• “I want to be better than this.”
Well you don’t always get what you want. This is how it is right now. Feel how you feel; you need to acknowledge the sadness and disappointment and even the fear. But then we’ll regroup. And we’ll try to find peace with what we cannot control.
• “I wish I wasn’t this ill!”
Wish for something smaller; more attainable. Wish for fresh coffee. Warm toast. Fresh air. Clean sheets. A shower.
• “I can’t do anything right now!”
Not exactly true young lady. You just can’t do what you want to do or what you feel needs doing. There’s a difference and it’ll help to remind yourself of that.
You can hold his hand. You can mostly get yourself to the toilet. You can rest. You can keep calm. You can have short conversations with your mum. You can keep things in perspective.
• “I can’t do this.”
You can. You will. And my darling, you have no choice.
The only choice you have is in how you respond.
One thought on “Notes to myself”
Hi Anna, I’ve only recently started to read your posts.
Because of emotional trauma I often find it impossible to put what I’m experiencing into words.
Your posts seem to be giving me the words and that is beyond helpful.
Thank you so much for giving yourself to others…to me, the phrase ‘love in action’ comes to mind. 🤗
I too began my M.E story in 2010, at Centre Parcs, whilst taking a bath. I did not suddenly go from being well to ill. I had a history spanning decades of depression, anxiety, frequent spells of fluey bugs but what I experienced on that day was alarming and something I knew I had to take notice of. I couldn’t ignore and carry on regardless anymore. I knew I had to re-think my life particularly how I treated these long term symptoms.
There’s so much more I could say but I realise my comment is already long.
But before I go I will say what happened in the bathroom. It’s not an open mouthed, shocking, make you gasp event but its impact and consequences were no less devastating than say an earthquake or a border wall going up overnight.
When I went to get out of the bath I found I couldn’t. It felt like gravity itself had altered and it was pinning me down.
Despite mustering all the mental strength I could find i couldn’t lift my bum more than a couple of inches. My legs wouldn’t participate and the effort left me out of breath and ready to faint.
After 5 or 10 mins, I regained the strength and ability to get out of the bath, dressed and back to my family. I announced that there was something seriously wrong and my life began to disappear bit by bit from that moment.
Bless you Anna, I hope it’s okay to write what I’ve written?