In early July I made the hardest decision of my life. I decided to put my soul dog, Monty, to sleep.

If you're living with grief after losing a dog, you'll know there's no easy way to write that sentence. I've typed it and deleted it more times than I can count.

Hey, I'm Ellie. Living with AuADHD, I’ve learned that ADHD and grief don’t follow the usual rules.This is the first of four blogs about the months after Monty died. The pet sits, the road trip, and how I ended up writing a book, accidentally.

Monty was my whole world

In the book I am currently writing, I explain how Monty saved my life at a time when I didn't think I was worth saving. I will leave that story for the book. But you need to know why he was so important to me.

Monty was with me for 13 years. He got me through some of the most traumatic times of my life. On the days I couldn't hold myself together, he was there. He never needed me to explain.

If you've had a soul dog, you get it. You love them, and they know you better than most people do.

He was how I co-regulated. I knew losing him would be hard. What I didn’t realise was how quickly the plans I’d made for life after him would kick in. (I will explain this over the course of the 4 blogs).

Knowing when it was time

By July, Monty's body was letting him down. He was losing control of his bowels. He couldn't get up the stairs anymore.

I kept asking myself the question every dog owner dreads. When is it time to let him rest?

For me, the answer came down to quality of life. Monty was a kelpie cross border collie. Anyone who knows these breeds knows they’re energetic and highly intelligent., and highly intelligent.

So I knew when Monty didn't want to go for a walk, that something wasn't right.

I rang the only vet he had ever fully trusted to come and assess him, and she gave me the bad news that he was in a lot of pain. He was otherwise healthy, but he had spinal damage that had slowly worsened over his life. He could no longer handle or hide the pain.

So I set a date. That gave the whole family a chance to come and see him.

He was put to sleep at home in Collie, in his own bed, with all of us around him. It was the goodbye he deserved.

The house was too quiet

While I say quiet, I don't mean audiably. I mean energticly! Monty and I where connectted on a higher energy level. So the house felt to quiet. I started to have to have the TV on all the time.

I'd always said that when Monty passed, I'd go travelling overseas. What I didn't see coming was that losing him would make me need to go, NOW!

For the first few weeks I stayed home. I struggled. Every room still had him in it. I made some changes around the house to help me process, but nothing shifted. I was stuck.

Grief after losing a dog (or anyone who is important really) is a strange thing. Work keeps going. Life keeps going. Meanwhile you're walking past an empty dog bed ten times a day.

And sometimes you just need to curl up in it and smell them, and cry!

ADHD and grief: why I needed to leave home

What I missed most was the companionship. Having a dog by my side.

So I started looking for pet sitting opportunities. If I couldn't have Monty, I could at least care for someone else's animals for a while.

My first sit was close to home in Dunsborough. Rae the French bulldog and Knox the Great Dane cross mastiff. Opposite ends of the size chart.

Something changed on that sit. Away from the house, I started to grieve properly for the first time. I could breathe again.

I was motivated and I was actually processing my grief!

I now realise I was stuck at home. My AuADHD brain needed something different to start healing.

Why I'm sharing this

I've spent years learning and unlearning how to look after myself. Living with AuADHD and hitting perimenopause taught me a lot the hard way. Those lessons were already there before Monty died.

What I didn't have was space. Space to get out of my own head, feel the grief and let my creativity back in.

It’s like his death made me ready to share my story publicly. To help people like me who haven’t found the answers yet.

Losing Monty pushed me out the door. Travel gave me the space. That space is where my book, Learned and Unlearned, finally came to life.

What I learned and unlearned about ADHD and grief

What I learned:

• That grief looks different for everyone especially Nurodivergents.

• Grief needs space to move. Mine stayed stuck until I left the house.

• My AuADHD brain heals through change and new stimulation.

• Animals help me co-regulate. Other people’s pets helped me start the healing process.

• Quality of life comes first, even when the goodbye breaks your heart.

What I unlearned:

• That staying home and wallowing in your grief is the only way to cope.

• That “one day” is the right time to go. Sometimes it’s now.

• That curling up in his bed and crying was something to hide.

• That you don't need to explain your grief to people who don't understand the connection.

If this made you feel things, you don’t have to sit with it alone. Join our supportive group of neurodivergent women who get it.

Next stop: Geraldton

Dunsborough got me started. Geraldton is where the real healing happened.

Monty and I visited Geraldton six years ago for wildflower season. Going back without him was hard. It was also exactly what I needed, with help from a cat called Snuggles and a 13-year-old kelpie called Jeb.

Read part 2: pet sitting in Geraldton

Tribute to my soul dog Monty

To my beautiful boy Monty, your unconditional love showed me a way of life that I could never have imagined before I met you. Thank you for everything you gave me, you are missed and you are on my mind most days. Now, I smile and look at funny videos I took or shed a tear because I miss the comfort you gave me.

About the author

Ellie Clare is an author, certified life coach and photographer based in Western Australia. She's AuADHD, navigating perimenopause, and writes from lived experience to help women understand their brains and bodies. Learned and Unlearned is her first published book.