The people close to me know that I am very much an open book. I enjoy talking about the experiences that I have had, as well as hearing experiences from others. In 2008, I realized that I was queer, and I started experiencing depression as well.
Major Depressive Disorder has the following symptoms:
Feelings of sadness
Anhedonia (the inability to feel pleasure)
Change in sleep patterns
Psychomotor impairment or agitation
Weight change
Appetite change
Loss of energy
Feelings of worthlessness or excessive guilt
Difficulty concentrating, thinking, or making decisions
Recurrent thoughts of death or suicide
Poor self-esteem
Feelings of hopelessness
Many symptoms have come and gone for me, but depression has been prevalent in my life since 2008. I also think it's a part of what has made me who I am today.
Depression can be hard to cope with; this year, in particular, it has gotten pretty rough. College has been a wild adventure and has resulted in major life changes. There was one life change that I didn’t think would affect me as much as it did: for the first time, I was living somewhere without any animals around.
Growing up, I've seen a lot of animals come into my family: dogs, cats, lizards, guinea pigs, hamsters, birds, fish and so on. I just grew up with animals in the house as a norm. Looking back, having animals in the house probably helped with some of my depressive episodes. Animals have unconditional love to give and will be there in times of hardship without judgment. As unoriginal as it is, there is truth to it.
Once I went to college, it was just me and my fish, Vincent. Vincent was my crown tail beta during my freshman year of college. That Christmas, Vincent passed. The next year, I got a new beta, Henry. I love having fish around; there is something soothing about watching them swim around. I always seem to pick up the ones with a ton of personality. Vincent would swim up and flair at my laptop when I was doing homework. Henry was fairly interactive for a fish; he'd also challenge anyone with a beard who came to gaze upon him in his tank.
Even with a fish around, something was missing. I knew I missed having a creature that I could really interact with. As my depression and anxiety got worse, I started to do research on emotional support animals (ESAs).
ESAs can consist of any animal; they are protected under the Fair Housing Act, and they are able to fly with their companions, among a few other things.
ESAs differ from service animals, though. Service animals are limited to dogs and miniature horses. Service animals have the same rights as ESAs, and then some. They are trained for specific services, as well as being able to accompany their human companions anywhere.
I did my research on the kind of animal that might be best for my situation. Working for housing and being a full-time student, it made sense that a small caged animal would be best for me. That is when my previous partner mentioned his experience with rats.
I started looking into rats, both as pets and as ESAs. I learned that rats are affectionate, smart, clean and adorable. They can be trained like dogs. I have even read an article about a woman who had rats trained to lick her cheek whenever a seizure was coming. I read forums and articles about ESAs and people having rats around as pets.
I would constantly visit the pet store in town and see their baby rats. They would have their little triangle-shaped faces together, sleeping under a log with their little hippo-like ears up and alert. Eventually, I went to the doctor, got recommended for an ESA, got approved through disability services, got approved in housing and, on Nov. 7, 2015, I adopted a two-month-old dumbo rat.
I named her Psych because I am a psychology major with a rat. I use the name Psyche a lot, and she is also good for my psyche. She has been the little love of my life since. She is a furry little goofball with lots of sass, believe it or not.
In February, a week after my 21st birthday, I went through a significant breakup in my life. As much as I hate to admit it, I was devastated. I spent the rest of the quarter getting work done while trying to stay sane. As soon as spring break rolled around, there was a lot of crying, fast food, Netflix and sleep. I don’t think I left my bed at all that week. Because of the breakup, I was coming off Zyprexa cold turkey, which was just a hot mess, to say the least. Psych didn’t leave my side at all that week either; I had opened her cage at the foot of my bed and let her roam freely, but most of the time she was under the blankets with me, grooming and licking my hands and cheeks. She showed me love and comfort when I needed it.
The story of the breakup is a little cliché, but it is a good highlight of the world of good that this little rat did for me.
