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The Dog in the Car: What My Pup Taught Me About Being Content in the Journey

  • Writer: Sarah MacKenzie
    Sarah MacKenzie
  • Aug 16
  • 6 min read

If your mind is always rushing ahead, you’re not imagining it.

You may be sitting at the kitchen table, but mentally, you’re already at next week’s appointment. You may be driving to the grocery store, but you’re also rehearsing an upcoming conversation, planning dinner, remembering an email, and wondering whether you’ve forgotten something important.

The body is here.

The mind is everywhere else.

Many women entering perimenopause notice this more clearly than ever. Your energy may feel less predictable. Your stress tolerance may have changed. The routines that once helped you feel organized and capable may now leave you feeling tense, depleted, or disconnected from the moment you’re actually living.

And then there’s my dog.

My pup has taught me something I’m still learning how to practice: you don’t always need to know exactly where you’re going to be content along the way.

The simple joy of getting in the car

When I open the car door, my dog doesn’t ask for an itinerary.

He doesn’t need to know whether we’re going to the park, the vet, or somewhere completely new. He doesn’t request a map. He doesn’t need three possible routes and a backup plan for unexpected traffic.

He just hears the invitation and jumps in.

There’s excitement. A wagging tail. The unmistakable joy of being included.

Then, once we’re moving, he settles. He looks out the window. He notices the smells, the sounds, the light shifting across the road. Sometimes he rests his head on the seat and simply enjoys being there.

He doesn’t spend the whole journey worrying about the destination.

He’s content to be in the car… with me.

Not because he knows exactly what will happen. Because he trusts that the next part will unfold.

What if contentment doesn’t have to wait?

It’s easy to believe that peace is waiting somewhere ahead.

When the house is tidier.

When your work is finished.

When your energy returns.

When your body feels familiar again.

When you finally have the time, the confidence, the clarity, or the perfect plan.

But what if contentment isn’t something you earn once you arrive?

What if it can meet you in the middle?

Perimenopause can bring a lot of uncertainty. Your energy might be LOW one day, MEDIUM the next, and unexpectedly HIGH after that. A workout that felt wonderful last week may feel like too much today. Your recovery may take longer. Your sleep may shift. Your priorities may be changing, too.

None of this means you’re doing life incorrectly.

It means you’re moving through a season that asks for more listening and less forcing.

Your dog in the car doesn’t need the entire journey to be predictable before he allows himself to relax. Perhaps you don’t need that, either.

A happy dog content in the moment in a cozy, plant-filled room

You are allowed to be on the way

Many of us have learned to treat the present as a waiting room.

You wait until you lose the weight.

You wait until you get stronger.

You wait until you feel less tired.

You wait until your home, schedule, body, or relationships look more like the version you imagined.

There’s nothing wrong with having hopes and goals. A destination can be meaningful. Preparation can be useful. Planning can help you feel supported.

But preparation can quietly become postponement.

You may tell yourself:

  • “I’ll enjoy this once I have more energy.”

  • “I’ll rest after I finish everything.”

  • “I’ll start moving when I know I can be consistent.”

  • “I’ll feel confident when I can do the full version.”

  • “I’ll be present when life is less complicated.”

The trouble is, life may not become less complicated in the way you’re waiting for.

There will always be another list. Another transition. Another unknown.

So perhaps the kinder question is not, “When will I finally get there?”

Perhaps it is, “How can I be supported while I’m on the way?”

Trusting the pieces to land

My dog doesn’t control the route. He doesn’t know when we’ll turn, where we’ll stop, or what might change along the way.

He trusts the person driving.

That doesn’t mean he is careless. It means he isn’t trying to manage every detail from the back seat.

That idea has stayed with me.

How much of your energy goes toward trying to control pieces that aren’t yours to control?

The timing.

Other people’s reactions.

The exact shape of your future.

Whether your body will feel the same tomorrow.

