Therapy for the Animal Lover

It’s also a relationship that can often feel misunderstood by the people in your life (or society in general), and especially when our animals are going through health issues or when they pass, it can feel pretty lonely for the humans involved. And this has never been more true, as more and more people are recognizing that the relationship they have with their animals is like that of parent and child. Yet, when our animals are experiencing hardship, or when we lose them to illness or old age, the grief we feel is often not held with the same empathy and compassionate care as when we experience the same thing with our fellow humans.

But you don’t have to feel as alone as you might right now. You don’t have to feel like you need to justify your love or your heartache or pain. You deserve spaces where you’re fully seen and understood and held in the complexity of your role as animal caregiver.

Caring for our animals is such a gift.

We can often experience some of the safest and most secure attachments with our animals. Unconditional love, someone to keep us in a routine, to motivate us to get up in the morning, to give us physical connection and laughter. They often can remind us to play more, rest more, be more present.

And our role in their lives, while unique to the particular animal bond, is often one that we don’t take lightly…it can feel like a big responsibility, one that holds us to high standards and can sometimes have us second-guess ourselves, feel anxious about our choices, and hope with all our might that we’re doing the best we can.

That alone can all feel heavy sometimes. And then, we have a natural part of caregiving: supporting them when they get sick, have a chronic health problem, or generally need care we can’t give them on our own.

Stress, financial worry, fatigue…it can all be a part of this incredibly beautiful role we have in their lives.

And sometimes dealing with this complexity can leave us feeling isolated and overwhelmed, especially if the people around you seem to invalidate the significance of your relationship with your animal and your role in their lives.

Working with a therapist who understands the depths of the bond with our animals can be so helpful to you as you move through some of the harder parts of caring for your loved one…and if that’s something you’re craving right now, I’d love to be that therapist for you.

We know, at least on some level, that we will more than likely outlive our beloved animals. This is a reality that we inherently accept when we begin the relationship, and yet there’s really no way to prepare for the unique ache of loss when it happens.

Whether your loss was unexpected and sudden, drawn out and draining, or anywhere in between, it can often feel like an invisible grief, or one that is seen as “less than.” But the loss of our animals is anything but less than…it can be all-consuming, overwhelming, the most full-bodied pain we’ve ever experienced.

Like all grief, it can’t be sped through (as much as we might want to). Therapy can be a space where you can slow down, feel, and know it’s ok to let whatever comes up be shared. This isn’t something you need to just “get over” or “move on” from.

And also, it is possible to develop a relationship with your grief and loss that, over time, can feel less all-consuming. As is often said about grief, the grief itself may not change, but we can grow around it. And therapy is a place to do just that.

Connection can be such a valuable tool when we’re grieving. And often that can feel hard to do, especially when it feels like no one else gets it.

Grief isn’t a thing that we’re collectively very good at responding to, especially in white-centric societies. 

And grieving the loss, or impending loss, of your companion animal can come with a lot of responses from other people who are well-meaning but maybe unhelpful. 

Like any form of grief, therapy can be a safe and supportive space to feel, to process, to not feel rushed as you mourn.

And the loss of a companion animal or fur child is a unique kind of grief…one you deserve time to feel.

And you don’t have to feel it alone.

Therapy can first be a space where you can trust there is no judgment. And with me, there is also a deep understanding of the importance of your animal.

We often feel pushed to “get over it,” and that’s just usually not how grief goes.

It can linger, take different shapes, pop up when we least expect it.

Having tools to feel those feelings, and to cope with them, can helpful as you give yourself the time you need to understand your grief.

In the therapy room, we can honor your animal. Use their name. Recognize the connection you have with them.

We can name and better understand all of the mixture of emotions you might be feeling.

We can get to know how your body is carrying such immense pain, and how to use that awareness.

We can identify ways that you can feel supported—not to try to move past the grief too quickly, but to believe that you are strong enough to be present with this indescribable pain, and that the pain will morph and shift over time.

You will too.

Grief changes us, and we change it. 

Losing your animal is an unspeakable loss. And at the same time, therapy can give you space to speak it. To name it. And to believe that you can carry on without your animal, even when it feels impossible.

My approach in the therapy room is gentle, warm, and deeply compassionate. I honor your autonomy, your experiences, and your needs. I help clients identify the narratives that are informing their experiences, reshaping the ones that are out of alignment with your fullest self. I am client-centered and strengths-based, and I allow you to take the lead. I offer support in connecting or reconnecting with your body so that healing can feel more holistic and grounded. I also offer a non-religious, spiritual approach for clients who resonate with that in their process.

All of this is interwoven in the grief work I do with clients who are mourning the loss of their animals, and I would be honored to offer my support to you.