I don’t do mornings

Unrefreshing sleep. Bleurgh.

I do not remember being run over by a tractor in my sleep and yet my body feels as if it has. I am a dead weight. I am not strong enough to move my own limbs. They seem to be full of concrete. My neck struggles to support my head. This sounds disgusting I know but my blood doesn’t feel as if it is being circulated properly. I feel that I have poison in my veins and it is a horrible feeling. My heart is being silly. Palpitations and a seemingly irregular heartbeat are far from my favourite symptoms. Don’t worry though. My doctors tell me that I’m fine…

It’s as if, every night while I sleep, my brain forgets everything I’ve tried to reteach it over the last couple of years. There seems to be a magnetic force so strong that it can take me over an hour to be able to move from the position I wake up in. This is not a nice feeling. It can be scary but most of the time my brain isn’t functioning well enough for me to realise how poorly I must be. I am too weak and groggy to do anything other than let my body win. I am now able to stay calm when this happens. Panicking only makes it worse and my body punishes me for it. By staying calm throughout this my body seems to be able to pull itself together a bit quicker and I can then sit up. I have to then sit for a while. Slowly slowly catchy monkey. For me. it doesn’t do to try to hurry the process along. Trust me I’ve tried for months on end.

I do not enjoy staying in bed like I did before I was ill. It was always a treat to have a lie in then. Now it feels very much like a punishment for a crime I did not commit.

Following the advice of the CFS clinic I tried for months to get up to an alarm at the same time everyday. It was all a part of the process to bring back routine and control to my life. To cut a long story short I relapsed (due to a combination of efforts and factors) and ended up unable to use the stairs again, back using our dining room as a bedroom, too fatigued to chew…

What works for one of us, may not work for another. We have to find our own way, listening to our bodies as we go.