What my cat and mental health have in common

With May being Mental Health Awareness Month and my cat turning five, it only made sense to make this column about both. You may be asking yourself how exactly the two overlap — and to that, I say: my cat is my (unofficial) emotional support animal.

My mental health struggles date back to when I was a young child. I was (and still am) often labeled as a shy person, which I actually disagree with. I think the true culprit behind it all is my crippling anxiety.

Once upon a time, my anxiety was so intense that I couldn’t do simple things like order food at a restaurant or talk on the phone. It automatically put me in fight-or-flight mode. It didn’t help that I had friends who used my flaws as punchlines, but alas, I’ve overcome those fears.

It didn’t happen overnight. Through therapy and professional help, I’ve worked to better my mental health. At first, it was trial and error with medications, but I think it’s safe to say I’ve finally gotten the formula right. I view my medication as a bridge — it gets me through the day, even the rough patches. I went from having panic attacks every other week to maybe once a year.

I think my anxious nature stems from being a pathological people pleaser. I’ll do absurd things just to maintain control and make sure everyone’s happy, which I’ve come to realize is nearly impossible. Sometimes, I think I prioritize others’ happiness over my own, which is both a great and terrible trait. One thing I’ve had to learn to let go of (thank you, therapy) is the idea that I should let people walk all over me just to avoid conflict. The truth hurts, but you can’t check everyone’s boxes.

Another thing that has helped me significantly is box breathing exercises. I’ve been doing them for years now, and they make a world of difference. The tricky part about anxiety is that finding what works and what doesn’t can take time and trial, when all you desperately want are results and answers.

Diagnosis isn’t easy. I was in a constant state of denial. I didn’t want to accept that I had a mental illness because I thought it made me seem weak. But the best thing anyone can do is get the help they need. Just like our physical health, our mental health needs to be cared for. I sound like a medical infomercial, but without a proper diagnosis, mental and physical issues can worsen.

During lockdown, just like everyone and their mother, I adopted a kitten and he’s been my life ever since. My mental health was declining again, because like everyone else, I didn’t know how to navigate a global pandemic. Not knowing what the future held made me deeply pessimistic.

Sure, all my cat does is sleep most of the time, but I noticed a shift in my mental health when I chose Felix to be my furever friend— he’s basically my child. I feed him and keep him stocked with an endless supply of Churu treats, and it brings me joy to care for him. He’s loyal for the most part, and he helps me calm down when I’ve had a bad day. I fully believe he conditionally loves me, but his heart’s in the right place.

I can’t believe he officially turned five yesterday. It feels like I just got him — but hey, he doesn’t look a day over two.

This column may feel a bit scattered, so welcome to my brain. This is what living with anxiety can be like. But it’s doable, as long as you have the right resources and a support system — even if it comes with four legs and a tail.