It happens almost every morning. My dog Bella and I go for a quick walkabout. Quick because I’ve not yet showered, had a sip of coffee or likely donned my bra. We return inside and I make a bee line for freshly brewed coffee.

Bella reports to the closed French doors that prevent her access to the backyard. She adopts a guard dog stance and focuses on the nest in our leafless maple tree. With four legs squared and slightly twitching, she’s at the ready. Quiet and barely blinking, she waits until Rocky, our resident squirrel, emerges from the nest and makes his descent to terra firma. Once down, Rocky stands on his hind legs and peers towards Bella in the doorway. Bella responds by exerting every ounce of her seventy pound body into threatening lunges, stomps, and deep, non-stop barking.

Admonishments, offers of treats, not even invitations for a car ride will divert her attention from Rocky. If forced to another room she will pace and whine. She will sit beside me, place her paw on my thigh, look into my eyes and dig her nails into my skin. She implores me to let her out.

Yesterday I acquiesced. Bella bolted over the threshold to the spot where Rocky had stood just a few seconds earlier. Nose down, she picked up his scent and followed it through the bed of English Ivy, under the evergreens, over the patio, past the bird feeders, and to the side yard where the scent continued beyond Bella’s restricted fence line. She returned to base of the tree and I watched as she followed this circuitous scent trail again and again and again. And I experienced this BFO*.

“This is what obsession looks like inside my brain.”

I participate in a lot of obsessing. (This makes sense, because really, how can one obsess a little?) Like Bella following Rocky’s scent trail, mentally, I obsessively return to trails of options, uncertainties, and attempts at understanding the incomprehensible. Sometimes following those trails lead me to deep frustration and psychological paralysis.

Today after our walkabout, as Rocky touched ground, I opened the door. Bella charged. Within three seconds and one foot of air between his tail and Bella’s teeth, Rocky jumped up the tree, maneuvered through branches, and catapulted himself to a tree outside of our fence. He scurried across the street, through several yards and out of sight. Bella turned and came inside. She sat as I poured breakfast into her bowl-calm and ready to move on with the day.

 And that my friend is how one should manage obsessions. Respond with action, release the squirrel and then, without looking back, return to the present.

 In 2017 I will manage the following obsessive thinking.

Decisions.  I’ve yet to lose any of my 5’7” height, but sometime between menopause and now, I’ve inexplicably lost the ability to make timely decisions. I used to make decisions quickly and confidently. Now I second-guess, third-guess and sometimes one hundredth-guess my decisions. “Will this long underwear go on sale? Should I buy or lease a car…watch TV or read…go to yoga or make a grocery list?” This year, I’m setting limits on acceptable ‘pondering time’ and then I vow to take action.

Internet news in my face. All. Day. Long.  I will control when and from where I follow the news. I’ve already taken action on this obsessive rodent. I’ve changed my browser to land on Google instead of a news site and created shortcuts to take me directly to the websites I frequent.

Will my job be eliminated? My identity is not tied to my job, but my livelihood kind of is! But this year I refuse to lose sleep over fears of unemployment. I will have faith that family and friends will not allow me to starve or live in my car. (Providing I’ve made a decision about that buy or lease a car thing.)

What’s a Boomer to do?  Consumed by obsessive thoughts? Remember to respond with action, release the squirrel and return to a happier 2017.

*BFO: an acronym for Blinding Flash of the Obvious.