For a long time,
I didn’t tell this to anyone.
Because how do you say
that you love your husband with all your heart,
but at night…
you are afraid of him?
Not of him.
Of what happens to him.
Of the nightmares.
Of the sudden movements.
Of the hands that move without him knowing.
Of a body that goes back to war
while I just want to sleep beside him.
There were nights when I woke up with bruises,
and my heart was more broken than my body.
And I kept telling myself:
It’s not him.
It’s the CPTSD.
It’s the memories.
But even when you understand it in your head,
your body is still afraid.
So I pulled away.
I slept at the edge of the bed.
With a blanket between us.
With one eye half open.
With a closed heart.
And he felt it.
And it broke him.
Because he knew he was hurting me
even when he was asleep.
And our bed became a place of fear,
not a place of love.
Then the dog arrived.
On the first night he slept with us,
something happened
that changed everything.
He started to move.
To tense up.
To breathe differently.
Before,
that was the moment when I would freeze.
But this time,
the dog got up immediately.
He lay on him.
He rested his head on him.
He pressed his body against his.
As if he was saying:
You are here.
You are safe.
Come back to me.
And within seconds,
his body relaxed.
No punch.
No kick.
No scream.
Just quiet.
And I lay there beside them,
afraid to move.
And I cried.
Because for the first time in years,
a whole night passed
without fear.
And the next morning,
I looked at him differently.
Not as someone
I had to be careful around.
But as someone
I could trust again.
From there,
everything started to change.
After a week,
I was already falling asleep without tension.
After a month,
I began to move closer to him at night.
After a few months,
I found myself reaching for his hand in my sleep.
Without thinking.
Without fear.
My body learned again
that our bed is safe.
And he…
He changed before my eyes.
Less shame.
Less withdrawal.
Less apologizing.
More smiles in the morning.
More patience.
More presence.
Because he no longer woke up with guilt.
He woke up with hope.
And suddenly,
small things returned.
Conversations before sleep.
Jokes under the blanket.
Little plans for the future.
Touch without fear.
We felt like a couple again.
Not like a patient and a caregiver.
Not like a wounded man and a guard.
Like husband and wife.
The dog sleeps between us.
But in truth,
he opened a new space between us.
A space of calm.
Of trust.
Of closeness.
People laugh when I say:
“A dog in our bed saved our marriage.”
But they don’t understand.
He saved our first night.
Then our first week.
Then our first month.
Then our lives.
He brought my husband back to me.
And brought him back to himself.
And brought our together back.
He doesn’t only protect him.
He protects our love.
Our family.
Our future.
And I thank him
every night.
– From a PTSD Service dog client’s wife, who wishes to remain anonymous