Emotional Support Animals: Just For Needy, Attention-Seekers?

Tonight I found myself sobbing on my bedroom floor. A “normal” day gone south completely out of the blue. Why does that seem to happen? How is it possible we live daily with these burdens inside us, yet they only seem to appear in the open at rare times? I should back up a bit—I’m doing well. I say “well” because, believe me, I’ve been a lot worse, and really, I’m still living a mostly positive life. I’ve just had several things on my mind lately, as well as I’ve been feeling a little weighed down by internal and external stressors. Because I’m not in college anymore, I don’t have a therapist currently. I just found a new psychiatrist so searching for a therapist is next on my list. The struggle is I haven’t found a job yet. I’m babysitting, which helps with some of the bills, but it’s not enough to regularly see a therapist and get my meds. That’s one of the negative sides of mental healthcare. Don’t get me wrong—I encourage people all the time to see a therapist, and I always will. Unfortunately, like physical healthcare, financial situations play a role. This is certainly a topic in and of itself which I’ll save for another day, but the issue of finances within mental healthcare is one of the external stressors at the moment. So let’s go back to tonight. Lying on the floor. Crying. I was so distraught. I literally found myself talking to my dog. . .out loud. . .about what I’m feeling. I mean, yes, I talk to my dog out loud quite often, but it’s usually the good stuff—the “I love you so much” and “How was your day, Maddie?” Yes, I ask my dog how her day was; it’s polite (lol). Anyway, tonight I literally just started talking as if I were in a therapy session. “Maddie, I hate how some days I don’t feel good enough.” “I’m mad at [insert name], but I don’t even know if I should be.” “I hate that I still think about self-harming myself.” “I want to tell Jake how I feel in person, but it’s still hard for me to do.” If someone saw me, I don’t know what they would’ve thought. A 22 year-old woman sitting on her bed (I had moved from the floor to the bed by the time I started talking out loud), crying, and using her dog as ears to listen. It almost sounds like something out of a movie, but let me tell you the beautiful part of it all. My dog just laid there beside me. She listened—she may not have known the exact meaning of the words I was saying, but she understood the emotions. She sensed them, and she supported me through them. In case you’re unaware, my dog is an Emotional Support Animal (ESA). People respect Psychiatric Service Dogs/Animals, but they don’t always respect ESA’s. People think the person who has an ESA is “weak” or “just wants attention.” Some people will even say we’re lying just to get special perks. The hard part is that there are people who abuse the system, and this leads to stigma. Those of us who aren’t abusing the system are the ones who suffer. People don’t know how helpful Maddie truly is to me. Tonight is just one example of how incredible she is. Yeah, she laid there and listened to me which might seem like an easy thing for a dog to do, but it’s honestly so much more than that. It’s the way Maddie comforts me; it’s the way she senses when my mood changes; it’s the way she seeks my attention to stop me from going to that dark place. She has literally pawed at me to keep me from hurting myself or to help deter my attention away from anxiety. She’s also licked my tears away when I cry—I know she enjoys the salt from them (it’s a dog thing), but I truly believe she also knows how much better I feel when she does this for me. It’s like a friend patting you on the back or lending you their should to cry on. If not for Maddie, I really don’t know where I’d be today. I want to share this because there may be people out there considering an ESA but are also affected by the stigma. I know I was. I felt guilty for wanting an ESA, even after my therapist recommended it to me. I kept thinking, Caysea, you’re just being dramatic and You really don’t need an ESA. But the part that made me feel guilty was actually labeling her as an ESA and having other people toss their judgements and opinions out at me. Even after we got Maddie, it took me a while to become comfortable with explaining my situation. I would share with others, but I constantly worried I was being judged. After having Maddie for about 2 1/2 years, I’m finally secure with the fact that I have an ESA, and I want to tell you why. For starters, I don’t think your animal has to be labeled as an ESA to help you. Animals are good at sensing changes in emotions, and many are naturally good at comforting their human(s) in general. Some of the helpful pluses (outside of emotional support and care) to an ESA include easier access to taking your dog with you on short and long travels as well as financial benefits. I’ve been able to take Maddie with me on several vacations and having the paperwork to show she is a registered ESA just makes the process much easier. Plus, if I’m being honest, I would have never been able to afford the pet fees at the first apartment I lived at when I got Maddie. Having an ESA means you don’t have to pay pet fees, which is great to save money and all, but really, I’m just grateful because it meant I could get a dog. By not paying pet fees, I was able to use the money I had on her food, treats, and grooming needs. This post comes down to this: if you’re thinking about an ESA, I say go for it! It doesn’t make you less of a person, and it doesn’t make you “needy.” Also, if you judge people for having ESA’s, please think twice. My dog has quite literally saved my life. There are times when I’ve wanted to self-harm, I’ve wanted to go into full panic-mode, and more, but I didn’t because she was there to help me. You don’t realize the support ESA’s are giving to their humans. Please be kind, and keep an open mind.