I used to believe I could produce—for lack of a better word—certain outcomes in life with enough effort. No matter my confidence or conviction, however, life has never played ball. At times, the outcomes were positive surprises, but this year they have thoroughly humbled me.
I can’t begin to describe just how small I feel right now. So much went wrong that I would find it hysterical if it weren’t my reality—imagine face-planting repeatedly, like in some cruel slapstick comedy. The gist of it is that my experiences in 2026 have compounded into an agonizing depression. For much of the year, my state of being has ranged from barely managing to outright dysfunctional. I have cried more than I care to admit and spent days virtually paralyzed.
Wrestling my demons this year has been the most grueling task of my life. While I can’t say I’m well at the time of writing, I can say the depression has crystallized what truly does me good and what doesn’t. Keeping that in mind, I’ve put the dog days of 2026 behind me. I’m plodding forward.