This past weekend, my stepfather died. It’s been a lot to process, not just because of the loss itself, but because it mirrors so much of what I’ve been going through with my husband. For three years, I’ve been watching him live in a kind of perpetual dying. He has end-stage renal disease, goes through dialysis three times a week, and battles diabetes and a list of other health challenges that feel endless. When I see my mom grieving my stepfather, I can’t help but see myself—and it feels so heavy.
On top of that grief, life keeps piling on. I had a nightmare last night so bad that I woke up crying. In the dream, someone hurt my dog, and it felt so real. My husband, hearing me cry, brought our dog, my salty potato, to me right away. He handed her to me, saying, “See? She’s fine. She’s fine.” That small act of care broke me open in the best way. It was like he was saying, “I see you. I’m here.”
I’m grateful for those moments of comfort—like my husband bringing me my dog or my boss being kind enough to let me take time off when I told him I couldn’t focus at work. I’m not a crying mess, but it’s like my brain just won’t cooperate with the demands of the day. Even then, I feel guilty—like I should be stronger or more productive. But the truth is, I just can’t right now.
My mom and I have been leaning on each other, complaining about life, sharing gossip, and just trying to get through. We don’t have much to give each other beyond that, but it helps. My mother-in-law and my husband’s aunt are doing everything they can to help us find a cheaper place to live because, honestly, we can’t afford where we are on my current salary. And while it sucks to feel like we might lose what little stability we have, it’s nice to know that they care enough to try.
If I’m being honest, I’m still looking for joy. I don’t mean the big, sweeping kind of joy—right now, even a glimmer feels hard to find. But maybe it’s there in those small moments: a dog’s soft face pressed against me, a phone call with my mom, or someone showing up when I need it most.
So if you’ve been here—if finding joy feels impossible for you, too—I just want you to know you’re not alone. And if you have a glimmer to share, even a small one, I’d love to hear it. Sometimes, the tiniest light can be enough to keep us going.
The first pic is of my mother-in-law and me with my Team Joy shirt. She likes Cenk because he fights for the underdog like her son does.
The next pic is of my little salty-queen potato, Starbrite.
Hope the start of classes for 2025 goes well.