Boyfriend got dog that I Hate
A tale as old as time, right?
I actually found this page by googling that exact title. Long story short, after dating for almost a year, my boyfriend got a dog after I begged and told him I wasn’t ready.
At the time we didn’t technically live together but I spent majority of my week at his place. He provided me a safe landing space when I had never had that before. It was pure bliss. We had talked about getting a dog together and how fun it would be but me, being the common sense in the relationship, said that it wouldn’t work out with our lifestyle. He agreed and we left it at that. Flash forward a month and he’s insisting we get one “together”. This was really just him buying the dog and be bawling my eyes out because I didn’t want this to be how we got a dog.
He gets the dog anyway. I cried for an entire week after, missed work, didn’t eat, lost a substantial amount of weight, etc. I am begging and pleading with this man that I am not ready. I have a major test coming up that pretty much determines my entire career. I don’t have time to deal with a dog during this time. He keeps the dog anyway. So I said, well that’s it. This is where my sacrifice comes in. I’ll just have to ignore the dog and either hope it dies early or count down the 15 years on a calendar.
Do you know how depressing it is to be forced into thinking like that about an animal? I love animals. And it’s not the dog in and of itself. It’s how it came to be. So when you start off behind and have to catch up, it’s exhausting. I’m starting off hating the dog because I don’t want it. He loves it and thinks it’s everything. (He admitted to loving the dog more in the first 5 minutes than me in the first year essentially). That stings a little bit.
Where am I now? It’s been 3.5 months and I want to actually die. My anxiety and stress levels are through the roof. The best way I can explain it is that i feel like I lost a loved one. That feeling that nothing will ever be the same and feeling a black whole inside yourself. Feeling isolated and lonely and horrible and sad and miserable. That’s me right now. And you know how they said that grief comes in waves? Those waves have hit me approximately every 7 days. The dog will stress me out. I will have a complete breakdown. Begin crying and telling my boyfriend that I can’t do it anymore.
Last night I broke down again. This one being arguably the worst. He left this weekend to go on a trip and guess who gets left behind to watch the dog they didn’t want??? Me!!! I tell him that I hate the dog and that this weekend made me feel horrible because he gets everything he wants. A fun life, a good girlfriend, his dream dog, living in his dream city. And what do I get? Left behind wanting to actually die.
So, I tell him I don’t know what to do. I’m miserable. I’m making him miserable. I have nowhere to go. I feel trapped inside a box. He won’t budge or sacrifice anything for me. The dog obviously can’t leave because then I have to deal with him being sad. So it’s left to me. To get over it but it hasn’t been as easy as I’d hope.
Now I’ve told him I hate the dog. Which I truly do. Is it sustainable to ignore the dog for the next 15 years or until it dies? How do I train my mind not to think this way?
If you read this far, thank you for reading. It’s truly this or get myself checked in somewhere because I’m going insane.
TL;DR I am miserable beyond belief. I told my boyfriend I hate his dog but I feel forced to be okay with living with it because I love him so much.