I’ve been trying to start caring about my appearance again. Ever since I left serving for working from home, I began gaining weight. I wasn’t running 10,000 steps (according to my fit bit) in two hours anymore. Instead, I got up, put on my most comfy clothes, made the kids breakfast, maybe brushed my hair, and sat down for work for the rest of the day.

After a while, I hated seeing myself on camera. I started getting in trouble with my superiors when I started to claim my camera wasn’t working.

Before long, I gave in, keeping my camera on for every meeting. I hated how sickly I looked, I had long bags under my eyes the size of tangerines, my skin wasn’t just pale, it was a sickly grey, my pink lips were now devoid of color, and scabs covered my nose, chin and forehead where I had begun nervously picking. I covered up my chest as best I could where the picking had become even more sevier. My hair was greasy from the lack of showers and laid flat across my face.

I dreaded even going into work. The last ten years had weighed heavily on me, and working overtime from home was the final nail in my coffin.

I hated every aspect of my job. I felt as if I spent all day arguing with people. Each one told me they hated our product and I convinced them it was all worth the cost. And worst, we competed for the best numbers in persuading them to keep and upgrade their purchases. 

I felt disgusting inside and out. I started thinking of any excuse I could possibly think of to stay in bed. I was actually happy when I caught covid for the first time and took as much time off as I possibly could. I wanted to hide away and do absolutely nothing at all. So I did.

I stopped doing anything. All the effort I had put into keeping up on the apartment vanished overnight. I would sit there, internally screaming at myself to move, but I was frozen in place.

And then my cat Dominique got sick. One day, I found him in the kids’ room, and I immediately knew something was wrong. His skin was a dark yellow, his hair was listless, despite his large belly, I could see his spine, and he drooped lazily in my arms.

We quickly took him to the vet, who confirmed something was very long. He either had liver cancer, which would require months of chemo, or he had an inflamed liver, which would require weeks in the hospital with an I.V. Either treatment would cost thousands, and both had an incredibly low chance of success. It was also impossible to tell which treatment he needed without an MRI.  Which would also cost one thousand dollars that we didn’t have.

I immediately started bawling when I heard the word tumor. Erik had to take the phone from me to listen to the rest of the information. When he relayed everything, I cried even harder as I realized there was no way we could afford any option. And worse, I couldn’t put Dominique through chemo. Not when he wouldn’t even understand. Not when he would suffer so much.

“It’s okay,” Erik said. “Let’s get the MRI and go from there. If it’s the inflamed kidney, then let’s go for it.” 

I was shocked, “Are you sure we can afford it..?,” I hesitated.

“I’ll make it work,” he said. I think he sensed that this would finally do it. This is what would break me. And for some reason, that was comforting to me.

“Okay,” I said. We scheduled the MRI for the very next day.

That night, Dominique passed away in my arms. What surprises me the most was not how much I cried, but how much Erik cried. I wasn’t sure if he was crying more for Dominique or for me.

I applied for two weeks’ leave from work for depression the next day. I hoped I could feel better with some time off, but the closer I got to going to work again, the more I panicked.

I had spent so long doing everything I hated that I had missed out on everything I had ever loved. My kids were nearly out of elementary school. I had missed so much of their lives. The most precious years. If I hadn’t been working so many hours, would I have noticed something was wrong with Dominique sooner? What if this had been Erik? What if this had been the kids? I quit my job that day.

Today, I am looking at clothes online. I’ve bought dresses and bras. Though, it was a mistake starting with push-ups.  I want to be so different from who I was, that people realize how far I had truly fallen from who I really am. I want my kids to grow up thinking their Mom was the best and know without a doubt in their minds that I love them. It’s not easy, I’m still struggling in so many areas, but I’m not going to give up.