Thanks, Dex. . .
Time Frame: August 2017
One of the realities of managing Lizzie's gifts is that she doesn't always encounter sunshine and unicorns. In fact, sometimes it's a downright "dark and stormy night" around here. In retrospect, I always chide myself that I should have seen it coming. . .but many times I just don't. This was one of those nights.
My bestie, (we'll call her B.) lost her little Daisy about a year ago. They had gotten the sweet little Yorkie-poo and her litter mate, who they named Dexter, 11 years ago. The two dogs had never been apart. So when little Daisy fell ill and died, we all worried about Dex. But he surprised us all and carried on remarkably well.
A few weeks ago, tragedy struck and Dexter was injured by a car. The vet determined he had fared amazingly well, with only a fractured pelvis. We were all AMAZED that not only had he survived, but the prognosis was quite good! As one day turned into another, though, Dex seemed to be failing. He wasn't keeping any food down and cried out in pain. B. asked if Lizzie could tune in to Dexter as they tried to help him. Was he fighting to get better? Was he just ready to let go?
Lizzie was with her grandad for the weekend, so I texted her. All I told her was Aunt B. was worried about Dex, and needed to know anything that might help. I shared no details. (As an aside--I've learned that sometimes texting is really the best way to communicate about things like this because it allows Lizzie to process, read messages multiple times, and it also prevents her from feeling "on the spot.")
"I think I'm getting something is wrong with his stomach, but he is really not feeling good, Mom. He seems very weak. He just says he wants to be taken care of---he feels alone. He is saying he is ready to let go. He has done what he was supposed to do but he is trying not to hurt anyone. He's scared to hurt his family. He is trying to let go and tell them as easy as he can.. . .and his lesson for them was to teach them to love each other and to teach them happiness. He is showing me times he has made everyone laugh and smile. He was there to make them stronger in love and happiness."
Wanting to be sure, I asked specifically: "Does he want them to take him back to the vet for more treatment to make him better? Or just let him go?"
Lizzie responded again, "No, he is saying "let go." He did his job. I asked him if he needed to do anything more and he said no, but he said he wants lots of love before he goes."
Before I had a chance to relay the message, it was time to pick Lizzie up from her visit. Immediately upon getting in the car, Lizzie reported she was feeling differently about Dex. She thought she was wrong and that Dex just wanted to get everyone's attention with all this. That he really DID want to fight to get better.
I was shocked at the reversal, but figured we'd just go with it. I gave B. the message that Dexter was intending to get better and they shouldn't give up on him. B. confirmed that he had seemed to rally and was acting like he was feeling better. . .so that made me think Lizzie was on to something. . .
Four hours later I got the text that Dexter was gone. Lizzie was stunned. In a moment of clarity, I suggested she tune back in to him to see if there was anything else he needed to share. After a few quiet moments, this was her text to me:
"He said he TOLD me earlier that he letting go, and I just didn't want to believe it. Remember--I told you that he was letting go? He said I didn't want to accept that. He said this was a lesson for me, too. . .to learn even when an animal says something that hurts, I have to believe it. He said I need to stop second-guessing myself."
Then she followed up with the statement that he was in a much better place, but it was still so sad.
I was FLOORED! Was this my girl? I was expecting a rapid pendulum swing straight to hysterics, and instead I got this incredibly centered--even WISE--response. As I was reveling in the awareness and joy that my girl was indeed growing up, and scolding myself for expecting anything less, I heard the thunder of rapid footsteps on the stairs, followed by the high-pitched howl of a thoroughly pissed off teenage girl.
"THAT'S IT, MOM! I'M NEVER USING THESE GIFTS AGAIN AND YOU CAN'T MAKE ME! NO! I'M SO SERIOUS! DON'T EVEN TALK TO ME! I'M SO DONE! I'M NOT DEALING WITH DEAD ANIMALS! I'M NOT DOING IT!"
After asking her nicely a few times to sit down with me on the couch, I finally just demanded it in my familiar "do it or else" Mom voice. She threw herself on the couch, repeating the lines from above with increased fervor.
I listened to the ranting and did exactly what I should NOT have done. I punctuated her hissy fit with the firm statements that she didn't have to ever use her gifts again but she had committed to lessons with Diane, and she WOULD complete them. After all, I had already paid for these lessons, and it was unacceptable to give up!
