We tend to think of illness as an annoying interruption. “I had such a great plan—so many things to do—and suddenly, bam! A cold, an injury, or something worse. Now I’m stuck in bed.”
As if the world got offended and tripped us on purpose.
But what if you arranged it? What if a hidden wish came true?
Examples:
Rage builds inside, but outward vent stays barred—taboo.
From boyhood learned: "Only sick do I snag a taste of love."
Year on year, you lied: "Scale this peak, then done!"
Collapsing is your only way to cry out, “Enough!”
Maybe illness is a legitimate rest—a pause to turn around, or a payment for guilt.
The thought seems absurd: “You're nuts! Why rig my own wreck? Am I my foe?”
Of course, if you see the psyche as one solid, unified being, that sounds like nonsense. Man shoves his wants over neighbors' so fierce, he seems self-smitten.
Unfortunately—or maybe fortunately—that’s not true. A person indeed loves and values himself… except for parts A, B, and C. Those he treats as strangers, exiling them from the city into the wild wood.
There, the outcasts make war against the tyrant. While your conscious mind is busy—or asleep—they run sabotage missions in corners of the body, mind, and soul.
This senseless duel can end only through the arrival of a third figure—one who sees the hidden value in what seems most repulsive. It’s the voice of a whole self, calling from the future to its present, still suffering form.
If you’ve read this far, you know who that third figure is—it’s you. May every sickness become a meeting with yourself.
Yours sincerely,
-Alexander
As a business therapist, I help tech founders quickly solve dilemmas at the intersection of business and personality, and boost company value as a result.
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