Lessons from Sally

Fred and I bought a wooden doll house at a yard sale for the grandkids about 14 years ago. It wasn’t a meticulously detailed Victorian style house. This one was handmade, a bit rustic, and constructed from wood as thick as my hand. It reminded us of our own modest and sturdy house built in the 1860s, which we chose to withstand the shenanigans of all of our grandkids--the ones we already had and those to come.

The doll house held up well over the years, despite repeated invasions of rubber snakes by the boys, the girls deciding to put in an indoor pool one day, and the dog chewing up furniture from time to time. A miniature ceramic house cat—“Sally” as our first granddaughter dubbed her—was not as lucky.

Sally was the darling of the grandkids—boys and girls alike. Maybe it was because she had one paw lifted and outstretched almost like an invitation to play. Maybe it was because she looked so friendly with over-sized, blue eyes and a pink smile. Maybe it was because she could hide so easily in the curled up hand or overalls pocket of a child.

Whatever it was, Sally was quickly pilfered from the doll house family and was never again found actually inside the doll house. Instead, she sometimes turned up in a residue of soap bubbles at the bottom of the tub after a bath. She lost an ear catapulting out of a pocket onto the sidewalk at the library. She kept a salamander company in an old Easter basket for a short time one summer day. And she once missed an entire Christmas season while “sleeping” underneath the sofa.

Most of the grandkids are teenagers now and the doll house has been relegated to the attic. But not good old one-eared Sally. She still turns up from time to time. Sunning on a windowsill on the porch. Holding out that paw waiting for a manicure next to bottles of nail polish in the girls’ room. Heck, some days, I think she might even make it onto the top of a wedding cake down the road.

What does this have to do with DBT? Well, I use imagery and visuals of safe places to foster a life worth living. Whether it’s a picture in my mind or comforting and pleasant spaces or objects, this practice helps keep me grounded and gives me something positive on which to focus my attention if I’m having a bad moment. Today, I bought some miniature plants at the nursery and gathered them in a mossy container to give myself something enjoyable to view as I wash dishes (often a time when my mind takes to ruminating).

It turned out okay, but something was missing. I just wasn’t getting the warm, pleasant feeling I was hoping for. It needed… I needed… Sally! That tiny, ragged, toy cat was just what I needed to remind myself to stop dwelling inside and get out and participate in life. Adventures are waiting. Love doesn’t care how many ears you have. And when you stretch out a hand, you never know where life can take you!