I’m thinking about all the rough patches I’ve endured over the time I’ve been alive between my mid teens up until now. I wouldn’t say I’ve lived a hard life but I’ve had my fair share of internal struggles: struggles that I guess for some reason I found really challenging to overcome.
When I think about these rough patches in isolation they weren’t things I couldn’t overcome easily with enough time, but because many of them occurred togetherI’ve been through enough to warrant the search for professional guidance.
Although It’s unwise for me to say this officially because I’m not an expert, for a long while I think I’ve suffered with a pretty heavy saviour’s complex. It’s one of the fundamental reasons why I struggle to be happy because I absorb other people’s suffering into my own, and feel obliged to do whatever I can to help them.
A conversation I had with a friend of mine today whilst I was reflecting over this made it very clear that no matter how great my wish is to help people out, I can’t save everyone, and even the venture to save a single person is riddled with a mountain of hurdles that renders such a wish borderline impossible.
We are all living within our own personal prisons of torment, and only we as individuals can look within ourselves to figure out a way to make our suffering more comfortable.
This hurts a lot to admit because I truly wish nobody had to suffer, but the truth is I can’t do anything about it, and it’s unwise to wrestle with the inevitable.
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