked “showable.” I quickly discovered it was not. My husband had made certain that everything was in working order, but the aesthetics of the place was less than desirable. I wouldn’t want to rent the place.

I did a little walk through, Roxie in tow, making mental notes about what needed to be added to make it look homier. It needed a few towels, some accessories for the kitchen, a couple of tiebacks for the curtains, plants, and I also decided a folding table with a nice table cloth and chairs were needed in the dining room. Now it doesn’t look as cold and barren. It looks inviting, with tons of potential.

While I was making those mental notes, I went out to my car, again bringing Roxie with me. While I was out there, a shorthaired, tan colored dog charged Roxie and me. It was terrifying! I screamed for help, but by the time my husband noticed what was going on, it was over. Nothing bad happened, except that I was mush by the time the dog ran away from us. I screamed at it to go home, and I pointed across the street. Unbelievably, the dog obeyed me. But the damage was already done.

I ran to the safety of my car, and sat inside. I quickly got out my purse, as my husband came around to the window. I asked him for some type of drink, and I popped the anxiety medicine with some Gatorade that he had in his truck. I was in tears and breathing rapidly by the time I was able to swallow that pill. I survived, but I was shaking and freaked out. I even had a flashback. It was agonizing.

But it didn’t end there. I drove home and calmed down for awhile. I decided that I didn’t want that scare to define my day, so I loaded up the car with guest towels, plants, and other staging items, and off I went to decorate the rental. When I got there, my mood had improved enough to function, and I felt relaxed as I transformed the place. This is the rewarding part of being a landlord. Placing decorative touches throughout the house to make it look like a home. I finished up with a trip to the local nursery, picking up some chrysanthemums for some floral color spots.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw our neighbor getting ready to go for a motorcycle ride. I decided to go over and say hello, with the intent to discuss an overgrown tree that I thought was hanging too much into his yard. I was treated with animosity and disrespect. In fact, he said I had only been nice to him when I wanted something, and that I was an “effing bitch.”Only he said the real words!  I couldn’t believe my ears.

As he drove off in a huff, I went and knocked at the door to talk to his wife about this. I had no idea why he thought I was the enemy, but I had been convinced by him, that I was. His wife was genuinely surprised at his behavior and stated that this was entirely out of character. She apologized for him, and as we talked she even gave me a hug. Overall the experience would have upset me beyond recovery except that before I finally left the rental, I went to a discount store to pick up a couple pairs of curtains. While looking for curtains, I discovered the cutest, softest doggie bed. I simply HAD to have it for Roxie. So I bought a special gift for her.

There is nothing like a dog at home to keep your mind off your troubles! I brought the bed straight into the family room to see if Roxie liked it. She is scared of most things, and withdraws and retreats from anything that makes her feel uncomfortable, so I was a little worried. As usual, this worry was a waste of time. Roxie LOVED her new bed.

Roxie's New Bed

Coming Out of the Dark

I can see that I am getting much better – almost daily. I think the viral illness I had kept me inside and lying down so much I started to get the feeling I was regressing. Now I think I can see the light. I am still trying to work my way to be able to walk back in the direction I was walking where the dog attack happened. I’d also like to get my time walking out there to be closer to an hour. For now, I am only able to walk the direction away from our home, and I only walk for about thirty minutes. When I walk back, I do it from a different direction. The good news is that this has caused me to see things in our neighborhood differently.

For example, yesterday when walking home, I noticed our garden in front of our home looks AWFUL! It has been some time since we had weeds in the front yard. I mean super tall weeds, and they had grown taller than me! I am proud to state that I was able to take them down this morning. It was the first time since the week after Hardy died that I’ve worked in that garden. It’s the place I had originally wanted to be Hardy’s memorial garden. Now I am thinking of changing the memorial garden location to the back yard. I feel more solitude in the back yard, and I want his memorial garden to be a special place.

Another thing I enjoyed this morning was cutting a fresh bouquet of flowers for the house. My neglect of the flowers out there may have been a catalyst for a new bloom. This is the first year my tube roses have bloomed. I love the scent of tube roses – they remind me of Hawaii. So now I have a small arrangement of white tube roses and wild purple asters on my dining room table. I can’t remember the last time I actually enjoyed flowers in my environment. It’s a good sign.

