Tuesday, September 12, 2017

Service Dogs and Personal Growth

When I got Sarah to train as a Service Dog I had no idea what I was doing. Of course, I thought I did, but years of research and planning contributes little to the experience of raising and training my first dog, much less for the high standards required by Service Dogs. I was in over my head, but even after understanding the entirety of my failures I can resoundingly say that it was worth it.

It was worth it because now I know what I'm doing. I wish so much that I could express my sincerest apology to Sarah that she ended up being my guinea pig in this learning process. I'm no master, for sure, but I understand now what I absolutely should not do. And that's a good foundation to have.

Sarah has been retired from her service work for a few months now. I have not expected nor required her to do any tasks, though she still does dpt on occasion. She still licks my hands regularly when I'm manic and she paces with me when I fall into a mental trap. These are things that became impulsive in her nature through her training. Though we train for tasks, the true success is when that task becomes compulsive to the dog. Like breathing. I don't expect it of her, but I am grateful she is still doing these things since it will make this transition easier for me.

Sarah was retired because of aggressive behaviour toward other dogs. When she was 1 1/2 Sarah was bit by a dog owned by a new neighbor who claimed it was a Service Dog. She let her dog outside off leash and it immediately rushed Sarah and bit her. I yelled at the owner to remove her dog, but the damage was already done. At first there were no signs of any problems with Sarah. I regret that I did not report the incident. In the area I lived in at the time, there were no legal protections for Service Dogs being attacked.

Sarah's issues started showing up about a month after the incident. At first it was a fear of bull terriers; she would slouch and run if she saw one. But she was still doing well in daycare and didnt show other problems. I didn't realise what was happening at the time and I should have immediately worked with my trainer on exposure to this fear.

But we moved on. Sarah had only started service work a few months before. She was young and still impressionable, pushed by my anxiety over a need for a service dog. She was stressed and I didn't recognise that I was pushing her too hard. Slowly her fear turned into resource guarding starting with food, then toys. She ignored other dogs in public if these two things weren't around. I started working with my trainer on aggression management with the food and toys. I should have been more rigorous in this training.

Then I went to the van build. It was awesome. Now 2 years old, Sarah did well with most of the other dogs, except one which was also a resource guarder. But tiffs were slight and no one got hurt. The second week Sarah chewed through her no-pull harness, which doubles as a muzzle in an  emergency.

The third week was Thanksgiving, and also my birthday! The community was amazing, and on our last day we had a Turkey feast. I was careless and stupid, I should have been watching Sarah. I sat next to the turkey for a moment. There was a crowd of dogs and Sarah started the fight. She lunged. My immediate impulse was to pull her head down and try to pull her back with my arm. But I forgot she wasn't wearing her muzzle and she bit me. She was not aiming for me, her attention was on the other dogs. I put myself in a bad spot and I made a dangerous mistake.

I treasure the scars on my arm from her bite because it was a turning point in my own training. But I was still stupid. I decided at that moment that I would no longer take her in public access areas. But while we were camping I still let her off leash and didn't keep her in check well enough. On one such camping excursions another person was camping with us with his dog. Sarah bit the other dog on the ear, a common spot for puppies giving warning, but Sarah was no longer a puppy and it was absolutely wrong.

I didn't know what to do. I locked us together in the van and cried. I found out a day later that this man's dog was a Service Dog. The reality of it hit me hard. I had just allowed something terrible happen to someone else's Service Dog, which had happened to me. Something I knew was an egregious offense. Months later I found out the bite got infected and that this gentleman held a grudge. And he was definitely a gentleman because he never expressed this grudge to me. This made me more sad and more diligent.

He well deserved to feel this way. I watch his Instagram closely, always afraid for the thought that his dog might take the same turn that Sarah did. Honestly, I can't tell. The dog seems ok, but they always do on the outside.

The last several months with Sarah I have considered giving her up. I've consulted others in this situation and received a lot of good advice. Sarah can never do service work again. Giving her up is my backup option if I can't help her. But I am a responsible person. When I got this dog I made a 17 year commitment to the life and health of the animal. I know her well and out of anyone I am her best hope to lead a long happy life without being put down for aggression.

