I’m beginning to wonder, “What’s the point anymore?” I’m losing faith, hope, inspiration, reasoning. Even after reading Victor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning, I can see myself as one of the prisoners who did not make it through. So many questions running through my mind, and so few answers.

Can I trust anyone? Can anyone trust me? How long will this semi-stability last? How long can I hold back my tears in therapy? How long can I fight the negative thoughts? How long before I fall into yet another pit of despair? How does one maintain his/her support network? Will any treatment I participate in really help in the long run? Am I worthy? Do I want to be stronger than the eating disorder and self injury? Why open up to stranger after stranger, when all you want is someone familiar, someone steady, someone there? Am I falling already? How do I stop it? When does perseverance become foolish persistence? How does one draw the line between living a life of meaning and a life of happiness? Can one have both, or are there sacrifices to each?

Will I ever be someone somebody loves? Will I ever be able to have “real” conversations with people? Will I ever be  worthwhile? What is worthwhile? What is the purpose of counting the days, months, and years of being SI-free? What does that show?

If organisms are driven toward self-preservation, and some part of me wants to self-destruct, is that unnatural? Two sides at war, without any glimmer of dawn.

I apologize for the dreariness of this post; hang in there, I suppose, for those of you who are struggling. Perhaps the dawn is just 5 minutes away.