"تمام گفتار من، گفتاری که در نهایت واقعاً متعلق به خود من است، به بیماری خودم مربوط می‌شود."

The quote is talking about how everything someone is saying revolves around their personal experience with illness. It’s like they’re saying, "Hey, if you really listen to me, you'll see that everything I'm sharing, all these thoughts and stories, they're all tied back to this one core truth: my own struggle with being sick." This isn't just any illness we’re talking about—it’s something deeply personal, shaping their entire narrative.

Historically, this kind of statement often comes from writers, philosophers, or thinkers who’ve dealt with significant health issues. Think about someone like Frida Kahlo. She painted her pain, her surgeries, her confinement. Her art wasn’t just art—it was her discourse, her way of making sense of her illness. Every brushstroke, every vivid color, was a reflection of her personal battle and resilience.

Now, let’s dive into a real-life example to flesh this out. Imagine a young author, Sarah. Sarah’s diagnosed with a chronic illness in her early twenties. She starts writing, not just about the illness itself but about life, love, work, friendships. But the thing is, you can’t separate Sarah’s illness from her work. It colors everything she says and writes about. When she talks about love, there’s the underlying fear of being a burden. When she discusses work, there’s the struggle of balancing productivity with the physical limitations of her condition. Her discourse—every single piece she writes—is intertwined with her illness. It shapes her worldview, her choices, her narrative.

So, how do you apply this wisdom? If you’re grappling with something profound, like an illness, don’t shy away from it. Let it inform your voice, your story. Embrace that your experiences—especially the tough ones—can give depth to your discourse. It’s about authenticity. If you’re writing, speaking, or creating, let your struggles be a part of your narrative. They’re not just obstacles; they’re what make your perspective unique and powerful.

Think about it like this: You’re at a coffee shop with a friend, spilling your thoughts about life’s ups and downs. Maybe you’ve been dealing with anxiety. You’re sharing about your relationships, your job, your dreams. If you’re honest, the anxiety threads through every part of your story—those sleepless nights before a big presentation, the jittery feelings on first dates, the way you’ve learned to cope with racing thoughts. Your discourse, all these snippets and stories, is truly your own—it’s colored by your personal struggles and triumphs.

This doesn’t mean you’re defined by your illness or struggles. Far from it. But it’s about recognizing that these experiences shape your narrative. They’re woven into the fabric of your discourse, making it richer, more relatable. When you share your story, people connect not just with the surface details but with the underlying truths, the personal battles won or still being fought.

So, remember, don’t shy away from letting your personal experiences, even the painful ones, inform your narrative. It’s what makes your discourse genuinely yours. And, let’s be real, that’s the kind of authenticity that resonates, that hits home—whether you’re writing a novel, having a heart-to-heart, or just trying to make sense of your own story.