Closer to Dawn

My dog died last week.

Just reading that sentence makes my throat tighten and my vision blur with tears.

Hendrixx was the dog I never asked for – the accident pup. I saw him from my third floor window in a courtyard between restaurants and bars. A man who had lifted his own dog into the air protectively was kicking him. What the man didn’t understand was that Hendrixx just wanted to play, but he was intimidating.

Hendrixx was a big dog. I am a small-dog person. But I couldn’t sit by and watch, so I walked down the two flights of stairs with kibble in a solo cup and lured him back up to my apartment. 

There is a long story that follows – a long story that ended last week. And I’m not over it.

But I’m pretending my hardest to be over it because my other dog is grieving hard. The little guy who dances on two feet as his bowl of food is being lowered to the dish-holder at breakfast time is not eating now. He’s lethargic and uninterested in everything. But worst of all, he’s avoiding me and my husband. Literally scampering away when we approach – our attention-seeking, scritch-loving potato wants nothing to do with us.

I have read some very opposing ideas on how to support a grieving dog – leaving the other dog’s items around so he can smell them is what one article advises. Another says to get new beds and toys and get rid of the other dog’s smell. But the consistent thing in all of them is that your dog will feed off your emotions and feel your pain and sadness.

And so, I pretend to be ok.

In so many areas of my life right now, I pretend to be ok. And sometimes it catches up. Sometimes, your guard is thrown down and you cry.

Four weeks ago, I quit my job. And it wasn’t just a job. It was a passion and a mission…something that I tended and nurtured and grew. Something I poured my energy, my heart, and yes, even my identity into. 

There is this pattern or phenomenon that I’ve noticed that things seem to get really bad right before they change. I believe this is nature’s way of making a life change easier for us. And, I think sometimes we subconsciously do this to help us weather a change. 

We see this pattern everywhere. The final months of pregnancy are often the hardest. The end of life can bring discomfort so profound that death feels like relief. Even the turbulence of the teenage years arrives just before children leave home and step into independence.

I believe this same idea can be witnessed in many areas and phases of our lives.

Have you heard the saying, “The darkest hour is just before dawn”?

And you know, that’s not literally true. It’s not actually darkest just before dawn, but there’s enough truth to the idea – to the sentiment – that the saying is widely used and known.

It offers hope. It helps us keep going when things feel dark – holding onto this belief that we must be close to coming out on the other side of the difficulty. It must be close to dawn – a new day, a new beginning, a new hope.

And, I have to tell you that this past month has been pretty dark. My husband and I have shared with each other the feeling that we are being tested. Our health, my career, our good boy. 

Today, my husband forwarded a message to me from someone he works with. Reading the words she wrote about me forced me to look at myself through the eyes of a person I served in my last job. The person she described is successful and accomplished.

I read it and I cried. I realized that I currently do not feel successful and accomplished. Then I read her message again and realized that everything she wrote was true – she was listing facts. And the person who accomplished the things she described – correction: the person who led the team who accomplished the things she listed – is, in fact, me.

I’m at a point in my life where I’ve left a career and decided to branch out on my own for the first time. I have started a business and I’m in the very beginning stages of building it so that “they will come.” But I don’t yet have clients beating down the doors. 

And in the midst of this, that thing I tended and nurtured and grew is being deconstructed brick by brick and my grieving dog is avoiding me. 

And I am questioning myself.

Have you done this? Have you felt like you have to prove your talent? Your competence? Have you felt like your accomplishments are due to luck? 

If you said yes – you are with the majority of the population. 
I tell you that, because it helps to know it. It helps to know that you are not alone in feeling this way. It helps to know that I am not alone in feeling this way.

So how do we move past this? Like so many of us do, I turned to the internet looking for answers. I came across an 18-minute video by Dr. Shade’ Zahrai that was genuinely helpful. Let me summarize a few things that stood out to me, though I recommend watching it yourself if any of this feels familiar. 

Step One was about getting out of what Dr. Zahrai calls “The Perfectionism Prison” – the belief that if something is not flawless, it somehow doesn’t count. Instead of aiming for perfect, she suggests aiming for “close enough.”

This struck home with me. I have often told colleagues that perfection is the enemy of happiness, but I think it is also the enemy of action. And if you never act, you never move forward.

“Close enough” gives you permission to begin before you feel fully ready. Is it good enough to accomplish what you need right now? Then do it. Ready…fire…then adjust your aim along the way if you need to. Progress happens while moving, not while obsessing.

Step Two focused on what Dr. Zahrai calls the “Comparison Complex” – our tendency to compare our private doubts and insecurities to everyone else’s polished, public success.

Her advice was surprisingly simple: keep the evidence. Save the emails. Save the thank you messages. Save the moments when people tell you that you made a difference.

That is where the message my husband shared with me comes in:

Reading it forced me to step outside my own self-doubt for a moment and look at myself through someone else’s eyes. It was unfiltered, unprompted evidence that maybe the things I built, the things I poured myself into, actually mattered more than my current anxiety is letting me believe.

This is not just evidence of your own success or accomplishments…but also evidence of your impact on others.

Step Three addressed something Dr. Zahrai calls the “Intelligence-Anxiety Loop” – that cycle where the more aware and thoughtful you are, the more likely you are to overthink yourself right into paralysis.

Her suggestion was what she calls “The Spiral Interrupt Technique.” When the anxiety starts spiraling, pause and remind yourself: “This is my brain doing its job. It’s safe to move forward anyway.”

That part really stayed with me because action creates evidence. Action tells your nervous system that you are capable, even before you fully believe it.

The truth is, none of us know everything. We are not supposed to. It’s not even possible to. Growth requires room for mistakes, learning, recalculating, and trying again (right back to “ready, fire. Then aim).

Say it out loud. “I don’t have to know everything in order to move forward.” 

If you want to hear more detail about these concepts, check out Dr. Shadé Zahrai’s video: Why Smart People Struggle With Imposter Syndrome (And How to Fix It). It’s worth the 18 minutes.

This is my reminder that when I am feeling doubt, it’s probably time to take action. It’s also a reminder that when we are feeling less-than confident, when we are feeling like maybe we weren’t all that successful, when we begin to overthink everything, know that we are in great company. 

These are feelings we must move through, just as grief requires time and space.

And on a positive note, my little guy just walked into the room where I am writing.

Maybe dawn is approaching.