My Cure... My Love... My Dog.

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Twelve years ago, I went through a very chronic mental illness. Doctors diagnosed it as Schizo-Affective Disorder, and years later, I would find out that it will last me my whole lifetime. During the first years, I would wake up in emotional pain and agony, realizing I had woken up to a nightmare. I struggled to find a reason to live, and hope for better days. Ihad no time for work and studies, during those days. My condition was terrible, even deteriorating. My original high school batchmates graduated ahead of me, and I also lost friends because of my illness. Going through therapy was hard. I switched psychologists like clothes and also had 2 psychiatrists. The 2nd psychiatrist was very compassionate and kind to me, and I still see her today. Sometimes, I wondered what it would take to get me back to normal. Suicidal thoughts weren't present at that time; the struggle was to find a way to get things back to the way they were. The years passed and I was (and probably still am) stuck in the 20th century. It was so painful then, that I vented my frustrations on food. I bloated into an overweight, diabetic dude, quite the opposite of what I was, before I got sick (I had a gaunt and malnourished-like physique). Because of my illness I also have trouble sleeping. It was the end of the world for me. My illness was both a life sentence and a death sentence, molded into one, at that time, without a chance of parole or bail. Everyday was excruciating. I felt I couldn't sustain my threshold of emotional pain much longer. As much as I tried to hold on to hope, it felt like my soul was surrendering. On a December day, at the beach, my mom and siblings noticed that I was not having fun. They had been observing me, during the first months of my depression. It frustrated them and some of my friends, that I was no longer my old self, and that I had given up. Then, my Mom had a Eureka moment. She asked me: "Would you like to have a puppy?", As the moments passed, as I heard those words; on the beach, I saw a Nile River-like water way. Then I looked around, and saw the sands which resembled that of Egypt. The color yellow appealed to me. It was then that I decided: I would own a Golden Retriever, and name her Cassandra. Months later, we took home a puppy who looked more like an alien than a little dog. She had long antenna-like whiskers by her eyes and a large and drooping pair of ears. The first days were filled with fun. Each time we would play chase, her ears would flap like a bird's flying wings. I was feeling something special... but at least for days. As Cassandra got older, I lost interest in being her loyal partner, and yet she was there by my side. Her sensitivity and her emotional needs kept me distracted, at least for a while,from my problems. It was as if she was draining my sorrows, and making it hers. She has been there through my the rise and falls, my victories and achievements, my embarrassments and failures. Never has she asked anything from me, except my full attention This New Year, I accompanied her, inside our stockroom, to keep her secure from her fear of fireworks. I was counting down the last minutes, the last seconds of 2011, and into 2012. We have come full circle since. She's 10 years old in human years, 70 in dog years. I have been through a lot, and yet I have never surrendered my life, knowing that I have her by my side. Soon I may say goodbye to her. But I credit Cassandra for keeping me from doing myself in, knowing I have a partner in this life. The dog, man's best friend and man's best hope from ruin.