My all-time stress level peaked around age 4, when I became utterly terrified of everything. I’m talking about germs, the weather, the outdoors, people, shadows, the works. I was a crazy little girl with a terrible case of obsessive-compulsive disorder. Thankfully, after some strong medication and a healthy dose of therapy, I was over my OCD by age 5. At this point, all of my spazzy symptoms—washing my hands to draw blood, frantically watching The Today Show and not touching people—had scared away all potential friends. I was a kindergartner with no playmates, with the exception of Murphy, my Schnauzer. I spent my afternoons rolling in the grass and barking at him; naturally, my parents freaked out.
So back to therapy it was! This time, without a need for any suspiciously strong medication, all the doctor did was talk to me about stress management and social skills. “Chelsea—the next time someone is mean to you, I want you to calmly explain how they hurt your feelings, and then imagine something that makes you very happy.”
What makes me happiest? It’s certainly evolved over time—it’s been beaches and people and smells and things. But for the past eight years, whenever I am stressed, I think of my loving, committed bond with George. Our relationship can be difficult at times as we’ve been long-distance since I left for Duke, but it’s totally worth it because George brings me great joy.
Basically, it was definitely love at first sight. A mutual friend introduced us; she knows I’m a sucker for cute blondes! He was having lunch with his family at the time, and unknowingly had tomatoes all over his face and messy blonde locks. It was adorable! As we gazed into each other’s eyes from across the room, we instantly knew that we belonged together. “George!” I lovingly declared, “I’m so happy we found each other.” And with that, he kissed me on the cheek and squealed with delight.
It’s been eight years since that fateful day, and our relationship has never been better. We enhance each other’s best qualities, strengthen each other’s weaknesses and share many hobbies. I love hiking, and George loves bird watching; we’re clearly a match made in heaven! Sadly, George isn’t close with his family but has really bonded with mine, which I love. He even spent time hanging out with my grandma this past summer when I was away in India. Upon my return, I was initially disgusted with the weight he’d gained, but then I realized it was because he loves my grandma’s pork chops so much! Besides, he actually looks cuter with a little bit of pudge, much better for snuggling.
That’s not to say that our relationship is perfect, though. George can be extremely demanding. First, he doesn’t have a driver’s license so I have to take him EVERYWHERE. Not to mention what a sissy he is in the car; he gets carsick in five minutes and of course, I have to deal with it. Ugh. He also has a silly side that I don’t always find so silly. This one time, right after I donned my nice pajamas and washed my sheets for a snuggly sleepover with him, he decided to roll in the mud and jump into my bed. What a scoundrel! He slept on the couch that night.
But I must emphasize that George is the most loyal companion I’ve ever had—he will always do everything he can for me. Once, I was singing in the shower so loudly and horribly that he thought I was in trouble. He then pushed open the bathroom door to make sure I was OK! Another time, my nosy grandma found a condom in my room and was in the midst of an angry spiel about Jesus and babies when George came over and immediately assuaged her concerns. He just silently sat next to her and smiled and she calmed down. Did I mention how good he is with people?!
As you can imagine, I’m absolutely ecstatic to see George over Thanksgiving. I’ve learned to savor our moments together because they are so few and far between. I just hope he hasn’t gained any more weight! According to my dad, it’s been freezing in Connecticut these days and so George is growing his fur out a bit. There’s really nothing cuter than a chubby, fluffy golden retriever who’s so happy to see me.
So I may be a crazy girl who’s obsessed with her dog—but he’s just so snuggly and lovable, can you blame me? Well then, Dukies, I urge you to really think about what makes you happy. Be it family, food, your cat, whatever, just pick something that brings you joy. And the next time you’re freaking out about something awful or silly or stupid, just think of it. Trust me. We could certainly use a little less stress around here.
Chelsea Sawicki is a Trinity senior. Her column is part of the weekly Socialites feature and runs every other Wednesday. Send Chelsea a message on Twitter @ChelsTweetzz.
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