Right now I am playing the waiting game while working on her behaviour. I am saving money for three major things.

1) a plot of land where Sarah can run. Where I can focus on her training while also saving more money.
2) sending Sarah to aggressive doggy boot camp. This will cost about $2,000 and takes 6 weeks. I might need to do this twice.
3) after boot camp, consulting with the trainers and possibly getting another dog to start training for service work. This will also cost about $2,000 for the dog + $12,000 min for the first 2 years of training

Regardless, Sarah will go through boot camp. It is the best option I can give her for her survival. I hope that boot camp plus rigorous after training will put Sarah in a positive frame of mind and prepare her for a new puppy. On the advice of the trainers, however, if they feel she cannot get along with a new dog I will adopt her out.

Ultimately, I need a Service Dog. But there is a gift Sarah gave me, which I did not have before: patience. It will be at least 3 years before I have a working dog again and that's ok. In the meantime, I am the same as I was before I got Sarah. I avoid large crowds and events. I only shop at night. I avoid people, and now I also avoid dogs. But I do have the benefit of a friend who keeps me from committing suicide. All is not lost.

The next dog will take it slower. I will spend and have already spent an excessive amount of time researching breeders, focusing on breeders who do neurological stimulation in the first 9 weeks. The new dog will receive constant basic training and exposure for the first 18 months, but otherwise will live like a regular puppy. No service training before then, definitely no public access. Then 6 months of full-time service training with a boot camp (because there are things I cannot train with my disability).

I wish there were programs that offer service dogs to people like me. But I fall through the cracks. There are plenty of programs for Veterans with PTSD, but I am not a Veteran. There are also programs for people with all sorts of physical disabilities. But my disabilities are largely mental. I have yet to find a program that trains Service Dogs for rape victims. (If you know of one, please send it my way) But perhaps it's a good thing.

With Sarah I have learned coping mechanisms I never could have learned in any other setting. I have faced challenges and done things I otherwise could not. Sarah the Service Dog was a massive, failed learning experience. But Sarah the pet dog is going to be a huge success. I know the benefits that a Service Dog provides, for me it's freedom. I'm not giving up on Service Dogs and I'm not giving up on Sarah. The limiting factor is always money, so for now I will sacrifice some time to get there.

And you can bet that the moment I can care for myself again a large cash donation will make its way to a certain gentleman's pocket. It's nothing to what happened, but I owe him that much at least. My life has improved immensely in the last 5 years. Learning a little patience is the best thing Sarah could have given me. I am a better person now than I was even last year. I am always hopeful and optimistic. Every step is a new opportunity to be a better human being.

I love you

Friday, July 21, 2017

Troubleshooting my Solar Charge Controller


My life is ever so busy! Today's adventure brings us to a fun process of elimination. I woke up to a charge controller on the fritz and my batteries getting a bit low. Between this, gas leaks, vacuum leaks, and a plethora of other fun challenging experiences I think the last month has proven that even curve balls are easier to handle in van life. A special thank you to the very kind people who donated to help me out after I lost that money a few weeks back. *hugs* You guys are incredible and it was something I definitely didn't expect! Alvin, Shane, PassinTime, and DannyB, you guys kick ass and I love you so much! I got some dog food for Sarah, some much needed tools, and I have a security system on it's way, which I will mention in the next video and hopefully be able to set up by next month. *huggles!!!* You're the best!

Friday, July 14, 2017

Friends and Guardians



One of the things that makes me incredibly happy is the opportunity to help other people. But sometimes, you're the person who needs help. Accepting help, in it's own way, can be a form of helping others. There is such beauty and grace in both sides of the experience and love is compounded and squared. Not doubled, but squared.

There was so much love when working on the gas leak. My sincerest appreciation to Danny B and Larry. They are the quiet guardians behind the scenes that you don't see often in Jamie's videos, or even mine. They don't announce their help, they just buckle down and help. I love them so.

And you can sure as hell bet I'm gonna be passing this karma on.

