“My life shouldn’t be this way” — a retrospective on anger over things you can’t control

This piece was written 3 years ago as my mom was struggling with battling the cancer that took her away and as I had just gotten back from living with her in the South of France, to Paris.

I was about to turn 25 and an only child and going back and forth the two cities while trying to keep my head above water at a time where I was supposed to finish my degree and start a job. These were the darkest times of my life and a long walk has been walked since then. After my mom passed, I flew away, and struggled with high-functioning depression and nihilism for quite some time before I was able to believe in anything again. It took time to be able to laugh wholeheartedly again and get away from the self-pity, but I made it. I’m still breathing.

December, 2016

I’ve been struggling for the last six months with a feeling close to high levels of stress and anxiety, that resembles more and more the beginning of a depression episode. Something I have never experienced, but am pretty familiar with since most of my family — including my mother — has been confronted with depression and maniac episodes, as well as addiction.