Grounding with Mabel: Lessons from a Grumpy Little Dog
Grounding is one of those concepts that sounds straightforward—until you try to actually do it. When you’re anxious, overwhelmed, or feeling disconnected, the advice to “ground yourself” can feel like one more thing on an already impossible to-do list. That’s especially true when your anxiety is tangled up with Pathological Demand Avoidance (PDA). For me, grounding doesn’t come from forcing myself to sit still or breathe deeply—it comes through Mabel, my grumpy little dog.
Mabel is a 3-year-old fluffball with strong opinions and the kind of perpetual side-eye that makes you feel judged even when you’re doing nothing wrong. She’s not a particularly affectionate dog, but she’s endlessly entertaining and stubbornly present. Somehow, her grumpy charm makes her the perfect grounding partner, especially when PDA-driven anxiety makes any demand—external or internal—feel intolerable.
Why PDA Complicates Grounding
PDA isn’t just about avoiding tasks; it’s about the intense internal resistance that arises when something feels like a demand, even if it’s self-imposed. “Ground yourself” can feel like an impossible command when your brain interprets it as pressure rather than an invitation.
That’s where Mabel’s magic comes in. Grounding with her doesn’t feel like a task or obligation—it feels playful, connected, and fun. Playfulness cuts through the rigidity of PDA, turning what could feel like a chore into something that’s gentle and even enjoyable.
How Mabel Helps Me Ground
1. Relational Grounding: Mabel’s “Voice”
When my anxiety spikes and avoidance kicks in, I give Mabel a voice—a hilariously assertive, bossy one that says exactly what I need to hear but can’t tell myself.
• “Drink some water right now,” Imaginary Mabel barks.
• “Lie down, human! I insist,” she growls, her grumpy face somehow making it all funnier.
This playful reframing sidesteps PDA entirely. It doesn’t feel like I’m telling myself to do something—it feels like Mabel is lovingly bossing me around. That layer of humor and externalization makes the demand feel lighter, less rigid, and easier to follow.
2. Physical Grounding: Mabel’s Warmth and Presence
Mabel’s physical presence is grounding in ways that feel natural and immediate. When she curls up next to me, I focus on the heat radiating from her little body, the texture of her soft-but-scruffy fur, or the steady rhythm of her breathing.
• “Her warmth feels like a miniature weighted blanket, sinking into my side and keeping me present.”
• “Stroking her fur reminds me of touching a favorite plushie—comforting and familiar, with just enough scruff to keep it interesting.”
These small sensory moments anchor me back into my body without feeling like a forced mindfulness exercise.
3. Cognitive Grounding: Caring for Mabel
Even on tough days, Mabel’s needs don’t disappear. Her grumpy little face ensures I can’t forget that she still needs food, walks, and the occasional belly rub (on her terms, of course). Caring for her provides a gentle structure that pulls me out of my head and into the moment, without the rigidity that PDA often resists. It’s not about obligation—it’s about connection.
Plushies and Other Grounding Allies
Not everyone has a Mabel, but the good news is you don’t need a grumpy dog to find this kind of grounding. A favorite plushie can work just as well—especially for PDA-driven anxiety.
• Relational Grounding: Give your plushie a voice. What would your childhood teddy bear or a favorite fandom plushie say? Maybe something playful like, “Go take a break, you’re doing great!”
• Physical Grounding: Focus on the texture of the plushie’s fur, the weight in your hands, or the squeeze of a hug. Squishmallows, with their soft, squishy texture, can be especially satisfying for tactile grounding.
• Cognitive Grounding: Create a playful “routine” with your plushie—moving it to a special spot or making it part of your self-care rituals.
The Magic of Playfulness
Playfulness is what makes all of this work. PDA-driven anxiety thrives on rigidity and resistance, but playfulness dissolves those walls. Whether it’s imagining Mabel’s bossy little voice, laughing at her dramatic side-eye, or hugging a plushie while pretending it’s giving you advice, the silliness softens the edges of overwhelm and makes grounding feel accessible.
Grounding doesn’t have to look like sitting still and meditating. Sometimes it looks like a grumpy dog curled up at your side, a plushie cheering you on, or finding comfort in something small and unexpected.
If you have a Mabel—or a Squishmallow, a childhood teddy bear, or even a favorite mug—let yourself lean into it. Grounding through playfulness might just be the tool you didn’t know you needed.