"In my first family, not even my mother was home when she gave birth to me."
This sentence tore me apart. I've been a mom since February and the idea of being home to this little creature is wonderful and scary at the same time.
Sometimes, I fall into the comparison trap that social media so easily sets. Being a tired mom who feels overwhelmed now and then makes it easy to get caught up in it all. I’m currently learning to celebrate and appreciate the imperfections of life again — as a mom, I’m far from perfect but I am a safe, loving home for my daughter, where I will always accept her just as she is.
The morning of my high school graduation, there was a note from my mom on my lunch box in the kitchen that said, “We only expect you to breathe.” I carried that little note with me for a long time, and at 36, I still think about that message. It gave me so much strength. Growing up, I often thought love for me was conditional on being nice, pretty, and well-behaved. That note reminded me I was truly loved unconditionally.
I want to give my daughter exactly that feeling from the beginning — a feeling I only fully realized later. I will always be proud of her in this wild, little, imperfect world.
Oh,Suleika, thank you for posting this beautiful story by Na Mee. You are absolutely correct; it is a gorgeous piece of writing. Mary Oliver alive and well, spinning a dog story. Thank you, as well, for sharing your fear plus faith journey. It helps to know I am not alone, which is why we read, right? To know we are not alone. I'd like to write something in response to the prompt, but right now I am going to read, again, both these offerings. I wonder if the creators of Yoda in Star Wars used as their model a little hairless, elegant, wise and kindly dog? Master Lentil, I bow before you.
It’s 5:45 am and Pretzel has left the bed to check on me. We rescued her 10 years ago after our beloved Tasha died suddenly when we were summering in Cape Cod. We had moved that June to a 60s glass house on Valley Forge Mountain and were thrilled. But when we returned home with Tasha’s ashes we were bereft and my husband started looking at rescues. I wasn’t ready. But he persisted and after a few months I agreed.
Tasha was black with a white patch. Pretzel is white and curls up like a soft 🥨. That first night I stayed up with her on my lap trembling.
She had been kicked we think evidenced by her terror of shoes and particularly women. For the first time in 35 years of pets we got a trainer. It has taken years, patience and time. And she is now old as us. She is a terror to our mailman and Amazon. We walk her outside to greet our guests and she escorts them in. She is sitting in the library now waiting for me to return to bed. It can take years, maybe a lifetime to heal, but it is possible with patience, kindness and love. She will alway love my husband better. But she cares about and is waiting now for me to return to bed.❤️
" It can take years, maybe a lifetime to heal", Thank you for that. I have suffered from restless leg syndrome ( my own diagnosis) for almost 7 years. The first two and the last two have been the worse, bookended by shock and heartbreak. Most night I "swim" in my bed, massage my legs, get up, struggle. When there has been such hurt, the body pays. And so, yes. I imagine that healing will take a very long. time. I cannot look to be rescued from my situation, and yet, the love of friends and my dearest love, a dog named Jagr, saves me from myself. Every day. Your story about Pretzel made me cry. I think she loves you more than you know. And bless you for your loving patience.
That’s for your comments and insight. And wishing you find the blankets and beauty that bring comfort. My favorite song when I need a lift is Jon’s Freedom. His joy is contagious .
I love him even if I don’t know him! (as he would say)❤️
Sending you much love Suleika and know that all of us love and are rooting for health for you. Here in Philly today we are rooting for Kamala, Madam President. Thanks for reaching out🙏
It has been a joy to watch sweet Pretzel blossom over the last 10 years (!). Sometimes I think these dog/human pairing are auspicious matches meant to be.
Having adopted our second dog , Lucy - a two(ish) year old mixed breed mama who had just had her second or third litter in rescue, in the summer of 2020 when we had lots of time to spend breaking down her intense separation anxiety, I can see now how those small seconds of work have turned into a much larger payoff four years later. Even if I couldn’t see it in the moment. I deeply connect with Na Mee’s reflection on time as a healer that we can only see doing its incremental work if we look very closely. I suppose that’s how many of us change, too, slowly and in moments. You’ve both given us lots to reflect on this week. Thank you.
