At one point in the beginning of my recovery journey, I had a lot of memories floating around in my brain that wanted to come out. My therapist told me not to force the memories. Let them come up naturally and unforced. And that’s what I did. One day I was driving home by myself and this memory came back to me. It was devestating because it involved my dog, Lance. He was my best friend growing up. He was my rock. He loved me with all his heart. He was the only one who did love me without condition attached. This memory invoved him. It was not hard to figure out why I suppressed this.
I don’t recall the exact problem with my father. He had called me into the kitchen with that terrifying voice which I dreaded as a child. I came into the kitchen at sat where he told me to sit. He demanded I tell him the truth. I wish I could remember the complete circumstances behind this, but I don’t. All I remember was his demanding I tell him the truth. I sat there mute. This infuriated my father. I had nothing to tell him. I had done nothing wrong. I was sitting there behind my wall waiting for the fury to fly. My behavior made my father angrier by the minute. His yelling escalated. His behavior just made sit there and be more silent. I just sat there waiting for it to be over. I was not about to say one word to inciminate myself.
Unfortunately for Lance, he happened into the room at that moment. My Dad took one look at the dog and gave him a swift kick in the side. He yelped in pain and ran over to me. My father got what he wanted. He had broken through the silence barrier and I was now screaming and crying. Strangely enough, this calmed my father. He was gratified to see me hurting. He went away. I held onto my dog and cried my eyes out.
I still love Lance dearly. I smile when I think of him. Sometimes in my mind, I can still hear him bark. And sometimes I hear a dog bark that brings me back to my early childhood. A very good thing. A girl and her dog.