Brilliant. Oh good LAWD! Even as I type this I'm rolling my eyes. I knew good and damn well that this girl would swing back into balance eventually, but I took the bait! Yep. I had swallowed that bait like a starving crappie. The screaming girl evolved into a seething caged animal just waiting for the opportunity to eat my face off. This is when I should have just lowered my head and backed away from the homicidal beast, but the Alpha Wolf in me had been activated.
We exchanged a few more barbs until I finally realized my mistake. I put Alpha Wolf back in her holding cell and spoke from a more centered place. I softened my tone and simply told her to go to bed. . .that everything always looks better in the morning light, and we would figure it out. During her retreat up the stairs, I heard a few more, "YOU CAN'T MAKE MEs" and we both went to bed.
This was on a Sunday night around midnight. I ignored the urge to engage her about all this until Thursday. I gently broached the subject, and was met with complete, arm-folded, lips-pursed resistance. I was surprised she hadn't budged yet, but I was wiser than a few days prior. I didn't push.
Then it happened. On Saturday morning, about a week later, the text came. (See, I told you texting was helpful!)
Lizzie: "I realized that I can't let one little thing stop me from doing something I am good at. Like, yes, talking to animals can be sad but it's also a good thing. Dexter is getting to do something else now and even to help someone else. He will teach other people lessons. When I try to NOT talk to animals I always end up talking to them anyway. . .I don't even have to try--it just comes to me now. And I love talking to our girls (our dogs) and I wouldn't want to throw that away. I know they like being able to talk to someone too--all animals do--so. . .I guess I'm going to keep learning."
Ahhhhhh. I love it when a plan comes together. Of course, I WANTED to respond that I knew this would happen and that she should have just listened to me from the beginning. After all, I know stuff. I'm the brilliant mother and if she would just acknowledge my awesomeness all of this could have been avoided!
But instead, we texted:
Me: "You're a smart girl, and I love you."
Her: "I love you too, Mom."
Thanks, Dex. Look at everything we learned from you in your last few hours on the planet. Well done, little man.
One of the realities of managing Lizzie's gifts is that she doesn't always encounter sunshine and unicorns. In fact, sometimes it's a downright "dark and stormy night" around here. In retrospect, I always chide myself that I should have seen it coming. . .but many times I just don't. This was one of those nights.
My bestie, (we'll call her B.) lost her little Daisy about a year ago. They had gotten the sweet little Yorkie-poo and her litter mate, who they named Dexter, 11 years ago. The two dogs had never been apart. So when little Daisy fell ill and died, we all worried about Dex. But he surprised us all and carried on remarkably well.
A few weeks ago, tragedy struck and Dexter was injured by a car. The vet determined he had fared amazingly well, with only a fractured pelvis. We were all AMAZED that not only had he survived, but the prognosis was quite good! As one day turned into another, though, Dex seemed to be failing. He wasn't keeping any food down and cried out in pain. B. asked if Lizzie could tune in to Dexter as they tried to help him. Was he fighting to get better? Was he just ready to let go?
Lizzie was with her grandad for the weekend, so I texted her. All I told her was Aunt B. was worried about Dex, and needed to know anything that might help. I shared no details. (As an aside--I've learned that sometimes texting is really the best way to communicate about things like this because it allows Lizzie to process, read messages multiple times, and it also prevents her from feeling "on the spot.")
"I think I'm getting something is wrong with his stomach, but he is really not feeling good, Mom. He seems very weak. He just says he wants to be taken care of---he feels alone. He is saying he is ready to let go. He has done what he was supposed to do but he is trying not to hurt anyone. He's scared to hurt his family. He is trying to let go and tell them as easy as he can.. . .and his lesson for them was to teach them to love each other and to teach them happiness. He is showing me times he has made everyone laugh and smile. He was there to make them stronger in love and happiness."
Wanting to be sure, I asked specifically: "Does he want them to take him back to the vet for more treatment to make him better? Or just let him go?"
Lizzie responded again, "No, he is saying "let go." He did his job. I asked him if he needed to do anything more and he said no, but he said he wants lots of love before he goes."
