Arguing with Reality
It was late, and I walked outside to get my cat. He wasn’t coming when I called, so I brought my dog, Bailey, out with me.
My cat loves my dog, so if he wasn’t coming for me…I knew he’d come for her.
However, this night was different. Bailey stayed close for a moment, then took off running to a distant corner of my yard. She was barking madly.
I went back inside. I still didn’t have my cat or my dog, and I was tired. I got ready for bed and then went outside one last time.
The stench of a skunk hit me like a truck. Shoot. Bailey ran over to me, and so did my cat, Cosmo. The smell was so intense my eyes watered.
I knew Bailey had been hit by that stupid skunk. Then, incredibly, my brain went to work on a different story. A few seconds later, I convinced myself the skunk had sprayed but had missed my dog.
This part is kind of unbelievable, but true. I went INSIDE my house, followed by Cosmo and Bailey.
The air was instantly saturated with skunk odor. Crap. What had I done? Why did I pretend like she hadn’t actually been sprayed in the face by a skunk? And WHY would I go so far as to let her come into my house and rub her sprayed face onto my bedroom carpet?!
Why indeed?
The answer is pretty simple: I didn’t want to accept what had happened. I knew how to get that stubborn skunk smell out—Dawn dish soap, baking soda, and hydrogen peroxide. I also knew I didn’t have any hydrogen peroxide. I knew it would require a trip to the store, and some good ol’ scrubbing and washing of my dog, and it was midnight. No thank you.
So I pretended it didn’t happen.
I walked right back into my house with my skunk-dog, turning a fairly simple (although inconvenient) problem into a much bigger ordeal. And all because I was arguing with my reality.
Bailey went back outside, but not before her scent was wide-spread inside. I spent the next day cleaning her and trying to get the skunk smell out of my house. I burned candles, plugged in any air fresheners I owned, and opened my windows. The fan spun on high. I had bottles of Febreze in each hand, spraying them on every surface.
By the end of that day, the skunk odor was gone. There was a heavy amount of pumpkin spice…but it was a welcome trade-off.
Isn’t it interesting how much more work I created by arguing with what happened? I’m working on this. So now, when unwelcome and unwanted things occur (and they always do!), I’m trying to accept my reality instead of arguing with it.
Then, no matter what happens, I get to ask,
“What am I going to do now?
