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One of my brothers is getting married.

I found out from one of the other brothers. The one I actually talk to.

Turns out, I don't think I'm invited.

Which is cool. I don't want to go. I've had enough family time to last a lifetime.

It's still kind of...hurtful, I guess, that he didn't invite me.

But hey, that means I don't have to send a gift.

Been about a week since my last anxiety attack. Having a service dog has really helped. I just wish people would stop slapping the 'emotional support animal' label on companion pets. It gives the true working dogs a bad reputation. My dog is trained to respond to any fluctuation in my mood, and he intervenes and keeps my anxiety from spiking. I need him by my side when I go into new situations, he is literally the only thing keeping me from falling apart at times. I need to be able to take him into a shop, or a restaurant.

I know I'm not cured. I know the panic can still blindside me without notice.

But I feel a lot less on edge. Which can only be good for my wife and my daughter.

I think this is the longest stretch I've gone without dreaming. I know I'm probably jinxing myself.

The emergency vet clinic is an eerie place in the middle of the night. I had to take Patch because she ate an entire bag of chocolate, and chocolate is deadly for dogs. They gave her a shot, and I think she feels like I betrayed her because I let it happen. But so far, she seems to be fine.

I'm thinking about maybe doing another show. Now that things have settled down, and Julian is home and all. I miss being on stage. There's nothing like the energy of performing in front of a live audience.