Before I had a chance to relay the message, it was time to pick Lizzie up from her visit. Immediately upon getting in the car, Lizzie reported she was feeling differently about Dex. She thought she was wrong and that Dex just wanted to get everyone's attention with all this. That he really DID want to fight to get better.
I was shocked at the reversal, but figured we'd just go with it. I gave B. the message that Dexter was intending to get better and they shouldn't give up on him. B. confirmed that he had seemed to rally and was acting like he was feeling better. . .so that made me think Lizzie was on to something. . .
Four hours later I got the text that Dexter was gone. Lizzie was stunned. In a moment of clarity, I suggested she tune back in to him to see if there was anything else he needed to share. After a few quiet moments, this was her text to me:
"He said he TOLD me earlier that he letting go, and I just didn't want to believe it. Remember--I told you that he was letting go? He said I didn't want to accept that. He said this was a lesson for me, too. . .to learn even when an animal says something that hurts, I have to believe it. He said I need to stop second-guessing myself."
Then she followed up with the statement that he was in a much better place, but it was still so sad.
I was FLOORED! Was this my girl? I was expecting a rapid pendulum swing straight to hysterics, and instead I got this incredibly centered--even WISE--response. As I was reveling in the awareness and joy that my girl was indeed growing up, and scolding myself for expecting anything less, I heard the thunder of rapid footsteps on the stairs, followed by the high-pitched howl of a thoroughly pissed off teenage girl.
"THAT'S IT, MOM! I'M NEVER USING THESE GIFTS AGAIN AND YOU CAN'T MAKE ME! NO! I'M SO SERIOUS! DON'T EVEN TALK TO ME! I'M SO DONE! I'M NOT DEALING WITH DEAD ANIMALS! I'M NOT DOING IT!"
After asking her nicely a few times to sit down with me on the couch, I finally just demanded it in my familiar "do it or else" Mom voice. She threw herself on the couch, repeating the lines from above with increased fervor.
I listened to the ranting and did exactly what I should NOT have done. I punctuated her hissy fit with the firm statements that she didn't have to ever use her gifts again but she had committed to lessons with Diane, and she WOULD complete them. After all, I had already paid for these lessons, and it was unacceptable to give up!
Brilliant. Oh good LAWD! Even as I type this I'm rolling my eyes. I knew good and damn well that this girl would swing back into balance eventually, but I took the bait! Yep. I had swallowed that bait like a starving crappie. The screaming girl evolved into a seething caged animal just waiting for the opportunity to eat my face off. This is when I should have just lowered my head and backed away from the homicidal beast, but the Alpha Wolf in me had been activated.
We exchanged a few more barbs until I finally realized my mistake. I put Alpha Wolf back in her holding cell and spoke from a more centered place. I softened my tone and simply told her to go to bed. . .that everything always looks better in the morning light, and we would figure it out. During her retreat up the stairs, I heard a few more, "YOU CAN'T MAKE MEs" and we both went to bed.
This was on a Sunday night around midnight. I ignored the urge to engage her about all this until Thursday. I gently broached the subject, and was met with complete, arm-folded, lips-pursed resistance. I was surprised she hadn't budged yet, but I was wiser than a few days prior. I didn't push.
Then it happened. On Saturday morning, about a week later, the text came. (See, I told you texting was helpful!)
Lizzie: "I realized that I can't let one little thing stop me from doing something I am good at. Like, yes, talking to animals can be sad but it's also a good thing. Dexter is getting to do something else now and even to help someone else. He will teach other people lessons. When I try to NOT talk to animals I always end up talking to them anyway. . .I don't even have to try--it just comes to me now. And I love talking to our girls (our dogs) and I wouldn't want to throw that away. I know they like being able to talk to someone too--all animals do--so. . .I guess I'm going to keep learning."
Ahhhhhh. I love it when a plan comes together. Of course, I WANTED to respond that I knew this would happen and that she should have just listened to me from the beginning. After all, I know stuff. I'm the brilliant mother and if she would just acknowledge my awesomeness all of this could have been avoided!
But instead, we texted:
Me: "You're a smart girl, and I love you."
Her: "I love you too, Mom."
Thanks, Dex. Look at everything we learned from you in your last few hours on the planet. Well done, little man.
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