Moving out was harder, emotionally, than I realized it would be. The logistics weren't a problem, it was the psychological aspect that proved to be more of a challenge. There was a period of time, around late March and early April, in which I experienced some depression. I had begun to feel isolated from those I cared about; I started feeling guilt around leaving my family (only an hour away) to move to the city. Each evening, when I would arrive at my apartment, a heavy sensation would wash over me. I would lie on the sofa crying, wondering how long I would be alone for.
If you've ever experienced loneliness and depression, you can imagine what coming home to an empty apartment could be like. I would stay longer at work, hoping to surround myself with people. And I began to contemplate leaving the apartment. I began to feel regret.
And then I adopted Oliver.
I adopted Ollie because I was lonely. Perhaps not the best reason to go into adopting a dog. But I needed a companion that would save me from the darkness - someone that would easy the heaviness. He's a Collie mix (probably Aussie or Sheltie in there), and he did exactly what I thought he would: he saved me. It sounds like an exaggeration. But truly, Oliver, in many ways, saved my life. I no longer come home to a consuming loneliness. I know people around my neighborhood now thanks to him. He's not perfect. He's territorial. But we'll work on our imperfections slowly together.