I feel like Gloria Esteban must have felt when she knew she was going to be able to walk again. I love that song, Coming Out of the Dark. It’s inspiring, and exactly how I’m feeling these days. I felt comfortable out in front of my home for over ten minutes. I didn’t feel afraid, and there was no anxiety either. I had a lovely conversation with the lady who lives across the street, and when she asked me how I was feeling, I said, “Better than I’ve ever felt so far.” I do feel like I am coming out of the dark.

The most inspiring thing happened this morning when I drove by myself to do a couple of errands. I always try to drive by the attack site when I leave the house. I am checking myself to see how the area affects my well being. When I did it this morning, I realized what my psychiatrist meant when she said I would have a psychic scar. On this occasion, I had a little flash of memory, but not a complete flashback. I only remembered a small bit of the attack. The flash of memory was indeed sad, but it was refreshing not to have to re-experience the whole ordeal from start to finish. The difference was that I wasn’t blocking the flashback from happening; I was experiencing the sadness of what happened, but not the horror of the attack. It felt like a very sad memory.

It was the first time I looked at that house in this way. Up until today, I have always driven or walked by and either I’ve felt wary of going by, or I pushed myself to do it, or I’ve experienced flashback, or I’ve had debilitating sorrow to the point of being incapacitated. This flash of memory was very different. It was just a memory. An incredibly heartbreaking one to be certain, but the fear and trepidation was gone. It was simply a marker on the timeline of my life. One that no longer rules my memory and every move I make, but more importantly, it’s not something I am fighting to control anymore.

Still Thinking About Chickens

Everything seems very different these days. My daughter has moved back into our house, after four years away at college, and she works at her new job daily. Our rental house doesn't have a tenant, and I have a property manager instead of having to worry about getting it rented  myself. I'm not going to work every day in my super cute classroom. My routines have changed too. I don't get up at the same time every day. I have a choice between a bath or a shower every day. I don't take the same walk route I used to take (I'm afraid to come back home from the opposite direction). I have a new therapy dog who is truly helping me through all of this.

Some things are the same. I still miss and mourn over the loss of Hardy. I still look forward to writing in this blog. I still want to go to my therapist on a regular basis. I'm still moving like a turtle everywhere I go. I still need support from my family and friends, even though most of them think I am over this by now. I still feel sad and cry, even though most people don't see it. I still get frightened by silly things - like the salamander I saw running away from me this morning, or the spider that was quickly darting towards me on the floor when I was trying to groom Roxie.

Oh yeah, I'm still scared of big, tan colored, short-haired dogs. 

I still want to get chickens. I've been told that it's okay to have chickens and even a rooster in the suburb where I live. I've never heard of anyone owning them, but more than one person, including two Realtors, have told me that it is fine to have them. I found a cool website called, My Pet Chicken that helps select the perfect chicken for every living situation -within reason of course. Maybe it's time?

Between Survive and Thrive

I never realized what an overachiever I had become. Even while so sick I couldn’t stand for more than ten minutes without having to excuse myself, I got things done around the house. Not the usual stuff, but I did manage to clean up my son’s room (a HUGE undertaking), hang a painting, and keep the bathrooms spotless (I didn’t want anyone to get what I had). I also kept the house cool during a heat wave by opening the windows in the night and closing the windows in the mornings, and I did a little hand wash – by necessity. Finally, because it really never stops, I made the time for a little dog training.

I also watched, like an observer, the comings and goings of my family members. I never knew how much I did for them until I couldn’t do any of it. Instead I was there to witness them go about their lives. Since I had nothing interesting to report in my life, there was very little focus on what was going on with me, and a lot of focus on what was going on with them. I even helped my son get his bills in order at the condo in Santa Cruz. It was really interesting to hear about the lives of my family members with tremendous focus on them. I think that’s the way it used to be before I began working full time. I miss that connection to all of them, and I miss being there for them precisely when things come down even more.

After four solid days of sitting (or lying) around trying to stay still, I realized there is quiet in the house from around 9 AM until around 11:30 AM – two and a half hours on the weekdays. There is very little activity from my family members at that time, and it really won’t happen again all day or night. The quiet time doesn’t happen in a consistent way on the weekend, except that there is almost always someone coming or going, sometimes with one or both of the dogs.

