My second husband suffered from bi-polar disorder with paranoid features and took his own life in the basement of our house in 2006 when our children were 16 and 17. He had insisted on our moving out so our son daughter would no longer be exposed to his growing and lengthening depression. On his good days we all spent wonderful times together as a family. I had been supporting two households that last year travelling as an Early Childhood Education Consultant and when he died I had to quit my job. It was like everything else withered and died. I made good money for a few years as a freelance writer until Google changed their algorithm and booted dozens of publications and hundreds of writer of their plat form. The last few years I had to sell my house and move into a subsidized apartment complex made up of duplexes because it was getting more difficult to go up and down the steep basement stairs to do laundry. Then I just quit the last couple of years. Quit writing, pretty much quit reading, and dropped out of life. It was like life no longer had any meaning and I had no purpose, especially when it is almost impossible to make any decent money writing, even for Medium or Vocal. Less than a dollar most months. Another reason to quit. I sleep too much yet am always tired. I just started writing again this past week. Writers like yourself have given me insights into a variety of topics including to write no matter if you are depressed, anxious, etc.