Dog Sitting and Overestimating Myself

As a lover of pets, I regularly watch my friends’ babies while they travel or recover from medical procedures. I’m good at caregiving when I don’t overdo it, but I fear I overcommitted this time.

It’s Wednesday now. I started on Saturday and I finish on Friday night. I keep reminding myself I’m over the hump and the time remaining is less than the time I’ve already done. I’m absolutely fantasizing about sleeping in my own bed Friday night.

I’m No Newbie

I watched this house and these dogs before last year in a similar situation. It wasn’t easy, but I got through okay. When my friends asked me again this year, Bethany reminded me how hard it was on me. She asked me if I was sure I wanted to do it again this year. I gave myself a week or so to consider it, but I chalked up why it was so hard last year to a few things:

I was at the peak of my unemployment depression and uncertainty last time.
Because of that, I didn’t have a solid daily routine. I had interviews randomly, applied to all kinds of jobs on numerous platforms to unknown entities and non-entities all day. I was exhausted.
I wasn’t as far along on my HRT journey, so my breast pain was much worse and the random puppy attacks that hit my tender bits really set me off sometimes.
I didn’t know exactly how I was going to feel emotionally. I just knew I needed the money (still do). I had the time, I had the skills, and I wanted to help my friends (still do).
I didn’t set up for the isolation of staying in a less familiar, less walkable area of the city.

None of these are true this time. I have a solid 9-5 remote job that respects my needs for flexibility and structure. I’m doing much better mentally, especially thanks to ketamine therapy. My body is developing nicely and I find myself much happier when I catch myself in a mirror now. My breasts are still sensitive, but can handle a few errant paw punches without making me dizzy with pain.

I thought knew what I signed up for.

Before I got here, I set up time for loved ones to come visit me or take me away from the house for a few hours throughout the week. I felt like I could handle it much better this time.

Flash forward to today: I overestimated myself a bit. I forgot some elements of why it was hard last time. Now I need to write this all down in the moment so I can remember it all next time I consider similar missions.

The Bucket of Woe

I’ve spoken a bit about how autistic overwhelm, meltdown, and burnout work before. It can often be when lots of minor inconveniences and uncomfortabilities compound to throw me into total dysfunction.

None of what I’m experiencing this week reaches the level of “a big deal” on its own, but the combination of all these small-to-medium sized obstacles has knocked me on my ass.

I’m emotionally dysregulated. I abruptly swing into depressive states seemingly out of nowhere. I tear up on a hair trigger.
I’m not sleeping well, probably due to going to sleep anxious.
My chronic pain is flaring up more than usual, likely due to the above issues.

Everyone is getting what they need. The pups are doing great. I’m checking off all my tasks. I’m fully productive at work (when the WiFi holds), and often appreciate the distraction even more. My visitors are getting my full self while they’re here. I don’t feel like I’m masking or repressing anything while others are around. I just feel such a drop after my to-do list for the day is all handled.

Unfamiliar Beds

I vastly underestimated how much staying someplace other than my own home costs me, emotionally. The house I’m watching is familiar and comfortable. I hang out here all the time playing board games, enjoying parties, and working in the garden. The guest bedroom is cozy and the mattress is soft enough for my spinal sensitivities. There is absolutely nothing wrong with where I’m staying.

The only issue is really that it’s not mine.

The home is roughly six times the size of my little one bedroom condo — not counting the yard or garage. When I forget where I put something, which happens frequently anywhere I go, I have a much bigger area to search. I also have barely any historical knowledge of “last time I lost my phone, I found it in the fridge” type memories to draw from. It’s a regular thing that takes a toll on me every few minutes, all day.

My routines for waking up, getting dressed, brushing my teeth, moisturizing, eating breakfast, taking my meds, and such are all available here, but everything is in a different spot than usual. If I forget to grab my water bottle before I go to get my pills, I have to remember where I left it.

It’s a reminder of how amazing it is to live in the home I chose for myself and organized it to manage my psychological needs. I must be taking that for granted after four years living there. So I’m trying to turn this massive drop in spoons while I’m away into gratitude for when I’m able to be at home.

Boredom

Distraction is one of my primary tools for coping with discomfort. I have so many toys, games, half-finished projects, chores, and DIY home improvement opportunities at home. My Steam Deck and work laptop are here, but many things I use to distract myself are back at home! I can’t clean my kitchen, organize my Magic card collection, rearrange my closet, or do my laundry here.

So while there’s still stuff to do, I don’t have nearly the same number of options I’m used to. I binge watched the last two seasons of The Bear in three nights. Now I’m back to my own streaming services already. Time to try Witch Watch I guess, which just feels like clearance rack DanDaDan so far…

In the absence of those coping mechanisms, I’m considering my more drastic options. I was planning to do a ketamine meditation session at home this weekend, but under the advice of my wife — who’s always right about everything. I may try to do it tonight instead. I’m a little worried that doing it away from home may not have great results, but I’m overdue and perhaps facing the discomfort head on will be good for me?

Loneliness

When I travel, I almost always have someone else with me as we stay in hotels, short term rentals, or hostels. In a way, those people feel like bringing home with me. I don’t have that here this week. The big house amplifies the empty feeling, especially at night when the pets and neighborhood get quiet.

I’m feeling a bit insane, desperate for attention, affection, and validation in ways I don’t often feel. I crave and value those things in reasonable amounts all the time, but I feel like my need is so much deeper than usual this week. I try to self regulate, but I’ve broken into tears a few times weeping when someone who spends time with me heads back home after a lovely visit, and I’m left in this large, quiet house by myself again. Surrounded by friendly beasts, but no humans.

I’m far from codependent, usually quite happy in my own company, so these feelings hit me surprisingly hard. I don’t want to impose on my loved ones who went out of their way to visit me. I don’t want them to feel guilty for not filling me up with everything I need. Before we parted ways the other night, Bethany asked me if I got enough cuddles. I burst out crying when I laughed and said no.

I don’t know that I’d ever get enough cuddles right now. My gas tank feels so empty at the end of my days. I need to figure out how to refill it myself.

Rogue

Rogue has been an amazing companion here. She’s, for once, a pillar of sanity.

I’m obviously a bit of a wreck. Sif is still full of husky puppy energy,(which is usually adorable. She has no idea how heavy her paws are when she slams them on me or the other dogs to play. Koda is a big sweety 90% of the time, but sporadically gets angry or territorial and must be split from the other dogs for time outs. Poor Mondo is showing his age, as he hobbles around and has to be strongly encouraged to take his meds and eat his food.

Rogue is doing great by comparison. I wonder if she knows how much she’s helping me. She always helps, but I’m probably leaning on her much harder this week. I hope she knows how much I appreciate her.

Solidarity

All five of us miss our normalcy. The three pups miss their parents. Rogue and I miss our home and loved ones. None of us are doing our normal comfortable routines. No matter how I try to follow the scripts, I’m sure my methods for feeding, playing, cuddling, and disciplining them are different than their parents’.

We will all get through this together.

Update 8/1: Last Day On Site

I also underestimated how much taking this on would affect others around me. The disruption of all the routines and supports I normally give my friends and family day-to-day was greater than I realized it’d be. I love being reliable and helpful, but stretching myself too far means I let some of them down. I need to make up for that.

My needs increased, making me lean harder on loved ones. My capacity to be leaned on by them decreased too. That strain is unfair to them. I’ll need to be much more careful about taking things like this on in the future.

I’m glad I was able to help these dogs stay comfortable while their family was away. I’m grateful to be going home tonight.