She lay in the darkness, staring up at the blurry ceiling fan. It’s 4:22 a.m. and sleep refuses to come. Tears slip silently down her cheeks and soak into the pillow. She wonders why she still breathes. She panics and frets over the events that have led to this night of grievous insomnia.

She doesn’t understand how she could have lost her job right before Christmas. Why she was forced to quit because she could no longer do what was now being required of her. In a meeting that previous Friday morning, she had been informed that she must now travel back and forth to two other offices over an hour away from home. Even though she was only part time and the traveling would pull her away from her primary job. She knew that this would not be possible since her vehicle was an eleven year old pickup that couldn’t afford the mileage and she herself, could not afford the gas it would take to do this traveling on her part-time salary. She knew her only recourse would be to quit since there was no other option available to her at the time.

On this same day, she turned thirty-eight. Already feeling the same DEPRESSION she always felt on her birthday, so near Christmas, losing her job made it more depressing than usual. She was forty, never been married and had no children. All she had to her name was her old pick-up, one month’s rent and her cat, Tubby. She tried for optimism in those first few days. She put out resumes but most people didn’t hire right before Christmas. Harder still was the physical disability that limited her job options. DEPRESSION set in hard and heavy as each day passed until almost one week later, she found herself laying in the darkness, staring blindly at the ceiling fan which she could hardly see without her glasses, crying into the silence.

Tubby, understanding her sadness, lay his head on her arm, trying to offer as much comfort as he could. Still she cried. She knew she needed to find a job but was running out of places to apply in this one-horse town. She didn’t know what she was going to do. She felt more tired than she had ever felt in her life, yet sleep would not claim her. She reflected on being alone and wondered why God had not seen fit to provide her with either a healthy body or at least, someone who loved her and would take care of her. She didn’t understand why she should end up alone, with her best years left far behind, spent only on surviving but never thriving. She had tried to be a good person. Do the right things. She knew she had failed many times but always recognized her shortcomings and had tried to improve, be optimistic and trust that better things would come. But they didn’t come. The only things that did present themselves were more obstacles; each one more difficult to overcome than the next.

She wished for a swift death in this moment; one that would end this suffering, this grief, this hideous monotony. She got up and unlocked the keyless deadbolt on her front door. She wrote a short note to her mother asking her to take good care of Tubby. She walked to her kitchen and picked up her heart medication and stared at the bottle. Filling a glass with water, she emptied the whole bottle in her hand, put the pills into her mouth and took a big swig of water and swallowed them down. Beta blockers slow the heart. The whole bottle would stop it.

She walked back to the bedroom, held Tubby on her chest and told him how much she loved him. He lay still, purring as she pet him. She lay back, still petting her cat as sleep finally came to claim her. Her hand fell to her side and her breathing slowed. Tubby lay his head upon her shoulder and tried to offer as much comfort as he could.