High school was tough. I was quiet, thin, and unsure. I didn’t apply myself in school, not because I didn’t care, but because no one expected me to. Still, somewhere deep inside, I held onto the belief that I was meant for more.
After graduation, I joined the Army. Some people doubted me, said I wouldn’t make it. But I did. I pushed through basic, then deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan. In uniform, I found a kind of belonging I’d never felt before. The brotherhood, the purpose, the fire in my chest every time I woke up with something bigger than myself to fight for, it gave me strength.
But war takes pieces of you, even the ones you don’t know you have. When I came home and left the military to pursue my education, I stepped into a world that felt alien. My body hurt, my mind wandered, and my heart ached for the ones still downrange. Every day felt like I was wearing someone else’s skin…trying to smile, trying to study, trying to “fit” into civilian life. But the truth is, I was unraveling.
The VA gave me pills, painkillers for my body, sedatives for my mind. I swallowed them like they were solutions. But they weren’t. Eventually, I lost everything. I ended up living out of my car, parking in quiet corners of town, hiding my shame under layers of survival instinct. For almost a year, I drifted like a ghost. I hit rock bottom, and then I started to dig deeper.
One night, on the edge of giving up, I searched for help. I found a veteran organization that paired service dogs with veterans suffering from PTSD and traumatic brain injuries. I didn’t expect much. I barely believed in anything anymore, but I applied. A few weeks later, I got the email: I had been accepted. A dog would be coming into my life.
That call saved me.
When he came into my life, it was like a part of my soul I thought was gone came back. We were inseparable. He didn’t care about my past, my pain, or my scars. He just cared about me. His loyalty, his watchful eyes, the way he knew when I was slipping. All of it pulled me out of the darkness. I started to believe again.
Because of him, I finished my B.S. in business. Because of him, I had the courage to pursue my MBA. And because of him, I’m now chasing a Ph.D. in finance. I still carry my pain, but I also carry purpose.
He passed away on July 12, 2022. That day broke me in a different way, but this time, it didn’t defeat me. Instead, it lit a fire. I created Warrior Dog Spirit in his honor and for every dog like him. Dogs that have walked through war and through nightmares to save the lives of those who thought they were lost forever.
In building this brand, I’ve uncovered the stories of so many dogs who’ve fought beside soldiers who tipped the scales of battle, who brought their handlers home, who gave everything. Their stories deserve to be told. Just like mine.
Because my story, unfortunately, is not unique. There are countless veterans walking through silent battles, just like I was. And there are dogs, angels with four paws, waiting to save them.
If you’re struggling, don’t give up. Help might be just a phone call away. Sometimes, healing doesn’t come in words, it comes with a wagging tail and a look that says, “You’re not alone anymore.”
