Don’t Get Pissed About Being Treated Like A Dog If Your Acting Liking A Puppy.
We all know people like this.
And in many cases we have all been puppy dogs at some point in our lives.
I know I sure have.
Years back, when I was in my teens and early 20’s I was for a sure a puppy dog in some instances.
I felt horribly insecure.
I felt like I was stupid and silly.
I felt like I was not worthy of anything in my life and that I NEEDED approval.
I NEEDED a pat on the head telling me that I was doing good.
That I was seen.
That I was loved.
I wanted the pat on my head so badly that I ran behind foot of my friends, my teachers and even my husband.
I recall him telling me how insecure I appeared.
He pointed out my pigeon toed stance.
He pointed out my slouching shoulders.
My inability to make let alone keep eye contact.
My fear to go out and be too social.
I clung to his arm like a lost little girl.
I feared being seen for who I was because I did not know who I was and I was scared that who I was was not good enough for this world.
Or for him.
I could not understand why he loved me.
Wanted to be with me.
And why he said he was not worthy of me.
This then.
This was a Kendal that was scared of her life.
Scared of her choices.
Scared of her own shadow.
Perhaps hard to believe.
But still true.
Even though I made my whole existence about my husband and family,
Even though I begged for approval,
begged for that pat on the head like a good puppy.
I was irritate when he treated me like a child.
When he scolded me.
When he fathered me.
When he would basically pat his knees and say, “Come here puppy. Aren’t you a sweet girl.”
Granted he never actually did this, but it was an energy that was passed between us.
It was him trying to reassure me that I was doing good,
asking for what he wanted, expecting to get it, without realizing guilting me in different ways, and treating me the way you would your pet.
I felt often like I was a trophy.
Not a human.
Not a woman.
Not his wife.
But an object.
The sick thing is that I asked for this treatment.
I encouraged it even.
It was the way I believed I could feel loved.
I was lost and uncertain.
I had no clue who I was and therefore I needed him to tell me who I was and to pat me on the back for being what he said.
I wanted to know I was doing good.
Making him happy in my efforts to be what he needed/wanted.
But I hated the belittling feeling that came with it.
I hated how I felt inside.
I hated not really being me.
But being something for someone else.
SO I bitched about being treated like this,
NEVER realizing until years later that I had done it all to myself.
Crazy huh?
The thing that I figured out about 10 years into this experience was that I always knew who I was.
I was just afraid to express myself.
I was just afraid that if I allowed myself to be seen that I would scare off people in my life that I currently had and I did not want to loose.
So instead of being me,
I hid me from the world and myself,
until I could no longer cope with the pain.
My physical body decided one day that I was going to STOP the insanity of hiding from myself or I would be in physical pain.
I developed Chrones.
Let me tell you, Chrones is not a fun dis-ease.
I spent a few years in horrible pain,
struggling to figure out how to naturally heal myself,
struggling to gain my stamina back for life,
I lived a fatigued existence,
where I started to question if I wanted to go on.
Thank goodness for my babies.
They have always been my reason for everything.
My joy.
But the pain of living with Chrones,
the uncertainty of what it would lead too.
The unstableness of my body EVERYDAY.
I felt like a prisoner in my own flesh.
I tried everything to heal myself.
And at the end of it all, I sat there hopeless.
Here I was in my early thirties.
Mom of five.
The prime of my life.
And I was feeling dead.
Lost.
Dead.
Hopeless.
Sick.
I felt ugly in every sense of the word.
But here, here is where God came in.
I knew there was something I was missing.
And one day I ended up at a church event,
it was a book release for a female author that my church was hosting. I went to the talk and listened to this woman share her story.
She shared her drama of finding herself.
She shared her trials and tribulations.
She shared that she realized that after the blessing of motherhood that God was offering her the most prize of all possessions.
The most joyous experience of anything.
And that was the birthing of herself.
This was what I was needing to hear.
Needing to accept.
This pain that I was feeling.
This struggle that I was in with my body.
With my mind, my heart, my soul.
It was JUST THIS.
I was BIRTHING MYSELF.
My soul was COMMANDING ME to stop being a puppy dog to others and to start being my own WOMAN.
My soul wanted me to CLAIM MY LIFE.
Wanted me to STOP trying to always please others,
stop looking for approval,
but instead give myself approval.
The more I stepped into my
POWER,
my STRENGTH,
my TRUTH,
and just allowed myself to be revealed no matter what that meant. No matter if that meant I was going to loose people in my life or not, the quicker my body healed.
The more I embraced myself, the more my SOUL acknowledged me by healing my physical body.
Such gratitude I hold for the woman who spoke that day at that event.
She made me aware of the bitch I was being.
She made me aware that my neediness was killing me.
She made me aware that I was better than what I had accepted for myself.
And she made me aware that the pain I was experiencing was an opportunity to connect,
to myself.
to God.
To my truth.
It was a birthing process.
So throw yourself a bone today.
Look at your life,
and see where you may be guilty of being a puppy dog.
Look and see how you are holding yourself back by begging like a hungry dog,
and instead of begging,
FEED YOURSELF.
And as always,
Stop Existing & Start Living
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