Guess who had a complete breakdown and cried in the middle of dog training class today? Yep, that was me. Right there, in front of everyone.

June has finally wrapped up, and let me tell you, it was one hell of a month. Anxiety and depression visited almost daily, making themselves comfortable, and the relentless heatwave only made things worse.

Today’s breakdown started innocently enough: Cookie was supposed to jump over something, but she got scared. Totally understandable, she’s allowed to be scared. Usually, I handle these situations well enough; frustration creeps in, sure, but I’ve learned how to breathe, reset, and avoid projecting my stress onto Cookie. But today? Nope. Full meltdown mode activated. There I was, tears streaming down my face through the rest of class. Afterwards, I found myself at once laughing and crying on the drive home, feeling like a confused sitcom character caught in a mid-season crisis.

But of course, it was not really about Cookie’s jump. It never is. We’re moving out of our apartment in two weeks, and right now, we have nowhere to go. Every place we look at feels painfully beyond our budget. My partner (the dog dad) is still job-hunting tirelessly but cannot even start working legally until he pays $550 for a work authorization, something we cannot even apply for until our visa documents are approved. And those documents? They have been stuck in bureaucratic limbo for over a month now.

Meanwhile, the economy feels like a cruel joke, politics are overwhelming, housing is unaffordable, and finding a job feels akin to spotting mythical creatures. Returning to our home country is not even an option because my scholarship mandates that I stay in the U.S. It is a real possibility that dog dad might have to leave, while Cookie and I scramble to find some affordable corner to call home.

Life is challenging right now, plain and simple. That small moment today at dog class was just the final straw that cracked open all the stress I had been holding in. So yes, I cried. In public. Over a dog jump.

But here’s the thing: I’m not writing this for sympathy. Instead, if you’ve ever found yourself randomly breaking down in a deeply inconvenient setting, overwhelmed by the relentless pressures of life, please know you are not alone. I’m right there with you, embarrassed but still standing. Barely. Cookie definitely helps.

And despite everything, there have been some bright spots. We borrowed our friend’s car recently and discovered the incredible luxury of spontaneous adventures: exploring sniff spots and even kayaking with Cookie. Those moments were pure joy.

We also found kindness in our elderly neighbor who generously offered us her third-floor space in exchange for helping with some repairs, cleaning, and painting. I loved this idea: sharing her space, helping her avoid loneliness, and hearing her beautiful stories sounded wonderful. I have always had a soft spot for the elderly; living with my grandparents showed me how vibrant and youthful older people become when sharing their memories. Unfortunately, the repairs needed more expertise than we could provide, and now, once again, we are back to uncertainty.

So here we are, trying to navigate the next move with an anxious dog in tow, which, trust me, does not simplify things. But we’re still trying, still searching, and despite the breakdowns, still hopeful that something will eventually give.

If you are in a similar boat, struggling and feeling alone, remember you are not. We are all doing our best, and sometimes that best involves public breakdowns over small things like dog jumps. And that is okay.

Love from Cookie & Seda 💞