Today’s stories brought me to tears. I’m writing this thru tears but as sad as it made me, it feels good. There are losses we never quite recover from and those we do, but the difference is a wide river. I lost my husband to acute myloid leukemia almost five years ago and it seems like five weeks. We were married for 43 years but I still say 48 because I’m still married to him. Just because he’s not here doesn’t void that promise for me. In 2012 before we even thought of illness. Hospital, infusions or anything else, he started feeding a black stray cat. We had three already. I insisted he stop. He didn’t and you know the rest. It took me months to gain that cats trust but eventually he let me pet him, no cuddles, but I could pet him. I named him Jack because he had a whole in his ear like Jack sparrow. Kinda a pirate among cats. He eventually came into the screened porch but wanted out each night to return indoors each day. Petting, no cuddles. The years went by this way. After my husband died there were people in the house as usual but after the service, etc, everyone left. I sat down in a chair and put my feet up and after a few minutes he came and jumped up on the footstool, lay across my legs and purred. He had never gotten that close. This continued. He could sense my sorrow when the cats I’d had way before him didn’t seem to. After a few years I decided to move over 800 miles to where I grew up to be near my family. It was a hard decision. I worried the cats wouldn’t be ok, especially my formally feral because he couldn’t go out there because he wouldn’t know where he was. But, I crated them all, put them in the back of my SUV and we drove all that way. They all did great, not a single accident, or whimper. They all adjusted fine. Jack, grew from laying on my legs to crawling up my chest, laying his head on my shoulder and purring. He loved my kisses and I love him so much. The others too of course but he was special. After two more years he became sick and eventually he died. I was with him. It’s been another loss. But I know a kind man I loved saw a lonely kitty, encouraged him, and that scared, wild cat became my strongest support. A kind man saved a kind cat who I had no idea I’d need so desperately. What a legacy my two gentlemen left me. Thank you for what you do for this community. The encouragement, humor and wisdom is nourishment.
I love the gradual way Jack let you into his heart, and you let him into yours. Cats are really like the way you describe him - in my experience. Jack knew you needed love and maybe even transmitted love from the man you're still married to. Thanks for sharing.
Oh, the incredible grip and ungripping of fear, and loss and and life. Yes! to enter, engage and embrace it all. Here's to the joys of Lentils and Bears. To tasty dishes, warm cuddles --quilted in best wishes for health and healing-- wrapped in halos of hope.
Written on an hour early fall- back- Sunday with Thanks , Suleika & Na Mee!
This wonderful piece of writing is excruciatingly gorgeous. With my tissue box next to me, I will tell you how I think of my adopted daughter every single day since she left home at 18, 16 years ago. My thinking has been fairly one- dimensional until today. My beautiful girl came to live with us when she was 5 years old, carrying only a hefty trash bag filled with clothes. We gave her a memory book filed with pictures of her new family, new home, new school. But she already had memories. And we both had many challenges. Seeing and talking with her has been terribly sporadic at best over the past 16 years. And the empty boxes of tissues could fill a landfill. But she is now a paramedic and has invited me to her graduation from firefighters school in a few weeks. Moments like these come way too infrequently. But they come. Life and exploration are not yet over.
I’m imperfect! Big time! When I was little I didn’t like myself at all and was treated poorly by my biological family. I blamed them for years until I realized I had so much self hatred that I had to stop blaming and take charge of my changes from within. I got a cat named Betty, who lived for 20 years, went into therapy, and with all that I’d done, then left everything in NYC, and lived at a Buddhist Retreat Center for 2 years. I came back to NYC a changed person who had learned how much I loved who I had become. I had been willing, for those two years, to deeply work on myself and face my demons head on. I soon became blessed with self love. It’s hard, challenging, change doesn’t happen overnight, one needs courage to face the truth and more courage to change and willing to live head on with uncertainty in my life. Blessings to this beautiful community.
So so so beautiful - I've previously commented but the degree to which you are my prophet, lighting the path before me with the same medical challenge and experiences, has been nothing less than astonishing. It was apparently meant to be. For me yours is not an effort of regard toward or for me, nor for the many who follow; rather it is the incandescent nature of the trail you blaze which is enough to confirm that I can follow, and that many tears are joyful. Sending a caress for Lentil. 🤗
Perfectly beautiful and beautifully perfect. This week with trepidation, I said "yes" to a foaster-to-adopt resuce pup, "Doc." Now I'll move forward in confidence, grounded more deeply in the love of lentils and bears, full of wonder at what "Doc" is bringing to me.
