According to Cesar Millan, every bad moment is an opportunity for rehabilitation.
He doesn’t panic when a dog lunges.
He doesn’t get angry when they try to bite.
He doesn’t give up when the dog snaps.
He simply sees the moment as an opportunity.
A moment to show the dog another choice. A different way of responding. A different way of being.
I could have used Cesar the other day.
No, I didn’t try to bite anyone.
But my past tried to bite me.
Brock and I signed up for a house fund registry which meant that a significant portion of our wedding gifts were in the form of money in a joint Paypal account. We had the agreement that all funds gifted would be applied towards the house with joint decisions. All good.
And then, one morning when I checked my email between classes, I see that $500 had been withdrawn from the account. The email didn’t tell me where the money went or what the intent was behind the transfer.
It just told me that money had been taken.
It just triggered panic in my gut.
I had to endure the entire day before I would have time to log in to Paypal to see the intended destination of the funds or to ask Brock about the transfer.
My past tried to tell me that this was a nefarious move on some level – either trying to hide money or deciding to move forward on a purchase without discussion.
My past made it a bad moment.
My present recognized it as an opportunity for rehabilitation.
In my former life, I would have a) found a way to call my husband right away and demand to know what was going on (see Assumptions) or b) let my panic and anger build through the day as I imagined all of the potential scenarios that could be unraveling.
But this was an opportunity to make a choice.
This was a chance to respond differently.
I started by relaxing. Telling myself repeatedly to take deep breaths to calm the panic in the gut (that would make a good band name:) ). I reminded myself that my response was from the past, triggered by my fears of being betrayed again. My reaction had nothing to do with Brock or the actual situation at hand. I decided to believe that everything was okay. But I also made the decision to check once I got home. Not with Brock, since it was really my problem, but with Paypal.
Trust but verify.
By the time I arrived home, I wasn’t panicked. I wasn’t angry.
I didn’t even run to my computer to log in to Paypal.
But I also didn’t avoid it either.
When I finally did look at the account, I was calm. Rational. Thinking with my present mind rather than with the alarmed mind of the past. I could see clearly and interpret the numbers.
The $500? It was moved into our joint savings account. The amount was set by Paypal’s limits.
I walked down the hall to where Brock was sitting at his computer, wrapped my arms around his shoulders.
“Thank you for starting to move the money into our savings.”
I never told him about my panic. That’s not his responsibility.
I’m the one who has to whisper my own life and see opportunity for rehabilitation in every bad moment.
“Dogs tell the truth. People tell a story.” Cesar Millan, The Dog Whisperer
It’s no secret that I’m a fan of Cesar. His show, The Dog Whisperer, was some of the best therapy I received to help me with my anxiety and trust issues following the divorce. I used many of his ideas in my own life, thus earning him the moniker, The Life Whisperer.
Even though I was a fan, I didn’t know much about Cesar’s personal life apart from the show. I knew he was divorced, but I knew nothing of the circumstances or the effects.
Until yesterday.
Men’s Journal ran an excellent piece entitled, Rescuing Cesar, where he talks openly about a very difficult time in his life.
And, boy, do I relate.
Cesar sounds a lot like me – a hard worker who can be consumed with singular focus. While he was away for the show, his wife declared she wanted a divorce. He discovered that his financial standing wasn’t what he expected. His kids, and even his dogs, pulled away from him. He lost his pack in one fell swoop. His own tsunami.
About a year after me, Cesar was also crashing at another’s home. He also lost four pants sizes when the stress prevented the intake of food. He was facing betrayal of trust and the shock of loss.
He shares his brush with rock bottom and tells of the healing power of dogs. His description of his dogs surrounding him with affection brought tears to my own eyes. I have felt the caress of a dog more than once in my own low points.
Ultimately, for me, it was a dog that taught me how to trust again. Dogs tell the truth. When I met Tiger, I let him tell me about his owner. Through him, I was able to open my heart again.
