Trigger warning: This post contains an extensive discussion of Schizophrenia. Also brief mentions of anorexia and sexual abuse.
First I lost her, my best friend.
She was taken by the fear of those more concerned with beliefs than the beating of their hearts.
Then I lost my mind.
It was taken by the crack caused from a broken heart, the stress of the world finally putting enough pressure on the preexisting fault to shatter me.
Next went my passion for writing.
A year long streak of continuous prolific feats was broken in that moment.
Followed by the steadiness of my hands.
When they started to shake and never stop, I lost my ability to play the violin, to draw, to write, to needle felt, to knit, to sculpt, to type.
Then went my ability to hold down my food.
Everything tasted horrible again, nothing would stay down long.
The next thing to go was my sensitivity.
Numbness took me and I could barely feel the clothing against my skin, or the things that sat in my hands.
Finally with that went my health.
When I lost all of that, I lost something else. I lost the progress I had fought so hard to make. The weight I fought to gain, the health I battled to obtain, the happiness and hope that always seemed an inch away that I had finally grasped. It had a lot to do with a person I had met, someone who changed my life for the better in every way. But it was also the will to fight relentlessly that was starting to be ignited in my core once again after a few months of dormancy. It was a fire that brought a smile to my face and lit the path to a better future.
But tears are an awful lot like rain, they put out fire.
Thing after thing, this disorder has tried to take it all away from me. Every thing I used to cope, every outlet I had in this world. Everything that made me, me.
Annihilation, that is the only word I can pluck from the cloud buzzing around my mind, to describe what that felt like.
I said before that I am my own worst enemy. We all are, to a degree. But in my case, I’m too smart for my own good. It was always a strength, it was what gave me the ability to obtain a degree so young, to be a valedictorian and honors student. It was my only true sword, the thing I could always rely on no matter the foe. But when my guns spun around to face me, when my mind turned on itself, it became the sword that fatally wounded me.
Every time I come up with a way to cope, it changes its attack strategy. When I finally pin down the rules, it alters them. Just as I understand the game, it flips over the board. It knows me, it knows how I think, it knows my intellectual strengths and weaknesses. And with that information, it will always be three steps ahead of me. It is aware of this and it feels the need to constantly remind me, calling back with a mocking laugh on its breath from a few squares ahead of me on the board. It knows every tick to my tock and like a time bomb, I feel like it’s simply a matter of moments on a clock before it takes me down.
It has done it before, and it will do it again.
I have faced many enemies in my life, been in many fights. I have been left, a mess on the wet concrete, or stood victorious, fists bleeding. I have had my light knocked out, I have taken down others. The word was my enemy and my mind was my weapon along side my fists. But now my enemy stands in a mirror, arms crossed, a sideways smirk nearly ripping his skin. Though I have tried to use my fists, that only results in shards upon the floor, more reflective surfaces for him to dance about. I have tried to use my mind but he has taken it from me. So here I stand, shattered bits of mirror around my shoes, blood dripping from my loosened shaking fists, without a weapon to my name.
But you know, it’s when you lose everything that you see what can never truly be taken.
Some people find their way out of the darkness with a torch made of hope, some use faith to guide them through their maze, some have the helping hand of another to pull them up out of the abyss. No matter if all seems lost, it never truly is. Someone will always be there, whether it is yourself, your friend, or your deity. For me, the thing I found when all else was gone, was utter, bitter, spite. Not a quality generally associated with anything good, but regardless, spite has been behind me my entire life.
Spite drove me to outshine my classmates in the private school, spite kept my head held high to show the holy man who had taken a liking to me that he couldn’t break me, spite taught me to fight for those who needed it even if I was small myself, spite drove me to test out of high school when no one thought I could, spite helped me defy all odds and succeed all the way to a degree, and spite has been the single driving force my entire life to prove my title of terminal wrong. Spite, in many ways, has always been a friend, someone to laugh with when the world wished for me to do anything but.
I’m not heroic enough for hope, I’m not humble enough for faith, my hand’s aren’t steady enough to grasp those of another. So with spite at my side, I intend on winning my war. And if you are like me, one who has lost it all to a disorder no one else can see except you, I’m here to tell you that it’s okay to be driven by a classically darker motive. We all have a bad guy inside, it’s simply a matter of being the villain to the right thing. So if you need me, I’ll be in my evil lair, plotting my revenge against my mind. It belongs to me and I’m going to show it who’s boss. And so can you. So take up your death ray at your side and stand with me in this war, a Victorious Villain .