Creature of Perpetual Hope

The Challenge of Knowing My Limits

Knowing my limitations has always been a huge challenge. People often tell me, “I don’t know how you do it all,” but to me, it never felt like a big deal. My philosophy was simple: if I had an extra hour, I could use it to work, clean, do laundry, buy groceries... you get the idea. Relaxing never felt comfortable, and soon I found myself buried in responsibilities that I simply didn’t have enough time for.

As a result, I had a complete breakdown. I pretty much locked myself in my house for a week, lost in my own harsh, critical thoughts: “You couldn’t do it—see, I told you... You’re such a failure... You’re a hypocrite... You’re going to end up homeless, alone, and destitute.” I stared at the mountain of paperwork on my desk from a new job, website design, a new business, all while trying to help my daughters and figure out how I was going to get out from under a seemingly insurmountable pile of debt. It was one of the darkest times in my life—and it wasn’t the first.

Facing the Anxiety

Though I think I’m biologically inclined towards anxiety, my life’s journey in recent years has only cranked up the pressure. I’ve walked through the loss of two husbands and my father. Not long after, my mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, and despite my best efforts to care for her at home, I eventually had to break my promise that she’d never go into a nursing home. On top of all that, my two beautiful daughters, each with children of their own, were facing struggles I couldn’t fix.

It’s more than enough to overwhelm anyone. This forced me to confront my limitations—especially my anxiety. For years, I believed that if I just kept moving, kept doing, my anxiety wouldn’t catch up to me. But it did, and when it finally caught me, it held on tight, leaving me completely incapacitated.

Anxiety takes away hope, and without hope, life feels pointless. It’s a terrifying place to be. But in true fashion, I decided I wasn’t going down without a fight. I reached out to friends and family for help. My gratitude for them started to lift me out of the darkness, and slowly, I began to find peace again. Meditation has always been a daily practice for me, but it’s incredibly hard to meditate when you’re in the grip of anxiety and hopelessness. For a week, I couldn’t do it. Meditation and anxiety exist on two entirely different frequencies, and the lower your frequency, the harder it is to lift yourself up. Hopelessness sits at the very bottom of that vibrational ladder.

Finding Peace

Once I realized where I was, I spent the next few days simply taking care of myself—like taking care of a sick child. I took long baths, drank plenty of water, and spent hours in the sunshine on my back deck. It wasn’t easy. The nagging thoughts were always there, whispering in my ear that I was a monumental failure and something terrible was going to happen. But I resisted.

At times, those whispers became deafening, and I wanted to run, to keep moving. But I stayed still. I let myself feel it all. The anxiety was there, but I was there too. Eventually, I learned I could endure it. With simple comforts—a cup of tea, petting my dog, or sitting quietly in the sun breathing deeply—I began to see anxiety not as something that ruled me, but as a guest in my home. A guest that needed to behave, rather than a chaotic force that barges in, knocking down pictures, and punching holes in the walls.

That night, I ate a fast-food burger, fries, and an entire row of Oreo cookies. And for the first time, I didn’t get mad at myself for it. That was new—accepting that I didn’t need to be perfect. As I lay in bed, I told myself, “I can manage what I have, and I will add nothing more to my list of responsibilities.” Something inside me let go, and my entire body relaxed. For the first time in months, I slept through the night.

Finding Hope

The next morning, I woke up and wanted to write. It had been weeks since I’d been able to write—something I love deeply, but anxiety had taken from me. That morning, it was back. I’m so glad I didn’t give up; I held onto that tiny spark of hope. Sometimes it feels like all hope is lost, and when people think it’s gone, they are gone too—both literally and figuratively. I was scared my hope had disappeared, but I managed to reignite it, fanning the flames until it burned brightly again. My gratitude is immense, and once again, I can see the beauty in the world.

A Message to Those Struggling

To anyone suffering from anxiety and depression: never give up. Do whatever it takes to climb out of that dark place, even if it means doing the hard things, like asking for help. It’s tough, but it’s worth it. The other side is much brighter, and you don’t have to get there alone. You can do it—you’re worth it, and you matter!