“When grief appears on your doorstop, it brings everyone it knows. All my goodbyes bobbed at the surface.” Na Mee nailed it. This week, I lost yet another heart friend unexpectedly, and I have been eyeing that doorknob to gnaw. As an adoptee myself, any loss is triggering - and let’s face it, life is loaded with loss. But your own piece made me realize it is also loaded with love - especially the unconditional kind, the best of them all. I lost my 17 year old dog in January, and her sister, the 10 year old perennial puppy remains to remind me of that every day. While NaMee’s story took my breath away, Suleika, your hilarious story of adopting Lentil on the morning of the Oscars tickled me. Most women in your shoes that day would have been entirely focused on glamming it up (you did look glam btw), but instead you were tearing around Bakersfield looking for this little lentil of unconditional love. So your post this morning was just the tonic I needed to the start of this day and week ahead - full of love, loss, and laughter and devotion. And what we gain when we are willing to pivot from our zones of comfort. Today I’m staying away from the doorknobs, and I’m cooking up a big pot of Lebanese lentils tonight in your canine’s honor. Much love and gratitude to you and Lentil.
My first reaction, was to not respond today, as I am wearing grief as a heavy chain around my heart. Then, I thought, well, you can still type. I do not know if I have embraced imperfection and still loved? I feel ashamed to admit that. It's true. I am honored to read of those who can and do.
This hit me on so many levels. We have adopted 2 dogs. First one Blue. Sounds so similar to Bear. If you ever listen to This American Life she was like Ira’s dog Piney. They even went to the same specialist. Cindy was one of seven named after the Brady bunch. She definitely has some separation anxiety and we are struggling with leash training. She loves to play catch and she loves pulling you down the alley even with all the aids that are meant to slow her down. Me too. I loved to pull people along. You can do it I would chant. My 50th birthday is fast approaching and this large sense of major grief I have not processed is on my door step. See I didn’t cry. I was too scared to cry. I just moved. When things got tough, I moved for a fresh start. When I was young, it wasn’t my choice and I adopted it as a coping mechanism as an adult. Until NYC. Then the pandemic fears set in and early motherhood anxiety and we moved again after 14 years of making NYC our home. So I am homesick. Thankfully Cindy gets it. Beautiful writing Na Mee ❤️
Tears on this end. My partner of six years was diagnosed with pseudo dementia about 5 months ago. I was convinced he was headed for a nursing home. The confusion, agitation, forgetfulness on his end was so overwhelming. I would hide in our bedroom, make frantic calls to the mortgage banker, to see if I could take over the mortgage, joined dementia, memory loss support groups. I was so overwhelmed. As time has past, he has slowly started to recover. He can cook his own meals, help me around the house, and is looking for a job. As grateful as I am, at times I still find myself getting annoyed with him, for little things related to some cognitive dysfunction. My sister in law suggested a book this week. I bought it, but it Its way too religious too me. I did find something in it however, that rang true. The idea of just loving him. Not loving him if he does a,b or c right. Loving him even if he doesn't. The kind of love I want.
My husband has some cognitive issues as the result of kidney disease. Even though it isn't Alzheimers, the book "36 hour day" has many helpful tips as in don't say "I already told you that," simple stuff like that. Like you, I had a revelation that the only response is love. Love and compassion. For myself first. That's the hardest part.
More and more I believe we are all of us day by day imperfectly rescuing one another. Thank you for these beautiful examples.
❤️❤️❤️
What a wonderful essay. Thank you!
"In my first family, not even my mother was home when she gave birth to me."
This sentence tore me apart. I've been a mom since February and the idea of being home to this little creature is wonderful and scary at the same time.
Sometimes, I fall into the comparison trap that social media so easily sets. Being a tired mom who feels overwhelmed now and then makes it easy to get caught up in it all. I’m currently learning to celebrate and appreciate the imperfections of life again — as a mom, I’m far from perfect but I am a safe, loving home for my daughter, where I will always accept her just as she is.
