Typically I don’t start anything that I’m writing with a title, and in fact that’s the last thing I add once I have written and understand what it was that needed to pour out.  I know though that there is a raw painful topic that I’ve been unable to stay focused on but need to, so this title is a beautiful choice already.  

It’s poetic and can be so many different things and taken in different ways. The symbolism is spot on too. If I mean it literally, there’s this picture that can be painted that shows the danger and knowledge that one misstep or obstacle could be devastating and painful. Even that in itself could be a quick slip and scare of just barely missing being burned, which gives the sigh of “how lucky am I!”  

     It could also result in a burn and painful shock that teaches a valuable lesson and alters the caution for future fire endeavors, altered by experience to be more careful and clear the appropriate path with safeguards in place prior to dancing around the fire…

   Or perhaps much more horrific to result in a life-altering result of the experience, whether that be permanently disfigurations from burns and the long process of painful healing endured only to have to work to find humility for life and face tough lessons of vanity and recognition that before never truly showed you just how skewed this world and perceptions are, including your own, until you had no choice but to find out. 

    The fire also could have spread elsewhere in the midst of panic and being burned, or maybe you didn’t even get burned but were so close that it scared you and your reaction caused it to not be contained.  That fire once seen as so alive, beautiful, inspirational, and fun, suddenly has consumed everything you owned or destroyed others lives by consuming their homes, and all of this due to one careless mistake on your behalf.

The list goes on and on and on, use your imagination. 

The beauty in any of these literal scenarios of dancing around a fire can also encompass the metaphorical sense of this saying in that just like the consequences of literally dancing around flames, there are also consequences of the latter. 

Again, numerous examples can be used and applied to this saying metaphorically too, but for me, I’m talking about avoiding the very thing that needs my attention and time. There is a sense of urgency that is relevant for both examples, being that sure, there very well could be no consequence whatsoever for focusing on everything else surrounding that fire, and a lot of the time it typically works out fine that way…

   However, there’s a danger and risk in putting blind faith in assuming this wild, dangerous, destructive force will stay confined.  I actually heard something yesterday that opened my eyes to realizing this, on some pitmaster show someone had put on and was watching. 

     We somehow think that we control the fire, but a fire is wild and unpredictable and the key is not controlling the fire but rather learning how to utilize it throughout the shifts and changes whether that be temperature, direction, flames, smoke, whatever it is.  

   As a bonfire fanatic and individual who lights outside fires regularly and enjoys it in a deep therapeutic sense, I never realized that I too somehow assumed that just because I ignited it and lay the wood in the patterns I created, picked the kindling, placed it perfectly, and have the perimeters in place for safeguards,… truly I am merely observing once ignited, a wild and dangerous element capable of destroying everything it touches with ease. It’s wild and should be respected as such, which I’d never really dove deep into thinking about it in that way but rather felt like I was somehow powerful in a weird way for creating this beautiful and dangerous dancing flame. Reality is that yes, I lit it, and I feed it whatever I choose, but if it for one milisecond was able to shift outside of the “box” I have laid out for it to stay in, it’s going to consume anything and everything it possibly can in it’s path.

That’s wild to even think about isn’t it?

We willingly place this wild beast with the potential of bringing destruction, pain, and death to anything it can get close enough to engulf,… IN OUR HOMES. Sometimes we leave it burning unattended at night while we sleep… knowing it just would take one thing, one piece of fallen dust, one clumsy critter knocking something close enough, one faulty placement of the fireguard, an old wall nail finally getting weak enough for the picture to fall,.. ANYTHING,… and blind faith and trust lets us feel confident that everything is in place and will be fine. Likely so, but still man, that’s insane if you stop and really think about it.

I started to do exactly what I meant in choosing this title just now already, but again, I hope having that title there will remind me and make me aware of when I  fall into doing that.

It’s fascinating how our brains work, and it’s wild that I’ve worked enough on myself and paid attention to recognize my mind will subconsciously distract itself to avoid looking at or focusing on something that is more painful. I will even go off and dig up super traumatic experiences of the past and find life-changing and healing perspective shifts through doing so, and most times I realize after I’ve spent hours upon hours exploring and unearthing beautiful and powerful lessons of life, that I completely and entirely avoided the entire reason I began writing in the first place. 

I haven’t quite figured out why, aside from I’m not sure how to even begin or what to focus on within the turmoil I’m needing to comb through, so I go down roads that I lose myself in the journey and experience and forget where I even started out to begin with. 

