All my life I've wanted a pet (28M) and I finally worked up the courage last November to adopt a kitten. Everyone I know suggested a pet to help with my myriad of issues, and of course the internet is replete with stories of people who talk about how their pet "saved them". So, thinking that would maybe help me, I adopted a little turtleshell kitten I named Kiddo. 

It was a disaster. I knew nothing about taking care of animals, having never had one. It's just me in my house (I work from home mostly) and after I got her I was basically so anxious and terrified I couldn't take care of her. After a couple days of barely playing with her and struggling just to get out of bed to feed her I realized she wasn't going to have a good life with me at the moment. I worked with the shelter to rehome her. Thankfully she got adopted quickly (she was adorable) and based on when I last heard she was a happy little cat doing well. 

It's fucking heartbreaking that I can't even do that. One of my closest friends and his wife just got a dog and they're over the moon with her. I'd give anything for that. But apparently I'm too fucked up to even take care of a cat. I think about her all the time. She just wanted a warm home and instead she got some fucking lunatic who couldn't even get out of bed to feed her or play with her. After I took her back I was really close to just calling it a day. I still feel that way a lot.

The hardest part is that nobody ever gets that because so many people think so highly of these miraculous, happy things in life. Pets being one of them. I don't know if I'll ever be okay enough to take care of one, and I see it help change the lives of so many other people living with emotional issues. Not only can I not have this thing in my life, but I end up watching so many other people doing it and seeing that help THEM. So I'm double fucked up.

I miss that little kitten. She's a good cat. I hope she's still happy. She deserves much better than me.