Everything Happens For A Reason, Or So It Goes

According to Aristotle, there is always a reason for everything that happens. Your experiences are designed to shape you, define you and, hopefully, grow you into the mightiest you possible.

Oh Aristotle, how your words ring true… To a point. I do believe that everything happens for a reason, which I said with everything good or bad that has happened in my life I always said “everything happens for a reason” yet it has been shaken to my very core.

Also, it is said that God will never put you into a situation you cannot handle. Again, I’m shaken to my very core.

I’ve always believed in God, and for those who don’t thats perfectly fine. I don’t attend church, I sin, I don’t believe every word in the Bible, but I do believe there is a God… Which brings me to my post.

These two things I’ve lived by in a way, maybe it’s because I needed something to help me through. Or maybe it’s another reason, comfort, knowing I’ll be alright? I’m not sure. But as of the past few years these two things that I’ve believed in so much has driven to me to a point of insanity. Don’t get me wrong, I have great people in my life, it’s what’s happening that has me scratching my head.

As of right now, my depression and anxiety, the constant arguing with my Father and step mother has me re-thinking these. I’ve been to therapy I’ve talked to people I confide in, I’m taking medication and have been, yet it’s never ending. Its always happening.

If everything happens for a reason, then what is the reason for the depression and panic attacks? Why is it that God has given me this? I feel like I’m in a hole and instead of getting out someone is throwing me a shovel to dig deeper.

I can’t answer these never ending questions, but I’m hoping the two things I’ve believed in for so long will show a reason.

Someone can only take so much before there is a breaking point, and I’ve hit mine a few times at full speed. So why?

No one can answer these, except me, and I’m not sure when I can. I feel like part of my life has been taken away. I do intend to get it back, as much as I struggle and the countless times I’ve said I’ve given up, I haven’t. I still keep trying to do things, I keep pushing myself even though its hard. I’m proud of myself when I go out and a panic attack comes and I try to get through it without having to leave the entire situation. But when it gets the best of me I hide in the corner and try to lick the wounds. I’m not sure when this chapter of my life will end and how it will all turn out, I’m hoping for the best though.

I’m thankful for the constant people in my life (which are far and few between) they have helped me and were there when I needed someone.

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