monsters

It is tempting, at times, to admit to my condition(s) only insofar as it excuses my failings in character. Once you put a name to something, it suddenly appears to be a tangible entity separate from yourself. In reality, nothing has changed aside from how we choose to label what we fear we cannot control.

We speak of demons, skeletons, monsters, illness etc... and all the while these terrible things have always lived inside ourselves. We demonize rather than attempt to understand, and this abstract separation only leads to further mental conflict.  And though this might appear to be mere semantics, words do have weight; they are the bricks in which our thoughts are housed.

Perhaps it is easier to fight with monsters than to fight with oneself. Yet, the loss of such a battle often further rationalizes one's feeling of defeat and failure--of not being strong enough to overcome such a ferocious beast--when all the while there was no beast; there was only you and your own solitary thoughts.

Perhaps it is also easier to forget that, absent of monsters, one is given a unique responsibility in creating and transforming one's own thoughts, thereby requiring far more time and energy than that of mere antagonism. At least, this seems to be the case for me.

I do not see myself as "ill" the way that doctors or psychiatrists do, but neither do I view my thoughts as always true to what I am, because they are merely thoughts. Thoughts cannot be vaccinated the same way that illnesses of the body can. But, they can be mastered, molded, re-directed, revised, etc... in time.

The crux of it is that you can never really escape them. They may change or fade, but there will always be remnants that linger and waft inside the crevices of your mind. The older we grow, the more wounds we carry, making it it all the more necessary to learn to accept them as they are; as a part of life and part of oneself.