My dog and I both have anxiety

You know how they say owners start to look like their dogs? Well, it must be the same thing with mental illness because my dog and I both have anxiety. I’ve had low-grade anxiety since I was in high school, but it got worse in college as I tried to do it all — get straight A’s, work 30 hours a week, have a personal life, etc. Eventually I just broke down. Since then, I’ve taken steps to deal with my anxiety, such as lowering my impossibly high expectations of myself and going to therapy on a regular basis. Some days are better than others, but I’ve learned to live with it.

One of the things that has helped the most with my anxiety is my dog, Raylee. She’s my best friend. I wake up and go to bed cuddling her. She is there when I need someone to talk to. She makes me feel better if I’m having a bad day. I couldn’t imagine my life without her.

I remember the day I got her like it was yesterday. Four years ago, I was living alone 800 miles from home, and I needed a friend to keep me company. I went to the animal shelter, and there she was. All the other dogs were barking and jumping up, but she was laying quietly on the ground. I asked to see her and fell in love with her instantly. I adopted her that day.

Little did I know what was in store for me when I took her home. She seemed like a calm dog at the shelter, so I had no idea she had bad separation anxiety. She was house-trained, but she would tear up the carpet while I was gone, trying to dig her way under doorways looking for me. Just like I couldn’t tell Raylee had anxiety by looking at her, you can’t tell someone is struggling with mental illness just by looking at them. Even the people in your life who you think are the most “happy” may be struggling with something on the inside — you just can’t see it.

Luckily Raylee’s separation anxiety has gotten better since I started working from home (plus I have all hardwood floors now, so there’s no carpet to tear up), but what’s worse is her thunderstorm anxiety. From March through May every year, it’s an absolute nightmare. Whenever there is a thunderstorm, she frantically pants and “digs” up blankets. It’s not as bad during the day because she just comes and sits next to me while I work, and I try to calm her down. But getting woken up with a panting dog on your head night after night gets old pretty quick. She keeps me up many hours of the night, and I end up rather cranky because of the lack of sleep.

But here’s the thing: I don’t blame her one bit. Not for tearing up the carpet or keeping me up at night. She can’t help it. While we can all agree Raylee is not to blame for her anxiety, it’s much harder to not blame ourselves for our mental health problems. We think we did something wrong to cause it or deserve it. We think it’s our fault.

But it’s not your fault. You are not to blame if you have stress, anxiety, depression, bipolar disorder, etc. And you are not any lesser because of it. You are enough just as you are.

This is a hard lesson to learn but an important one. Accepting yourself exactly how you are is the first step on the path to healing and recovery.

Even as we take steps in the right direction, unexpected things will still arise, like occasional thunderstorms for Raylee long after thunderstorm season is over. I do my best to comfort her, but I can only do so much. I can’t make the thunderstorm go away. It’s the same thing with mental illness. You can do what you can for your friends and family who suffer from mental health disorders, but you can’t make their darkness go away. At the end of the day, it’s up to them to get help. A simple pet on the head, “It’s going to be okay” and just being there is all I can do for Raylee, and sometimes that’s all she needs.

We are a bit of a mess, Raylee and me. Her with her excessive panting and me with my panic attacks. It’s not always easy that we both have anxiety, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.