My mind no longer works or functions as it used to, this illness has begun to rob me of my cognitive gifts that I felt made me unique and slightly separated me from the norm. I fully realize that people have become relatively fatigued with my story. One minute I'm assaulting social media with posts of how I've won and beaten this horrific disease. Then within months I once again must shamefully reveal that I did not overcome the one thing that brings me sorrow every day I'm alive.
I can fully acknowledge that it is ridiculous at this point, to shout how proud I am to have won, only to lose once again. It's a vicious cycle, and eventually people get tired of hearing it, so you can only imagine my disgust of dealing with this battle that never seems to end.
I no longer fear this disease has the ability to bury my beneath the earth, but now it has become a question of my quality of life. If I do not take my medications, I feel relatively well, semi-functioning, able to take care of myself. However, if I take the medication that will supposedly bring my quality of life back to its fullest extent, I must endure the worse suffering one could ever imagine. If I don't take my medications I will relapse even further, into the depths where I once was, that I never want to go back to. So here I am, stuck in a rather difficult situation.
My body has literally stopped working, I have become fully enslaved to it. I have been informed that the possibility of me fully beating this illness is not guaranteed, rather it may even be unlikely. So what is the point of continuing this fight that has already robbed me two years of my life.
I write this because I want all the people and friends I have lost over this period to know why we have lost contact. It is true, the amount of friends I have has dwindled due to the fact I completely shut down when my body refuses to comply with my wishes. It is literally a prison, a cruel one at that.
It's rather difficult for me to admit this, but there are many moments where I consider taking my own life. I once had very high expectations for myself, but I must lower them as each day passes with this alien that has invaded my body and robbed me of my physical and mental strength. If I lost contact with any of you, it is not because my affection for any of you has dissipated, it is much deeper than that.
Some days I feel fine, but the days when this disease infiltrates every aspect of my soul, the impulse to simply end my existence is inevitable. But I truly don't want to, and I resist it as much as I possibly can. I still cling to the hope that I can overcome this insidious ailment, and live at least a decent life that has some meaning, and though I have shut many people off, there are still the few that have stuck around that deeply care about me, and I know this situation is bigger than myself, and if I give into the horrific impulses I will be responsible for the despair of people that I truly care about.
However, I am fully aware it takes only one day where I can't muster the strength to fight any longer that will bring this to an end. I feel confident that I can avoid that day, but I sadly realize it is a possibility. It upsets me because I know there are others in my situation that would continue to fight on and never give up, and I now realize that I am not one of the stronger individuals out there as I have now been fully torn down.
I keep my circle small, and shut out many because if that moment comes where I can no longer resist those terrible impulses I dont want to burden those around me. I'd rather just be a distant memory, someone that they were once close with but the distance I have put between us won't burden them with my pain as much as if we had remained close.
I'm disconnected, I became sick on my 21st birthday. Even though I am now 23, I still feel 21. The pain I have endured has also left me feeling like an old man that has been through hell and back. I can no longer connect with those around me. The only contact I can maintain is with those who have suffered, and can relate to my situation.
There are moments where I wish I could go back in time, redo my life. I no longer know what my purpose in this life is. I once imagined myself accomplishing great things, but now I realize that my purpose may be nothing more than a lab rat if I live out my full existence. My doctor fully admits that most of the medications I am taking are experimental. I may be setting the path so those that come after me won't have to stomach my agony. That may be my only purpose, and sooner or later I have to come to terms with that.
I had to write this for myself, but I don't know why I'm sharing these extremely personal thoughts with others. It may be because I've reached my breaking point and I no longer care what others think. Some may believe I am doing this to only seek attention, and maybe so. Maybe I want empathy, I am not sure at this point, and it would probably take a psychologist to figure this out.
I merely want the pain to stop. I want my family to be free of the worries that come with a sick child. I want to grow with my girlfriend who is absolutely amazing and I couldn't get through this without her. I want my life back, I want to have a day where this illness does not infiltrate my thought process or hinder me in any way.
I am envious of my friends who can go on with their lives with hardly any worries. I want that life, and I am clinging to the hope that I can still get it back!
