There’s Just Something About Clover

It has been quite a while since I last created a blog post. I have started to return to my socials slowly. It’s been a very slow, very long process that got me here.

I was open and honest about my struggles last year and there are definitely downsides to being that open and honest about mental health. But I shared anyway because I just felt like it was the right thing to do. After all, I started this blog to share about COVID precisely because people weren’t talking about COVID.

Sure, knowledge about my struggles could be weaponized and used against me, but it just feels more important to me to make sure that anyone else in a similar struggle knows that they aren’t alone. I know from experience that just knowing you aren’t the only one going through a particular issue can mean everything.

So, the truth is that I broke. I was under massive amounts of stress and then, a series of terrible, sad things just kept happening. And they happened in succession and all of it was just more than I could take… more than I think anyone could take.

Everybody has a breaking point. I feel like I stood strong through a lot. I stood strong through 4 years of being disabled; of having little to no answers about what was wrong and how to fix it; of losing who I used to be and trying to find a way to carry on; of discovering first-hand how ableist the world is and trying to make my way through it. But, again, everybody has a breaking point.

All of these past years while I was struggling and trying to find my way, I kept remembering this one line that was in The Hunger Games. It was in the third book and also in the movie. It was when Katniss was having a really difficult time and Finnick Odair told her not to break because it’s 10 times harder to pull yourself back together.

I kept thinking of that line and it was part of why I was doing everything I could not to break. But, I broke anyway.

I was very depressed and having a hard time moving, thinking, and eating. I was practically catatonic.

It took quite a while to even find help. But, eventually I did get started with an excellent therapist and got on some medicine and started to claw my way back. But it turns out Finnick was right. It is ten times harder to pull yourself back together than it is to fall apart.

During my depressive episode, I wasn’t hospitalized. But, I was under a health watch for quite a while and not allowed to be on my own.

I kept trying to get to a point where I could be independent again, but I just kept floundering. It was making me so frustrated. I would see myself improve little bit by little bit, but I was so frustrated at the speed. I just felt so stuck. But, then a little miracle came into my life.

And to think that it all started when someone rang my doorbell and ran away.

One random night in January, I got notified of an unexpected ringing of my doorbell. I have a Ring camera. So, I tried to see who it was, but it was just 2 seconds that you can see a shadow of a person in a hoodie, just dashing away.

I only learned later that the person had left a tiny little dog in a teeny little cage sitting on my front porch.

The cage was so small and the dog inside was completely matted. She looked more like a hairball than a dog at first. She was so matted that it looked like she was blind.

I had no idea what to do. Luckily, a lady who volunteered with the shelter helped me. She took the dog and she got it checked out and got it registered with the shelter system.

We learned that the dog had recently given birth and was only about a year old. At the time, she was still lactating.

The dog’s fur was so matted that even after 2 attempts to wash and groom her, the mats still wouldn’t come out. She had to be medically shaved by a veterinarian and had to wear sweaters and onesies until her fur grew back.

I quickly learned what happens when you go through the county system once you’ve found a dog. First, a certain amount of time is given for the owner to reclaim her. Of course, in this case, both the volunteer and I knew that the owner was definitely not going to reclaim her. But, the period of time still had to be given, and then after that, the dog would be put up for adoption. In the meantime, she could either be taken to and left at the shelter or she could be left in the care of a volunteer foster.

I, at that time, was fairly certain that what would be best for the dog was to be adopted out instead of left in the care of somebody like me: somebody who had made vast improvements in their mental health but still just couldn’t seem to manage well on her own. But in the interim, I didn’t really want the dog to be left in the shelter.

The lady that I met and who had helped me was a volunteer foster with the county. I had also fostered before, but with an independent nonprofit. We agreed to share fostering responsibilities.

The dog was with her until she had to go out of town and I agreed to keep the while the lady was gone. But unfortunately, while she was out of town, she got sick. So, I ended up keeping the dog longer, and the longer I kept the dog, the less I was willing to let her go.

I really agonized over the decision and kept weighing the pros and cons. But, in the meantime, I was becoming stronger and more independent. The dog was giving me reasons to pull myself back together along with reasons to smile.

I was still a little worried that just with my physical disabilities, this may not be the best home for a dog. I had honestly given up on being able to care for dogs and was convinced that I would just need to stick with cats. Dogs just take so much more care, while cats are a little bit more independent. I honestly had every intention of adopting a cat as soon as I got back on my feet, which was also part of my frustration with my slow recovery.

But, what I also found with this dog the longer she stayed with me is that she had an absolutely amazing temperament. Despite what she had been through, she was calm, smart, and she was fine with just lying by me at times when I needed to rest.

Finally, the time came when I would have to make a decision. There were already people who were on the waiting list, waiting for the moment when the dog was adoptable, but as one of the fosters, I had precedent.

The funny thing was that in the time that I was fostering the dog and agonizing over the decision of whether or not to keep her, my niece told me that I was gonna end up keeping the dog. My niece even came up with a name for her- something that’s signified how lucky she was to have landed on my porch and how lucky I was that she had entered my life.

When the day came to make the ultimate decision, I decided to adopt her. I texted my niece that she was right. She was right about everything.

It’s been a few months now and everyone who meets her falls in love with her. I am currently on the journey to get her well-trained and then get her ESA certified.

It’s important to me that we go through the right channels and that she is a properly trained dog because I know how much scrutiny emotional support animals have come under because of people who have abused the system.

We might even try for a psychiatric service dog certification. But for now, we’re taking it one step at a time now.

And I’m happy to say that I am a lot better now because there’s just something about Clover.

#longcovid #positivity #mentalhealth #faith #TreatmentStrategies #recovery #disability #gratitude