The dogs nap during the quiet spaces. They like to lie on the couch on a blanket, with me someplace nearby. Chico usually stays put, but consistently surveys what I’m doing whenever I shift gears. He doesn’t usually get up until my daughter returns from work. He seems to be waiting for her, always with a listening ear towards the front door. Roxie sleeps on the couch soundly, but if I move anywhere, she follows me there and back again.

I like that about Roxie... I like a lot of things about Roxie. She seems to tag along with me wherever I go, and I also notice that her young, fresh personality is fun to be around. Yesterday I was successful in getting her to sit a couple of times, and I was also able to get her to play with me. The best thing about Roxie is that she seems to have chosen me as her favorite.

Maybe it’s only in my imagination, or maybe it’s my perspective, I’m not sure which, but I believe she’s making that rescue dog mind shift. It’s the mental shift of consciousness that can only be recognized by someone who has successfully rehabilitated a rescue dog. It happens when they realize that their private hell is over. It doesn’t happen like a light bulb is being shut off or on. It’s a gradual, slow shift, but I saw it in Roxie during this time of illness.

The behavior looks like I felt when I began taking the Propranolol. There isn’t the need to check over the shoulder to make sure nothing bad is coming from behind. There isn’t the need to stay awake all the time to make sure nothing bad will happen while there is no way to defend against it. The startle reflex, the one that feels like jumping out of the skin, seldom occurred - even after something sudden or unexpected happened that had caused that feeling in the past. It is seen outwardly from a general shift in conduct and posture. The body language looks different. A droopy posture becomes balanced and poised. Curiosity replaces avoidance. Overall things begin moving from survive to thrive.

Sick as a Dog!

I have been so sick I haven't been able to get out of bed. I had a temperature of 102.4 on Saturday night, and I've had digestion problems (the unmentionable type) ever since. I feel like I am starving most of the time, and yet I don't want to eat anything because of where it will lead. It always does. Now it's been the third day of this and I've finally been on my feet a little, and that's about as good as it gets. I only get about ten minutes on my feet and it uses up all the strength I have.

I had to cancel my psychology appointment for the first time since the attack. It was scheduled for this afternoon. I would be there right this minute, if I could be. I'm disappointed, but in a way, relieved. The work is tough and I feel vulnerable and weak, plus I felt the need to slow things down a little, so now it's forced upon me. I've been on the phone twice, on two separate occasions for more than ten minutes a piece, trying to reschedule. No such luck.

Roxie is doing great! She loves lounging around with me, and she is learning to trust all of the family. Yesterday she even played with some of our doggie toys. She liked the ones that were furry and squeaked. One time she accidentally kicked a fuzzy soccer ball and it was so cute! I was inspired. I decided that I simply must teach her how to kick that soccer ball! I was happy that she was able to relax enough to pick up a toy and run around the house with it - she looked like she wanted someone to chase her, but it wasn't going to be me. I couldn't move.

I've also been watching a lot of shows on Animal Planet. My latest favorite is called, Blood Dolphins. I don't really like the title - it's a little sensational. I was skeptical because of that sensational title, in fact. The show turned out to be a lot like the movie, The Cove. The same dolphin activist Ric O'Barry and his son are out filming again to save the lives of dolphins. It is a three part mini-series. I thought it would be sad, but it was filled with hope and lots of interesting facts about dolphins and the places where they are hunted.

Reclaiming my Neighborhood

I wrote the following message before I went for my first walk in the neighborhood today. Was it a suicide note? Not sure. I wanted to do it consciously however. I wanted to reclaim my neighborhood as something I loved.

"I am moving slowly and deliberately. I have decided it’s time to try to go out in my neighborhood and walk. I’m not going to go for a long walk, but I want to try to walk by the attack house. I’ve driven passed it several times now, and I think I can manage the away direction, but not the return one. I’ve decided to walk in a circle and come back from a different direction.

But first… I plan to visualize me doing this successfully. I may or may not do it today, but I really want to try to do it before my next session with my psychologist. I have lived through walking in this neighborhood. I have lived through reliving the incident. I think I am ready to try experiencing it. My psychiatrist told me that it would be a way to reclaim my neighborhood. It was my idea to try it for the first time by myself, with no dog in tow.

