Even though she has known love, the traumas of her young life stunt her ability to believe love is real. She simply doesn't trust it. Doesn't know she is worthy of it.
I wish I were only referring to Merry, but deep inside I know that I am also writing about myself. This dog is somehow exposing my own shame and fears better than any therapist ever did. It is like having a 1000-watt light bulb glaring into my dark heart. It will either blind me forever or finally give me 20/20 vision, your guess is as good as mine.
Having time off from my normal workaholic state brings me face to face with the things I am purposely too busy to confront on the daily. Tonight, near the end of an incredibly heartbreaking and beautiful year, I find myself sitting in silence, haunted by buried things fighting to make their way to the surface. Powerless over the havoc they could wreak in my life, yet strangely curious if they can help Robin 2.0 finally emerge.
Maybe there is hope for Merry and me. The jury is still out, but I am determined to try to teach her how to accept love, and maybe learn how myself.