Wednesday, July 12, 2017

GoSun Solar Oven Review



The GoSun Solar oven is one of my favorite luxuries in van life. When I first became homeless and lived in my tiny Civic I craved fresh bread and cookies. I tried all the DIY solar devices and nothing was efficient enough to cook bread or bring food up to safe temperatures.
So you can imagine when I finally had some spending cash that a solar oven was on my must have list. The GoSun is awkwardly shaped, yes, but who said muffins need to be in the shape of a muffin? They are delicious either way and having fresh baked food that cooks in 30 minutes is nothing short of a miracle in this lifestyle.



I cannot praise the GoSun enough. It is thoughtfully designed and gets up to temp within 15-20 minutes. The thermal vacuum tube is really what gives this oven it's magic. It can get up to 600 degrees and holds heat for hours when sealed. It only takes an hour for some perfectly cooked teriyaki chicken. The oven will even continue to work as clouds roll by.

On a sunny day it takes about 30 minutes for blueberry muffins. On a cloudy day it's about an hour and on an overcast day it can take up to 4 hours... which may seem dismal, but compare that to any other oven on the market and you'll know most can't even cook on overcast days.

This thing is portable, durable, and easy to clean up (as long as you clean shortly after you cook). Do not wait a day to clean this, or it's a pain in the ass.

When I have another chance for extra cash I intend to invest in a second unit. This one is fantastic, but it only serves 2 meals. I'd love to be able to cook more for a crowd at a time.

All in all though, it's one of my favorite tools. I don't need propane or electricity to have a good hot meal, and that is super satisfying.


Monday, July 10, 2017

The Long Update


June was a hell of a month. Because of my anxiety issues I have a tendency to put off high stress things. Unfortunately, this time my high stress was YouTube related. So I went dark. Earlier this morning I posted a short video mentioning my breakup and leaving Jamie's camp (https://youtu.be/KA7yqZZaHnU). This video was mostly to get the worst over with and get my ass back to work on the massive amount of content I've been avoiding. Above is the longer version.

Honestly, the reaction was incredibly more positive than I expected. My hat off to you YouTube for your incredible support. I was genuinely afraid that most of my followers would be upset about it and leave, but there is so much love in the van dwelling community. <3 My heart melted right away and because of such positive response I was able to work on what I had been avoiding for a month.

It's hard to look back on this time because there was a lot of pain and fear. But there were also amazing things. Parades and puppy sitting. Flowers, fires, and fireworks. I have so much love for all the events and random encounters. I would say it's the most joyful experience about vandwelling, but it actually comes in as a close second.

The best joy is helping another traveler. Especially when you get to geek out together about your rigs, where you've been or where you're going. Something I love to do is give food to panhandlers on the street. I rarely, if ever, have much money, but I always have food. I met a gentleman named Francisco just as I was leaving Orem. He was amazing. "I'm headed to Maui in a week" he said. "Holy shit, that's awesome!" I squeaked as we munched on cold yogurt from my fridge. He reminded me that different lifestyles have different needs. I pressed to give him as much food as I could, but he refused most of it because of the extra weight it would cause him to carry.

"Good luck with your busking!" I waved goodbye and secretly wished I had the nerve to stand on a street corner like that. I imagine it's much like camming; high criticism, harassment, and mistreatment, but worth the patience for moments like this. People can be happy with very little. Life can be simple and beautiful. This young man was proof. Even catching a glimpse of a mountain lion was not as thrilling as giving him some yogurt and cereal.

I truly wish more people would try the nomadic life. Even just for a short while to understand the struggles and the simplicity. Saving money would be easier when you understand how little value there is to materialism. It's our experiences that make us happy. Meeting with old friends.

After I left the Nomadics camp I visited one of these old friends for a while. We enjoyed rootbeer floats together and walked around a reservoir for a while. The next day we gamed for hours while I did my laundry, our dogs huffing at each other from a distance. It's the simple things that I value and being able to reconnect with this person meant the world to me.