So my plan is to walk alone – no dogs. I plan to walk along the opposite side of the street and down to the park. Then all that’s left to do is come back home from a different direction. I plan to write about the results when I get back.”

This was a place that I desired to live for several years before we actually began pursuing owners with fliers so we could purchase a home. We didn’t even use a Realtor when we bought. We negotiated with the owners of the place, and used a real estate lawyer to help us finalize the deal. I simply knew I would love it because of the location that backed up to open space, and the beautiful walking trail.

I walked that trail today! It was tough going by the attack house, but I kept reminding myself and repeating over and over… “That dog is gone.” The next thing I knew I was at the top of the trail and walking down the paved path through the oak trees and the winding creek. There were birds and squirrels, and best of all, I remembered Hardy. It was a little like he was with me as I went for my walk. It felt like I was playing the Wii Fit Plus biking game and your dog all of sudden shows up and runs alongside.

Once at the park, I was winded and needed to use the public restroom. My nerves were a little jumpy and my stomach was churning. But no panic attack, just an attack of nervousness. I resumed my walk home from the opposite direction I had left. This was foreign territory because Hardy and I always simply turned around and walked back. It was nice walking through the neighborhood; it was shadier than I thought it would be.

When I got home, I was just excited to be back inside the house, and I was reminded that this must be what Roxie felt like a lot of the time. Her body language is a little unpredictable. She will advance, and then retreat, and she bumps into people and/or objects even when she seems to be trying to avoid them.

I had used the time away from the dogs to practice using the crate, so she will be able to stay behind when I need her to. Before I left I gave her a little introduction to the crate, but it seemed like someone had already crate trained her. She went in with no problem and didn’t cry or fuss when left behind. In all I was only gone for about thirty minutes, and I was as proud of her when I got back as I was of myself. It was a banner day!

Turtle as Spirit Guide

Many Native American traditions have animal totems. They are also common in the New Age movement and in Jungian psychological archetypes. I hadn’t realized how often turtles came to me in my daily life until I realized how much my memories of snorkeling among them was helping me heal. My main focus after the EMDR therapy is to recall a place I call “Turtle Cove.” It’s a place where I’ve often tried to summon the wisdom of the large Green Sea Turtles slowly swimming alongside the colorful tropical fish in a sea of coral.

The image of snorkeling with the Green Sea Turtles is vividly set in my mind’s eye, and when I imagine being there, it makes me feel relaxed and comfortable. I use those mental images often after I feel stressed out or scared.  It was not my idea to do this, but was suggested by my therapist. Now I do it regularly, believing that I am helping myself get better.

I hadn’t remembered those beautiful turtles until I was sent a beautiful turtle necklace to inspire those relaxing times. In fact, I realized that turtles have literally been in my life for many years. There is another place near my home where there is a bridge over a drainage canal. Sometimes on a sunny warm day, there is a turtle basking on a rock structure in the sun. I don’t know what type of turtle it is, but I often see it from the bridge.

After doing a little research about the turtle, I learned that turtles represent a willingness to be careful in new situations and patient in the pursuit of goals.  They symbolize taking things slowly, taking time to assess dangerous situations to decide whether it is time to self-protect and hide, or to extend outward and forge ahead. Some say that, the turtle will show up when there is a need to go into our shell and wait until thoughts and ideas are ready to be expressed. The turtle also teaches adaptation and an effort to discover harmony within the environment.

There are more themes that show a relationship with the idea of turtle as “spirit guide.” The most obvious one is an encouragement to slow down or begin moving slowly. Turtles are known to represent longevity, because they live long lives. They remind us to persevere and to be patient. Because turtles migrate they have a connection with being excellent navigators. Finally, they suggest a spirit of tenacity and also of non-violent defense.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been snorkeling in Hawaii, and “Turtle Cove” is likely even lovelier a place in my imagination. Still I like the quiet still feeling it brings me to think about the place. I can remember slowly wading into the ocean and putting on my mask, snorkel, and flippers. The water feels cool and refreshing, and the ocean seems peaceful and calm and non-threatening.

PTSD From a Different Perspective

There is a show that aired on PBS this year called, This Emotional Life. It’s a series about the mind, our emotions, relationships, and therapy. There are three episodes. I was particularly interested in the second one, Facing Our Fears. It was about anger, fear, and depression when they go awry. The fear portion focused on phobias and PTSD. I found myself identifying directly with two war veterans who were suffering from PTSD. 

