JessVsGrief

Last night, I had a panic attack.

It was late and I couldn’t sleep. My mind would not stop. I started thinking about May 1st and the fact that I’m going to lose my insurance. That also means losing access to the medication that has been helping me manage the anxiety and depression since losing Rodney.

That thought alone sent me spiraling.

It is not just about insurance or medication. It is about losing something that has been helping me hold it together.

As I laid in bed, everything hit me at once.

The job search.
Over 100 applications and no interviews.

The pressure of trying to figure out my future.
The fear that time is running out.

And then the realization that I might not be able to afford my home.

Today marks one month since I closed on this house. My first home. Something I had never done before. And now I am sitting here wondering if I might have to sell it just to stay afloat.

That thought broke me.

Because it is not just a house. It is the life I am trying to rebuild. It is proof that I was trying to move forward.

Last night, it all felt like it was slipping away.

I started crying in a way that hurt. The kind where your chest feels tight and your thoughts start racing faster than you can keep up with.

And in that moment, I realized something that hurt even more.

The one person I wanted to call, the one person who would have sat with me through all of it and helped calm me down, is gone.

I miss Rodney.

I miss having someone next to me in moments like that. Someone to say we will figure it out. Someone to carry even a small piece of the weight.

Doing this alone is exhausting.

It is scary. It is overwhelming. And honestly, it just sucks.

I do not understand why everything seems to hit at once. Grief, stress, finances, health, uncertainty. It all piles on top of each other and there is no break in between.

I am trying. I really am.

I am applying. I am showing up. I am doing everything I can.

But some nights are just too much.

Last night was one of those nights.

Today, I am still here. Still scared. Still uncertain.

But I am still trying.

And right now, that has to be enough.