It’s a Dogs Life
“You must be so relaxed”.
I suppose sometimes living on the road, being parked in the bus watching the sun set over the ocean, can be quite relaxing.
But much of the time, it also means recruiting ALL of my tools to regulate my body and my nervous system to adapt to the ever changing parameters of our lifestyle. As someone with an anxiety disorder, travel is fraught with unknowns. Will we have enough fuel until the next destination? Where can I buy nappies? Will our planned accommodation have availability? Will we have internet signal so I can pay wages? Am I homeschooling Elodie enough? Are the dogs that Daisy meets going to be friendly?
There are new towns, new people, new experiences, and new challenges. The only thing that is safe and familiar is the inside of my bus - and even then, we might lose power, or the awning breaks in a storm, or we blow a tyre. I do not have the familiarity of a home town or house (or kids school or daycare) to keep me anchored and so, to experience things the same way as my husband or my kids, I have to tap into tools that work for me in times of agitation. Through my childhood, I have developed a propensity to be easily agitated or to be on alert for signs of potential stress. This conditioning runs deep, even on holiday.
..Are the dogs that Daisy meets going to be friendly....
Daisy is a generally social dog, under some conditions. That is, if the dog she meets is relaxed and not dominant, if they meet on neutral territory (eg she isn’t trying to guard the bus), and she’s not overwhelmed with a large number of dogs, she’s happy to play. Daisy is also different when walked by my husband, while with me she is more protective - always has been. Our travels have so far, been without incident. Daisy doesn’t bark, she adores all humans and is so good with kids, and she sleeps 80% of the day. So it caught me by surprise the morning she was attacked.
I’d taken her for a morning walk outside of the caravan park and was returning when a dog on another site slipped its lead and tore straight toward us. Daisy’s default was to put herself between me and the dog and give a warning bark. Which would have been enough, if the owner could catch this red kelpie which began to “round us up”. It was snapping and snarling at Daisys face and feet and running insane circles around us, while I tried to drag Daisy towards our bus. The owner and three others tried unsuccessfully to catch the speedy kelpie. It wasn’t going well, Daisy was escalating, she was now barking and lunging back, trying to drive the dog away from me.
7 years of life with Daisy, 7 years of walks & adventures, and I’d never had to fight to hold my ground. I've never had to release the lead to grab her collar instead, she was so insanely strong and the maddest I’d ever seen her. One hand looped with the lead, one hand gripping her collar for dear life. The kelpie didn’t let up, and Daisy pulled me to my knees in the mud. I was drenched with sweat, my hands were red raw, and the kelpie was running frantic laps trying to catch a bite of Daisys face. The more protective Daisy got, the more aggressive and determined the kelpie became.
The whole caravan park had turned out to watch. No one could get to me to help me hold Daisy, and no one could catch the dog. I knew that if I let her go, a 40 kilo Bull Arab would hurt a 20 kilo Kelpie and she would be the bad dog.
After what felt like half an hour, someone caught the kelpie and dragged it away. In that very second, Daisy went still and quiet, her lead went slack, and she loped away with me on a loose and flapping lead. Her work, as far as she was concerned, was done. It was like a rollercoaster pulling in to stop at the end of the ride.
It wasn’t the same for me. I was in such a state of shock that I couldn’t climb the stairs to the bus. My back ached, I couldn’t form proper sentences, I couldn’t focus on one thing and I kept looking wildly around the bus, my legs shaking. My hands had cramped into fists and I was still breathing heavily. Outside, Daisy was snoozing in the sun like it had never happened. The drama was over, and yet I was on the verge of a panic attack.
Oh to be a dog in this moment.
Each side has even counts, so start with a low count (such as 2 or 3) and as your breathing settles and expands, stretch each side of the triangle to a count of 4 or 5.
I had an overwhelming urge to be low and safe, and I didn’t trust my legs. Climbing onto my bed, I took up Childs Pose, a yoga shape that folds me into myself. My room was also small and dark, and my doona smelled like sleep and comfort. Once here I began to breath - sharply at first, my breath jagging as I tried to make a triangular shape… breathe in for 4, hold for 4, exhale for 4…. Breathe in for 4, hold for 4, exhale for 4…. and so on.
It is the single most successful breath I have ever learned (and taught) in my yoga practice, for my anxiety. The retention of the breath creates a very small increase in blood pressure & carbon dioxide in the blood, it’s a tiny stressor that, when the exhale happens, has a very soothing effect on the nervous system. As I counted my inhales, holds, and exhales, I also folded each of my fingers in so that I knew I’d be doing at least 10 deep rounds.
When I peeled out of Childs pose, the world had changed colour. It’s hard to explain to someone who has never experienced a panic attack but its a sense of the molecules in the air around you becoming less agitated sop it lights the world a more natural, softened colour. I went outside with a brush for Daisy, and spent 20 minutes brushing her and rubbing her down, another tool of mine - time spent with animals.
Then I began to stretch. The final piece of the puzzle. My body responds very well to physical therapies; massage, Bowen therapy, healing touch, dancing, and yoga - it tends to hold tension and stress in the muscles and connective tissue (it's why I so often cry after yoga). The fight to keep Daisy restrained had pulled every muscle in my back, shoulders and arms. I had a headache from bracing hard, so I was moving in a way that would help dissipate the lactic acid, soothe my nervous system, and help me re-pattern my breath.
What works for me on any given day, is situation-dependant. For example, journalling is much better for me during generalised worry or catastrophising than say, navigating a panic attack.
Other tools I use:
Journalling
Making a drink or meal that feels ritualistic, such as a family lasagne recipe, or a slow brewed pot of Chai
Dancing to music
Going out into nature alone (and walking, not sitting)
Wearing noise-reducing ear plugs around my kids - especially great for when I feel sensitive/overwhelmed
Therapy (I can use Telehealth while travelling)
And of course, medication.
On average, one in four people (one in three women and one in five men) – will experience disordered anxiety at some stage in their life. This is different to being worried about a particular scenario. But whether you have a clinical anxiety disorder like me, or sometimes you simply experience stress and want to respond appropriately to it, having a suite of tools at your disposal is a game changer. We can also, perhaps even more importantly, share these tools with our children. Yet we can only know what works for us, by trying things out! Some of what works for me, is abhorrent to others (not everyone is a fan of ASMR!). But practice - the beautiful art of trying - is what yields the results.
We grow through what we go through, as they say.
Today, I am ok. I have a lot of shoulder and lower back pain but I keep getting onto my yoga mat each day, and I have a whopping great bruise on my thigh and grazes on my knees, but it could have been a lot worse. And of course, Miss Daisy Duke is perfectly a-ok.