The show didn’t cover EMDR. Instead they focused on a Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT). The treatment was developed at University of Pennsylvania and is called Prolonged Exposure Therapy. It involves retelling and reliving the event(s) over and over until the event(s) become less frightening. EMDR is like that only it takes the reliving aspect a bit further. EMDR incorporates eye movement in a bilateral direction while remembering the event(s).

I have four days until the next session, and I’m not looking forward to it. The repercussions from the first session left me feeling light, happy, free, and brave. The next time I was more open and the reliving was more intense and more distressing. I didn’t come away with more confidence. I came away drained emotionally and a little relief that I could remember without dying, but the bad thoughts and dreams were more intense afterward the second time. I remember them when they startle me awake, sometimes I have to get out of bed and relax, but I don’t remember the dreams by morning. The memory is gone.

After the first EMDR treatment the benefits were so beneficial afterward. By the second time, I was excited to do more. This next time will be the third time, and I don’t feel as ready for it. There was a massive release of emotion, the second time, and I experienced a ton of fear and intense grief. I don’t really understand how all that intense reliving can be beneficial. The one thing I noticed from the PBS show was that the people who completed their therapy considered themselves recovered.

For now, I’m willing to continue with the EMDR treatment, but I don’t want it to be as intense next time. I want to arrange for it to be a little less emotionally rigorous. I feel like I need to process more of what happened by talking about it, instead of reliving it. I also feel like I can talk about it better now, but experiencing it is so extremely painful and scary. I just want to take a break for a while. I just want to go back to baby steps for a little while

The Lighthouse Walk

I missed walking so much! It’s like I was in the desert and I was so thirsty I couldn’t stop drinking the water. It feels so good to get out there and walk. Even before Hardy I was a walker. It was one of the reasons I decided to get a dog. I thought if I was going out there for a daily walk, why not bring along a dog? Now I don’t like walking without one.

I know it sounds paranoid, but I’m thinking of getting a Taser. I’m no fool. There are bad people and bad dogs out there. My husband has a client that is a security guard, and he says the Taser is the way to go for me. I can’t imagine firing a gun. I can remember on the day of the attack, when I was finally safe inside the neighbor’s house, I was drawn to her knife block. But I didn’t even consider using it to hurt that killer dog. But a Taser?

My only fear is if it could kill a dog. There have been documented cases on humans. Not very many, but they do exist. I’ve also learned that if a dog attacks and kills your dog (or mauls you), you aren’t in trouble. A judge can order the dog to be put down. But as soon as you defend yourself against the dog, and injure it, the incident becomes something else. Self-defense becomes something you have to prove. I wish I didn’t feel the need to think of such things.

I took a banner walk last Sunday with my husband, my daughter, Chico, and Roxie. It was the walk I used to love before I had my second panic attack. We begin at a park in Santa Cruz, and walk down to the harbor. Then we follow the harbor all the way down to the lighthouse. It’s not only a lovely walk, but also a nice long exercise for all. There are a LOT of dogs and their owners that take that walk to the lighthouse. But last Sunday the sky was clear, the ocean air was warm, and best of all the tide was coming in.

Ah. When the tide comes in there are the most beautiful waves that crash on the riprap that surrounds the lighthouse. There is a paved place to stand – even sweet little nooks and crannies to have a picnic. But on Sunday it was soaked! Practically everywhere there were puddles, and when the waves crashed it sounded like thunder as the huge whitecaps splashed onto the pavement and mist filled the air. Who wouldn’t love that?

The Lighthouse and Riprap

The best thing about this walk was that it was NOT frightening for me in the slightest. Up until last Sunday, I had been avoiding the place. I still remember the scare from that Pit Bull I coming towards me while I was taking in the beautiful sight of a school of dolphins swimming offshore. It caused the worst panic attack I’ve ever experienced. Even so, it also caused me to break down and get help. Help that is working! This was the first time I had the nerve to try the lighthouse walk again. Soon I will try it alone.

