In medius res

That's Latin for "in the middle of things" though I may have spelled it wrong, since I learned it in the 9th grade. I'd like to think I'm more at the end of things ("things" being CFS/ME) but I know I'm likely not at that point yet.

Anyhow, it started three years ago, almost to the day... though in some ways, the signs have been there my entire life. But it was that March that I became disabled, and my entire life went on hold. Indefinitely.

It's now March of 2018, my 3 year ill-aversary (or whatever you want to call it) and I've been house bound for an entire week. I thought I was recovered, though the research says one cannot truly claim recovery unless they die well.

Oh well.

I shouldn't have gone on that long, strenuous hike last week. It was all uphill (then all down hill), rocky, steep, and strewn with loose, small pebbles. I'm sure the lack of shade and relentless sunshine didn't help either. I was doing is well before then- well fatigue-wise at least, and now I've been forced to re-evaluate if the plans I've made to get my life back in order have been made in vain.

I have to believe they haven't. I have to believe it's going to get better. I know if I continue to make entries here they won't all be hopeful, or upbeat, but I can't accept that it will always be like this, or I won't continue to survive.

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AlwaysTired
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