Part of this protection defense mechanism that’s subconsciously imbedded is probably too that I don’t really know a positive outlook or how to find the beauty or shift the perspective, which granted,  I never do when I’m free-writing like this, but perhaps somehow I just understand and have faith in myself that I know I will find it…. Especially if I’m getting to avoid what I thought I needed to focus on and find treasures and beauty and strength in the ugly, painful, hurt I decided to focus on instead, which in turn convinces me (without me realizing it as I’m doing it) that I’ve really accomplished something great and powerful.  I have indeed, but I think it’s all my brain trying to protect me from being most uncomfortable and uncertain and clueless of how or where to touch on the pressing issue. Maybe?  I really haven’t been able to figure it out or I’d have been able to change it haha

So lets just begin with what I’m struggling with, which is losing my best friend of 15.5 years, my dog Moka. He’s more than “just a dog” and most people don’t really understand that sort of bond and connection, or if they do they likely have children and families and such that their love is poured into that they may say are equally important, but if the time boiled down to them having to make a hard decision or truly decide they of course would pick their kid(s). I would agree and likely would also except I have no kids, and that bond and love and connection of raising and caring for and teaching and spending time with, feeding, worrying about, prioritizing them as your reason behind getting up, work, food, needs,…. All of that.  You’re entire world surrounds them to the point you don’t really realize it until they’re at grandmas or summer camp for a week for the first time and suddenly, Damn, this is strange…

Moka was with me starting in 2008 when I adopted him from the shelter, and I worked hard to train him and gave every bit of focus, energy, love, time, attention, patience, aggravation, money, etc.  He went everywhere with me from day 1 when I took puppy Moka with me to the quad of the college campus and he was socialized and introduced to all my friends, he fell asleep sitting up in my buddy johnny’s arms, that’s how much we did on day 1 haha. 

   So he was with me through graduate school and I “got custody” of him when I lost my 3.5 year relationship and engagement, left alone to figure out in a new town that I knew nobody, first time renting an apartment and learning I couldn’t afford it (lesson that came shortly after moving there and being stuck in a year lease),… my phone got stolen, I was broke, alone, had no idea what I was doing, where anything was, no clue how to be a counselor (first counseling job)… just a huge shift. I remember momentarily the feeling of looking at Moka and not being able to see him without thinking of my ex who we’d spent his whole life thus far as a part of ours, and I saw them together every time I looked at him for a while. 

Moka was all I had and we figured it out together,… I wouldn’t go anywhere, not even travel, unless he came along. Throughout Mok’s life we’d driven to New Mexico and back, across the state of Arkansas from mountains to delta, everywhere in Mississippi from top to bottom left to right of the state, Alabama, Tennessee,… you get the point. All of my friends and family knew and expected Moka to come along, I’d usually get the “as if it were even a question” or “I already assumed he was” or “I’d be offended if you didn’t” when I’d try and do the polite guest thing and ask if Moka could come stay too. He was family. He acted more human than anything, I’d worked so much with him and spent every moment that until he was at the end and falling down he still wouldn’t have accidents inside, never tore up anything, he respected space and things as much as decent human beings or guests would do, and much better than a lot of humans too. Moka would come to work with me starting at that first job, to 3.5 years of working with adolescents in residential alcohol and drug treatment, to the next job after that for 3.5 years too,… I used him in examples in therapy even, I could raise my voice at him and he’d bark back and I’d use it as a way to explain effective communication and what happens if raised voices start being involved… 

He came to family events, and even was there and helped my mother and her sisters as my grandmother was dying, was also there for my grandmother, and my mother informed me later that Moka was the one who let them know when she was about to pass away.

He was no ordinary dog at all. 

He knew how to get in the bathtub when instructed even when he shook the entire time and HATED baths, he could push open the door and let himself out at the houses I had doors that wouldn’t “latch” completely. He’d come back to the door when finished exploring or doing business,… I could ask him if he’d pooped after he’d wandered back up and he’d turn back around and go be sure to poop. Yes, he would squat down even if he didn’t have to poop haha, but indeed, Moka would poop on command, which is hilarious and unheard of.  He would drag his bed or a blanket across anywhere when asked to “go get your bed,” I taught him to do the downward dog stretch on command by saying “do push ups,” he could speak, roll over, stay, fetch, he’d “sing” with me when I would, he would “give me a hug” if I got on my knees in front of him, placing both arms as he jumped his front feet to my shoulders to “hug” me.  There’s so much more I can’t even remember and list everything.