Roxie -the Schnauzer formerly known as Terry

How it came that I decided to get Roxie was part by chance, and maybe part by fate. I don’t really believe in destiny, but it’s a challenge not to because of the way Hardy and Roxie came into my life. Hardy came to me at a similar time – except that it was over nine years ago. At the time, I was separated from my husband, and I was lonely and depressed. Shows from Animal Planet often cheered me, and I decided that getting a dog might be good for my psyche.

Fast forward to my life after the attack, my psyche was wounded big time, and it’s a similar decision. Only this time I feel like she really came to me despite the odds against it. It began when I went to the animal shelter in Santa Cruz on a Thursday afternoon, on a quest to get a dog for my son. During this visit we met the dog, Capleton, a little Cairn terrier mix. It was one of the strides I made after my first EMDR treatment. But my son didn’t come home with a dog that day. He wanted to sleep on it. By the next day, he decided not only that he didn’t want Capleton, but also that he didn’t want a dog at all.

Anyone who has a son knows that they sleep late in the AM hours. So while I was waiting for him to get up on “decision” morning, I had found several dogs that I thought he might like on Petfinders.com. He wasn’t interested. Then I showed him a dog I thought might be right for me. I had already inquired about her to see if she was still available, I even send some personal information about Hardy and me, but I soon discovered she was not available for adoption.

Petfinders.com is a site on the Internet that helps many rescue organizations post pictures and descriptions about their rescue animals. It so happened that the Miniature Schnauzer Club of North California (MSCNC) was the one who was trying to locate a home for a 1 1/2 year old female named Terry. The only problem was when I went directly to their site; there was a message that they had already received enough applications to adopt her, and to stop inquiring about her.

Still when I checked my email, I received a different message. This one said that Terry might be perfect for me and I should go to the MSCNC site and fill out and send in an application. I didn’t. Instead I wrote back to double check, and I asked about the message about too many applications for her. I was told that Terry seemed like a perfect match for me and to please fill one out anyway, so I did.

On Sunday afternoon Terry’s foster mom called me. I arranged for my daughter, Chico, and me to meet Terry on my trip home from Santa Cruz. We met there at about 5:30 PM, and we didn’t leave until after 7:00 PM. We learned that she would need a lot of TLC because she was extremely shy and skittish. Not much was known about her past except that she was thought to have been kept locked in a kitchen most of her life, and she had a litter of puppies at around age 9 months. Her original owner who simply didn’t want her any longer relinquished her to MSCNC. She had recently been spayed after MSCNC acquired her, and she was overdue for her annual shots.

She was extremely fearful of just about everything. She darted around from place to place with trepidation, and she cowered when we tried to pet her head. She spit out any treat we gave her. Both my daughter and I remarked, on separate occasions during the meeting, that she reminded us of me. It was like she had PTSD! She was jumpy and looked uncomfortable in her own skin. I thought that we would be good therapy for one another, so did everyone else.

I didn’t take her home that day. I didn’t want to jump into anything because it had only been ninety days since I lost my furry love, Hardy. But I had mentioned to both my psychiatrist and my psychologist on different occasions that I thought getting a dog was indeed on the horizon. I thought it would help me get better faster. I made an appointment to come back on Thursday to adopt her.

That night I had trouble sleeping. All I could do was think about adopting and plan on getting ready for a new dog. I liked that she was female, that she didn’t have cropped ears, that she had a messed up bobbed tail, and that she was shy and submissive. All of these things were opposite of Hardy. I LOVED that she was a Miniature Schnauzer and she had a soft coat – just like Hardy. I decided to shop for female colored doggie accessories: leash, collar, doggie bed and blanket, tantalizing treats. I took Chico with me on the shopping trip, but I was certain then that I should get her. Adoption was making me get out there, and I was motivated.

When I got home, my daughter was already home from work. We had a conversation about Terry, and she noticed that I was 100% into the adoption. Finally she asked me why I was waiting until Thursday to pick her up. I didn’t have a good answer, so I called the foster mom again to set up the adoption. Terry came home that afternoon, and once again, I think I have a dog that is perfect for me. She has already adjusted to her new name; she is eating well, taking treats, and best of all she is happily walking with me every day.