The essay in Men’s Journal ends with Cesar describing areas where he still struggles. He says he is a “work in progress.”
I started watching The Dog Whisperer about a year after my sudden divorce. Much to my surprise, I learned even more about myself from Cesar Millan than I did about my dog. He always says in his show that he “rehabilitates dogs,” but he “trains people.” In my case, he helped to rehabilitate me after a particularly difficult time in my life. Here are the life lessons I learned from the Dog Whisperer:
One of Cesar’s common lessons has to do with affection. He cautions owners not to use affection when their dog is in an unstable mental state (usually anxiety, but also fear or aggression). He explains that by applying affection when the dog is unstable only seeks to reinforce that behavior. It’s completely logical, yet not always easy to do. When we see a distressed dog, our first instinct is to comfort it, to try to suppress its discomfort with love. That reaction backfires once the dog realizes that it can garner your loving attention by entering into an unstable place.
I’ve been thinking and writing quite a bit lately about my own unstable mental states (we all have a propensity towards one or more). For me, I struggle with becoming (and staying) anxious. I’ve worked on managing my anxiety most of my life and, other than the period after the divorce, it really has never interfered too much with my life. I’m not content with that; however, I want to try to figure out where it comes from and how it grew so that I can strive to venture into anxiety even less.
I realized that my ex played an unintentional role in nurturing my anxiety. He didn’t like to see me in distress. When I would get anxious, he would respond by becoming overly affectionate. He would soothe me with words and touch. It was great in the moment. But in the long run? Not so much.
It kept me from having to learn as an adult how to get myself out of that unstable state. But even worse, it rewarded anxiety with affection and loving attention.
Great. Just the association I want to have.
I never realized this connection while I was with him. Why would I? I had my needs met and my nerves soothed. It’s become clearer to me as I’ve gained distance and had to learn how to live first on my own and now with Brock. The first few times Brock didn’t immediately step in to pacify my fears, I was hurt. Upset. Even disgruntled. After all, I saw that as his role.
It’s not.
Slowly, I started to learn the difference between him being supportive when I truly needed it and enabling my disquieted mind. I had to discern the difference between affection coming from love and affection coming from a discomfort with my mental state. I had to learn how to soothe myself. I guess I hadn’t quite mastered that one in infancy:)
Again, I take a lesson from Cesar. He dictates approaching a dog’s behaviors with “exercise, discipline and then affection.” Turns out that sequence works pretty well for this human too. When my mind spins into anxiety, I start by going to gym or heading out for a run. Discipline comes in the form of writing, yoga or meditation. Finally, I’m ready for affection, which at that point, serves to reinforce my calmer state of mind.
Cesar says we don’t get the dog we want; we get the dog we need. In my case, I think I got the man I needed too.
I was planning on moving in with Brock in June, once my lease had expired. Maddy, my elderly cat from my former life, moved in a bit early. I had asked Brock to look in on her while I was in San Antonio over spring break. He elected to go ahead and move her into his place. Brock had never owned a cat and wasn’t really a ‘cat person.’ Plus, we had Tiger to be concerned about. He is an amazing and very obedient dog that is not aggressive in the slightest, but he does outweigh Maddy by a good 90 pounds. Plus, at the time of her arrival into his home, he was still full of boundless (and clumsy) puppy energy.
Brock was amazing at orchestrating their introduction. He began by studying Cesar Millan’s recommendations for animal introductions, especially since Tiger had already been dog whispered. We brought Maddy over in her crate and set her on the floor. Brock used his body language to claim the cat as his while Tiger was allowed to sniff around. Maddy had known and loved dogs; she lived with 3 in our previous life. However, she was older and had also been traumatized by multiple moves and time spent around a growing baby. She was hesitant. But eventually, Brock and Tiger both won her over. She is now more social and less fearful than she has ever been. She has learned how to relax and trust others. Some parallels with her momma, perhaps? 🙂
Brock and I sometimes get irritable with each other. We get frustrated and occasionally feel misunderstood. This doesn’t happen often. (And, when it does, it’s usually about me feeling overwhelmed. Go figure.) We always work through the issues. It takes some time. I usually have to release some emotion first and it takes him time to find the right words. But eventually we get there.
