Well, practicing what I preach is really hard sometimes.

I’ve been doing so well these past three months. I’ve felt capable and confident and creative again. I’ve not had depression’s ugly claws sunk in to me and honestly, I haven’t really struggled with anxiety either. I’ve been mostly healthy mentally and physically and it’s been such a relief, especially after this past year. I honestly never thought I could heal, that I was too broken. But I have come a long way, I have made great strides towards healing. I’ve felt it and others can see it too.

It’s amazing how one week can unravel everything.

I’ve been living with my friend since I moved back down south in October. I met him last summer when I was in very very very low place. We are extremely different people and we probably never would have dated without the very specific circumstances we were in (as in, I had gone off the deep end and yet that didn’t scare him). When I was in the hospital in September after my suicide attempt, he was super supportive and he offered me a place to stay with him if I could just get myself out of Maryland.

It was a relief to live with him because then I didn’t have to mooch off of my mom and my sister. And let’s be real - sharing life with another person makes you feel like you aren’t all alone. I had some semblance of independence and a place I could call my own. My friend was very comforting and comfortable to live with and we provided some much needed TLC to each other. He has this crazy cat who is both infuriating and adorable and he quickly became my little buddy. My friend works long hours, and I cleaned the house and cooked and wrote most of the day. It worked.

I think we both became complacent. I tried my absolute hardest to make him happy and I increasingly felt like I couldn’t. Like he got used to the novelty of me and failed to appreciate all that I did. I, in turn, don’t think I showed enough appreciation for all the hard work he did and how he provided for us so completely. I didn’t realize that one of the reasons I haven’t struggled with anxiety is because he took care of me so well financially.

I was the one who broke up with him. We had the most loving breakup I’ve ever experienced, which made leaving harder. In my head, it made sense. We are polar opposites on so many things like politics and the things we value. I felt like I couldn’t be me and that it was time that I was brave enough to set out on my own.

But love is a funny thing. We definitely aren’t soul mates, we really aren’t that compatible, but we both cared for eachother very much and were there for eachother when we both really really needed someone.

In my head, I know it’s time to let go. But my heart just hurts so damn much.

This week has been soul crushing. I’m 39 and have moved back in with my mom. I have no income except for a little bit of alimony. I’ve worked my ass off my entire life but have nothing to show for it. I have failed again and again and again at being able to monetize my writing skills. All my confidence has gone out the window.

What’s most frightening is that I am feeling hopeless and helpless again. Like I’m broken and cursed. Sadness for losing a great friend, for losing another cat, for losing another home is squeezing my heart so much I feel like it will burst. I’m trying my hardest to sit with my feelings of fear and grief and loneliness, but the despair that rises up in response scares me. Anxiety at my body situation and my work situation and my finances and where I’m living has been going through the roof. My therapist can’t see me. I can’t eat and I can’t sleep again. And the last thing I feel is inspiring or motivational with my writing. The self doubt, the self-loathing. It’s back with a vengeance. Oh my god, and the fucking tears that won’t stop!

I don’t want to be overcome with depression again. Depression lies and it’s tried to kill me before. I don’t want the darkness to eat me alive again.

I’m grateful for the time I had with my friend. I think he gave me the space I needed to heal in a lot of ways (though I might have just undone it all). He’s enriched my life and I hope I have his too. It’s not enough to know in your head you made the right decision though. Your heart just takes up too much space in your head. Or at least it does mine.

I wish loss didn’t hurt so much. I wish I was a stronger person. I wish I wasn’t human.