This is my second conversation with Sid, after my first seemed inconsistent with his real life, according to information his people provided. Make sure to read the initial conversation first! Yesterday, I spoke with Sid and found him to be gentle and calm. In fact, most of what I experienced turned out to be just about the opposite of what his people put in his Q&As. How did I get everything SO wrong? I know this has happened to me before and it turned out there were other explanations — reasons I wasn't aware of at the time. So I thought maybe that's the case here? Or maybe I just got things wrong? I hadn't yet submitted my first conversation to his people, and that may actually shed some light on this. But I thought I would connect with him again, start fresh, and see what was up. I returned to his page, looked into his eyes, and wondered what I'd find. How could this gentle dog that I met actually be the grumpy terror (with others) his people paint him as? I immediately heard, "As long as things are going my way, I'm good." I got the distinct feeling of a split personality (maybe not in the clinical sense), where he needs to control his situation and environment to suit his needs and if things aren't going the way he wants, he lashes out — pretty much does what's necessary — to maintain things as he wants. I looked at his picture again with questioning, wondering if his eyes would tell me something more. I heard, "I'm the only one." I felt deep insecurities in him, driving his need to be an "only child," to be pampered and loved and feel secure. "Nobody's taking that from me. Nobody!" he said. It really did feel like a Jeckyll and Hyde personality. "Sid, when I approached you yesterday, you didn't even show a trace of this," I began, wanting to find out what happened. "You were sweet and gentle and your demeanor didn't threaten me," he said. "I can be perfectly sweet… when things are going well. But I can't help myself when things are suddenly out of my control." I see him reacting to sudden movements, unexpected events and visitors, and times when he has to share his peoples' attention. "Would you prefer being the only dog in the house, Sid?" I asked. "It's best for me," he said. But I also felt his sadness over this. I think he does like having another dog friend sometimes. But that feeling quickly changes as soon as that dog is on the move, potentially stealing attention, taking his stuff, stepping on him. I reflected back to yesterday's conversation, where Sid told me how he has a day bed next to the living room couch and one on the floor of the bedroom. Those facts didn't seem to be true based on what his people wrote on his page. "Those were my wishes," Sid answered my reflection. He said this in a funny way, like "Okay, you caught me while I was bending the truth. I was telling the truth — the truth of what I wished." "So you wish you had your own bed in the living room and in the bedroom so you could have your own space?" I asked. To which he replied, "That's the second choice. My first is that HE uses those beds and I get the premium spots with the people all to myself." He was referring to another dog in the house. I had to laugh to myself about this strategic thinking. I deducted the rest. "And if that can't happen, then you would take those other beds, just so you can have your space?" "I won't be happy about that," he said. And I could feel it really wouldn't resolve the issue, because he would be feeling resentful about it all. "Then what do you suggest, Sid?" I asked. "This is how family dynamics work. You are all here together in this life, likely for a reason, like to help you grow in some way, and your task is to find ways to get along." I could feel him thinking about this. And I could feel the frustration in him, being "stuck" in such a situation that required him to "grow." After a while of thinking, he said, "I need more respect." It felt like he was referring to the other dog. "I'm little," he began, then immediately inserted, "I'm NOT little." The second part was what he was projecting, not the fact. He knew he was smaller, but didn't — couldn't — show it or act like it. But he felt it. I tried to feel what the other dog was feeling and just got a happier vibe, nothing malicious and no animosity. Almost an unawareness. He wasn't meaning to encroach on Sid's territory or to disrupt his life. He was just trying to be himself. "Have you tried talking to him?" I wondered to Sid. "I've yelled at him," he replied. "I do it all the time. He doesn't listen." "Yelling at him might just come across as a reaction to something he doesn't understand he did. He might just think you're always grumpy for no reason that he can think of," I explained. "I'm suggesting you talk to him before anything happens. Tell him how you need things to be, But be fair — he lives there, too, and deserves the same love and privileges you do." I felt a softening in Sid's hard shell. He tried hard to stifle it. "Sid, the dog you were yesterday with me was gentle and loving and healthy. You can get to that place full-time if you address it rather than hide behind your anger. Your people love you more than anything and not only want you to be your happiest self, but want the family to be harmonious. You can help make that happen! I really think you will love the difference. You will feel so much better about everything." I knew one option to try and resolve this would be to talk with the other dog and maybe the people in the house and then do some back and forth negotiations with everyone. But I felt strongly that Sid needed to be the one to start talking and explaining his side directly. It was part of his path in this life. I checked in with how Sid was feeling about all of this. He was ponderous and I could feel his exhaustion — the result of years of holding up that protective facade and now realizing he perhaps didn't need to do that, but also realizing he would have to push himself to do something he was afraid to do. "Sid, you are very brave. You have lots of strength. And you are surrounded by those who truly love you. It's a safe space. You all want the same thing: to love each other and get along. I know you can do this," I encouraged. He listened but was too deep in thought to respond. I felt bad leaving him at this point, feeling vulnerable. I sent some healing energy and that seemed to fortify him. "You ready?" I asked. "Ready," he responded. "Okay, Sid, good luck. Be your best self," I encouraged. "I will." He said this with hope.
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