Hard Things

When things don't go your way

This year has been difficult so far. There are seasons like this in life and no way to exist on this earth without them. I have had a much more difficult time facing all the hard things of this year than I would have in the past. The layers of my existence have added up, now in my early forties my body is screaming at me. Through a lot of appointments, honesty, and struggle I have some names for things and some loose plans for how to move forward.

The hardest part of this year so far has been that I don’t look different. No one who does not know me well can tell there is anything different. Mental health struggles are challenging because my outer shell looks the same while my inner self is in complete turmoil and upheaval. Since my outer shell looks fine there is a lot of judgment, significant questioning, disbelief that things are as bad as I say they are. I have a hard time explaining what is happening because my brain isn’t functioning well and I am consistently utterly exhausted, barely able to function through my days.

I wanted a place to list the hard. Not to get apologies or comments, but more as a record that there is a lot and it is okay that I feel overwhelmed, disengaged, exhausted, and grief-stricken. Sometimes life hands us lemon after lemon and there is no lemonade to be found. This is that season, and for this moment I am going to share the hard. This does not mean there has been no good, no joy, no beauty. There has been a lot of that as well. The hard wave has crested above it, and the swell continues to stay high.

In January my sweet kitten Boba died in a terrible and tragic household accident. I was the only one home, I am the one that found him. Living with the grief of this has been a shadow all the time. Our cats are an important piece of our family, our sanity, and our love in our home. Losing one of them in such a horrific tragedy still feels unbelievable.

In January I got my first diagnosis and my first medication. Swallowing my pride is exceedingly painful. Realizing how bad this really is was salt in a gaping wound.

In January I had to take a week off of work just to stay afloat and retain sanity.

In February one of my dear friend’s father died suddenly. Death is always complex and varied. This death is no different. We traveled to Iowa to stand witness with their family to his life. Walking through this with my dear friend 7 hours away has been sobering.

In February I got more medications and just accepted this as my current lot in life.

In February some hard friend things happened that I hold close to my heart, but also were just difficult. Things are okay, relationships are still rolling, but my heart does ache still.

In March I began to talk with folks at work about how to navigate this season. Some believed me. Some gave me the side eye.

In March I realized how long this road is going to be.

In March I realized how lonely this road is.

In April I had yet another appointment and yet another medication. I can now sleep, which is worth everything.

In April I realized that even though I believed I was being clear and explaining myself well that I hadn’t been. People close to me and even my therapist did not know how serious this situation has been. With my brain in its struggling state I had not been able to convey clearly what was really going on.

In April suddenly everyone was worried about me. I had been worried about myself for months.

In April I have felt more loneliness than I have ever felt in my entire life. This is not because I don’t have people surrounding me, loving me, walking with me. This is because my brain is in a hard spot and getting through this tunnel is going to take time.

In April my aunt died. I grew up seeing her weekly or more. She was a huge part of my quilt of people during my entire childhood and adolescent years. Losing her is painful. Knowing how significant her family’s grief has been and will be is something I hold. Going to another funeral this year was heartbreaking.

All in all, things are moving forward. There is some hope. I am figuring out what might help and how to move forward. Life is difficult, life is beautiful. Life is terrible, life is joy in unexpected places. My friendships, new and old, are sustaining. My husband is more phenomenal that I knew before - and I thought he was amazing before 2025.

Life keeps going. As do I.