He is a fire building machine – a great asset on camping trips!
It’s strange. Now that I know that a disagreement doesn’t mean he’s about to walk out the door, I like them. No, that doesn’t mean that I like to argue. I don’t; it’s not my nature. What I like is that it feels real. My ex and I didn’t agree on everything, but we rarely had to deliberately and methodically work things out. In retrospect, I think he actively avoided conflict and, with my anxiety, I was all too happy not to rock the boat. I have had to learn all over again to speak up when I need to and to be prepared to work it all the way through. I also have learned from Brock’s humility; he is always ready to admit when he is wrong or doesn’t know something. He has helped me see the world through the eyes of a constant learner, leaving my ego checked at the door.
I am happier now than I ever have been. I don’t have the paralyzing fear of losing Brock like I did my ex. I’m secure in my attachment. I am more aware of our “individualness” within the partnership. I said about my ex,
“He had become fully enmeshed in my existence. Teasing the strings of him out of me would take time and a patient hand. I needed to find out where he ends and I begin.”
I don’t think I’ll ever feel that way again. I don’t if that is good or bad, but it is. That individuality is what creates some of the conflict, but it also means that we are each healthy and functional in are own rights. I feel like we are both conscious in our decisions and our choices. We are together because we want to be together, not because we are afraid to be apart. And that feels amazing.
It’s difficult to see in the lighting, but these are two trees that have grown together at points.
It’s been interesting during the progression of our entire relationship – I went from acting married with short-term dates (not intentionally, it was just what I was used to) to being a step behind Brock during our courtship. He said, “I love you” first, he started using “our” first, and he was the one to initiate a real talk about marriage first. I am so thankful that we moved slowly. Too fast and he would have probably shut down and I would not have had the needed time to heal and move forward myself. It has been great to enjoy each stage without worrying about what the next has to offer.
Flowers in the Vitamix. That’s how we roll:)
We had talked about marriage, more in the abstract than anything, at various points throughout our relationship. Neither one of us felt a strong need to legalize our relationship. We had no internal or external pressure to wed. We had been exclusive and committed for years. We shared a home and a joint account for home expenses (don’t worry – I still have my own separate accounts too:) ). I could tell that Brock was wanting more. We completed paperwork to give the other the power to make medical decisions. We became emergency contacts and beneficiaries. But still, he felt like there was more.
Last August, we were visiting friends on the Georgia coast. (Let’s Go On An Adventure) We took a day trip over to Cumberland Island. While we were walking along the deserted dunes together, he asked, “Would you ever want to get married again?” I pulled a Lisa and gave him a non-answer, talking about how I wasn’t opposed to marriage and I had liked being married, etc., etc. He asked again. I said the same things. He asked a third time. By this time, we were spread out on the beach on our respective towels. I turned towards him, realization finally breaking through my defenses.
“Yes, I would.”
“Good,” he replied, “because I already made an appointment to go look at rings.”
The note that appeared on my desk a few days later.
I could have chosen to stay walled off. I could have decided to never risk love again. But life on those terms isn’t worth it to me. I’d rather love again and risk the loss than live with the certainty of being alone. I’m ready to embrace love with all its beautiful imperfections and glorious uncertainties. I choose to love.
My boys:)
With my ex, cohabitation, engagement, and marriage all felt about the same. That’s not the case this time. Mainly because of how it has impacted Brock – he has been much more vulnerable and open since that day. He never thought he would get married and, now that it is going to happen, he is able to relax more and reveal more. As for me? It just feels right. I love this man and I want that known. I love how we challenge each other and encourage the other to learn and grow. We have both learned from our pasts and have made different choices this time around. I do want to be married again. This time for real.
Tamely = team + family The memory card is already full of our adventures and I look forward to adding many more!
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 