Why I Fear What I Could Lose

I fear something will happen to my dog, Blizzard, and I’ll be left empty. By loving him to the max and identifying as a dog lady, I invest all my eggs into his one basket. I fear losing what I have so diligently worked on. 

When I got sick in 2010, I was completely and entirely invested in going to the Olympics. I endured a year living alone and bullying by the team, all to reach my dreams. Because of that loneliness, I went through two bilateral leg surgeries to fix the damage I did by overtraining 

When I lost my ability to train, I lost my will to live.

I stopped eating, drinking, and sleeping all the time. And I lost weight and all my muscle, deeply entrenched in my newfound disorder: anorexia. 

I had a hard time investing in anything after losing my dream. At the time, I had lost my lifestyle, my routine, and my coping mechanism for suppressed trauma. But my service dogs changed all that.

In 2013, I adopted my soon-to-be service dog. Ector served as an amazing psychiatric and medical alert service dog. He learned fast and was incredibly, intelligently disobedient – something all service dogs should learn! Ector worked for me for his whole 12 years of life. I was madly in love with him. When he passed away in my arms,  I thought I would die. 

But 6 weeks later, a white lab was placed in my arms, and the hole in my heart started to heal. 

Blizzard is now 2 years old and a rock-solid service dog. He was born to be a working dog, chosen for me to train as a medical alert and response service dog. Bliz is wicked smart, too; he learns new tasks daily and loves working. 

The other night, Bliz worked for 3.5 hours (the longest he’s ever worked for), and he was an absolute angel. He rested under the table until I needed to go to the bathroom, and then he came right with me in a tight heel but on a loose leash–just like they’d trained him to do. 

He alerts me to fainting and hypoglycemia, and he responds to both by bringing me certain meds, calling 911 if unconscious, and finding chairs for me to sit down if I feel dizzy. Blizzard enamors me with his intellect, gentle demeanor, and silly personality. I embrace the title of dog mom; I have 100% respect for the canines on this earth.

But I realized something. By fully embracing my passions, which, in this case, are Blizzard and dogs in general put myself at risk for another crash and burn. Because of that, I’ve struggled to truly care about staying alive for 16 years, afraid to invest in anything fully. What if I lose Blizzard the same way I lost my skiing and healthy body? 

I still feel fear. Embracing a new identity feels risky, and it is.

But if I can’t live in the present, fully capturing the feelings, conversations, connections, and love, it makes it hard to stay alive. 

When I think about Blizzard, fears of him getting injured flood me. But I know that’s a sign that I’m fully living in the moment once again. I’ve fully invested in life, my connection with this gift from the canine gods. While it feels scary to invest for fear of losing all I have gained, I have to try. Without investing in anything, I can’t keep fighting through my illnesses for life.

Photo by Elliot Mann on Unsplash