family Archives | Page 15 of 17 | Dysfunctional Ever After

Sometimes we make mistakes.

A week after adopting Lola, we found ourselves crying on our staircase looking at her and begging her to forgive us. We had to give her back. She was a puppy we were not ready for. We had been in our new home for two weeks, were not settled, were not prepared. She destroyed pillows, ate toilet paper, bit us, and had a never ending supply of energy. She was not the dog for us. We liked lounging. We liked being free. We liked being independent. We liked being selfish. We liked being together, alone. We had a life and she did not fit in it. We were sorry. We made a mistake.

“We love you so much, honey. This isn’t your fault, it’s ours.” We cried as we looked at her smiling at us, totally oblivious to what we were about to do. Then she laid down on the couch. This new comfy couch we just bought, and she’d already peed on. She looked so comfortable and so at peace. When we adopted her, we made this her home too. It was then that I remembered when we first saw her. She was happy, just as she was now. She was also with her brother. The two of them able to play and keep each other company. Regardless of the company, she was on a cold concrete ground. In a cage surely too small for a dog her size.

The guilt set in. I started crying harder, imagining her on a concrete floor again. That’s not where she belonged. I told Ryan, and he agreed. We cried some more, now it wasn’t because we were going to give this dog back, but because we realized we were stuck with her. She was ours. We adopted her into our family. When we brought her home and opened our car door, we told her “This is your home!” We needed to live up to our word, we owed it to our puppy.

So we kept her.

Now, on a regular basis, we look at each other and say “can you believe we almost gave her back?” (Ryan without hesitation says “yes.”) But we’re so happy with her. She is so much work, but so much joy. She still has most of the habits she did as a puppy, despite our best efforts. But she also has a personality we wouldn’t have been able to love and discover if we didn’t give her the chance.

We learned that she loves hugs. (Actual hugs, with her paws around our neck.) We learned she loves kisses, and her day isn’t quite the same if you don’t take her eye goop out every morning. She aggressively jumps all over Ryan in the morning when I first wake up, but if he’s the first up she jumps in the bed and gives me tender kisses. Her favorite food is french fries, and she would do anything for a car ride with her two humans. She’s brilliant. She knows sit, lay down, stay, wait, go, food, treat, outside, inside, come, ball, drop it, leave it, car ride, and so many other things. She nips at you when she has to poop, and is never one to forget to tell you she needs attention. We learned that she’s pretty restless until you get out of her spot, but once you move she’ll cuddle with you all night. We learned she not only snores, but also grunts in disapproval anytime you move and interrupt her slumber.

We learned she loves the same TV shows we do, and will watch just as intently as we do, if not more. We found that she gets quite upset if she’s unable to look out our front window at the passerby’s and people in the park. We learned she’d love nothing more than to run until her legs fall off, wild and free. We learned she hates being alone, and refuses to do anything useful outside without one of us there to watch her. She loves sticks and destroying any toy given to her. She’ll do anything for a treat.

We found that we like being Lola’s dog mom and dog dad. We consider ourselves blessed to be in the place that we are able to give this beautiful dog a home that she seemingly thrives in. We enjoy giving her our love, and receiving hers. Quite simply, Lola doesn’t care what we did that day at work. She doesn’t care who we talked to or what mistakes we may have made. She just wants our love. She just wants our attention. At the same time, she just wants to give us her love and her attention, regardless of how we’re feeling that day. I can’t imagine a better friend, or a better mistake.

XOXO,

Samm

survive

family

The thing about sexual abuse is it comes back in waves. Big, crashing waves that have no rhyme or reason. Waves that you can’t surf on, or go under while you wait for it to pass. You can only survive these by curling up in the fetal position and letting them bring you where they want, hoping they will pass soon and you won’t be too far away from where they picked you up.

