Forget Me Not

imageAs I skip along my healing path, being present, living in the moment (yes, I have been reading The Power of Now, and yes, I am a healing cliché), I know I shouldn’t have checked, that there was nothing to be gained by knowing. But… well, I have no good reason, I just got curious: it’s been nearly six months since I have been well enough to see any friends or family (well, apart from my husband, obviously, or that would just be weird). And, as I knew would be the case, knowing this has not helped me in any way. But, too late, I know.

I have missed birthday lunches with my girlfriends. I have missed Friday evening drinks and loud laughing – probably too loud for others close by – with friends as we let in the weekend fun. I have missed weekends away. I have missed family celebrations. Continue reading

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Damn you, Tigger

Stephanie's peace.

Stephanie’s peace. (Photo credit: Natashalatrasha)

Oh, hello, you lovely lot…

So, that damn Tigger is being rather elusive. Despite intensive Green and Black’s therapy, and okay, I admit, some wine therapy too, the bugger is nowhere to be seen, and I appear to be having a pretty serious relapse. (Oh yeah, my recovery plan is totally on track!)

But something weird is going on – I seem to have found a sense of peace with what has happened and, dare I say, a level of acceptance. I know it sounds ridiculous, but even after all these years, I have always struggled to accept the CFS. I’ve always wanted to fight it, scared that acceptance would in some way be giving in. But this time I feel Continue reading

Tears, Tantrums and Tigger

English: Bad Luck Marbles sent to Langkawi

English: Bad Luck Marbles sent to Langkawi (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It was a tough few months, the CFS crash between April and August of this year, the days stuck at home plastered to the sofa. But I survived – just – and I was ready to enjoy my reward: normal life. I got over excited about being reunited with my trainers and enthusiastically jumped around the lounge, happy to hear Jillian Michaels shout at me; I started filling my diary with lunches, meals out, trips to the theatre, and weekends away; I reunited with my writing plans, determinedly working out my route from Blogger to Grazia. Continue reading

Dependence Daze

When I was younger I was fiercely independent, both financially and in spirit; I was as career oriented and ambitious as many of my male peers, if not more so; I didn’t ever harbor childhood fantasies of skipping down the aisle in a big white dress; and the maternal gene clearly got lost on its way to me.

But when I met Mike, I developed this irrational desire to be married. I was 33, still had no maternal feelings, but wanted to create a special, permanent bond with this man. Not because I wanted to be looked after, or provided for (although that is exactly how it has worked Continue reading