The morning of my high school graduation, there was a note from my mom on my lunch box in the kitchen that said, “We only expect you to breathe.” I carried that little note with me for a long time, and at 36, I still think about that message. It gave me so much strength. Growing up, I often thought love for me was conditional on being nice, pretty, and well-behaved. That note reminded me I was truly loved unconditionally.
I want to give my daughter exactly that feeling from the beginning — a feeling I only fully realized later. I will always be proud of her in this wild, little, imperfect world.
“We only expect you to breathe” ♥️
Oh,Suleika, thank you for posting this beautiful story by Na Mee. You are absolutely correct; it is a gorgeous piece of writing. Mary Oliver alive and well, spinning a dog story. Thank you, as well, for sharing your fear plus faith journey. It helps to know I am not alone, which is why we read, right? To know we are not alone. I'd like to write something in response to the prompt, but right now I am going to read, again, both these offerings. I wonder if the creators of Yoda in Star Wars used as their model a little hairless, elegant, wise and kindly dog? Master Lentil, I bow before you.
“To know we are not alone” ❤️
It’s 5:45 am and Pretzel has left the bed to check on me. We rescued her 10 years ago after our beloved Tasha died suddenly when we were summering in Cape Cod. We had moved that June to a 60s glass house on Valley Forge Mountain and were thrilled. But when we returned home with Tasha’s ashes we were bereft and my husband started looking at rescues. I wasn’t ready. But he persisted and after a few months I agreed.
Tasha was black with a white patch. Pretzel is white and curls up like a soft 🥨. That first night I stayed up with her on my lap trembling.
She had been kicked we think evidenced by her terror of shoes and particularly women. For the first time in 35 years of pets we got a trainer. It has taken years, patience and time. And she is now old as us. She is a terror to our mailman and Amazon. We walk her outside to greet our guests and she escorts them in. She is sitting in the library now waiting for me to return to bed. It can take years, maybe a lifetime to heal, but it is possible with patience, kindness and love. She will alway love my husband better. But she cares about and is waiting now for me to return to bed.❤️
" It can take years, maybe a lifetime to heal", Thank you for that. I have suffered from restless leg syndrome ( my own diagnosis) for almost 7 years. The first two and the last two have been the worse, bookended by shock and heartbreak. Most night I "swim" in my bed, massage my legs, get up, struggle. When there has been such hurt, the body pays. And so, yes. I imagine that healing will take a very long. time. I cannot look to be rescued from my situation, and yet, the love of friends and my dearest love, a dog named Jagr, saves me from myself. Every day. Your story about Pretzel made me cry. I think she loves you more than you know. And bless you for your loving patience.
That’s for your comments and insight. And wishing you find the blankets and beauty that bring comfort. My favorite song when I need a lift is Jon’s Freedom. His joy is contagious .
I love him even if I don’t know him! (as he would say)❤️
Don't we all just love them both??? Yes!
Sending you and Pretzel—what a perfect name for a your pup!—so much love ❤️
Sending you much love Suleika and know that all of us love and are rooting for health for you. Here in Philly today we are rooting for Kamala, Madam President. Thanks for reaching out🙏
It has been a joy to watch sweet Pretzel blossom over the last 10 years (!). Sometimes I think these dog/human pairing are auspicious matches meant to be.
Yup… you would know..LOL❤️
Having adopted our second dog , Lucy - a two(ish) year old mixed breed mama who had just had her second or third litter in rescue, in the summer of 2020 when we had lots of time to spend breaking down her intense separation anxiety, I can see now how those small seconds of work have turned into a much larger payoff four years later. Even if I couldn’t see it in the moment. I deeply connect with Na Mee’s reflection on time as a healer that we can only see doing its incremental work if we look very closely. I suppose that’s how many of us change, too, slowly and in moments. You’ve both given us lots to reflect on this week. Thank you.
