For a hundred days, I felt like I was in a state of limbo. I don’t even know how the time slipped by. What did I accomplish in the past three months? Nothing—literally nothing.

My initial determination to avoid binge shopping and be content with what I already had completely collapsed. I started buying random things—items I had kept on my wishlist for months, only to remove them from my cart because I knew I didn’t really need them. All my reasoning was gone. I was filling a hole inside me.

Yes, I bought a few things I needed, but compared to the junk, it was nothing. I loved the dopamine rush of opening parcels from online shopping sites, even though I knew it wasn’t healthy.

I stopped reading my Bible. I stopped drawing and doing anything related to art. I stopped studying. Even at work, I don’t know what I was really doing. It felt like I just slept and woke up, over and over again.

There were ups and downs that felt like whiplash. I know I’m struggling, and I’m aware my coping mechanisms aren’t good. My wallet has taken a hit, and now sleepless nights have returned. I can’t fall asleep until 2 or 3 a.m., and I can’t sleep past 8. Some days I barely sleep 3–4 hours, while other days I want to sleep all day.

Procrastination has defined these past months—extreme procrastination. My mind kept telling me to do things, but another part of me always said, “Forget it, let’s just do it tomorrow.” But tomorrow never came.

I’ve lost six months of 2026. But I still have six months left to try again. I cannot give up on myself. I am not perfect, and I never will be—and that’s okay. What matters is being the best I can be.

So here’s to starting again. You fall, you fail, but you still need to try again. As cheesy as it sounds, it’s true. I’m praying for the will to begin again.