We all love our pets and have a unique connection with them. They offer us unconditional love and acceptance. Whether we’re gone five minutes or five hours, they greet us at the door, tails going a mile a minute, thrilled to see us.

All pets improve our sense of wellbeing, but emotional support animals specifically help with mental health conditions like depression and anxiety. Here are some ways that emotional support animals help with mental health: 

People with emotional support animals count on their pets for a consistent presence in their lives that offers them affection and companionship. People find their presence comforting and reassuring — that is why they feel the need to have them constantly by their side.

Animal companionship is particularly useful in combating social isolation and loneliness. As people grow increasingly more isolated and live online without routine social gatherings, the presence of pets may play a more significant role in providing the companionship that all humans seek. 

One study found that the avenues through which pets are perceived to contribute to people’s emotional functioning seem to be through consistent “comfort and affection.” The ESA’s constant presence meant the support was available immediately, without the person needing to ask for it. 

Do you talk to your emotional support animal? It turns out you’re not alone. Many people do, and they do so mainly because they know their pets offer unconditional love and are non-judgmental. For people living alone, emotional support animals can provide “a source of ‘connectedness’, reassurance, and normalcy.”

Having a pet around can reduce feelings of depression and anxiety. One study measured the effects of emotional support animals on eleven individuals with SMI (serious mental illness). The participants received emotional support animals through an ESA support program. Before they were connected with their emotional support animals, they completed standardized psychological testing for anxiety, depression, and loneliness. They were then retested a year later.

Six participants received an ESA cat and five received an ESA dog. One year later, when looking at the results as a group, these individuals’ depression, anxiety, and loneliness scores had improved considerably. These results were encouraging. 

Even short interactions with animals can improve symptoms of depression and anxiety. This is supported by biological evidence, as human-animal interactions have been shown to decrease cortisol levels. Studies have shown that when humans and their dogs interact in a positive way (for example cuddling) both partners exhibit a surge in oxytocin, a hormone linked to positive emotional states.

Many dog owners can attest to the mood-boosting benefits of their dogs. In fact, one study showed that pet owners were 41% less likely to be depressed than non-pet owners.

Another benefit of owning a pet is physical activity. If a person has a dog, it needs to be taken for regular walks. That can assist people who find themselves unmotivated to leave the home due to depressed feelings. Being outdoors in nature can have positive effects on the mood. One study found that those with pets were more significantly likely to use ambulatory mental health care than those without. 

Those with animals that don’t require walking still have to get out of bed to feed them, give them water, change their litter or bedding, and attend to other necessities associated with caring for a pet. Any form of movement and exercise can greatly benefit mental health, even walking to the pet store to get supplies. 

Pets can help regulate emotions during times of stress, potentially reducing the severity of PTSD symptoms such as dissociation and anxiety. While animal companionship doesn’t prevent painful memories, they may lessen their impact and improve coping abilities. One interesting study found that veterans with PTSD and assistance animals judged their well-being better than veterans with PTSD and no pets. 

There is promising research that shows animal-assisted therapy can be beneficial to people with autism. The study highlighted certain emotional benefits for children with autism, including improved self-confidence and behavioral learning outcomes. The non-judgmental nature of animals also makes them ideal for practicing social skills.

In my late twenties, I was diagnosed with anorexia, major depressive disorder with psychotic features, and borderline personality disorder. I spent the next three decades cycling in and out of psychiatric hospitals. 

I repeatedly verbalized to my brother, who was my primary support, that I wanted to rescue a dog. He told me I couldn’t have one as I was in and out of the hospital too often and there would be no one to care for a dog.

In 2018, two years after terminating therapy with my psychiatrist, I suffered a stroke.  The stroke affected my left side and my brain, more specifically my executive functioning. I spent three weeks in an acute care facility receiving intensive physical and cognitive therapy. When I was discharged, I continued with many weeks of outpatient physical therapy, and I commenced working with a rehabilitative neuropsychologist for the cognitive challenges I faced. 

My life had changed in an instant. I’m a licensed clinical social worker, so I’d always relied on my intellect. My intelligence wasn’t affected but my ability to use it effectively was. I recovered more quickly physically than cognitively. There were many times while working with the neuropsychologist I wanted to throw my pencil across the room, as I knew before the stroke I could solve the problems put before me with ease. 

I fell into a deep depression. I was on disability from work and could not imagine when I would be able to return. I resumed therapy with my psychiatrist.

A year after the stroke, on Memorial Day, 2019, my life had improved significantly. I walked without a cane and was back at work part-time. I was still in therapy for my depression, though due to my extensive history, that was proving harder to resolve. Although I was still working with the neuropsychologist, she agreed I’d made progress.

I marked this milestone by rescuing a three-year-old labrador-terrier mix. She had come North from a kill shelter in Mississippi and was being fostered by a family in New Jersey. My brother agreed it was time, and caring for her would be beneficial, especially the daily walks, to help me further recover from the depression and the stroke. 

The name the shelter gave her was Shelley, but I disliked that name, so I renamed her Shelby. She took to it right away. Although her profile said she got along with people, children, dogs, and cats, none of that was true. She lunged and growled at the other residents in my building and was reactive towards other dogs when I walked her. Soon, I heard from my building’s management. The other residents had complained, and I was in danger of having to return her to the organization that had facilitated the rescue. After I got the phone call, I began to cry, and Shelby pushed her snout between my knees and jumped up with her front paws on my lap.

The trainer with whom I was working suggested I put Shelby on a low dose of Prozac and the medication worked wonders. She was no longer aggressive towards other people. It dawned on me that we were both broken, and we belonged together. How we found each other in a sea of potential canine adoptees and pet parents was no less than astounding. 

I got an ESA letter, and Shelby became an emotional support animal as she and I healed together. She sensed when I was down or upset and eased her substantial body next to mine until I calmed down. What she asked in return, in addition to love, food, water, and walks, was a vigorous belly rub once or twice a day. And over the next five years, our bond grew stronger as I continued to work remotely.

My block is a doggie block. Today, neighbors stop me on the street to tell me how much Shelby has changed and how much my love and patience had helped her. What they don’t know is the flip side; the significant effect her unconditional love and acceptance has had on my mental health. 

I’ve been out of the (psychiatric) hospital for over ten years — my longest stretch since 1987. I’m no longer in therapy. I’m thriving in a full-time job as a licensed clinical social worker and working part-time as an adjunct college instructor, and my writing career is flourishing. 

A tribute to my emotional support animal. I could not have achieved this level of functioning without her.