As I mentioned in my last journal, I want to take some time to address my absence and lack of posting since I returned from my hiatus in May last year. I think it’s only fair to be transparent with you all.

These past couple of years have been some of the hardest of my life. I’ve faced loss, pain, and grief that I honestly didn’t know I could handle.

I was doing well at the start of 2023, despite my long-term relationship beginning to fall apart. Commissions were coming in steadily, I had great connections with many of you, and I’d started seeing a doctor about managing my Generalized Anxiety Disorder and worsening ADHD. For the first time in my life, the meds gave me a clarity I didn’t know was possible.

Unfortunately, the ADHD meds killed my appetite, leading to dramatic weight loss. We had to cut my dosage in half, and with that, the clarity started slipping away.

Then September came, and I caught Covid. It hit me hard, leaving me completely drained. Even after I recovered, I struggled with brain fog, lower cognitive function, distractibility, and depression. I wanted so badly to keep up with my commitments and push through the procrastination, but it felt like life was actively working against me. My doctor adjusted my meds again, but between the brain fog and relationship drama, I was completely burnt out. Around the same time, my fiancé and I put our relationship on hold.

Things only got harder financially. My work hours were cut, and in late December, while on a month-long trip, my ex-fiancé told me they weren’t coming back. It was an emotional gut-punch and left me in financial freefall since they were earning most of our income.

The start of 2024 was a blur of grief, depression, and loneliness. Even when I got a steady, well-paying job, made amends with my ex (we’ve been good friends since), and secured food stamps, I felt stuck in a cycle of hopelessness. Losing a few loved ones during that time only made it worse.

But slowly, I started learning how to process my grief. I realized I’d spent so much time giving everything to everyone else—my ex, my friends, my family, even this community—that I’d forgotten to take care of myself. That wasn’t fair to me. I deserved to come first sometimes, too. I think that’s why I burnt out—I just didn’t have anything left to give.

By May, I thought I was ready to start drawing again, but I couldn’t even pick up my pen. It felt like I’d forgotten how. I didn’t know what to draw, didn’t feel “in the mood,” and the stress of everything drained what little energy I had.

Then in August, I lost a pet I’d cared for for over 14 years. Watching them fade was heartbreaking, but with the support of friends and family, I realized they’d lived a full, happy life. I gave them the best care I could, and when it was time to let go, I made them as comfortable as possible.

Oddly enough, their passing helped me process other losses I’d been carrying. It taught me to see death not as something cruel but as a natural transition. That moment, laying them to rest, brought me a bittersweet peace. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I could move forward while holding on to the good memories.

That same month, I took on my first lewd commission in over a year. I thought, "Maybe this will help me get back into the swing of things." It took longer than I’d hoped, but finishing it gave me a familiar sense of accomplishment and pride.

Of course, there were still setbacks. Losing all my custom brushes and dealing with tablet issues slowed me down. And when I adjusted my anxiety meds to help with overlapping ADHD symptoms, it only worsened things, causing brain fog, emotional struggles, and executive dysfunction. I eventually dropped back to my original dosage and started feeling like myself again.

I’m still working through a lot, but I can confidently say I’m in a better place now than I was six months ago. Despite everything—grief, trauma, loneliness, and setbacks—I’ve kept going, leaning on the people in my life when I needed to.

I feel like I’m finally starting to find my stride again. I’m not going to make any big promises, though—life is unpredictable. All I can do is what I’ve always done: my absolute best.