They say it's not the destination, but the journey that's important. For me, the journey is the destination. The wind moves me where I need to be and the experiences I seek are the greatest joys of life. The breakup with Jamie was hard. I love him dearly, but the pain out weighed the benefits. I know there will be better things for both of us in the future. His business is doing very well and it can only get better. I also know he is a kind and mature person, so I hope when the van build rolls around in November that our anxieties toward each other will be settled.

I do best when I'm on the wind and I hope this is the last relationship I will have for a while. I am tired and there is much about me that I need to focus on fixing. Enjoying life and improving myself will be my focus in the coming months. And if I'm lucky, I might be able to help another traveler along the way.

I love you much. Thank you for reading.
-Tes

Tuesday, May 30, 2017

Chronic Anxiety

A common misunderstanding I encounter is that chronic anxiety is a curable disease. Temporary anxiety, yes, very much curable, but chronic is chronic and when the word is linked to anxiety it seems to get overlooked. My symptoms can improve. My life can improve. But the disease does not go away.

Trauma causes a permanent alteration to the brain, whether that trauma was created physically or through experience. Your mind is now wired to expect the worst, always keeping an eye around the corner in case someone pops out to try and rape you or put a gun to your head. Your brain can sometimes trick you into thinking you're in a different reality. Soldiers hear sirens and gunshots when there is no such noise. I hear my father's voice telling me I'm worthless and the voices of other students at school calling me a whore, or daddy's little bitch. These things stick with us.

My brain produces too much adrenaline. Normally, adrenaline is used to heighten the senses and help a person accomplish something or escape something. I have it running through me constantly, so everything is heightened. I notice tiny useless details and during moments of extreme stress, my memory is impeccable. My brain analyses things and makes assumptions that are not true. To prevent misunderstandings I have to be very careful how I respond to people and keep a level of self awareness that is exhausting.

I also happen to have the unfortunate gift of being easily triggered. Trigger is a word people have been using very lightly in recent years. It's not just feeling emotional, it is literally flipping a switch to force a response. I have no control over my triggers and something as simple as touch can throw my mind into an old memory. Because my memory is impeccable I re-experience the trauma in vivid detail.

My disability doesn't discriminate. It doesn't matter how much I trust you, or if you're family, or just some stranger passing by who sees me struggling and wants to help. In fact, the more I trust you, the more likely you are to trigger these experiences, which can sometimes include lashing out in fear. My trauma was caused by people of trust. I am deathly afraid of hurting someone in this uncontrollable state, especially someone I love.

My biggest trigger is anger, even frustration can put me in a state of paralysing fear. My father was angry a lot. Screaming, loud noises, banging doors, and feeling trapped all push me closer to panic attacks. When I'm scared like this I close my doors. I can't communicate. If I'm forced to face a frightening situation my response can be abrupt, rude, or even angry. I'm not angry though. I'm just scared of something and I want to be left alone.

I am very lucky. My mother kept my family together during a time of extreme hell. She found me an amazing therapist who has allowed me to understand myself and why people respond to me the way they do. I understand trauma and the motivations it causes better then most. I can go through the motions and seem normal most if the time, even though it goes against the way I actually feel. But don't let it trick you. I still need some accommodations, even if you don't understand what I'm going through.

My hope is that this article can help partners, friends, and family of people with PTSD and agoraphobia. There are reasons behind what we do. We are not trying to hurt you, but if you feel you are being hurt you need to find help right away. Go to therapy together, but also go to therapy by yourself so your therapist can explain what's going on without worrying about the other person's response. Therapy is not a sign that you're crazy, it's a sign that you're sane. Take your time to find a good therapist. I went through 14 doctors before finding the one I've been with for 18 years.

Despite everything I go through every day, I believe I'm a very happy person. I don't have normal relationships with people, but they are far more functional than they could have been. I think my therapy has even helped me be more functional in some areas than a normal person would. There are a few benefits also, my impeccable memory can be useful sometimes. And when I'm faced with an actual dire situation I am the first to take action, no hesitation, no doubting myself. I'm a dangerous force when faced with unfavorable odds. I think that makes me beautiful.