“Plans for Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. Plans for Thursday and Friday. Let me pencil you in for Saturday. Sunday is for fun-day. Flat, desk calendar with yellow highlighter marks checking off the tasks completed. I want to sleep. I want to close my eyes, lay in bed, and think about the beach…” – Excerpt from Schedule Schedule Ahedule, 2019

Dobby’s Death Was My Downfall.

For months, I watched Dobby’s breathing worsen. I took him into the washroom to breathe in the shower steam. I set up his humidifier and tucked him into his blankets. I mashed up his food, begging him to eat – just a bite, anything…

At night, I held him close. I stroked his soft, warm skin. I cried in the vet’s office, waiting for hours to get a diagnosis. In total, my family spent over $10,000 trying to save him.

Still, he passed away peacefully in my sister’s bed. A part of me knew it would be that night. I couldn’t bear to sleep beside him, so I asked my sister to take him instead.

At 5 a.m., I dug his grave in the backyard. On my hands and knees, I clawed through dirt and clay, pausing only to look up at my sister standing over me with a shovel in hand. In many ways, it felt like I was digging my own grave too.

Earlier that month, I tried to go on a pre-booked vacation. Dobby had shown signs of getting better, so I left. But while I explored Paros and the Dalmatian Coast, guilt sat heavy in my throat. How could I enjoy myself while he suffered back home? How could I leave him during his time of need? I missed him then. I still do.

For those who know me, my animals are the greatest joys of my life. Dobby, a Donskoy Sphynx, was only seven years old. He had beautiful light blue skin and soft green eyes. He used to sleep curled up on my neck, and his meows were like little melodies. I loved him for his entire life, and I’ll miss him for the rest of mine.

When he died, I knew I wouldn’t recover.

Back in 2021, we lost Mango, our Conure, in a tragic accident. While my sister held his seizing body, I frantically called every vet in the area, hoping someone could save him. When he passed, I collapsed on the bathroom floor and begged God to take me with him.

I will forever carry the pain of losing my pets—Mushu, Mango, and now Dobby.

It all started to unravel in 2024. After Dobby’s death, I spiraled. Financial debt, family tension, fading friendships, and career uncertainty piled on.

Then, in early 2025, my mom slipped in the bathtub, breaking her ribs and arm. I sat in the back of the ambulance, watching her cry out in pain, and shoved my emotions deep down. There wasn’t time to feel. I needed to be helpful for everyone else. Everyone had it worse than me.

I tried to focus at work. I even got a promotion and raise, but I didn’t celebrate. It didn’t feel like a win. Slowly, my motivation slipped. I struggled to answer emails, to stay present in meetings I once enjoyed. I stopped volunteering for projects. I just floated.

And that floating made it worse. I felt useless. Worthless. I spent all my energy just trying to complete basic tasks. I stopped working out. I started eating more. Five pounds became ten. Then fifteen. Then twenty. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror. I forgot what it felt like to feel good or beautiful. My boyfriend tried to help, but his words fell on deaf ears.

In an effort to feel something, I spent money – because money comes and goes, right? I told myself I’d pay it back eventually. But my debt grew. I lost control.

Then, my best friend and I had a falling out. She cut me out of her wedding. That felt like the final punch in a long, brutal fight. Life had knocked me out and I decided that I didn’t want to get up.

That’s when something strange happened. I stopped caring about any outcomes, good or bad. My pain had transformed into apathy. I withdrew from friends, from family. I stopped reacting. Even cruel or thoughtless comments from others slid off me like water droplets.

Where am I now?

I’m burnt out. Still in limbo.

But I want to climb out of this.

I want to find focus again. At work, in life. I know I’m capable of great things. I want to start the business I’ve been dreaming about. I want new, healthier friendships. I want to be a better partner. I want to reclaim my body, my energy, my confidence. I want to take back control of my finances.

More than anything, I want to be happy again.

I need to be.