Over the course of course of my life I have fought many battles. I have overcome bullying, obesity, and learning disabilities. I have succeeded against addiction, depression, and anger. I have fallen and risen time and time again. I have come back stronger, smarter, and more determined.
I had reached a point in my life that I thought my battles had ended. I could finally rest and enjoy the peace. I was wrong. My toughest fight lay ahead.
July 4, 2023. The day marked for celebration of the end of our nation’s war for freedom. This day would become the beginning of my war. The Isolation wars.
A horrible crash broke my body and rendered me near helpless for months. To be fair, the first month of recovery wasn’t so bad. I had my wife by my side. A partner in my fight, as it were. She supported me physically and kept me company. But time moves on. The world does not wait for us to be ready. We must live, work, and contribute. And so, my nurse, cook, maid, and partner in the fight had to return to the world and I was left to fight alone.
Undeterred, I focused my attention towards fighting my way back. My body was weak, but my mind was strong. Armed with positivity and optimism I fought hard. I vowed to return. I would win this fight. I would come back to form and prove my strength and determination. I did just that. Day in and day out I fought my way back. Gradually, my body healed, but little did I know that the real enemy lay ahead of me, waiting, building strength.
Eventually I returned to the world, my battle won, VICTORIOUS!!!
The real enemy now began to put its plan into motion. It began slowly. There were signs. Barely noticeable but laying the groundwork. A random bout of tearfulness. I wasn’t sad yet I would cry anyway. Confused but undeterred I would press on. Over time things progressed and the silent enemy continued to chip away at all I had built.
It was diabolical in its attack. Slowly, almost undetectable, it began to change me. It chipped away at my confidence. It attacked my ability to reason. It clouded my mind and over time it eroded my trust in others.
Now the war was in full swing. And I fought alone. Or so I thought. And that was how it worked. It caused me to push away those who would fight with me, for me. I had become convinced that my allies were against me. The more I fought against it, the more evidence was presented that I was being hunted, targeted by those I truly needed.
Now, full of fear and mistrust, I actively worked to isolate myself. To separate from those, I needed most. Worst of all, I would give them good reason to lose trust in me. I was no longer the person they once knew. Who was I to them now? A sad shell of who I used to be? A potential enemy that needed to be watched. A paranoid creature that needed caging for the good of all?
I was consumed. I needed to run, fight, hide. But not against the real enemy, no. I would fight those that dared to care. I fought alone. Felt I had no choice. Still though, I wanted to bring others to my cause. Help me with my fight. I reached out in all directions and one by one, almost systematically my support fell away.
I raged. I spewed the venom that now consumed me. I screamed my agenda of fear and anger until there was almost nothing left. Almost nothing.
Finally, and almost instantly, the poison that had been destroying me left my body and mind.
The war was over. Just like that. At the very moment of almost certain failure, it ended. It was over leaving only the residue of had occurred. The guilt. The shame. The horror of what I had allowed to consume me. Thankfully not all was lost. Returning to the world, I was able to find those that cared still waiting for me. Waiting for their friend to return.
I still cry. Tears of gratitude. Tears of thankfulness that I was not lost. Tears Of happiness. The tears of knowing that I won the isolation war. A war I fought within myself. Against myself, in isolation but not alone. Surrounded by those that cared that could only watch as fought and cheered from afar. Hopeful, but concerned I may lose this one.
I stood at the edge. I have looked into the abyss. I have faced the dark cold of the unknown. I have returned stronger, wiser, and with greater appreciation.
Thank you to those that stood by me. I am eternally grateful.
-Rob D., staff spouse
