(no subject)
An article was written about me in the local paper, about my dog training. I was sort of curious about it more than anything, a little flattered that someone would want to write an article on me, but not really thinking more than that.
Today, the article came out. It's really good. I'm quoted a fair amount in it, as are my clients in interviews conducted when I wasn't around. And... well, let me back up. (OMG, I'm so going to regret this entry in the morning. Not because of anything said, but because I'm staying up late to write it and have to WORK tomorrow.)
Lately, I've been feeling a bit wobbly about my dog training. A couple of clients have dogs that were aggressive, and have gone anxious and not snapped out of it. More than a few clients have just sort of dropped me or not done the work to fix the problem. One client found a trainer that suits her better (one I actually recommended, but that doesn't seem to matter to my subconscious). It's left me wondering if I'm fucking up. For all that I tell myself I'm not going to be able to solve every case, that I can only do as much as the owner is willing, that sometimes other trainers work better with certain dogs, it still makes me feel wobbly. It hits me where my insecurities lie.
Then this article comes out. Without hearing my own insecure voices, I see what I said. And I realize... I don't feel like Cesar Milan looks. But Cesar Milan probably doesn't feel like Cesar Milan looks. I LOOK just like that. And what I'm doing -- it works. Sure, I'll tweak and shift things as I find even better methods, and my insecurity is good in that it keeps me looking, but I shouldn't let it cripple me.
And then there were quotes by three clients. One had two dogs; one couldn't walk down the street because he paniced and one would lunge at other dogs. Another had a dog that would attack other dogs. A third is a 89-year-old woman with a puppy. All of them talk about how I've changed their lives. Seeing this stark, black and white "This is how the dog was, and this is how it is now," comparison really puts things into perspective.
And then there's the support. Four people that I know of re-posted the link on facebook. Thirty-three people have "liked" it. Five clients have left comments (compared to NO comments on the reporter's other articles), I've gotten emails from people congratulating me, text messages, multiple messages on facebook through my status as well as friends' statuses.
The outpouring of support and confidence bolsters my confidence when I need it most. It makes me remember that for every dog I wasn't able to help, there's ten I was able to help. Heck, for every dog I wasn't able to help, most of those I still made life better for -- it's just not perfect.
One of the things said in comments several times over was that I'm easy to talk to, offer good advice, and don't make people feel stupid for asking. That meant so much to me -- because no question is dumb when it comes to dogs. People don't learn dog behavior, it has to be taught to them, so if no one has ever taught them, then... But it's easy to find it obvious. I do this all the time, so it seems obvious to me, and I'm so glad to know that I'm not carrying that over into people. That I'm not walking around going, "Well, duh." Because I don't feel that way, but peoples' feelings are tender, so sometimes they're shy about asking anyway, and I never want anyone to feel dumb for asking a question. (The only way to learn is to ask, and sometimes, even trying to remember everything, I forget bits here and there!)
...I just clicked the article again for a different reason, and the number of likes has gone up.
This has really been a mind-blowing day, guys. I feel like I want to give everyone who's helped a great big hug, but I have no idea how to really do that. I'd love to have a giant dog play-day for my clients, but I don't know how to do that, either. (My yard isn't big enough; dog parks aren't private, which would be important for some of my clients' dogs!)
I'm so overwhelmed right now, I don't even know where to begin. This is incredible. I love my clients. And, apparently, they love me -- even when I can only focus on the dogs I haven't made perfect.
J
Today, the article came out. It's really good. I'm quoted a fair amount in it, as are my clients in interviews conducted when I wasn't around. And... well, let me back up. (OMG, I'm so going to regret this entry in the morning. Not because of anything said, but because I'm staying up late to write it and have to WORK tomorrow.)
Lately, I've been feeling a bit wobbly about my dog training. A couple of clients have dogs that were aggressive, and have gone anxious and not snapped out of it. More than a few clients have just sort of dropped me or not done the work to fix the problem. One client found a trainer that suits her better (one I actually recommended, but that doesn't seem to matter to my subconscious). It's left me wondering if I'm fucking up. For all that I tell myself I'm not going to be able to solve every case, that I can only do as much as the owner is willing, that sometimes other trainers work better with certain dogs, it still makes me feel wobbly. It hits me where my insecurities lie.
Then this article comes out. Without hearing my own insecure voices, I see what I said. And I realize... I don't feel like Cesar Milan looks. But Cesar Milan probably doesn't feel like Cesar Milan looks. I LOOK just like that. And what I'm doing -- it works. Sure, I'll tweak and shift things as I find even better methods, and my insecurity is good in that it keeps me looking, but I shouldn't let it cripple me.
And then there were quotes by three clients. One had two dogs; one couldn't walk down the street because he paniced and one would lunge at other dogs. Another had a dog that would attack other dogs. A third is a 89-year-old woman with a puppy. All of them talk about how I've changed their lives. Seeing this stark, black and white "This is how the dog was, and this is how it is now," comparison really puts things into perspective.
And then there's the support. Four people that I know of re-posted the link on facebook. Thirty-three people have "liked" it. Five clients have left comments (compared to NO comments on the reporter's other articles), I've gotten emails from people congratulating me, text messages, multiple messages on facebook through my status as well as friends' statuses.
The outpouring of support and confidence bolsters my confidence when I need it most. It makes me remember that for every dog I wasn't able to help, there's ten I was able to help. Heck, for every dog I wasn't able to help, most of those I still made life better for -- it's just not perfect.
One of the things said in comments several times over was that I'm easy to talk to, offer good advice, and don't make people feel stupid for asking. That meant so much to me -- because no question is dumb when it comes to dogs. People don't learn dog behavior, it has to be taught to them, so if no one has ever taught them, then... But it's easy to find it obvious. I do this all the time, so it seems obvious to me, and I'm so glad to know that I'm not carrying that over into people. That I'm not walking around going, "Well, duh." Because I don't feel that way, but peoples' feelings are tender, so sometimes they're shy about asking anyway, and I never want anyone to feel dumb for asking a question. (The only way to learn is to ask, and sometimes, even trying to remember everything, I forget bits here and there!)
...I just clicked the article again for a different reason, and the number of likes has gone up.
This has really been a mind-blowing day, guys. I feel like I want to give everyone who's helped a great big hug, but I have no idea how to really do that. I'd love to have a giant dog play-day for my clients, but I don't know how to do that, either. (My yard isn't big enough; dog parks aren't private, which would be important for some of my clients' dogs!)
I'm so overwhelmed right now, I don't even know where to begin. This is incredible. I love my clients. And, apparently, they love me -- even when I can only focus on the dogs I haven't made perfect.
J