My dog Lexie was awesome. She occupied a huge space in my life from the mid 90s through the mid 2000s. I still miss her to this day.
But as amazing as Lexie was, she did not know what a telephone was or how to use one.
Why is this important? Because when I was really struggling with my anxiety, I wound up deluding myself into thinking that she might be able to dial 9-1-1 for me if I needed emergency help (which I never did).
This is a true story. I was so afraid of my own body and mind that I became terrified to be alone even for small periods of time. I was convinced that at any moment my heart might stop beating, that I might snap and lose my sanity, or that any number of horrible fates would descend upon me. I was stalked by these fears and thoughts and close to crippled by them. I was sure that I needed a safe person around at all times “just in case”. Being alone in a situation where I needed help was the scariest possible thing for me in those days.
Try as I might, there was just no way to engineer a life in which I was NEVER alone. Sometimes it would happen. When I knew that was going to happen, I would instantly find myself in anticipatory panic. When the time came, it would feel like a tidal wave of fear and certain doom washing over me. I set timers, watched clocks, and tried desperately to distract myself in an effort to make the time pass more quickly. If you’re reading this, you might totally understand this.
Here’s the saddest part. I was so afraid, and so desperate to find relief from that fear, that I exhausted myself mentally running through scenarios where Lexie would be able to somehow dial the phone and get me help. I went over it again and again and again in my head. I thought of every possible variation on this theme, knowing it was ridiculous, but still hoping against hope that this would save me from what I was so afraid of.
It got so out of control that I would pick up the cordless phone, turn it on, dial a 9, then a 1, then put the phone down on the floor next to Lexie. Of course you can’t leave it like that for too long, so I would have to pick it up, turn it off, then repeat the process. This cycle would repeat again and again while I was alone. When she would get up and walk around the house, I would follow her around waiting for her to sit or lay down again so I could repeat the ritual. Can you imagine what that looked like? Can you imagine what it felt like to be doing that?
The point of the story is to shine a light on just how irrational and extreme fear - and the rituals we build to escape it - can become. I’m a reasonably bright guy, but there I was acting as if my dog could use a telephone to call for help. That’s not the only point of the story though. In those moments I felt completely frantic, powerless, fragile, and a bit crazy. I was trying to get MY DOG to save me from my own body. But now I’m just a guy writing about it, almost laughing at it as I do.
No matter how afraid, frantic, powerless, fragile and crazy you might feel today, that does not have to be forever. I’m not special. I’m not stronger, smarter, tougher, or better than you. I just took one scary step at a time, and here I arrived. With you. Sharing a bit of humor, a common experience, and maybe some hope.
Copper is sleeping behind me as I write this. I’m not in the least bit worried that he doesn’t know how to use a phone.
“Bravery is the capacity to perform properly even when scared half to death.” - Gen. Omar Bradley
Every Friday I’ll share one of my favorite quotes. They’ll often have direct application in recovery, but sometimes they’re just generally funny, inspiring, or thought-provoking. I hope you enjoy them.
55. When You Hope Your Dog Can Dial 9-1-1