Photograph by Rosemary Manziano, DVM
As a counselor and as a medium, I often suggest dialoguing with our dearly departed. I’ve found that they now have the freedom to say the things they didn’t feel free enough to say when they were physically with us.
As an animal communicator, I often dialogue with my dogs who are now in Spirit. I don’t always like hearing what they tell me but, whatever it is they say, I know it’s coming from a pure place.
My Laila passed away last June. Many months after she passed, I finally got up the courage to ask her why it took me so many years to forge a real connection with her. She wouldn’t smile. She wouldn’t interact with me. She wouldn’t cooperate when I’d take her for a walk. She did her own thing and wasn’t concerned about how doing her thing would affect me. It pissed me off. It also made me dig deep to find ways of becoming more engaged with her.
She told me, “You had to prove yourself before I would open my heart to you.”
She put me through my paces, let me tell you. I understand why. She’d been hit. She’d been yelled at for barking. She’d chewed on rocks when there was no food; her prematurely worn teeth gave her away. She ate from garbage cans; she never stopped wanting to eat from the garbage can at home, no matter how much good quality food I put in front of her. Yeah, she licked my hand when I cried upon meeting her. And yeah, she chose to jump into my car and ride for 600 miles with me to my home. But none of that meant she was going to trust me, that she was going to love me, before she was ready. I had to prove myself to her.
I remember the first night she spent with me. My mother had come with me to meet Laila. I needed a first floor motel room for my mother, who didn’t walk steps too well. The motel only had one room left on the first floor, meaning we’d have to share a big bed. Laila curled up on one of the chairs, her head facing away from us. My mother invited her to join us in bed. She looked at my mother like, “Look, I don’t know who the hell you people are. I’ll stay over here, thank you very much.” For the next few years, I felt I was flunking one after another in a series of continual auditions. I had to prove myself to her.
It pissed me off. It made me dig deep to find ways of becoming more engaged with her.
It also made me a better person. I had to work to earn her trust. I had to work to earn her love. I had to work to earn her respect. I worked my butt off for years to do all of that, and I appreciate her calling me out. I appreciate her making me prove myself to her.
She knew who she was. She knew she had value. She knew she didn’t have to put up with being treated as anything less than the queen she was. She was regal. She carried herself with dignity. And she taught me to do what she did.
I put people through their paces with me. I call them out. I tell them it’s got to be my way. And then I wait to see how they react. If they vanish, they vanish. If they cared about me, they wouldn’t vanish, the way I didn’t vanish when Laila called me out. They have to prove themselves to me.
If they cared about me, they would ask me what I mean when I say it’s got to be my way. No one has ever asked me, and I’d be happy to answer. It has to do with stroke damage that still makes me unable to be in my life the way others are in their lives and knowing I am every bit as regal as Laila was.
When I say “it’s got to be my way,” I don’t mean I have to run the show. That’s a dictatorship, not a relationship. It means my needs have to be taken into account, not run over or ignored. I am currently unable to be someone who has never had a big stroke. I might become that person in time, and I continue to work each day to make that happen, but the people in my life have to understand that I am different in this moment. They assume that, since I look good and present well, I have recovered. I know more about what’s going on inside my brain than they do. Instead of solving problems, I have devised a series of workarounds that make me look like I am a lot more recovered than I am. I lose more friendships and potential relationships because others make assumptions that don’t take my needs and current capabilities into account. It’s a Catch-22; love is my greatest healer, and I walk away when I am not being treated with love.
When someone shows up who asks me what I mean when I say it’s got to be my way, I will feel like I have won the lottery.
I believe in calling people out. I believe in inspiring people to function at their highest. I believe in appreciating people who choose to function at their highest. And I believe that, if an abused rescue dog could eventually find her way into a loving home and continually call me out to become the highest version of me I’d ever been while in service to us both, it can happen for the rest of us.
Who’s calling you out to prove yourself today?
copyright Sheryl Hirsch-Kramer 2016 All rights reserved.
Love of Life Catalyst www.TransformingThroughLove.com
Host of Catalytic Radio www.BBSRadio.com/catalytic
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