Losses.

I stop to count them sometimes, just so I don't forget that there's a reason I'm sad and anxious more than I'd like.

About a year and a half ago, I suddenly lost my dad.

A year ago, I lost my marriage. Six months ago, we made it official.

A few months ago I lost another relationship I'd begun to enjoy. It wasn't love, but it was something.

Right after that I lost my beloved grandmother who raised me.

Both my older sons needed major surgery; one, an emergency appendectomy. The other, to fix a badly broken wrist (and then stopped working. And stopped living. And now I'm catching him while he falls).

And now I'm just alone, and a little bit broken. I have to admit that sometimes, as much as I want to believe I'm completely ok.

I'm not. But I'm getting through it.