Illness Army: “The Never-ending Journey”

PLEASE take the time to read this piece.
I promise you will not regret it. I applaud Joshua for being brave enough to write this. It shows great mental strength considering all he has been through.
I hope that by sharing this piece, it helps others who have experienced similar circumstances. We can still find love through our illness, and mental struggles.

If you enjoyed this piece, or would like to contact the author please visit his blog.

If you would like to submit your story to Illness Army, please check out our Submissions Guidelines Page. You can also contact me through our Instagram and Facebook account. I look forward to hearing from you.

I don’t know how to start this story, nor any idea for an ending, but we’ll get there. Everything takes time and patience.
But in all honesty, “everything” takes a lot more than time and patience. Heartache, pain, suffering, and loss are also a big component of anything you experience in life. After that, it just comes down to how you cope with those various elements.
For myself, it was always losing my fears in music and writing my thoughts down in a journal. I’m quite convinced that it’s saved my life – probably on more than one occasion. The funny thing is that I don’t write much anymore and I believe I know the reason.
Ever since I was five years old, I’ve had crushes on girls, while also wondering what my life would amount to – where I’d be, who I’d be with, if I’d be married – and I’ve gotten it all wrong. Why? Because I thought that I had to be like my parent’s – not in the sense of what they did, but when.
When I get married, when I get a job, when I get a car. I think most people do this considering your parent’s are your first teachers about how the world works, but I took it in a literal sense. Then, as my grade school years enveloped, I realized most people started having jobs and relationships and getting around independently – not me.
But my biggest concern was relationships. I always envisioned being married or – at the very least – having a girlfriend like my friend CJ’s brother did at the age of 16. Again, I took things to a literal tee – even at the age of 5. One of my closest friends gave me the best advice I’ll ever receive a few years back. We’d just gotten back to my house after a day out together when I told her I was sad and scared that she was leaving for school in Chicago. “Although change is scary, it can be a good thing,” she said. I hear those words every time I’m afraid of a changing situation in my life now, and I couldn’t thank her enough.
Caroline will always hold a special place in my heart, and the three years following her departure were tormenting and soul-stifling. But sleepless nights over her and sleepless nights over what ensued after those three years were incomparably more painful.
Enter a woman who we’ll call – um – Megan. Megan was a friend who betrayed the trust of myself and others to the likes of which shall never be healed. Then again, when you seduce the broken spirit of a depressed, anxiety ridden 20-year-old at the age of 35, what left is there to trust?
“A moment of passion and blindness was bestowed upon me only hours ago,” I wrote of the situation. “What of the repercussions? What of the repercussions? Have I sold my soul in this dangerously beautiful act? I have my demons, however, one has left me forever.” At this point in my life, I felt lonely and afraid of love – undesired mentally, physically, sexually – and I guess that’s what happens when you have a physical disability such as Cerebral Palsy.
At the time, my friends didn’t even know how to respond to the benign scenario. Some told me to accept it and move on. Others thought it seemed enjoyable. What followed the months after that night were feelings of guilt and sorrow, pain and suffering, insanity and malice. I’d cry myself to sleep numerous times a week wishing for someone to save me, while having flashbacks of her legs around my waist, her breathing – her hands pulling the hair on the back of my head – that kiss on my neck that overtook my fears at that moment and turned it into blind passion.
I whispered for her to follow me to which we found ourselves at a point of no return. I asked if she was clean, to which she nodded in confirmation. I didn’t have protection, and I didn’t bother to ask. I didn’t know how to say no, or even ask if she had any, so I let her straddle herself atop my lap as she thrusted her hips and removed her shirt.
And to think that this moment started hours earlier with her sitting inches from me closing her knees around my leg and giggling at every word I spoke. Although I know one thing’s for certain: you never forget your first. It all still feels like as if it were a dream – a concoction of a teenage boy’s ultimate fantasy – only to be acted out in reality, without all of the “accomplished feelings” and high-fives from your bros. I think I always knew something was going to happen that night – she was flirting like a high-school girl with an engorged crush on the dark, mysterious guy who always sat alone at lunch. Only, she was no school girl, and I don’t eat lunch. She brought out my fears and hopes all in an equal fashion. She enveloped my desire to feel normal – and normal I had felt – up until the point where my sudden attack of conscious decided to guilt me into fault for what ensued between two morbidly, sad lovers.
So, as any story goes, now what?
I managed to graduate from my community college and ended up at my state university four months later – to which I withdrew medically from my only semester.
I met with a counselor named Lisa for every week during that semester. Megan was the source of my fear, my worries. Walking around campus feeling isolated from society, from friends and family and having no self worth, make life pretty unlivable. I hated Megan. She took something from me I still can’t get back: losing myself to someone who’s in love with me as much as I am with them.
I felt unwanted by everyone and everything. I felt like a freak undeserving of love and affection because of my disability. One day, Lisa asked me if I were a woman and Megan was a man, would that change the meaning.of what happened between us. I said maybe, but I really meant yes. I went through with my actions that night because I was too afraid to say “No.” I thought she’d judge me, too, if I didn’t give in to her advances.
In an odd twist of fate however, that night’s allowed me to reconnect with others and with myself. Fast forward a year after I withdrew, and I met a girl online named Anette. Psychiatry has become my best friend, and I understand my importance to others now. Anette has become my saving grace and without her love, I’d be a body with no shadow.
Anette will be here with me next month for a week and four days. We’ve both said that it’s going to be the best time of our lives, and I can’t wait to hold her hand and feel her lips pressed against mine so that I may finally be free of the torment that Megan caused – including the torment my broken mind and heart caused me my entire life.

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