At times i ask myself why something like this had to happen to me- not so that I will have a reason to feel sorry for myself, and not so that I will have someone or something to blame, but in an attempt to understand the roots and origins of this complex and convoluted decease. But then I wonder whether by being able to track the reasons and knowing the exact causes will make any difference, or make it easier to recover.

Knowing the causes still won’t change the fact that I was affected by this disorder for over eight years-eight years that could have been spent on something more productive, eight years that could have been happier, healthier and better in so many ways… But then, I fail to picture what life would have been like back then without being sick. Would I be happier? Would I be in a healthier place, both physically, mentally or emotionally? Would i have made better decisions back then? Would it have prevented me from making all those mistakes, some of which proved to be disastrous, if not fatal? It's astounding and painful to realize how much this desease was affecting not only my health but my ability to think clearly and rationally. But then, once again i return to the same train of thought as to what it really is that I’m trying to recover from- a mental and functional disorder or my inability to cope and deal with issues that are inevitable, and in a way unpreventable, especially when you’re young. The most scary thought of it all is to think that perhaps there was some kind of reason for all this to happen- so that I could learn to really and truly appreciate life as it comes, in its most basic form, in its utter simplicity. And that even though i had to pay such a high price for it, what I acquired in return prooves to be priceless.