Who Am I Kidding…

I was sitting this morning, reflecting on my posts from the last few days. The titles are a bit of a giveaway:

• PSP Smashes My 5×5 Communication Tool
• 3:35 a.m.–7:45 a.m. | My Charging Range
• Behavioural Change: Frightened, Determined and Out of Denial
• A Profound Loneliness

You don’t have to be a qualified therapist to spot the pattern.

Then I remembered something.

A few days ago, on another platform, I wrote an article about faith and the Jewish Day of Atonement. Sorry to my atheist friends online. This is for you too, as you will see, I promise. The title was Who Am I Kidding? Not G-d.

The essence of that piece was simple. We all have excuses and challenges, and I certainly have a long list of good ones. Excellent ones, in fact. But Yom Kippur is not about convincing G-d—if you believe in G-d, as I do—why we did “x” or “y.” He already knows. The real challenge is not kidding ourselves.

So now I come back to PSP and me.

I can sit here and talk about feeling lonely, and that feeling is real. There are moments when I feel profoundly isolated, no matter how many people love me. But then I have to ask myself another question: Who am I kidding?

I can’t sit around waiting for a cure or a miracle. I still have the ability to act. So while I do, I need to turn to the skills and experience I have spent a lifetime building and have been fortunate enough to learn from others: determination, resilience, faith, and agility.

A friend reached out this morning and offered to come over at 4:40 a.m. to study and chat with me. In my moment of self-pity, I said no.

I was wrong.

I may feel lonely, but I am not alone.

I have a friend willing to get up before dawn and come and sit with me at 4:40 in the morning.

Think about that for a moment.

Emotion can overwhelm logic. I know that. There will still be moments when loneliness feels completely real, because it is. But another truth exists alongside it.

I have people around me, and people far away, who are willing to help. Just from messages last night… Someone in India asked if they could pray for me. Someone in Malaysia is rooting for me. I have family, friends, and an online community supporting me from across the world. The truth is that I have more support than anyone could reasonably ask for.

I have recognised the behavioural changes I am experiencing, and that matters. Recognition is the first step. Now comes the harder part: accepting the reality, adapting to it, and continuing to act.

There is a famous story about a man drowning in a river who believes deeply in G-d. A boat comes to rescue him, but he refuses because he is waiting for G-d to save him. Then a helicopter arrives, and he refuses that too.

Eventually, he dies, reaches Heaven, and complains that he prayed for help, but none came.

G-d replies, “I sent you a boat and a helicopter.”

That story hits differently today.

I have an amazing family. I have great friends. I have an extraordinary online community of support. I have a lifetime of experience to draw upon.

Those are my boats and helicopters.

PSP is a formidable enemy. I see that more clearly now than ever before. It can make me frightened, lonely, angry, exhausted, and sometimes almost unrecognisable to myself. I do not need to pretend those feelings are not real. They are.

But while I still have choices available to me, I need to use them.

One of the people who has given me a great deal of strength recently, especially through his honesty and humour, is a fellow PSP’er named Hugh, who writes a blog. He is an avowed atheist, and I know in my heart that he would tell me to stop feeling sorry for myself and get on with life. In truth, he would probably use much fruitier language.

And perhaps that is where faith and atheism meet.

Stop kidding yourself. Use what you have. Accept the help. Help others. Reach out. Be active. Keep going.

I may sometimes feel as though I am drowning. There will be days when the current feels stronger than I am. But when I look around honestly, I can see the boats and helicopters already there.

The real question is no longer whether help has arrived.

The real question is whether I am willing to climb aboard.