Firestormm
Senior Member
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Nicely written article from the other day (I wasn't well enough to post at the time). It got a lot of reaction on ME Association Facebook
Always difficult reading 'good news' stories when feeling crook and thinking that things can't get any better but on the other hand I do like to hear from people who are finding some success using simple methods that I have also found have helped in the past.
Anyway, we are all different:
Read more: http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/colette-bernhardt/walking-laurie-lee_b_5530135.html
ME Association Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=712619132129081&id=171411469583186
Always difficult reading 'good news' stories when feeling crook and thinking that things can't get any better but on the other hand I do like to hear from people who are finding some success using simple methods that I have also found have helped in the past.
Anyway, we are all different:
26 June 2014
Colette Bernhardt
Freelance feature-writer for the Guardian, The Times and UK national press
How Walking - and Laurie Lee - Got Me Back on My Feet From Illness
In 1934 a Gloucestershire boy strode out to London, 'nineteen years old, still soft at the edges, but with a confident belief in good fortune.' Laurie Lee, who would have turned 100 this week, described this epic journey - which eventually saw him trekking the length of Spain - in 1969's As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning.
I discovered his lush, sense-exploding prose in my teens, when I too longed to escape the cosseting boundaries of home. Reading his portrait of rural childhood, Cider with Rosie, was like rolling in pollen: shrouded in sticky verbal petals you found yourself up close to deliciously minute details, your mind suddenly free and fertile; open to its own imaginings...
...Over 15 years I tramped further and deeper into the mythical places around me: Mount Caburn, bulging with Iron-Age burial pits; Kingley Vale, with its vast, wizened yew trees; and Lullington Heath, where rare orchids and wild goats emerged in the grasses if you waited long and quietly enough.
But last year, without warning, the unthinkable happened. I was struck down with chronic fatigue syndrome, and within months could barely make it down my street. Once a healthy, striding 34-year-old, now I had the vigour of a withering crone. So I returned to South Hertfordshire and my parents - now in a bungalow outside St Albans - in early spring, my only landscape the curve of faded, childhood pillows and the countours of the old embossed wallpaper.
Confounded by this poorly understood illness, my nervous system firing messages out like bombs, I became mollusc-like, doing less and less each day. But human bodies are built for movement, and inactivity only made mine frailer and more befuddled. By this time last year it was exhausting and painful to speak, write or hold a book - Mum read me bursts of Lee's A Rose for Winter - and my daily two-minute walks had dwindled to a handful of seconds.
In the brief spaces between my lie-downs, my loving but helpless parents arranged cushioned seats in the garden, alight with summer blooms. But I no longer belonged to the outside world; I lived in a dark, foreboding place that increasingly seemed, as Lee once wrote of his epilepsy, 'a tiny rehearsal for death'...
Read more: http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/colette-bernhardt/walking-laurie-lee_b_5530135.html
ME Association Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=712619132129081&id=171411469583186