He loved all people and animals, was just so happy and laid back and listened so well. He was always there no matter what and loved me unconditionally.  I’ve realized part of my problem is that I never noticed even after 15 years of self-work and exploration and healing myself through art and writing that afterwards I had him physically present there with me, when I was upset I was never truly alone, and he always understood and accepted me no matter what I was going through.  

I’ve found that’s the hardest thing I’ve encountered is reaching down for him or looking around for him to listen or be there in my difficult times, or arguments and feeling misunderstood and misheard, I separate myself and even can write it all out and still, I’m alone, incomplete, I feel like a disappointment and failure at those times because I am alone and unsure and nobody there to listen and love on and the connection that allowed me to know I’m okay, loved, and he truly does understand. He did. Once I dropped some mail walking back from the mailbox and jokingly asked “hey will you grab that” to him as he’s trailing behind me and my hands are full and he picks it up as if it was some trick he was taught or a phrase I’d ever used with him before,… nope. He just understood me. I can’t explain it and unless you knew him and our connection you’d never believe it or understand it, truly.

He never was kennel trained, I made sure he had his space and freedom, I could never contain him in a space like that it broke my soul to even imagine. To the point the very few times he had to go to the vet and stay the night, even one, or a few hours for a haircut at Petsmart, I was NOT OKAY.  He’s not that dog, just let him hang out he won’t bother anything. Again, everybody hears “my dog is different/well behaved” and it’s like ehhhhh…. Because there’s going to be something chewed sometimes or an accident. Not Moka… In fact, the previous home I lived in for 4 years before moving here initially wasn’t going to let me move in due to “no pets allowed” and I tried explaining and even said I understand that people say this stuff to trick or manipulate or don’t mean it to the full capacity of what is acceptable, but I’m telling you he’s not an ordinary dog. They for whatever reason gave me a “6 month trial period” to which I knew immediately I would be fine and be there, but that they had to learn Moka themselves. 4 years later I left with them checking in too on how Moka was doing. 

Another challenge in this grief and trying to heal and cope and get through it if that isn’t enough in itself having lost your “child” and what your every single day of the last 15.5 years surrounded. Your purpose, if you will…. Is that I don’t have anyone around me, true friends closely who knew him like that or “get it”… 

I don’t have that place to go to escape or get serenity (yet)… and am not understood yet that sometimes I need a space, pure silence, and ability to not care about what I have to do, what mess I make, or being judged for not bathing and being covered in paint or markers or writing/typing for hours and hours and hours.  

My family since my grandmother died is disconnected now, and Moka was also a tiny bit of glue that held pieces of everyone tied to something everyone still loved and saw through the same agreed on lens. 

I don’t have my family, the connection, the true and genuine love and support,… there’s been lies and masks and forced or manipulated words or actions all due to possessions, money, things, and who is right and what is fair and who gets what of my grandmother’s things. It’s killed me seeing the one thing that she cared about most, the thing she and my grandfather instilled into my core which is connection and family and the importance… they’ve just up and sold the biggest and longest tradition and meet up connection and place we spent over 30 years meeting up without question every year,… it may have been for my grandparents deep down, but we all loved it and the experience, it’s like they’ve forgotten and it’s become about owning things that don’t matter in the grand scheme of things… that side of my family is all I had left of true connection and events I truly looked forward to attending and seeing everyone. It was real.

It’s become masks and lies and walking on eggshells,… I’ve got two second cousins who have been born and hasn’t seen my cousins (their parents) since the day of my grandmothers funeral.

The only reason I got to see my two aunts together with my mother around my area, which was a few months back, was because I reached out and asked please it would mean a lot to me I haven’t had y’all together since my grandmother died… and they were only here because they had court battling against their brother (my uncle) who hates them and they hate him…. It’s so messed up. Like a nightmare I can’t escape.

Eye problems/surgeries, losing Moka and two other critters within weeks apart. Presentations to give amidst all of this, roof falling in and roofer who promised to cover damages disappearing so having to do and pay for it all (my significant other is doing all of the work and paying for it and it’s not something he caused but the fault of the roofers not covering the house as we had shingles being replaced, significant other getting sick and the scares of that, betrayal, work conflicts, you name it and I’ve probably been through something similar or exactly that thing in the last 4 months, all back to back to back.  Moka has been my one thing that is missing that I can’t quite find a way to heal from and I am trying so hard to not unravel after all of this trauma in such a short time frame.  

