A beast; a monster of sorts. It eats away at our bodies and minds. We feed it medications and proper foods; we do all we can to quiet it, though it still rears its ugly nature at times, It’s very unpredictable; like a wolf that’s been tamed, it can turn on us in an instant.
Stress is the monsters favorite weakness. It lurks in the shadows and waits for a situation to present itself and then it makes its move. It wraps it’s tendrils around our bodies and chokes function from our limbs, clouds our minds, inflames our bodies.
The Monster laughs as others look on confused, not understanding how someone can be so sick and show little of the war that rages in their bodies. The Monster is a chameleon; a Master of change. One day it robs us of our vision or slow burns our feet, the next it tosses us on the floor in a dizzy puddle of useless skin and bones. Still the next we walk through the world like a battle-scarred warrior.
Over time we form a symbiotic relationship with the beast. It isn’t going anywhere, we are stuck with it, so we learn to use it to improve our drive and determination. We use it to push us past what we thought we were capable of; to prove to ourselves, to others, we are still strong, still capable. It changes us. We grow a bit harder, we grow a bit wiser. It teaches us. We learn more about ourselves than we ever knew. It shapes us, molds us. It can control us to an extent, but it can’t own us…it can’t define us…Unless we let it.