Well, that born again optimist was not to be trusted. As I was enjoying reconnecting with my good friends, hope and possibility, the bitch payback rudely showed up, and with her usual charm put an instant stop to the party. Apparently, my body needed some time to recover from its most recent black hole adventure. (Honestly, body, enough!) Much of the festive season was spent in bed, listening to meditations and dozing, whilst the sound of laughter and chatting drifted up the stairs. I dipped into the festivities as and when the energy allowed – to get fed if nothing else (and with two foodies in the house, getting fed was definitely worth the effort). I did my best to fix my face to Continue reading
I feel like a different person. It may only be a few weeks ago but she – the sad and unwell shadow of me – already seems like a stranger. If I stop and force my mind, I can take myself to her: I was so exhausted even having a shower was a major effort; I was so stressed that tears were on permanent standby, ready to fall at the smallest upset; I felt desperate, crawling slowly through each day. I did my best to trust that the situation was temporary and that it – the heavy black cloud of CFS – would lift, but when you are feeling this awful you don’t believe you will ever feel normal again.
But I do. And it’s glorious. GLORIOUS.
It may be the physical that takes you down, but somewhere, in the messiness and unpleasantness of being unwell, the mind gets in on the act, and you get stuck – and in my experience it’s the mind that plays a big part of getting you unstuck and out the other side. Continue reading