Navigating Estrangement, Invisible Disabilities, and Service Dog Discrimination — With Humor and a Whole Lot of Dogs

Crystal's Left Broken Leg. The sock was because it was December, and my toes stayed cold!

Estrangement with your adult child changes you in ways you would never have imagined. Having our adult daughter cut off all communication with us, and tell us to stop communicating with her, causes overwhelming feelings of rejection, betrayal, broken trust, belittlement, self-doubt, grief, loss and many other emotions. You spend an abundance of time working to process these feelings, and move on in your life. I deliberately look for things that are healthy and worthwhile, things that will help others, and keep my mind and heart positive.

This journey has not been linear. It’s more like a GPS gone rogue. "Rerouting... rerouting... rerouting..." It's a spiritual GPS now, and the only voice I trust is God’s. And I have had to cling to that voice through the whirlwind of emotions and health complications, all while trying to maintain grace (and my balance... literally).

Because, let’s face it, my body’s been staging a rebellion for years. I live with Complex PTSD, Severe Anxiety, Seizures, Panic Attacks, Vestibular Migraines, balance issues, and yes — I am a fall risk. I should probably be bubble-wrapped, but apparently Amazon doesn’t carry that in human size.

To assist with daily living, I have a service dog. Not an accessory. Not an emotional support animal. A trained, working service dog. His name is Big — and he’s 105 pounds of absolute professional, loyal, slobbery goodness.

But apparently, to society, Big is just a dog. I've had people ask for paperwork, proof, certifications — you name it. For the record, under ADA law, that is not only unnecessary, but it’s also illegal to demand. Spoiler alert: There’s no magical Hogwarts-style service dog diploma. And yet, discrimination is alive and well.

This week, I was denied the opportunity to enter an event because the organizers had “never had anyone with a service dog before” and felt Big might “distract others.” They said they hoped I would understand. And you know what? I do understand. I understand they are completely uneducated about the law and that what they’re doing is called disability discrimination. It’s against the law, folks. And in the future, they need to take into consideration that they are breaking ADA laws and could be sued by someone if they continue to be uninformed.

Just when you think things can't get more Lifetime-movie-esque, I broke my left leg walking — in 2023. That’s right — one step, boom. I had just closed my car door, took one step, and I was down. It happened in the street, parked in front of my children's dad’s house. (Yes, you can go ahead and picture it in slow motion — that’s how it felt.)

Then I went to the emergency room and told them I was a fall risk. They still gave me crutches and told me that was all they had to offer. I had a freshly wrapped broken leg, and the hospital attendants saw that I was extremely unsteady on the crutches. Despite that, they let me attempt to crutch my way out the door to the car where my son and his fiancée (now spouse)were waiting. Before I made it to the car, I fell again. They are fortunate that I didn't break anything else or cause more damage to my just broken leg. I was thankful to God as well. Soon after, a wonderful friend who had gone through something similar loaned me her electric wheelchair. I'm forever grateful for her kindness and generosity.

And through it all, my dogs — Big, and my other four (yes, I said four, which makes five in all — save your judgment, you don't have to have them or love animals as much as I do) — Jace, Pippin, Lilly Rose, and Duchess Sophie, save my life and sanity every single day. Jace has literally saved my life. I was attacked by a dog while walking him, and Jace jumped into action and protected me. I have the scars to prove it. My life is a Lifetime drama. Or did I say that already?

Still, I am simply living and doing the very best that I can to be the best version of me, and to please and glorify God in every way possible. At the end of my life, I just want to stand before Him and hear: "Well done, my good and faithful servant."

That is all I want. And maybe a nap. Definitely a nap.