The Sacred Mess

A few months ago, Canadian psychologist, Jordan Peterson sparked a massive controversy on social media with his response to a plus size model being on the cover of a fashion magazine.

Now, I’m not an avid follower of Dr. Peterson, but I admit begrudgingly that some things which I’ve heard in passing made a lot of sense – some NOT all.

This post peaked my interest as I don’t slot myself in the “slender” category.

In response to the cover photo Peterson posted: “Not Beautiful”

And here’s where I take issue…

I was not offended for myself or the model on the cover. What really upset me was the language.

Peterson is entitled to his opinion, however the statement of “not beautiful” is completely biased.

What ever happened to saying “in my opinion?” I suspect such language doesn’t fit with the narrative Peterson is trying to put out there that is, “my opinion counts more!”

I’m sure I won’t be the first to point this out, but whenever someone makes blanket statements such as this I have to believe they are dealing with some deep narcissistic tendencies.

And while we’re discussing this let’s not forget Peterson’s well documented addiction to benzodiazepines… if I were to use his approach I could say, “Jordan Peterson is a drug addict.” I could, but I won’t.

This post isn’t about Peterson. It about language and the power we have to be gentler with one another. Three little words can take mean-spirited vitriol out of our speech. In my opinion.

Yesterday I wrote about the passing of my love pet Riley. But I’m blessed enough to have another: my Siamese, Joey.

She doesn’t quite understand where her bestie went and she’s still looking every day. Breaks my heart.

Initially Riley wasn’t super happy about the new pet (4 years ago) but Joey was dedicated to Riley.

The last year of Riley’s life she started to warm up to Joey. Allowing her to sleep near her, rub up against her… it was so sweet to see. Anyway, here’s some photos of my other wee one.

On January 6, 2023 I had to put my dog down. As far as tragedy goes, this wasn’t one. She was a big dog and almost 17 years old. A miracle age for this breed so the time wasn’t unexpected.

The bulk of the grief came in the “before” – before the final vet check, before the sedation. The grief fell deeply in the waiting.

I knew she was suffering – but it came on fast. One day she was walking like a champ and the next she was unable to stand.

And for all the years I worried about the time to put her down the decision came quite easily:

1. My friend was fostering a dog who we took to the dog park. Seeing this puppy hop in the snow and run after the other dogs I knew my dog friend would never be able to do that again.
2. My brother came over before Christmas and after Christmas. He remarked on how skinny she was before and that she was skinnier after two more weeks. She was never going to gain the weight back.
3. It was icy outside and she fell and couldn’t get up. I knew her legs were never going to get better.

Still, the time between the decision and the actual event was excruciating. Truly horrible. The last time taking her out for a stroll. The last meal – as she ate well until the end. The last cuddle.

The appointment was all I could ever wish for as a pet owner. A compassionate vet. A wonderful staff. A comfy pillow for her and a nice sofa for me. And even one last giggle as the first sedative made her snore like crazy. Somehow this time of deep sadness turned into joy.

And the joy went on after the end. The relief that I did well by my dog stayed with me. It was a massive weight lifted off of my back.

I still cry about it from time to time. More for my loss than anything else. I miss having her little nose nudge me awake in the morning especially. The best alarm clock ever. No, I’m not happy about losing her, but I have so much joy in the memories. From puppy to old girl, I was able to offer her a beautiful life.

This isn’t the first time I have experienced grief and it won’t be the last – my parents are aged – my older brothers will get there too. Death is a part of life. Yet, I wonder if in the midst of grief to come I will be able to find the joy as well. Maybe not so quickly, but certainly with time. Maybe it’s a choice? If so I’m going to embrace that joy – choose it.