I am mostly oblivious to the fact that my life is not the same as most peoples’.
I have moulded a nice little life, where I appreciate being able to brush my teeth, use the stairs, make my own coffee…for these are things I cannot do every day.
Those feel like wonderful things. How could a person need anymore than those incredible things?! I have endured so much time in the dark (and I still do) that any and every moment outside of those four walls is easy to celebrate.
And then I’ll be exposed to a very different life. Seeing others online talk about something as absurd as leaving the house every day. Talking to a family member who’s done X, Y, and Z before I’ve even been able to wake up. Being asked what I’ve been up to this week only for the jubilant answer of “made my own lunch some days!” to not be what the person asking was expecting to hear.
There isn’t really sadness there. Instead it’s something bordering on bewilderment. The difference is so stark.
And yet I feel like the normal one; I have submerged myself in a lovely little corner of the internet where everyone is just like me. And that’s nice. Now it’s those without chronic illness who don’t seem normal at all to me.
M.E. myself and I 