Saturday morning broods between pure bursts of light and hiccups of rain.
This temperamental indecisiveness lures me outside, because I relish feeling gushes of wind taking turns bringing in sunlight and then kisses of rain, and before I go barefoot out into the moody late morning, I coax my pit bull roomie, Kali Ma, to updog off her nest on the couch. She answers enthusiastically, amber eyes wide, and tail curled inquisitively.
Her happy and eager dash to the garden scores as dog/house sitting success.
My roommate and her owner, Barb’s departure for a soul-rejuvenating road trip to California initially broke Kali Ma’s loyal and fiercely loving heart. The first few days she collapsed into the beige cushions of the living room couch to grieve through sleep. A pitiful pit bull puddle of sorrow.
I sing her name, coo her compliments, and her flickered gaze communicates one phrase:
“You are not Barb.”
No, I am not Barb.
And though I’ve been her roommate for over a year, I am still an unfamiliar care-giver. I’ve been accepted and appreciated through tail-wags and quick cuddles, but Kali Ma’s unwavering devotion belongs to Barb.
So when Barb is away, she floats anchorless in the unfamiliar.
I weave the familiar into this limbo state. We roam the park, walk the neighborhood to admire the progression of Halloween décor begin to haunt sleepy bungalows, and we snuggle to watch “Madame Secretary.” Steadily Kali Ma’s playful personality returns and she reassumes her routine of spending time alone in the emerald universe of the garden, her owner’s cultivated and growing masterpiece.
She follows me up the steps into the garden. I surrender into the pace of a day liberated from any plans and sit underneath a canopy of swaying tree branches winking in watery light.
And then Kali Ma compliments me. She sits down, too. She sits with her back to me.
Pointed ears perked, a creamy freckled chest facing forward, heart-broadcasting down the cracked cement steps, nose lifted to catch the continuous flow of invisible information traveling in the confident sweeps of wind.
The rectangular patch of stark white fur at the back of her neck looks like a cloud floating in the glistening blackness of her coat.
I process the weight of the pit bull compliment.
She’s in protective mood. She’s guarding her tribe. I am her tribe.
I process the weight of the pit bull compliment. She’s let the unfamiliar becomes familiar.
This has taken time. This has taken consistency. This has taken love-charged actions with no expectations of ever being included within the inner circle of her dedicated and genuine heart.
And yet, here we are.
Protected, received, part of the pack.
Make the unfamiliar familiar.
The relationship advice from England’s celebrated therapist, Marisa Peers, stirs.
The video is a 1am find. An attempt to wind-down only to be energized into a contemplation on my love-life.
Make the unfamiliar familiar.
In an utterly charming British accent, the love guru shares the mistakes we fumbling love-seekers make in our romantic relationships.
We keep choosing the familiar.
We associate love with what we learned and absorbed as children.
The dysfunction, the peculiarities, the quirks of our families become familiar to us, and our instinctual, primitive and survival-striving brain is attracted to the familiar, because even if the familiar is unhealthy, it is known, and therefore, to us, perceived as safe.
Make the familiar unfamiliar and the unfamiliar familiar.
The accented advice sparks an instant contemplative fire.
The harsh blaze illuminates the ghosts of past relationships, former attractions and current crushes.
My familiar is aloofness, self-centeredness, hot-and-cold flirtation games, which tangos between being blatantly ignored in public and then an unexpected rush of attention when alone and through texts and private messages.
My familiar people-pleases, places my needs to the side, and leaves me as listener, therapist, his healer without him evenly reciprocating.
My familiar is loose boundaries and stinging disappointment, feigned disinterest and tumultuous inner seas of unrequited, unexpressed feeling.
My familiar needs to become less and less familiar.
I’m emotionally exhausted by this familiar.
This familiar has made me step back from dating, because I learned swiftly after my Texas move that I was in a new city attracting the same dysfunctional, disrespectful relationships.
So in a city unfamiliar I become aware of the familiar patterns governing my attractions and establish healthy friendships with men, and from there I begin to experience and see the kindness, the thoughtfulness, the caring that rings as a tad-bit unfamiliar to me.
What’s unfamiliar is how he followed up to ask if I was all right and then responded with words that made me feel so safe in being seen.
What’s unfamiliar is how he asks me how I am and then listens wholeheartedly.
What’s unfamiliar is his protect-and-provide masculine energy that encourages a radiant strength in my femininity.
What’s unfamiliar is speaking up about my needs and having the men acknowledge and respect the vulnerability it took to bring them to light.
What’s unfamiliar is the kind, loving touch he rubbed onto my arm to signal that I am welcomed and that I belong.
All these unfamiliar shows of affection, of genuine caring, bloom blushes that burn into the walls of the old familiar.
The work of making the unfamiliar familiar follows the steps of Kali Ma’s newly adjusted and accepted and now warmly embraced routine.
An allowing of time to process, get messy in the romps of relearning, and radically accepting the curled-up-on-the-couch nights and the energized mornings shimmering with anticipation for the change brewing.
A consistent commitment to the rewiring of a heart routine to lead toward paths of healthier and healthier interactions, friendships, romantic relationships with men.
A love and only love intention to deepen a truth that I am lovable and worthy of love, and this energy cracks the staleness of conditioned fearful defense and creates an openness that expands horizons.
She sits with her back to me, a confident claim to a new familiar, and she encourages me to do the same. A brave and gentle inquiry initiating the steps to sit in the discomfort of the unfamiliar and softening into a fiery edge that will eventually bring a comfort, a confidence, a courageous love into familiarity.