This is Rufus. He is a 6 years old Airedale Terrier.

Earlier this year, I started sharing a house with Rufus' owner. I dog sat Rufus for a couple of times. Learnt how he can be both the sweetest dog and a demon possessed creature. 

I know you might be wondering why is my newsletter about a dog... but bear with me.

At the end of the year, I knew Rufus' owner would be away for a few months, and I had assured him that I would gladly take care of Rufus. 

As September approached, I started noticing how I was feeling a lot of resistance over the whole idea of taking care of Rufus solo. He can be quite a handful with his unique personality. I felt resentment at the fact that I would have to walk him twice a day, that I had to feed him in the morning and at 18.00 on the dot (he makes sure to start reminding me of dinner time around 17.00), that I had less time for myself, that I had less flow in my daily life... arghhhh panic!. All of a sudden I was building this idea that my day would become very structured after a few years of living a very unstructured daily life. 

The word commitment started standing out as I observed my reluctance, fear and resistance to the change about to happen in my life.

Why was I resisting so much at the thought of caring for another being, one I love dearly too?

My life used to be really structured for many years. When I quit my job at the end of 2016, I suddenly had no structure.
I relished in this at the beginning, then realised how much having all that time meant that I also finally had the time to pay attention to my body, to my thoughts and to the amount of healing that desperately needed to happen. 

I have grown to love the flow of an unstructured day and I guess I have become as attached to it as I was to my structured way of living. The thing is, taking care of Rufus is not a huge change, I was already walking him every evening and in the morning on occasion. I guess in my mind, I just felt fear of having 'time' taken away from me. 

What I have learnt is that the more I resist change, the more painful and uncomfortable it is. 
If I focus on being present in each moment, instead of allowing my head to getting lost in a sea of 'what if?', everything becomes easier.

What I have learnt, is that when change comes, that a lot of old unhealthy habits come back.
I have noticed how easily I put Rufus' needs ahead of mine, how easily I forgo my self-care in order to do other things I believe to be more important than taking care of myself. 

What I have learnt is when things change, I have to continue to prioritising my well-being, my self-care and my needs.
It is easier when I am only responsible for myself (and even then, things can easily slip), but when another being is added to the mix, I can see how easily I get 'lost' in the 'other'.

This is all very ironic too, because one of my deepest desires is to have a family. A partner and a child. So I ask myself, how come you want these things when you can so easily freak out about taking care of a dog alone? Do I have a problem with commitment? Have I gone so far out into being used to just it being me that I struggle to let anyone else in?

These are some of the questions I will continue to reflect on. Commitment sounds like a big word to me right now and I am hoping that I will continue to peel my understanding of it. And who knows, maybe taking care of Rufus is my training ground.

What is your relationship with the word commitment? What does it mean to you and how is it showing up in your life? If you would like to share a bit more about your experience, I would love to hear from you. Hit reply or email: pelagiapais@gmail.com. 

With love,

Pelagia