The waves will sweep you up, it doesn’t matter where you are or what you’re doing. They will sweep you up. You’ll try to stand still, continue doing what you’re doing from where you’re doing it. You’ll pray you never stop trying, no matter how hard it gets and how many waves toss you around. Because maybe it gets easier. Maybe the next wave will be a little weaker, and maybe you’ll be stronger. Just keep trying.

A letter signaled for these waves yesterday. His name was read like a siren. I was stronger this time, I swear. I put the letter down. I went on with my day. I was fine. I was good. I was fine. I was good.

The waves could have left me alone and I would have forgotten.

I would have forgotten how much it hurt to be betrayed by someone I loved so much. I would have forgotten what his saliva tasted like, or how cold his hands were in the waist of my pants. I would have forgotten what happened when I said no. I would have forgotten keeping this big, dark secret. I would have forgotten the fear. I would have forgotten the shame. I would have forgotten it all, until the next time.

But the waves came crashing anyways. They would not let me forget. They would not let me be okay. Crashing into me they shouted “This is abuse, this is what it means to be a survivor. Do your part Samm, survive. Show us what it means to not give up.”

It’s then that I realize these waves have purpose. They force me to face my reality. They force me to look inward and move forward. They force me to live up to the label “survivor of sexual abuse”.

This fetal position I’ve found myself in is not me surrendering, it’s me surviving.

[Comments closed.]

Buying furniture & other things I’m bad at

family, house

My husband and I set out to buy our first piece of non-Ikea furniture shortly after buying our house. Not that there’s anything wrong with Ikea, but for some reason buying furniture that you don’t assemble yourself is the traditional American coming of age. I don’t make the rules. With the best of intentions we drove to a city far far away called Woodbury that has just about every furniture store you could ever need.

We went to the first furniture store and didn’t find anything we liked. We weren’t inspired, we were overwhelmed, and we were feeling like nothing was going to match our dream and our price range. (Really, it was the home buying process all over again.) Then, because we’re bad at making decisions and easily distracted, we saw that there was an Animal Humane Society next to the store and decided to go furniture shopping there. Because everyone knows the Animal Humane Society is where you go for quality couches, not animals.

After looking around for a while we happened upon two dogs in the same kennel/cage. They were brother and sister, and most importantly, adorable. The girl was a mother-trucking princess. She sat with her body against the cage and reminded me of the most high class escort money could buy. At one point her brother tried to sit in front of her and she bit him in an attempt to lay claim on us. Her name was Brook and girlfriend knew exactly what she was doing.

We brought her to a room and found out she was a great time. She was full of energy, a little anxious, but super affectionate. Her card said she was a Beagle Mix, 24 lbs, and 4.5 months old. We figured beagles don’t get much bigger than 24 lbs, maybe just a few pounds, but we could handle that. Her energy should have terrified us, but it only excited us.So we did what any rational adult looking to buy furniture for their new home would do. We put that girl on hold and continued shopping.

At the next store we found a furniture set we loved, and while we waited for the sale to go through (the store was very busy) we thought of what we could re-name Brook. I wanted something presidential or Minnesotan. Something like Kenny, Minny, or Wild Rice. You catch my drift. My husband was having none of it. After listing about 100 different names, he said “Lola. That’s it. That’s it. We’re naming her Lola. That’s her name.” And, well, that was it.

After buying our furniture set we walked over to the Animal Humane Society to finish what we started. The staff there was super friendly and talked us through what having a dog meant, just to make sure we were ready. As we were signing the paper to bring her home, the woman told us “Yeah, she’s definitely going to be between 60-80 lbs. She’s a big dog.”We looked at each other in shock. Neither one of us had ever really had big dogs, and we were specifically looking for a smaller one. A thirty pound beagle was even pushing it. But we couldn’t go back now. We couldn’t be those assholes. So the dotted line was signed, and they went to go get us our Lola.

I can’t wait to tell you about what an asshole she is, and how much we love her.

— Samm

P.S. She is not a beagle.