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When Getting Better Is No Longer An Option

I am a stranger but i love you just the way you are, looking at you standing out on your patio, you are beautiful, don’t change a thing. I know how hard your life can be at times and you are fighting a monster, what i call mental illness. Don’t let it destroy you, don’t resist. Learn to live with your monster. Assign places where he or she can live, like out on the patio, and when you are done with it you close the door. Sure you can still see them from inside . Then start to love that monster. I know it sounds ridiculous. But my story is that i worked 35 years with people with disabilities and I got Multiple Sclerosis, it forced my retirement at 53, i have severe nerve back pain, my right leg has paralysis in some of the muscles, i walk with cane,s walkers and sometimes in a wheelchair. I call my monster, MS, my dragon. He lives out in my back yard below the mulberry tree. He sometimes leaves for periods of time and sometimes he lurks in the dark. But i no longer allow him to make me feel sad. i could one day lose the ability to even move, and i know he will someday come inside and take me away and consume me. But until then i fight, i find distraction its the best medicine. Stay active, get some potted flowers out on the patio, a tomato plant. And stay active, it really helps. And take care of you, sleep well, be in the moment. Close the curtains on your monster and be without it. You will survive. There is so much you could do.
I turned to writing, i found my journals from the seventies and eighties and wrote and self published three novels, “The Eve Chronicles” by Diane DeVillers. If i wouldn’t have retired they never would have been written. I forced myself to forget about my monster. Try it. You are beautiful. And be around good, non-toxic people, if you are around some, dis-associate yourself with them. They suck you dry. Be comfortable with being alone.And love, heals all. From one stranger to another. I have followed you for awhile but was spending more time blogging about my book. Today i felt there was something someone posting that i could relate to. Stay awake, be, belong, present. Love yourself

The Belle Jar

Trigger warning for talk of suicide

I used to think that I would outgrow it.

I used to think it was just hormones. The same hormones that caused the constellation of angry red pimples on my face and back. The same hormones responsible for the dark, wiry hair between my legs and nearly unnoticeable A-cup-sized swell of my chest. I thought that once the hormones settled down, I would feel better. Normal. But even once I grew used to my new body, even once I hit my twenties and everything was supposed to level out, I still felt it. The same howling misery, the same blind, raging creature whose claws and teeth were sunk somewhere too deep to find, was still there.

I did not outgrow it.

I used to think that I would get better, if by getting better I meant being cured. I used to think that I would find the right combination of drugs and therapy…

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