Loving my inmate opened doors I didn’t know were there. Loving him did not save me. Loving him forced me to meet myself.

Conflict

“Don’t give me logic when I share my feelings.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t share your feelings.”

“If I can’t share my feelings, then there’s no point in having a relationship!”

Blocking the offending person in the GTL app
Deleting the offensive GTL app 
Blocking the offending person’s phone number  
Blocking the offending person in Facebook  
Blocking the offending person’s street email address

Because of our (less than ideal) way of resolving conflict, it flushed out emotional difficulties which led to my Borderline Personality Disorder diagnosis in March 2023.

Curiosity

Throughout our relationship, he’d tell me I have signs of Autism and other head-hums. (No, I don’t! Yes, you do. No, I don’t!) I saw an Autism meme on Facebook and realized—wait a minute, I relate to this! After this happened enough times, I started doing my own research (autism in adult women doesn’t look like you’d think), and I came to a certain enough conclusion that I wanted to be tested. Diagnosis: Autism spectrum condition, level 1. November 2025. This knowledge is power!

Clarity

After talking with me at the intake for the autism testing, the doctor asked if I’d like to be tested for ADHD as well.

“Is it part of the testing?”

“Yes.”

“Does it cost extra?”

“No.”

“Okay, might as well.”

Diagnosis: ADHD, Combined. November 2025. Ironically, ADHD is the biggest piece in my mental health puzzle. Again, ADHD in women/girls doesn’t look like the typical hyperactive image you may have.

This same 4½ hour exhaustive (and exhausting) testing revealed confirmation of Borderline Personality Disorder, as well as three other major diagnoses. State of shock. How is this possible? Broken. Grieving. Memories from preschool . . . elementary school . . . junior high school . . . even high school . . . a struggling homeschooling mom. But knowledge truly is power—it all makes sense now.

Aragorn

Because of these 6! diagnoses, I qualify for disability. These diagnoses also mean I would qualify for disability support—something that surprised even the doctor, given that I am working full-time, in school, and making the Honor Roll. I also qualify for a Psychiatric Service Dog which will help me remain functional. Once I learned what a PSD can do for me, I sobbed.

This is now my non-negotiable goal.

Right now, unless my ADHD kicks in, its name will be Aragorn. I want a noble name, because it will have a noble job. In case you’re not familiar with Lord of the Rings, Aragorn was a king and a healer. (I’m crying as I type.)

I’ve paid the $500 deposit for a Labrador puppy bred for service work and started early using a military dog curriculum. Aragorn will be exposed regularly to all manner of loud and disconcerting sounds as soon as his ears open. He will be sleeping with my scent a week before he comes home.

Dream

As an example of how much I am already dependent on Aragorn (who I do not plan on bringing home for another 10 months) let me tell you about the very real, very detailed dream I had last night—

The breeder calls me on the phone.

“Do you want to skip the waiting period? We have an older, already-trained dog whose owner had to give him up.”

“Oh, wow!”

“He’s a five-year old German Shepherd named Hawkeye. He’s already licensed as a PSD and registered with the police. His temperament is perfect for service work—calm, dependable, and nothing phases him.”

“I’m definitely interested!”

“Since he’s already trained, all you’ll need to pay is the $3000.”

“Sounds great!”

It’s finally happening! I meet her at the airport and follow her to where the dog is waiting. While I’m walking behind her, I’m still talking to her on the phone (you know how dreams are). I can’t see the dog yet, but we’re almost there.

Then I wake up. Nooo!

I moved my head, trying to keep my ear pressed against the pillow (phone) to keep talking to her, to keep the dream going.

Later I wrote, “I’ve been awake for 20 minutes sobbing for most of that because I want back in that dream so badly. My life is so hard, and [this] dog would help so much.”

Purpose

From the beginning of our relationship, my inmate kept telling me I’m a writer. (No, I’m not. Yes, you are! No, I’m not.) Because of his encouragement, I took an Intro to Creative Writing class just for fun, just to see what it’s like. The lights went on. Fireworks exploded in my brain. I had enough confidence to start my second BA, this time in Creative Writing & English. Now, just look at me—

I’ll be graduating this year.

I have remote career jobs (with benefits!) in my sights. Remote work is what my neurodivergent brain craves. My inmate originally told me this, back when my fantasy was to work in an office. How right he was!

I’m the author of a blog, a Substack page, and a co-author of another Substack page.

I’m co-authoring a book and writing my memoir which you can read as serialized chapters on our Substack page. The title should be It All Makes Sense Now. I also have ideas and beginnings for other books!

Loving my inmate opened doors I didn’t know were there.
Neither did I have the confidence to open them if I had known.
Loving him did not save me. Loving him forced me to meet myself.

And that changed everything.