Oh the things my mind wonders...

What makes some struggle with so much and still stick their chins out and keep going no matter how hard they get knocked down, while for others one small thing makes them fall to pieces and never try to get up again?

A blog post DinerGirl (you should read her blog, she has a way with words and her posts are shorter than mine!) wrote recently made that question (and others) spring up yet again in my mind. It's a question I mull over all the time and have talked about at length with many friends, we still don't have any firm conclusions. But I wonder do the things we go through have something to do with it?

I think of some of my close friends and wonder what the hell it is that keeps them going, no matter how many punches they take in this world.

P., who struggles with bipolar disorder (a diagnosis that took far too long and whom misdiagnoses and mistreatment almost killed), and yet is bravely fighting through those early twenties years, trying to conquer the things that do their best to knock her down. I see myself in her every time we talk. I remember how bad those years were for me and I'm trying desperately to be for her what I needed so much and no one would be for me. She'll make it through this period in her life and I can't even imagine the places she'll go.

J., who fights with anxiety and depression that try to choke the life out of her. A childhood that gave her many of the same issues I myself deal with, an ex who could have been the death of her, and two beautiful girls she's trying to raise in the midst of it all who she worries every day will grow up to struggle with the same things that haunt her. She juggles a million things everyday and yet bit by bit is getting closer to making a stable life for herself and her girls.

S., whose life experiences should be a best selling book. One minutes you'd be laughing and the next crying your heart out over the things she's been through. And yet, she is one of the most compassionate people I know. She'd give you the shirt off of her back and her shoes too if she thought you needed them. On top of the clinical depression she lives with every day, she has a teenage son who is going through his own psychological complexities that take more out of her than most people would be willing to go through for their children. Says a lot, doesn't it? She's tried to check out of this world several times but somehow never succeeded, and now stays in it so that she can be the advocate her son needs.

M., who I swear is my twin lost at birth. The two of us living in the same city would probably be more than any town could take. Quirkiness feeds off quirkiness and multiplies I think. It's okay though, we'd never get anywhere because we'd lose the car keys we're so absent-minded and distracted! She deals with much of the same health issues I do and time after time swears off dealing with useless doctors who are too busy chatting with drug reps to give us the time of day. And yet she tries again eventually, because she wants to not just make it through the day, but be well. She can make me laugh 'til my stomach aches. That's priceless.

And Chris. Chris....well, we're married and best friends, that should tell you everything.

And there are others... Every person I've mentioned above inspires some part of my life (including you DG) and I am thankful for them every day. They've come into my life in the oddest ways (most I met online!) and it seems to me that I collect them, these people that I can see elements of myself in, who resonate with something in me. And they keep on coming. I'm still surprised when it happens and yet I'm not, because I decided years ago to bring into my life people who help me be my true self instead of who they think I should be.

But what keeps them going? What makes them hit what seems like rock bottom repeatedly and they lay there for a minute, take a deep breath, and start hauling themselves up again? They have every right to stay down for the count and say they're done trying and yet they don't. And how do I know that? Because they are still living and breathing and creating beauty in their lives. They are still reaching their hands out to others who seem to be drowning and offering a semi-normal conversation, or a smile, or a soothing word. They help me breathe when the anxieties and obsessive thoughts that crowd my brain and restrict my life get the best of me. They give me the love, compassion, understanding, grace, and support that I can give everyone else but myself. I guess they give me what I try to give them.

Where does that come from, when others I know--who have been through far less--use the things they deal with to justify the hate they spread and the pain they inflict on others?

I still don't have any answers to those questions, but I think the ability to hope and to self analyse have something to do with it.