My Dad died almost a year ago, and it’s been about a year and a half since Mom and Rascal died. It’s still a daily, sometimes hourly, struggle to function normally and not soaked in a heavy dose of existential dread.

I’ve stopped taking my depression meds, then started them again after I would sit for hours doing next to nothing, staring at the wall or thinking about how we’re all just riding an unjust life of loss, disappointments, and carrying love for people and pets who’re no longer around. They are just gone. Poof. Bye. Or simply sleeping because I didn’t want to think about shit anymore, or suddenly crying for no reason. I don’t want to live through chemistry, but I also don’t want to feel the way I do when I’m not riding that wave the Lexapro tsunami sends through my brain that makes it all somewhat easier to function.

I need distractions to function. If I don’t have something to focus on, I travel down that road of despair and sadness. A lot of other things help, besides Lexapro. I’ve watched terrible TV shows to get my mind off things. Hiking also helps.

I’ve collected quite a few tattoos this year by artists who’re fantastic at their skill, and it’s reminded me of how much I miss having artistic pals to hang with. But it also makes me realize that a while back, I might have turned down a path I ultimately didn’t want to go down in the long run. I chose a path of financial security over passion and now feel stuck. I want to find that passion again. I need to get over my mental hurdles and my unhealthy self-talk. My self-worth could be stronger.

I’m attempting to get better, and I will. I just really don’t know how and when I will, but I know trying is the start.