EMDR # II

The second EMDR treatment was intense! I cried and cried and cried. I shook in my chair and I felt so much anxiety I thought I would explode. Maybe it was too much this time? I’m not sure. I had deep new insights. The most important one was that when I remembered the eyes of the dog coming towards Hardy and me, I perceived them to be coming at me. They weren’t focused on me. The eyes of that killer Pit Bull were focused on my sweet Hardy.

When my psychologist asked me why I thought the dog’s eyes were focused on me, I had to think about it for a bit. What I remember is that Hardy and I were walking down the street towards our home (Hardy on leash) and in a way he was an extension of me. So when the dog attacked Hardy, I thought, and felt, that it was attacking me too. Then when I lost my furry baby in the fight, I felt like it was a part of me that was lost. Even though my physical wounds were superficial, my psychological wound was bleeding profusely, and day-by-day in my mind it turned into a physical attack on me.

I was drained when I left my psychologist’s office. I didn’t take a med until I couldn’t sleep that night. I took a half a pill then, but I’ve learned that a quarter pill is better. I notice that I get a headache the next day when I take a half a pill, but a quarter of a pill is not as bad. I don’t get a headache; I don’t fall asleep, yet I do feel a major reduction in anxiety. That’s a good thing. I’ve finally figured out the dose so if I need to take it when I’m at work, I can, and I won’t pass out.

Roxie is living up to her therapy dog status, and Hardy would have LOVED her. He would have thought he was a hottie. He was always going (you know how) for the females in the dog park. This dog would have tickled his fancy. I would have had to command him, “Off!” She is really beautiful - if I do say so myself.

We have a new game we play. I try to get her to recognize her name. I made it up when I noticed that Roxie LOVES to run up the stairs. She bounds up them with no fear and plenty of joy. I decided to use this as a motivation to teach her to come to me by calling her name. I put Chico in a down-stay, and then I move erratically as I climb up the stairs (this makes her stay off the stairs until I get to the top). Once I’m at the top of the stairs, I call both of them by name, and they come running. Then I reward Chico first (saying his name), and Roxie second (saying her name). Now when I call her name she looks at me.

She got her first mini groom job today. I cut her beard a little, I combed out all of the knots, and I trimmed her legs and fake tail. She had strands of hair that were meant to replicate a tail, but it made reading her body language wrong. It always looked like she was tucking it down. Now we can see her lift it, and wag it. I believe it will help us, and other dogs, read her body language correctly. She is fitting into our family nicely. Like me, she seems to make a little progress daily.

Roxie's First Groom Job

An Interesting Pair

Roxie is a sweetie, and like Hardy, seems to be perfect for me. But we make an interesting pair. She is scared of practically everything, including me when I move too quickly, and I’m scared of big, tan colored, shorthaired dogs. She makes me take her outside, because I have to make sure she is potty trained, and I make her go with me just about everywhere, both on foot and in the car.

We took a road trip to Santa Cruz yesterday so she could meet my son. She really liked him, and vice versa. Once there, I realized that I needed to get an identification tag for Roxie, but I didn’t want to go to the pet store alone. I asked my son to join me but life got in the way. Unfortunately, he needed to take an important online test for school, so I braved the errand alone.

Roxie Gets an ID Tag

 Roxie was excited to go inside the pet store. She sniffed the air as we walked toward it. This was something I’d rarely seen her do. I was encouraged, and distracted from the daunting task before me. Once inside, I selected the dog tag, and feeling strong, I decided to walk around the store to see if I could find some delicious dog treats (sometimes Roxie is so scared she won’t even eat a treat).

Then it happened. There was a short haired, tan colored, pit mix slowly coming our way. Its eyes were locked on Roxie. My heart began pulsating, I started breathing fast, and I lost awareness of my feet. I turned my back to the dog and its owner so I wouldn’t have to see it any longer. I closed my eyes and held my breath, as they quietly walked by us. Roxie darted out from under me towards the dog, and I had to turn and yank her back. My panic attack stopped immediately, as I focused on Roxie. I knew then that we did NOT have the same fears!

But I learned a valuable lesson. It didn’t come to me right away. In fact, it wasn’t until the next day. When the dog attacked Hardy and me, it was off leash. Everything happened very fast, and the dog seemed agitated and out of it’s mind. The dog in the pet store, was on leash, moved slowly, and seemed completely calm and naturally curious. I remembered something my psychiatrist told me in our last session. Dogs who go inside stores (she said dog parks) are there because their owners are fairly certain they won’t cause a scene or get violent. They are good dogs.

