the repetition of suffering

     Every morning it is the same.  As the light of day begins to replace the dark of night, before I am even awake, a small seed of irritation starts to sprout.  The night is the closest thing to relief despite not sleeping well or having my subconscious shine lights into the darker spots of psyche in the form of nightmares.  The light of day intrudes upon that respite, no matter how small.  The more awake I become, the more the irritation builds into anger.  The anger then gives way to a rage which is all consuming.  It is to become a thing of fury and the absence of light:

What it was could not be seen: it was like a great shadow, in the middle of which was a dark form, of man-shape maybe, yet greater; and a power and terror seemed to be in it and go before it...Its streaming mane kindled and blazed behind it. In its right hand was a blade like a stabbing tongue of fire; in its left it held a whip of many thongs....His enemy halted again, facing him, and the shadows about it reached out like two vast wings. It raised the whip, and the thongs whined and cracked. Fire came from its nostrils.               - JRR Tolkien

      When confronted by such a self destructive force I have few options.  I could all too easily turn to drug or drink.  I could become incredibly self destructive.  Or, I can workout, and that is to say not a workout in the traditional sense of the word.  This is not for fitness or stress relief or health.  This is to fight for my very life.  Daily.  Such a Sisyphean task wears one down.  Each day, the multiple joints in my back hurt a bit more and the will is a bit weaker.  I secretly wonder how long can I last at this?  Despite it all, physically, I grow stronger.  Does that translate into mental resilience?  One might as well ask why the sun?  It keeps me alive one more day.