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Thursday, May 19, 2011

Knowing

I don't know what's happening to me. Well, I do know, but I make that statement more to encapsulate feelings of despair and frustration, than to mean a lack of knowledge.

But knowing why I feel the lacklustre ways I feel too often to be counted normal, doesn't make it all easier to bear. The stress that comes too easily; the exhaustion; the anxiety attacks; the sudden depressive episodes-within-episodes; the pain; the phobias - they all have an explanation behind them, they all feel awful.

Even with active application, knowledge about my anxious depression doesn't help. So what if I'm rehabilitating with pharmacology, remedies, coping skills, all kinds of therapy? My journey is easier with them, but it is still one taken in the valley of the shadow of death. It is like taking a lone walk on the streets at night, doing 360 degrees surveillance for self-preservation but still feeling awfully lonely.

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