Four Hours

Last week I had to make a decision that affected my family, my neighbors, and a dog I love.

My dog has struggled with protective fear nipping that has only gotten worse as she has gotten older. And despite our best efforts with training, removing her from situations, and many preventative measures. She still escaped and nipped our neighbor and broke the skin.

In the wake of the shock and disappointment of the situation, my husband immediately announced with certainty;

“She’s completely done here. She has to go.”

He was embarrassed, overwhelmed, and stressed out after trying to prevent this exact scenario for years.

I, however, didn’t have the same certainty.

Instead of arguing with him, I set a not so gentle boundary. My exact words were;

“This is not the time, I have a baby screaming in my ear, and I don’t need the assault right now.” Then I excused myself.

The situation frayed me at the edges and I was struggling to process everything at that moment.

I wasn’t ready to make a decision, I just wanted myself to feel what was there before I thought about what all of this meant.

It was extremely challenging to let those emotions run unchecked, because they were heavy, unwanted, overwhelming and most of all it’s the exact thing I would bury, ignore, then make a snap decision so I could run away from them.

But that was a different version of me. The me here on this day, didn’t want to rush past these. I trusted that every single one of them had a purpose.

I listened.

I stayed.

I gave myself space.

I kept living my day.

I fed my kids.

Answered questions.

Folded laundry.

And underneath all of it, the emotions kept moving.

I didn't rush them.
I didn't argue with them.
I didn't ask them to leave.

Four hours later, I knew where I stood.

Not because the grief was gone.

Not because the decision hurt less.

But because I heard my own voice before inviting in anyone else's.

We did end up deciding it was time to rehome her.

I still cried.

I still wished the outcome had been different.

But I wasn't making the decision out of panic.
Or pressure.
Or someone else's certainty.

I was making it from self-trust.

And that's a very different place to make a life-changing decision from.

I used to think self-trust meant always knowing the answer.

Now I think it means giving yourself enough space to hear your own before anyone else's certainty becomes louder than your voice.

Sometimes that takes five minutes.

Sometimes it takes four hours.

Either way, every version of you deserves to be heard before she's asked to decide.

Still Here,

Bethany

Protection, understanding, unruly confidence.

-Nettles