Skip to main content

Could Someone Please Open the Door - NaBloPoMo

This is ridiculously adorable. And funny. 

Go ahead and watch; it'll only take a minute.




I cried laughing the first time I saw that little fluffy dog refusing to enter the house because he needed someone to open a door that only he could see. I watched it again and laughed just as hard.

Then I looped it a third time for good measure, but that's when something eerily familiar resonated with me.

Doggone if that little dog and his invisible closed door didn't remind me of me. 

I think we've all stood on the outside, looking in and waiting for someone to open doors that existed only in our minds.

For me, the 'right time' was my door. I kept waiting for the time when we'd be more financially stable, or for the time when stress would resolve itself and then -- then I could get out of a miserable job situation and into peace of mind. 

I waited outside of that closed door only to finally realize the right time wasn't even a real obstacle. There's never a right time. The obstacle was me, but it took years for me to have the realization. Finally, I stepped through it, out of that job and walked into a better place mentally than I've been in years.

My invisible door was time, but everyone has an invisible door of one kind or another.

For some people, it's unforgiveness of words or deeds that break family bonds; for others the door is insecurity that separates them from exiting an unhealthy romantic relationship to wholeness; and still others imagine a door of past mistakes that bar them from trying something new.

I expect that little dog is still entertaining his family by stubbornly waiting for someone to open a door that isn't even there.

And I'll definitely pull up his video when I need a chuckle or two down the road...but I won't laugh too hard because I know just how the little guy feels. 

 NaBloPoMo November 2015


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

What 6 Christmas Songs Got Wrong

After Thanksgiving, a birthday party last week, another birthday party this week and Christmas coming up next week, I am officially overwhelmed. It'd take more time than I have to explain what yet needs to be done and if you're like me, you're probably overwhelmed and don't have the time nor inclination to read it all anyway. But even with an overflowing plate, I still love the Christmas season -- from setting up the Christmas tree that we got two weeks ago and decorated only yesterday, to lighting bayberry scented candles, to every Rankin & Bass Christmas Special, and the music. Oh, the music. Songs have a way of putting you in the Christmas spirit, warming your heart and next thing you know, you're hugging a stranger in the elevator. Okay, um...maybe that's just me. But alas, all songs are not created equal; and the following Christmas songs inspire and awaken anything but peace on earth and goodwill to men. 1. Christmas Shoes : This song makes my ...

Racism & Prejudice: Brothas from a Different Mother

Next week I’m attending  a seminar on defining racism. Should be interesting because: 1) I’ve been living in the skin I’m in for nearly 43 years and I’d like to hear about any advancements on the topic; and 2) back in college, some class I took defined racism as movement, advancement or otherwise being prevented and/or restricted based upon race .  Embedded in the definition was that racism took two parties – someone in power (the racist) and someone whose rights were being violated. So according to that definition, racism is an action , not an attitude . One is a disabling trespass while the other is prejudice . I tend to agree. It’s my belief that Martin Luther King and the thousands of civil rights fighters stood up against racism . They stood up against actions that prevented people from the pursuit of happiness – whether that meant voting, drinking from a common bubbler, or not ending up as Strange Fruit on a Poplar tree when all they wanted to do was g...

The Post I've Feared Writing

In the few years under my belt as a hack writer, I’ve read a lot of posts from a lot of other bloggers, hoping to pick up on the things that make a piece great or gripping. This nonprofessional research has turned up one thing: honesty. Honesty, as in Are-you-sure-you-wanna-say-that-out-loud honesty. Yeah. That. The great pieces have always been from writers who speak from their hearts and say things that are ironically funny, sometimes painful, but always glaringly, transparently, and sometimes embarrassingly, true.   Bare. Truth. Transparency. That takes courage akin to walking on a frozen pond during the spring thaw.  Think about it: we’ve all got stories that could make us great writers – even the hacks like me, but it’s all a question of courage: what are we willing to share? Are we willing to bare some uncomfortable things?   In my case, it’s missing my mom. Oh, the coward in me will casually refer to losing her at a young age and wax philosophic a...