I feel like a burden when I need to escape the noise and that I’m letting people down or making them think that I don’t want to be around them or they’ve done anything wrong…. It’s THE NOISE I CAN’T HANDLE ANYMORE.

I’ve realized I’m programmed from my trauma of childhood and then reinforced by life experiences that I can’t turn off my ears and am in a constant state of hypertension and have sleep issues that surround my inability to just stop listening.  I recently discovered it’s a protection factor that’s stamped into my existence because I’ve had to be able to hear anything to protect myself, meaning I have to be able to wake up from dead sleep if a doorknob turned or someone stepped foot into the room… I can recall even being outside in the woods about 5 years ago and whoever I was with wanting to play music but my anxiety was sky high because I couldn’t hear if someone was coming or wild hogs were nearby.  It’s a protective factor and I can’t turn it off. So just recently I realized I NEED SILENCE sometimes, routinely, because I can’t shut that off and constantly and unwillingly being on high alert at all times after doing a job that consists of me carrying secrets and traumas and heavy stuff, even though I can “leave work at work” I can’t help but be the empath I’ve always been and feel every bit of pain that is shared with me. It’s what makes me a great therapist,… I’m real,.. I can’t help it. I’ve never understood how people CAN’T BE, or how people can naturally just lie, use others, manipulate, pretend…. I couldn’t if I tried, and if I ever have tried I feel such guilt I can’t follow-through or admit to the lie. It’s just who I am to my core.

It gets really lonely and leaves you wondering if you’re alone in existing as an actual true “human being” before the world corrupted and taught and shaped people into money being the focus of life and getting to the top no matter what or who stands in your way, the “whatever it takes” mentality is what seems to be the new normal human way.

I don’t get it.  I can’t be that, even if I wanted to which I don’t at all, ever… but I can’t turn off genuinely caring about others.

I’ve been burned and hurt and thrown under so many buses for no reason other than I’m an easy target and someone can use me to get something they want… despite everything, even being stolen from, lied to, cheated on, name smeared and rumors started, just so much hate and hurt — I’ve never been able to intentionally harm another human being.  I just can’t. 

I care about people. Even the ones who the world would agree maybe deserve it,… no, I can’t hurt someone. I know what it feels like, and I’ve done it at a young age through my words alone and it haunts me still to this day, even those teenage anger outbursts or lashing out in emotion way back then, in anger… as justified as it may have been sometimes, knowing I hurt people I care about and seeing it can’t be erased or forgotten, I’ll never intentionally harm another human being, I just can’t. 

I’ll set boundaries today, and stand up for myself and what’s right… I won’t let others use and abuse my kindness like the people-pleasing younger version of me used to do without realizing it was wrong on MY PART to not set boundaries,… felt selfish at the time, but today I understand and know better…  but still, I won’t hurt someone willingly. Never.

Okay well, I started to dance around the fire again but think I managed to share about Moka in a way that was therapeutic for me and helps me realize this is a deep wound and the timing and circumstances surrounding going through this grief make it harder than the hardest thing I already knew I’d have to go through…. I’m there, but also I’m without the people I need, some distance separates, and others the bond and true genuine connection is just severed now unfortunately.  Family I once knew without doubt were honest and understood and there for me that I could call and be no burden to just talk and relate to I’ve watched lie to my face about things because they involve somehow the battle and court nonsense and family ties…. It’s like paranoia and taking sides are now the focal point and the genuine unselfish true love and connection is no longer there, likely it won’t ever come back again, not truly.  I’m accepting this.

I feel and fear it trickling down into my immediate connections with my family and siblings and I really think that’s just me doubting and going through a really rough time and needing to lean on my family and those who truly relate to, care about, and “get me” and know exactly what I’m experiencing and the connection I had and just lost…. I think that’s me just feeling lonely and needing instant gratification in an immediate response or acknowledgement of a text or anything at all, but if I think about it truly, this isn’t a thing they have ever been good at, so that’s just me reaching out grabbing at thin air trying to find someone and something to hold onto because everything else is just POOF incinerated right there all at once before my eyes…. 

Don’t mishear me though, I have the best significant other I’ve ever had in my entire life who is so good to me, but my biggest fear is pushing him away or hurting him somehow through my hurt.

That’s all I have for now, and all the quiet and alone time that was offered to me today.

Much love!