Thoughts in the middle of the storm.

It's harder than you think it'll ever be. It's more exhausting than you ever felt before. But you keep on going.
Why? How? Who? You wonder and wonder. Why you? Who chose you? How will you deal with it? For how long? With what purpose?
Will those answers matter? Probably the only one that truly would make an impact is if someone could help you finding out a meaning, and a way for all of this. The rest... Would it be better if someone gave you a time limit of the symptoms? An expiration date? Or if they told you it'll be as long as your life.
Would it be better if you could blame it on someone? On your parents for the genetics? On God for placing this cross on your path? On destiny for choosing you? On every single person that has ever hurt you in a way or another, even if it wasn't in purpose?
Would it be easier if you knew why all this suffering? How about because it was the only way you could truly be empathic with others? Or because you needed to be ripped apart to build a better you? Or for destiny's fun? Or how about, it doesn't have any particular reason, just because?

Is it all worth it? I don't know. I want to believe it is. I refuse to live with this conditions just because I have to, just because the book of my life says so, just to make it through the day. Personally, if you won't kill yourself just to make it through the day, it's a little pointless. I refuse to be o.k.  with being just a sad story.  There's gotta be more, more to this experience than it just being a sad story.  Once a priest told me that I had to be stigmatized, had to struggle with mental and physical health issues so I could relate to others' stories, and transform my own pain into strength to help and fight for people with mental health issues and physical disabilities. I don't know if that's true or not, at least it made sense to me and there, I found meaning. And I dare to say that it's terribly difficult to make it out alive from a hard situation if you haven't found a meaning, a reason for it. As Viktor Frankl says in Man's Search for Meaning "Those who have a 'why' to live, can bear with almost any 'how'.". (Amazing book, amazing man. Long live Viktor Frankl). It doesn't have to make sense for everyone, it doesn't come out of a book, there isn't a correct answer. As long as the meaning is correct for you and it inspires you to give painful experiences another look, it's worth it.

I think, frankly, that's the only question worth a shot. Why is it all worth it? Why is this pain worth it? Why should you stay alive? Why, why, why. Not because it would change your diagnosis, but it at least will give you hope, because you'll feel your hell is worth something. Call it however you want: Self-growth, salvation of your soul, cleansing your karma, improving your relationship with yourself, giving life a new meaning, realizing your strength, etc. And having even a tiny bit of hope will get you out of the darkness, slowly, painfully, but you'll be better.

 Still as I said, it's harder than you think.

Because you'll die a few times in the process. Your identity will come and go. Your dreams and future will come and go, like foggy illusions that light up your soul on good days. You'll loose people in the process, and more often that it should happen, you'll be in a place where you have to justify your mental health crisis to others (Which is frankly unfair). People will let you down, when you realize they didn't act as you would act for them, and you will feel alone and betrayed. You will then realize you depend too much on others approval which is slowly killing you as it is a horrible habit. You will feel defeated more than once a day, and your mind will play games with words such as "better, worse, relapse, recovery", because we all love to be judges. You will feel that no one will ever love you, because you are damaged goods. People will tell you to get over it, to be stronger, to move on, because it's amazing how easy we can judge what we don't experience with our own skin. Places that used to be safe will become strange, and vice versa, and you inevitably will grow; even if it means growing apart from people you loved, or from comfort zones, or from old dreams.

You'll see who truly loves you. Those will stand with you even when you are miserable and will never, ever judge you. People will surprise you with their kindness, as my best friend from high school told me once "It's nice to finally understand you (through the blog) but I never had to understand your mind to love you". You will find how little joy relays in the small stuff. You will be thankful for your medications, and for the first time, accept that taking them doesn't make you weak. Your safe space will be your therapist office, and you'll see that even though they were strangers a few years ago, you can't picture your life without your team (therapists). You'll find that your speech impairment (or funny, kind of french accent you've acquired as a somatization) is a great excuse to make small talk with people, to create fairy tales to curious kids, and that some people even find it sexy. You'll find freedom, like one you've never felt before, when you are able to go to a place in which you can be yourself in a bad day. You'll surprise yourself with family members, that weren't that close to you or that are decades older, that try to get you, or that will inspire you with their stories. You'll realize the amount of what you owe to your caregiver (my mom in my case): It's thanks to their love, patience and trust in you that you haven't been stuck in a mental health institution. You'll defy rational minds trying to explain them the mental health world, and you guys will end up in the middle: They will never completely get it, but they love you anyhow, and they'll try their best to understand it.

And for the first time in decades, you'll love yourself. Truly. You have to, because as much as anyone tries to get you or as much as you blog about it, only you know your struggle. And only you decide how the battle goes, and how the war will end. You can be your best ally or your worst enemy: choose wisely. 

And I'm still struggling. I've had a shitty week. My mind, as twisted as it is, has been telling me I'm worse, even if I have proofs that I'm better every day, even if it's a tiny difference, every little step counts. But I'm still alive, because this battle means something to me. And it's worth it, even if there are days that are a living hell. I'm hopeful and I hope you are too.