Depression and Service Dogs 

I haven’t been able to concentrate very well, but I hope this post isn’t too muddled up…

My little brother asked me the other day if I think of Keen as being my best friend. You would think think the obvious answer would be yes. Well, it’s not. I don’t quite know what I see our relationship as being. That might seem a bit daft, but I am looking at him through the eyes of depression. 

I look at him and see all his faults. He needs to get better about this and that (For example, I can’t fly with him until he gets past this aggression he has with strange people). I then begin to think that I just shouldn’t bother. He doesn’t deserve to be stuck with a screw up like me. So, I rebel against myself and shut him out of my room. A few minutes later I let him in because I can’t handle him not being with me.

Whether I would like to believe it or not, I can’t do without him. He is my right arm and to ask me to go somewhere without him is like leaving my confidence and my right arm behind. I don’t know when this bout of depression will end, but I have to keep reminding myself that I’m not seeing things clearly. Eventually, the fog will lift and I will be able to see Keen for who he really is to me. I just hope that time comes soon.


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