Of Dogs, People And PTSD

So, amid all of this chaos with our post making it incredibly difficult to have a service dog, I was informed today by my doctor at treatment that I need to be involved in things that are, you know, outside my home.
Crap.
The only thing I still have the heart for is service dog stuff. Even though the military is trying it's hardest to break me so that I might give in and let them separate me with fewer benefits, even though they're trying to make it harder for me to have my service dog, and definitely harder for others to get service dogs, THIS is what has made a difference in my life. The doctor actually point-blank said she was glad I had a service dog because, among other reasons, it meant I had a responsibility to someone else.
I just checked in with our former trainer, and there's a session this Thursday that we'll go to.
I guess we're going to do this.

We're also looking at adopting a male dog, as a secondary service dog. She gets along fine with male dogs, more often than not, and I intend to make her a part of bringing home a second. I want another dog around her size, maybe bigger, that she gets along with and that we can train. I know seeing another dog doing what I'm trying to teach her has helped her, so I think training a second may be easier.

So much going on in my head....

Major Small Victories

Yesterday was a definite life-altering event.
Today, hubby and I did a lot- and almost all of it public. We got up early and went to the mall, where I got a pedicure and my hair touched-up, the latter of which almost ended with me freaking out... almost. I get why having my back turned to anyone freaks me out, but I can't comprehend how every other person on the PLANET seems to WANT their back to EVERYONE. My wonderful service dog even started getting upset at one point. The stylist had me sit at the back of the salon, while she had several other clients, right next to several people I didn't know, while multiple people walked back and forth in front of me. I had left Sugar with the husband, thinking it would be quick and easy- he had to bring her over to me, for which I got a great deal of dirty looks from said stylist.
Anyway, we went to see Buffalo Boy briefly after that, then lunch- at a restaurant. And then my husband took me to two different stores, and bought me a new pair of cowboy boots, a new straw hat, and a really cute necklace-earring angel wing combo.
I haven't been out in public nearly this much in.... I don't know- a really long time.
Granted, it's Saint Patrick's Day, and everything was relatively quiet (due to pre-gaming, I assume) but I did it- and without meds. I'm really, really happy. It wasn't as easy as I wish it had been, but I'm so thrilled I managed it all.
I may never be happy in the same way as I used to be, but I'm getting better, even if it's never the same... and it won't be.

When I Say Husband...

When I say "husband", I mean best friend.
When I complain about him not doing the dishes, it's because I love him enough that I spent an hour or two cooking him a homemade dinner myself, rather than just throwing something in the microwave or ordering in.
When I get irritated because he left the top off the Aquafor AGAIN, it's because I know that, even if his tattoo is peeling, he can rattle off statistics and facts about what that kind of singing where they change their pitch repeatedly is called (he told me last night, I don't remember), he can do serious math in his head in five seconds flat and explain things like calculus and trigonometry.
When I talk about my husband, I'm talking about the man who can stop everything, no matter how I've treated him, no matter what mood I've been in or what I've promised him, and hold me through the time-traveling, talking to me and reminding me to stay with him. I'm talking about the man who teases me at dinner because he caught the waiter checking me out, and start playing Ms Tattoo Girl every time I get embarrassed because I know I stand out and people are looking at me.



When I talk about my husband, I'm talking about the man who has taught me that unconditional love isn't some theory or myth, or something that only God and some animals are capable of. This is the man who has seen me so angry I've thrown things, hit things and people, he's seen me cry, he's seen me at my absolute worst, and this man still puts his arms around me every single day and tells me I'm beautiful and that he loves me. He's seen me lose control of my emotions in really embarrassing situations and he still tells me he's never giving up on me or leaving me.
This is my second marriage. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, and I've hurt a lot of people. I don't understand why God or my husband believe I'm worth this kind of love, but I know that I've met the man that I want to argue over baby names with, and the man I want to yell at for letting the kids eat junk food and the man I want to drag out onto the dance floor on our 50th wedding anniversary.
There are men in this world who get what I've been through and/or who I am better than my husband, that's the truth. There is nobody else, though, that will be open to both me getting a Nightster (you know, when I win a few million bucks in the lottery) AND vegan meals, or who is totally okay with me putting up Buddhist statues (yes, I own that one) in our living room, listening to Kick It In The Sticks on repeat for days (okay, he's not really a huge fan of that repeat thing) and for not threatening to kill me for talking about dressing our dog up in costumes.
I love my husband with all my heart. I'm not perfect, I'll never claim to be, but I am so grateful for this man.