I've really tried over the 15 years of this illness to follow its behest. But it keeps moving the behest from one space to another so I'm forever looking around trying to work out just where those limits are.
For a while there they were of such a reasonable CFSey size that I actually convinced myself I didn't have it anymore. I didmthatmonce before - an article published on 2004, I think, in my state's CFS society journal, a hearty encouragement to keep searching for the jigsaw puzzle pieces, that wellness would surely follow. I guess when youve been in the CFS fog for five years and then you're managing things so well that you're actually lifting weights at the gym, it's easy to think you've recovered. As long as you don't compare yourself to well people and as long as life stays on a boring, unstimulating keel.
Then I got worse, but then I improved again, and again I was convinced that I'd recovered. Started dating. Had a wonderful year of life feeling more sparkly. Then the crash, overdoing it moving house, along with an attempted suicide by a family member. Hello, sympathetic nervous system predominance. Goodbye, yoga, meditation, playing with clay - things I could do that would help my body because they're pleasurable and relaxing, but which I couldn't do because freaky illness.
Which is worse? To have tastes of life so you get dizzy with possibility? Or to be on a power rung so that you can't have the macadqmia ice cream cone ripped from your mouth and a return to gruel?
It's been four years now since I moved in with my partner. He has been amazing throughout this whole experience. He uncomplainingly pays all the expenses, never once pressures me for the sex he hardly ever gets. While I try and work when I can, write when I can, try to stay riding the medium while my body wracks me with the stress of being dependent.
How do you recover from this space? How do you roll with the punches? I truly don't know anymore how to roll in this ocean of 15 years' duration without swalliwing water?
For a while there they were of such a reasonable CFSey size that I actually convinced myself I didn't have it anymore. I didmthatmonce before - an article published on 2004, I think, in my state's CFS society journal, a hearty encouragement to keep searching for the jigsaw puzzle pieces, that wellness would surely follow. I guess when youve been in the CFS fog for five years and then you're managing things so well that you're actually lifting weights at the gym, it's easy to think you've recovered. As long as you don't compare yourself to well people and as long as life stays on a boring, unstimulating keel.
Then I got worse, but then I improved again, and again I was convinced that I'd recovered. Started dating. Had a wonderful year of life feeling more sparkly. Then the crash, overdoing it moving house, along with an attempted suicide by a family member. Hello, sympathetic nervous system predominance. Goodbye, yoga, meditation, playing with clay - things I could do that would help my body because they're pleasurable and relaxing, but which I couldn't do because freaky illness.
Which is worse? To have tastes of life so you get dizzy with possibility? Or to be on a power rung so that you can't have the macadqmia ice cream cone ripped from your mouth and a return to gruel?
It's been four years now since I moved in with my partner. He has been amazing throughout this whole experience. He uncomplainingly pays all the expenses, never once pressures me for the sex he hardly ever gets. While I try and work when I can, write when I can, try to stay riding the medium while my body wracks me with the stress of being dependent.
How do you recover from this space? How do you roll with the punches? I truly don't know anymore how to roll in this ocean of 15 years' duration without swalliwing water?