My Fiancé Walked the Dog!

Why I'm so thrilled (hint: it's the little things!)

This evening, my fiancé took our goofy, energetic puppy, Jasmine, for a walk through the gentle, sandy slopes of the desert. In fact, he did it last night, too. And I'm so incredibly here for it!

Normally, Jasmine doesn't need to be walked. Normally, she has 25 acres of the gorgeous, varied Mojave landscape to gallop around, chock-full of all manner of critters, plants, and interesting artifacts. And she goes out marauding, conducting her Very Important Puppy Business, with great frequency and enthusiasm! Really, it's just as well that she's so independent, because, normally, with her mom partially physically disabled and her dad often as good as incapacitated by the symptoms of PTSD, structured walks fall by the wayside.

For awhile now, I have been trying, with everything in me, to change what life “normally” looks like for our family. And for all of my efforts, I know Dave's been fighting even harder. But for the last few days, I've been trying a lot less; letting Dave do a little more of his own fighting. And somehow, things are looking much different - that is, much better!

But let me back up. Why did we subject our free-range cowgirl puppy to walks on a six-foot leash for the last couple of nights? Well! That's because we're staying at a hotel, rather than out at our ranch. Why are we at a hotel? Because Dave's parents have flown out to 29 from the Midwest, and it's easier to visit if we're all under one roof. And why did they come out to visit? Because we're such sparkling conversationalists, of course! That, and the fact that I kind of hit a wall. I needed help - serious help. More to the point, David needed help.

I mean, what do you do? Even if you're 37 years old, when your partner is in crisis, you call in Mom and Dad.

And they've been wonderful. It's been a powerful, full-throated, keening relief to have other people here to help him manage his symptoms, which can sometimes be extreme, while I splash in the pool, go shopping, or just nap. It's been the mental, emotional equivalent of having a particularly tricky muscle knot massaged out of a stiff shoulder.

But that hasn't been the only way Dave's parents have helped. Among (so many!) other things, they helped Dave navigate a first appointment with a new psychiatrist, who has recommended an entirely different approach than everything else we've been offered. It may be too soon to call, but at the moment, it seems to be working.

Peaks and valleys are to be expected when dealing with the sensory hyperarousal characteristic of PTSD. Although it looks like dramatic mood swings, in reality, the ongoing difficulty is in the helpless exasperation of swinging back and forth between unaffected functionality and a miserable state of heightened sensation. In this state, everything around or touching the patient is too loud, too bright, too cold, too painful, and seems to be happening too slow or too fast. In short, life is just too much! And, a year into this journey, we've identified some triggers, but others seem not to follow rhyme or reason.

It's alienating. It's burdensome. It's depressing. And that's just for me! Dave has been all of those things, too, plus exhausted, discouraged, and even, on occasion, paralyzed.

Everyone's heard the phrase, “make hay while the sun shines,” and David and Jasmine and I have had to live by it. His good time, while occurring each day, may come in several short spurts or in a long stretch. It may be in the morning; it may be in the evening. We've had to do whatever needs to be done right as soon as sensory hyperarousal recedes.

So, after a week at the hotel with Dave's parents, I was thrilled to come back yesterday evening from running errands and find that he and Jasmine had gone on a walk through the as-yet-unexplored desert area around the hotel! Off our property, of course, Jasmine needs to be leashed, and David gamely followed her around for about half an hour. He even filmed as they walked! And he did it again tonight.

It's such a small thing, but honestly, I could have cried.

I know my fiance has felt he's missing out on life. But the depths of his frustration have been so great that, at times, I’ve worried that he doesn't really feel he has a life to miss out on. To see him enjoying such a simple pleasure as taking our dog for a walk - that’s beautiful!

Tonight, I watched them for a bit. They didn't know I could see them: just a puppy and her beloved daddy, exploring the cacti, the creosote, the mesquite, and the mountain foothills. Everywhere, new paths to follow - some laid out; some yet to be forged.

That's my future, I thought. And it will be.