Whether you’ll have enough energy for everything on your list.

There is a difference between being prepared and trying to guarantee an outcome. One can support you. The other can quietly exhaust you.

You can make a plan without demanding certainty.

You can care about the destination without missing the road.

You can take the next sensible step and allow the rest to reveal itself gradually.

Not passive. Not careless. Just less burdened by the belief that you must figure out everything before you begin.

Being present in your changing body

This is one reason a capacity-conscious approach to movement can be so supportive during perimenopause.

Traditional fitness can sometimes leave you feeling as if you should already know what your body can do. You follow the plan. You complete the repetitions. You push through the tiredness because that’s what you expected from yourself.

But your perimenopausal body may be asking for something more responsive.

A practice that checks in before it begins.

A practice that leaves room for modifications.

A practice that understands that rest is not a detour from progress.

In Capacity Conscious Yoga, the question is not, “Can I keep up?”

It’s:

“What does my body need today?”

That question brings you back into the car, so to speak. Back into the actual moment. Back into relationship with the body that is carrying you through the journey.

Some days, that may look like a gentle Triangle variation with a block for support. Other days, you may feel ready for Plank and more active strength work. On another day, the most supportive practice may be quiet breathing and rest.

All of these choices count.

Your practice adapts to you, not the other way around.

A joyful dog beside a car with a bright, fresh-start feeling

A small practice for the next car ride

The next time you get into your car, you might let your dog be your reminder.

Before turning the key, pause for one breath.

Feel your body making contact with the seat. Notice your hands. Soften your jaw if you can. Look around and name one thing you see.

Then ask yourself:

  • What am I carrying that doesn’t need to come with me?

  • What preparation is genuinely useful?

  • What worry am I treating as if it were a plan?

  • Can I let this moment be enough for now?

You don’t need to force yourself into perfect calm. You don’t need to stop caring about what comes next.

Just notice.

As you drive, allow yourself to experience part of the journey rather than mentally skipping over it. Notice the sky. The trees. The light. The feeling of arriving at a red light and having nowhere else to be for a few seconds.

If your mind races ahead, that’s okay.

Come back gently.

The point is not to become as carefree as a dog. The point is to remember that your life is not only happening at the destination.

It is happening here.

You don’t have to prepare your way into living

Being prepared can be a beautiful form of care. But over-preparing can become a way of asking life to promise that nothing unexpected will happen.

Life cannot make that promise.

Your body cannot make that promise.

The future cannot make that promise.

But you can practice meeting yourself with steadiness when things change.

You can learn to pause before pushing.

You can notice your capacity without turning it into a judgment.

You can choose the level of movement that supports the woman you are today, rather than trying to prove something about the woman you used to be.

And you can trust that not every piece has to be in place before you take the next step.

Sometimes, you just need to get in the car.

Let yourself be carried for a while.

Look out the window.

Feel the journey happening around you.

A happy dog resting contentedly in a bright, supportive home setting

A gentle place to begin

If you’re curious but not quite ready for a full practice, you can start with a simple Capacity Check-In. The Capacity Check invites you to notice your physical, mental, emotional, and energy levels before deciding how you want to move.

No score to achieve.

No “right” answer.

Just information.

From there, you can choose what feels supportive today. Maybe you need rest. Maybe you need gentle movement. Maybe you have energy to build strength. The answer may be different tomorrow, and that’s allowed.

And if you’d like a little more guidance, you’re warmly invited to explore The Perimenopause Energy Reset, the free mini course from Capacity Conscious Yoga.

It’s a gentle way to reconnect with your energy, understand your changing capacity, and explore movement that works with your body rather than asking you to push past it.

You don’t have to know exactly where this journey is going.

You don’t have to prepare for every turn.

For today, perhaps it’s enough to notice that you’re already in the car.

You’re already moving.

And you don’t have to wait until you arrive to feel a little more at home along the way.

 
 
 

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