Today’s stories brought me to tears. I’m writing this thru tears but as sad as it made me, it feels good. There are losses we never quite recover from and those we do, but the difference is a wide river. I lost my husband to acute myloid leukemia almost five years ago and it seems like five weeks. We were married for 43 years but I still say 48 because I’m still married to him. Just because he’s not here doesn’t void that promise for me. In 2012 before we even thought of illness. Hospital, infusions or anything else, he started feeding a black stray cat. We had three already. I insisted he stop. He didn’t and you know the rest. It took me months to gain that cats trust but eventually he let me pet him, no cuddles, but I could pet him. I named him Jack because he had a whole in his ear like Jack sparrow. Kinda a pirate among cats. He eventually came into the screened porch but wanted out each night to return indoors each day. Petting, no cuddles. The years went by this way. After my husband died there were people in the house as usual but after the service, etc, everyone left. I sat down in a chair and put my feet up and after a few minutes he came and jumped up on the footstool, lay across my legs and purred. He had never gotten that close. This continued. He could sense my sorrow when the cats I’d had way before him didn’t seem to. After a few years I decided to move over 800 miles to where I grew up to be near my family. It was a hard decision. I worried the cats wouldn’t be ok, especially my formally feral because he couldn’t go out there because he wouldn’t know where he was. But, I crated them all, put them in the back of my SUV and we drove all that way. They all did great, not a single accident, or whimper. They all adjusted fine. Jack, grew from laying on my legs to crawling up my chest, laying his head on my shoulder and purring. He loved my kisses and I love him so much. The others too of course but he was special. After two more years he became sick and eventually he died. I was with him. It’s been another loss. But I know a kind man I loved saw a lonely kitty, encouraged him, and that scared, wild cat became my strongest support. A kind man saved a kind cat who I had no idea I’d need so desperately. What a legacy my two gentlemen left me. Thank you for what you do for this community. The encouragement, humor and wisdom is nourishment.
“A kind man saved a kind cat who I had no idea I’d need so desperately”—such a beautiful conclusion to your poignant story. Sending lots of love ❤️
I love the gradual way Jack let you into his heart, and you let him into yours. Cats are really like the way you describe him - in my experience. Jack knew you needed love and maybe even transmitted love from the man you're still married to. Thanks for sharing.
What a beautiful story.
So beautiful, Pat. Thank you for sharing this <3
Oh, the incredible grip and ungripping of fear, and loss and and life. Yes! to enter, engage and embrace it all. Here's to the joys of Lentils and Bears. To tasty dishes, warm cuddles --quilted in best wishes for health and healing-- wrapped in halos of hope.
Written on an hour early fall- back- Sunday with Thanks , Suleika & Na Mee!
This wonderful piece of writing is excruciatingly gorgeous. With my tissue box next to me, I will tell you how I think of my adopted daughter every single day since she left home at 18, 16 years ago. My thinking has been fairly one- dimensional until today. My beautiful girl came to live with us when she was 5 years old, carrying only a hefty trash bag filled with clothes. We gave her a memory book filed with pictures of her new family, new home, new school. But she already had memories. And we both had many challenges. Seeing and talking with her has been terribly sporadic at best over the past 16 years. And the empty boxes of tissues could fill a landfill. But she is now a paramedic and has invited me to her graduation from firefighters school in a few weeks. Moments like these come way too infrequently. But they come. Life and exploration are not yet over.
Wishing you the best with your daughter.
I’m imperfect! Big time! When I was little I didn’t like myself at all and was treated poorly by my biological family. I blamed them for years until I realized I had so much self hatred that I had to stop blaming and take charge of my changes from within. I got a cat named Betty, who lived for 20 years, went into therapy, and with all that I’d done, then left everything in NYC, and lived at a Buddhist Retreat Center for 2 years. I came back to NYC a changed person who had learned how much I loved who I had become. I had been willing, for those two years, to deeply work on myself and face my demons head on. I soon became blessed with self love. It’s hard, challenging, change doesn’t happen overnight, one needs courage to face the truth and more courage to change and willing to live head on with uncertainty in my life. Blessings to this beautiful community.
So so so beautiful - I've previously commented but the degree to which you are my prophet, lighting the path before me with the same medical challenge and experiences, has been nothing less than astonishing. It was apparently meant to be. For me yours is not an effort of regard toward or for me, nor for the many who follow; rather it is the incandescent nature of the trail you blaze which is enough to confirm that I can follow, and that many tears are joyful. Sending a caress for Lentil. 🤗
Much love to you, Steve!
