We used to have a dog, May, who suffered from separation anxiety. It was as if she knew she was being irrational, and as if she sought out dispensible items on which to act out impulses she couldn't control. Left unchecked, she would raid the recycling and shred cardboard papertowel spools, or my closet and delicately remove all the labels from the necks of my sweaters. It was as if she was a smartish dog who had impulses she couldn't control but tried to do what she needed to do somewhat discretely.
Sans enfants here in Vancouver, I know just that feeling. My rational mind is utterly unconcerned about the welfare of my children. My husband is home AND they are going to school/ daycare as usual. In terms of impulse though, I feel wild with wrongness. I should be with them. They should be in my arms, on my lap. Especially Winton, the toddler whose babyhood I am totally unwilling to surrender. (He for whom I pump twice daily in case he still wants to clutch his blue blankie and ask embarrassingly explicitly for "boob" when I get home.)
Neuroses come from this rift between what the brain decides and what biology wants.
Please pass me a paper towel spool. I feel a need to shred coming on.
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