Who is this man looking back at me?

I no longer know whether still I am disappointed in who I am. But I see a weary face, a hurt face still longing for happiness and still failing at each and every hurdle placed before my weary legs. I know only how to persevere, yet at this stage an ending would feel like a bliss. I wonder though...can I really contemplate life without life? What beginning would I find in such an ending? Would I yet again be putting my faith and so life in the hands of a God whom I feel has left me alone for so long?

As a Child I sought only to bring people happiness. I hid every problem, I played down every wound, I smiled after every defeat. Fifteen years later it became too much. The burdens of others was too much for my tired back, that Mule could travel no longer. Call it selfishness but it turned out that I did desire one thing for myself after all: personality. And upon realising that I had sacrificed my happiness, my personality, my being, for the whims and wishes of others, I collapsed. How could you not when seemingly faced with but two choices, two dark choices of either dying or living life as a slave, a product of someone else's fantasy?

As a teenager I eventually found some sort of strength. But as an adult I allowed it to quickly disappear. Although we mental illness and abuse sufferers are labelled warrior I still never learnt to thirst for battle. It is a warrior of a different kind. Opposing people, opposing governments, institutions, organisations was more of a game than anything else. You had to test yourself, know you could defend the people that you care so deeply about and so each battle was viewed as a reluctant one, but one that important lessons would be learnt from for potential future use. Yet before long I found myself once again surrounded by insurmountable challenges and I was afraid. To then change the setting altogether, way, way beyond battle, one of the people I love most in the world, my dear Friend Alice, passed away.

How can you master grief? How can you find yourself when someone whom helped you become yourself is no longer around? Doctors keep telling me to open up, to stop hiding the true extent of my suffering but do you really feel there is room in this world for truth? What would happen if the depressed, the suicidal, the grieving, the lost and abused truly let out, all at once, what we are really going through? Would we see immediate change in the world? I fear not. The world would collapse. And that is not our burden to bear. We must use it to do our best, as well as to encourage others to aid us in this quest, to change the world, to make the world more receptive to change, to better protect the bullied, the abused, the forsaken and lost. But it is so hard. We are demonised.

Sometimes by ourselves.



Suddenly I realised what I had been doing in recent years, how I had deceived myself into believing that anything was possible if the relevant level of strength could be achieved. But strength, like science-intelligence, is but an illusion. Not a consistent state but a flickering light.






I had a quick read through of the above and also added some thoughts and clarified a few typing structures and such. This post is also an old one.





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