Sobriety, Boundaries, and the Dog Attack

I had to wait three months to write this. I had to be careful, calculated. I am not used to having to live like this in sobriety. I didn’t want to. I wanted to heal, enjoy my home. Play with my puppy, work on my heath. But for the last quarter of a year, I have been in a SEVERE panic loop.

I had just come out of fight or flight. I was doing so well. I had gone through parasympathetic flooding, remember we talked all about it? Went through it more than once! Things were doing well, I was actually starting to paint floweres. I remember looking at my work like wow… the light is coming.

Until I was thrown right back to where I was: Fear, danger, fight or flight, a stalker that I had been running from… I couldn’t believe, after a year of hiding - all my progress needed to regress over this ONE person who couldn’t leave ME ALONE.

Back in May, I mentioned that someone named Bob was moving into my building. That is not a name I’m hiding—because once the line of abuse is crossed, I no longer feel obligated to protect someone else’s reputation over my own safety.

At the time, I was hopeful. I NEEDED HELP. I was in DANGER. You know me well enough to know, I can scream and yell when I need to. I was TERRIFIED. I believed they would see this as a dangerous threat after I explained it. They didnt really know the details. I had no plans to tell them, ever. But a close freind said “Dana, you cannot be angry if they do not help, if they don’t understand the situtation.

Really the story I had to tell took a TON of courage. Its extremely personal. I never wanted to tell this story. I took my friends advice. It didn’t change a thing. I went back to that friend, cried on his couch. He cried too. Said he was so sorry, he really believed they loved me enough to protect me. His family operated the way mine used to. We cried it out together, experienced the grief and fundamental understanding of how dynamics have shifted.

Then it was time to go home. Back to the mess. This time - with intentional planning for a dangerous situation to happen. I haven’t had to plan in advance for calamaty that “could” happen since I stopped drinking. We don’t do this in sobriety. It was a total three month mind-fuck.

I did my best to ignore him.

I hid in my apartment.

It was terrible, I was in constant fear. Traumatized by all the incoming flashbacks each time I saw him every day.

AA Says to face your fears. I tried.

I tried to be neighborly, mature, and emotionally detached.

But I was wrong. It didn’t take long until he “needed” everything including the little bit of food or money that I have. As if I would suffer ever again for your finances.

Last week, Bob’s dog attacked Nicky in our driveway.

Nicky isn’t just a pet—she’s my service dog. My medical device. My daily support system. She’s legally protected and trained to help me live with severe chronic illness.

Since the attack, she hasn’t been herself. She’s been vomiting, shaking, hiding, urinating indoors, and refusing food. She’s traumatized. And so am I. The truce is over.

But it didn’t stop there.

Just days before the attack, Bob entered my apartment without permission. I wasn’t home. He didn’t knock. He lingered, wandered, and examined my things—including my art supplies and sleeping area. I know this because I had installed security cameras.

When he first moved in, I raised concerns. I was denied the ability to block the lease, so I did the next best thing—I protected myself. I bought surveillance. I took precautions. I prepared for what I feared, and knew might happen.

And when it did, I was ready.

Let me be clear:

I’m a woman in recovery. I live alone. I have a trauma history. And I rely on my service dog, my recovery community, and my home being a safe place to function.

This man did not move in by accident. A year ago, I left him. I hid to get away. And now he has moved directly beneath me. That isn’t a coincidence—that is a calculated decision meant to destabilize me.

The building is aware. Others have raised concerns. This isn’t just about a dog or a disagreement—this is about safety. This is about trauma-informed boundaries and the right to feel safe in your own home.

Some people may think I’m exaggerating. That’s okay. I don’t need everyone to understand. I know what happened. And I know what it felt like to be scared in my own space again. I don’t need to provide anything other than what is requested by my building.

I stayed sober through all of it.

Even when I was denied help. Even when I was re-traumatized daily, dismissed, depressed, panic attacks—I didn’t pick up. I didn’t spiral. I documented. I protected myself. I consulted professionals. I lawyered up with people who will ACTUALLY protect us. I acted with clarity and calm.

I didn’t rage. I didn’t scream.

I advocated. I planned.

And when things escalated—I took action with dignity and grace.

Here’s the truth:

If someone leaves you to drown in shark-infested waters, they don’t get to critique your swimming technique when you finally reach shore. And while this experience has been devastating in so many ways, I am proud of how I handled it.

I protected my sobriety.

I protected my dog.

I protected my sanity.

And I did it with dignity, grace, and a whole lot of fire.

I held back for months and when the time came - I provided ALL the documentation to the people who need it, not the people who requested it to see if “it was true”. Not everyone is your friend. And some people - no matter how much you justify your truth.. wont see it. That is when you just STOP. As hard as it is - you STOP.

If you are reading this and navigating a dangerous or unsettling situation—please know:

• You are not crazy.

• You are not dramatic.

• You are reacting to real violations.

• You are allowed to take up space, protect yourself, and say “enough.”

Even if others don’t believe you.

Even if they question your instincts.

Even if you’re the only one who sees the truth—you still get to act on it.

I didn’t wait for anyone else to protect me. I chose to protect myself and Nicky.

Because I deserve to feel safe in my own home.

And so do you.

With Love,

Dana & Nicky.