Still, the experience was unnerving. I would have had a full blown panic attack, if it wasn’t for Roxie, but by the time I got home, I didn’t feel the need to take the anxiety medication. Instead, I decided to relax with her, and after about an hour of resting indoors, my body felt back to normal. That’s something about Roxie that is absolutely perfect for me. She is excellent at sitting by my side and relaxing. That’s what I call a true therapy dog!

Still Working Hard To Get Better

It’s been exactly three months since the attack, and I went on my first walk alone - somewhat near my neighborhood. Afterwards, I went to Nordstrom to pick up some pants for my daughter. It was a true challenge, but I did it. I’m really proud of myself! Even though I know, and can physically feel, that this was way too much way too soon.

My anxiety level is really high. If I rank it on a scale of one to ten, it’s about seven. Two times during the walk I felt a panic attack coming on, but I was able to stop both of them. Still, I feel like taking an anxiety med. I don't want to, because they are prescribed for panic attacks, but I might. I’m going to try to meditate after I write to see if I can, and if it helps.

I may be pushing myself too hard. I really want to get better, and I am tired of being scared everywhere I go. I also hate that I can’t go places alone without being hyper vigilant. I’m hoping with time the hyper vigilance will ease away to normal, but for now it’s something I deal with daily. The other reason I am pushing myself is because I’ve adopted a Miniature Schnauzer little girl. I wasn’t sure if I was ready, but I saw her at the Northern California Miniature Schnauzer Rescue website, and I thought she looked so cute so I inquired about her.

I soon discovered that she had not been socialized at all in one and a half years. She is extremely skittish, and when I met her both Ashley and I said on different occasions that she reminded us of me when I was first diagnosed with PTSD. She has a very sweet temperament, but she is scared most of the time. Now I have a pet that is more scared than I am, and I am not going to let her stay that way. I am going to rehabilitate her, and through this I believe that we will both get better faster. I’m calling her Roxie.

Roxie's First Day at her Forever Home

So even though I knew that it was going to be a challenge to walk with her, I felt the fear, and I did it anyway. I tried to remember the Green Sea Turtles in the cove in Hawaii. I’ve pretty much lost that insightful image, but I forced myself to go through with the walk anyway. We didn’t embark from my home. I took both Chico and Roxie in my car and drove to the park that leads to the trail. Then we walked to the dog park (which I assumed would be empty at this time). I’ve been planning to go to the dog park at a time when there were no dogs, so this was my chance.

I stayed at the dog park, for Roxie, for about fifteen minutes – even though there was one dog and her master inside. The dog was a golden/poodle mix, and she was completely harmless. She really shouldn’t have been on the small dog side, but the owner was afraid to go to the large dog side. I soon discovered there was a Pit Bull in the large dog side, so I worked my way out of there. I walked back to my car. That was panic attack possibility number one.

Before I was able to make it to the car was panic attack possibility number two. My car was parked between the trail and some people walking their large dogs on the other side of a public restroom. From a distance the dogs looked safe, but the closer I got, the scarier those dogs looked. It’s the color, size, and texture of their coat that makes them look scary to me. If I can’t see an escape route, that’s what causes the panic attack. Fortunately, I was able to get around the dogs by circling the outside of the bathroom in the opposite direction. Once on the other side of the bathroom, I was safe. The next thing I knew, I was inside my car. I let out a huge sigh of relief.

At Nordstrom, I just went in and out. I located the pants in the correct color and size and went to the counter to purchase. It’s a challenge interacting with humans. I saw a co-worker who was on maternity leave, while the sales lady pressured me to open an account. I opened the account, but only because I didn’t want to experience any conflict, and the sales lady got nicer once I said yes. It took too long, and I felt really awful by the time we were done, and after catching up a little with the new mom, I was sweating profusely.

These were all HUGE steps for me, and I am exhausted. I need to take a little breather and get back a sense of homeostasis. Right now I feel totally stressed out, and I have a massive urge to go to bed and sleep. The back of my neck is tight, and it feels like I’m going to get a headache. I decided to take a quarter of a panic pill, and I can feel the anxiety subsiding. So much for meditation.