He Can Be So Anxious and So Trusting

Chonkie had knee surgery yesterday.

Everything went very well, and by the next morning he was resting comfortably. But the day of his surgery was long and emotional.

When I left him at the surgery center, I cried.

I worried about him. I wondered whether he was frightened, whether he would be in pain, and whether he understood that I was coming back.

I love this boy with my whole heart.

In the past, that enormous love might have caused me to absorb everything I imagined he was feeling. I might have carried his fear, pain, and anxiety in my own body as though taking them on would somehow help him.

This time, I tried something different.

I stayed in my own energy.

I allowed myself to feel worried and sad without making Chonkie’s experience my own. I trusted the surgeon, Spirit, and my guides. I asked for support for both of us.

I stayed connected to Chonkie without becoming consumed by what I feared he might be experiencing.

That distinction changed the entire day.

Loving Without Taking It On

Staying in my own energy did not mean I loved Chonkie less.

It allowed me to love him more clearly.

Because I was calm, I was pleasant and able to care for him when he came home. My body and mind remained relaxed. Even after the travel, waiting, sitting, and worry, I did not experience the physical pain I might normally have expected.

Jubee was calm, too. She was able to rest in the room with Chonkie, and both dogs settled comfortably.

I believe my calm helped create a space where they could feel calm.

Animals notice what is happening within us. They feel the difference between our presence and our panic. They know when we are trying to control an outcome and when we are simply there beside them.

Sometimes the greatest support we can offer an animal companion is not to take away every uncomfortable feeling.

It is to become a steady, loving presence while they move through it.

The Gifts Along the Way

Spirit’s support also appeared in ordinary moments.

I thought I had missed the ferry home, so instead of rushing, I stopped for breakfast and groceries. When I arrived at 7:10, the ferry was running late, and I made it.

The same thing happened when I brought Chonkie home. Once again, the ferry was delayed just enough for us to catch it.

I could have dismissed both moments as simple delays.

Instead, I noticed them.

I thanked Spirit for the gifts and felt happy with myself for recognizing them.

Life had made room for us.

Perhaps those moments would have happened whether I worried or not. My worry was never what kept the ferry waiting.

That realization helped me see the benefit of not trying to control, stress, or predict every outcome.

When I released some of that control, I had enough space within me to notice that support was already present.

Chonkie’s Teaching

As I watched Chonkie recover, I found myself amazed by his resilience.

He is an anxious boy. New places, unfamiliar movements, and unexpected sounds can frighten him.

And yet he trusted us.

He trusted me to bring him home. He trusted us to help him move, rest, take his medication, and care for his healing body.

I wrote:

“He can be so anxious and so trusting.”

What a beautiful teaching.

Anxiety and trust can exist together.

Trust does not require fear to disappear first.

Chonkie can feel anxious and still trust me. I can feel worried and still trust Spirit. We can move forward without certainty, carrying both our vulnerability and our faith.

You May Be Wondering…

Does staying in my own energy mean separating myself from an animal companion who needs me?

No.

Staying in your own energy does not mean becoming distant or uncaring. It means remaining grounded enough to recognize which feelings belong to you and which may belong to the other being.

You can sit beside someone in pain without becoming their pain.

You can feel compassion without absorbing their fear.

You can love deeply without trying to control every part of their journey.

That is not detachment.

It is love expressed through presence.

Chonkie reminded me that we do not have to wait until we are unafraid to trust. We can be anxious and trusting. Sad and hopeful. Concerned and calm.

We can love with our whole hearts while allowing another soul to have their own experience.

And sometimes, the most loving thing we can say—through our energy, our breath, and our presence—is:

I am here. You are not alone. We can move through this together.

May you see the world through the eyes of love, remembering that we are all part of one living, sacred whole.