“The Bad Dog receded on those days, but I didn’t trust the respite: I knew it would come back, because it always did. It would make me do things I didn’t want to do, and then I’d have to punish myself. The punishments involved things like sitting outside in my dog’s little red plywood house or drinking from a bowl on my hands and knees. It was terribly degrading, but if I degraded myself, then I could soothe myself again. After I performed my penance, I would sit and stroke my hair, pretending I was secretly petting her ears. She and I were in this together. I whispered comforting things to her, like I kind of want to take care of you.”

— Stacy Pershall, from “Loud in the House of Myself.”