Perfectly beautiful and beautifully perfect. This week with trepidation, I said "yes" to a foaster-to-adopt resuce pup, "Doc." Now I'll move forward in confidence, grounded more deeply in the love of lentils and bears, full of wonder at what "Doc" is bringing to me.
I’m so thrilled to hear this—hope things go well with Doc!
“When grief appears on your doorstop, it brings everyone it knows. All my goodbyes bobbed at the surface.” Na Mee nailed it. This week, I lost yet another heart friend unexpectedly, and I have been eyeing that doorknob to gnaw. As an adoptee myself, any loss is triggering - and let’s face it, life is loaded with loss. But your own piece made me realize it is also loaded with love - especially the unconditional kind, the best of them all. I lost my 17 year old dog in January, and her sister, the 10 year old perennial puppy remains to remind me of that every day. While NaMee’s story took my breath away, Suleika, your hilarious story of adopting Lentil on the morning of the Oscars tickled me. Most women in your shoes that day would have been entirely focused on glamming it up (you did look glam btw), but instead you were tearing around Bakersfield looking for this little lentil of unconditional love. So your post this morning was just the tonic I needed to the start of this day and week ahead - full of love, loss, and laughter and devotion. And what we gain when we are willing to pivot from our zones of comfort. Today I’m staying away from the doorknobs, and I’m cooking up a big pot of Lebanese lentils tonight in your canine’s honor. Much love and gratitude to you and Lentil.
My first reaction, was to not respond today, as I am wearing grief as a heavy chain around my heart. Then, I thought, well, you can still type. I do not know if I have embraced imperfection and still loved? I feel ashamed to admit that. It's true. I am honored to read of those who can and do.
Sending you love, Mary <3
Thank you, Joelle. Your kindness has reached my heart.
Love herself is my teacher. I dare not address her by name. I hear an owl and I quietly say, Yes.
I meet a deer and I wave and bow my head.
I listen to insects, crickets, cicadas, humming bees gathering nectar, and I feel at home.
I walk with my human partner, at the reservoir, or in deep forests,
And when she laughs uncontrollably at something I’ve said or done,
Love visits us quietly, favourably,
Takes us both by our hands
And secretly says, Yes,
Let us continue. 🏮
This hit me on so many levels. We have adopted 2 dogs. First one Blue. Sounds so similar to Bear. If you ever listen to This American Life she was like Ira’s dog Piney. They even went to the same specialist. Cindy was one of seven named after the Brady bunch. She definitely has some separation anxiety and we are struggling with leash training. She loves to play catch and she loves pulling you down the alley even with all the aids that are meant to slow her down. Me too. I loved to pull people along. You can do it I would chant. My 50th birthday is fast approaching and this large sense of major grief I have not processed is on my door step. See I didn’t cry. I was too scared to cry. I just moved. When things got tough, I moved for a fresh start. When I was young, it wasn’t my choice and I adopted it as a coping mechanism as an adult. Until NYC. Then the pandemic fears set in and early motherhood anxiety and we moved again after 14 years of making NYC our home. So I am homesick. Thankfully Cindy gets it. Beautiful writing Na Mee ❤️
Tears on this end. My partner of six years was diagnosed with pseudo dementia about 5 months ago. I was convinced he was headed for a nursing home. The confusion, agitation, forgetfulness on his end was so overwhelming. I would hide in our bedroom, make frantic calls to the mortgage banker, to see if I could take over the mortgage, joined dementia, memory loss support groups. I was so overwhelmed. As time has past, he has slowly started to recover. He can cook his own meals, help me around the house, and is looking for a job. As grateful as I am, at times I still find myself getting annoyed with him, for little things related to some cognitive dysfunction. My sister in law suggested a book this week. I bought it, but it Its way too religious too me. I did find something in it however, that rang true. The idea of just loving him. Not loving him if he does a,b or c right. Loving him even if he doesn't. The kind of love I want.
My husband has some cognitive issues as the result of kidney disease. Even though it isn't Alzheimers, the book "36 hour day" has many helpful tips as in don't say "I already told you that," simple stuff like that. Like you, I had a revelation that the only response is love. Love and compassion. For myself first. That's the hardest part.
You might like a book called Three Dog Night. I read it when my husband suffered from some cognitive problems.