I want to begin by saying a deep and grateful thank you to friend and animal communicator, Dawn Brunke. She was deeply compassionate and held an incredible non-judgmental space for me as I moved through deep agonizing emotions since bringing Shiloh home from the humane society.
And while this feels very vulnerable to share and the shame that overwhelmed me and the risk of judgment and abandonment more layers of the excruciating pain I experienced…
I’ve had to sit with the uncomfortableness of all of it.
What would others think of me and the thoughts I was having…
And the risk I felt I may lose everything I’ve been building on with my love of helping others with the relationships with themselves and with their pets and that I could lose this and be judged, misunderstood, and abandoned.
But the truth is I made a mistake by adopting Shiloh….
and owning this mistake without shame would be a part of my healing.
As much as John and I had been talking the last year about bringing another dog into our lives, we didn’t fully talk openly about all the aspects. There was also miscommunication.
John and I had agreed that we would adopt a dog together, as a family, and one that would be a good fit for both of us. But we weren’t clear with ourselves or with each other about what that looked like.
Doing this together as a family didn’t end up happening because as I’d come to realize through the pain of the deeper teaching here is that a layer of grief still resided within me.
It’s something I’m continuing to process. So for now, I will share that this grief stems from the fact I never had children because of the trauma of being touched inappropriately as a child which I wrote about in my last memoir.
And while John and I had talked about going through a rescue organization that fosters dogs in need until they are ready for a new home – and the organizations do their best to ensure a good fit for the dog and the people looking to adopt – I went the opposite direction once I saw Shiloh’s sweet profile picture on the humane society website.
While meeting with the adoption counselor at the humane society I felt some internal red flags if this was the best thing to do. I also wasn’t clear about the process and how it would transpire in regards to adopting a dog through them.
Once home with Shiloh, I started to become painfully aware that at this time, I may not be able to make the commitment to her and what she would need to thrive and live her best dog life, while also honoring what I needed to be with and heal within myself, though I didn’t have full clarity about this.
Though very painful to go through uncovering the deeper aspects of this and something I continue to be with and integrate, I was reminded once again of the exquisite teachings of Dog as Shiloh so beautifully exemplified during the communication session with Dawn – and that she holds no judgment and has unconditional love for me and John.
It is we who hold that judgment against ourselves and others.
Dawn confirmed for me something I had sensed also and that Shiloh would be fine going to another family and she wouldn’t be traumatized by this. She just needed to know whether she would be staying with John and me or going to another family and that she is fine with either. But she couldn’t settle and be comfortable until she knew.
I found comfort in reflecting on this and that perhaps she will find her family with the woman who was on the waitlist after me who was also interested in her. And as difficult as it was to make the decision to return her to the shelter, a piece of my heart (and John’s) goes with Shiloh. We wish her the utmost love and lasting happiness and are deeply grateful for her generous compassion and teaching.
This has also been a valuable lesson about communication not only with our animal friends, and those we share our lives with, but most importantly with ourselves first – and that we strive the best we can toward not being afraid to express our truth and to also be as clear as we can about what our needs are and why.
And to forgive and have compassion for ourselves when we make mistakes.
And what touched me to my core and stirred deep emotions within me that made me cry was Dawn sharing with me that an important part of mothering is also about knowing when to let go.
Though this has been a deeply painful experience and magnified by the fact I share part of my life via social media, my work, and my community of you, my subscribers, it’s my hope that my being open, honest, and vulnerable, this will help someone else too.
And while I’d expected to send this letter out with what I’d shared to this point, I felt it important to share the rest of the journey that unfolded…
Thursday morning before we journeyed back to the shelter I sat with Shiloh stroking her soft fur over and over from head to tail. When I adopted her I knew she had had puppies recently and the sense during the animal communication session is they may have been taken from her, not in the best way.
Though I couldn’t understand this during the session, Dawn had gently invited me to explore the deeper grief I may still be carrying about mothering and a resistance to that grief.
Upon waking Wednesday morning the reality of this dropped into my consciousness and landed as a painful truth, but also the fact I had the opportunity to heal another layer of pain.
Shiloh was indeed mirroring for me the grief I still carried about my sexual trauma as a child. While I’d thought for many years I’d consciously made the choice of not wanting children, the truth is I’d buried the pain all these years, so my chance of having babies was taken away from me too. I realized I needed to fully be with this and grieve it.
Early Thursday morning before we left to take Shiloh back to the humane society I sat with her.
She looked up at me and I heard her say, “You are so sad.”
“I am,” I said. “I’m so sorry your babies were taken from you.”
She replied, “I will heal just like you will too.”
“I’m sorry if I caused you any pain,” I said.
She replied, “This is the way it was meant to be for both of us and our journeys.”
While it was gut-wrenching bringing her back to the shelter, Shiloh walked in there with her tail wagging, and a bounce in her step, as if to say, “Hey, I’m back!”
I was crying and expressed how sorry I was to Pete, the adoption counselor I’d met with last week. He was very kind and said with tears in his eyes, “It’s okay. This happens. Timber (that was her name on her profile with them) will find a new home.”
I shared with them that in conversation with my animal communicator Shiloh expressed that she liked her new name and would like to keep it. I said I understood there were no guarantees the next person who adopts her would keep it, but I felt her name was her gift from us. They were happy to honor this request.
As John and I left the shelter my heart wrenched again in pain, though I know this was for the best.
Once back home I reached out via text to my friend, Dawn, sharing with her what had transpired in my heart-to-heart connection with Shiloh that morning.
She said, “What sweet messages from Shiloh. You came together to help each other. Maybe this is also a reminder that powerful healing can happen very quickly when we open ourselves to it.”
And a few seconds later another wave of tears came again when she texted, “Some relationships may only last a few days, but that doesn’t make them any less heartfelt.”
Part of the reason I’d chosen the name Shiloh was that one of its meanings is peace. And though we were only meant to be together for such a short blip of time, she led me toward another layer of healing that has and continues to bring more peace to my heart.
For all the unconditional love Shiloh gave me and the non-judgmental and compassion showed to me by Dawn and the staff at the humane society, this is my hope to now continue to deepen that compassion toward myself… and to carry this same compassion more deeply out into the world for others who are in pain too.
XO,
Barb