It hit hard last night.
Late evening, after dinner.
The pain went through the roof the kind that blows your mind.
A neurological storm, invisible, harsh, fkn merciless. From the outside I looked calm making my jokes, smiling.
Inside there was rough chaos a soup of fear, frustration, anger, desperation – all crashing in waves of pure suffering.
When we got home I went to the shower.
The pressure was good, the water warm. I gripped the handles let the warmth cover me, and it was okay.
Then I whispered, fuck it!
It is late, it is cold in the room and my mind really, really doesn’t want to go there rn – but I’m doing it. I just knew it.

I turned the handle.
Cold. Freezing cold.
Every part of my brain screamed to stop.
But instead of obeying, I watched.

I watched my mind revolt – how it tried to bargain, reason, convince.
I just observed.
I let the freezing water hit the back of my neck and started counting, slowly.
One. Two. Three… and slower.
Yes. Yes!
I’m doing it. It’s okay. It’s okay. Go on.
All the way slowly to thirty.
Slightly smiling, like Mona Lisa.

And boom – it was over.
A surge of dopamine, adrenaline, serotonin – that fresh, powerful cocktail washed through my body.
The pain was still there, but different now.
The suffering loosened its grip.

I stepped out, dried off, calm.
Suffering-free all night.

This is not a heroic story.
It is not about me.
It is about you.

It is about how you can stay.
How you can let the cold water run down your neck, count to thirty and simply take it.
You can do it.