I cried a lot today.

Because of Shishka.

Something is going on with her, and I can’t do anything to help.

She started pееing on my things. My clothes. The pillow I sleep on. Right in my bed. On the vintage chairs in my rented apartment. And on top of that, she’s been acting strangely. Constantly meowing, scared of everything, hiding from me.

I can see that she’s anxious.

And I think that’s what breaks my heart the most.

Because at least I can explain my own anxiety. Financial problems. Health issues. Uncertainty. But her anxiety is something I can’t reach. I can’t understand it, and I can’t fix it.

We went to the vet. We did the tests.

Everything came back normal.

But everything is not normal.

I can see it.

We need to go back.

I think what exhausts me the most is that one problem is never just one problem.

The moment you think you’ve survived something, processed it, accepted it, life is already preparing the next blow.

After a while, you stop knowing what exactly is hur.ting you.

Because it’s no longer about one specific thing.

It’s about the weight of everything at once.

Do you remember when I talked about the dermatitis on my face that I couldn’t get rid of for eight months?

Well, I finally found a dermatologist who helped me.

I took a course of antibiotics.

The dermatitis disappeared.

Then acne appeared across my forehead and cheeks.

And it hasn’t gone away since April.

Sometimes I look at myself and feel nothing but exhaustion.

Anxiety.

Anxiety.

Anxiety.

An endless stream of anxious thoughts.

Today, while working on a reel for Instagram, I came across a video of a cat that desperately needed help.

And I started crying again.

Not just because of the cat.

But because I couldn’t do anything.

Not even financially.

Then I start thinking about shelter dogs.

About how much I’d love to give one of them a home.And I realize I can’t.

I’m an immigrant.

I live in a rented apartment.

My life already contains more uncertainty than I know what to do with.

And if it turns out that Shishka really does have an anxiety disorder, which I suspect she might, then getting a dog will probably be out of the question entirely.

And then I think:

What dog?

Why am I even thinking about a dog right now?

I’m barely holding myself together.

And I think that’s the thought that has been sitting with me all day.

How strange life is.

When you’re a сhild, aюаdults seem capable of anything. You think that if you love someone enough, you’ll be able to help them.

That if you care enough, you’ll find a solution.

Then you grow up and realize that there are so many things love cannot fix.

Things that worry cannot fix.

Things that sleepless nights cannot fix.

Things that remain broken no matter how deeply you care.

And there is nothing you can do about that.

Maybe one of the most раinful parts of growing up isn’t loss.

It isn’t fear.

It isn’t even suffering.

Maybe it’s coming face to face with your own powerlessness. Realizing that you cannot save everyone you want to save.

You cannot heal everything that hu.rts.

You cannot protect everyone you love.

And sometimes all that’s left is to sit beside the things you cannot change and hope that tomorrow will be a little kinder than today.