'M.E. myself and I' by Anna Redshaw

Most people don’t get emotional about seeing their own footprint in the sand. But I did.

It was just such a clear and obvious sign in the sand that I was here. Somewhere. Anywhere.

I. Was. Here.

On this beach. Outside. Out in the world.

When I turned around and saw this footprint, I was quite taken aback. Look! I exist! And then I absolutely beamed at that reminder.

Existing! With so much time spent behind closed doors I often feel like people don’t know of my existence; new neighbours have never seen me, and older ones can probably count on one hand how many times they’ve seen me go out in my five years of living in this neighbourhood. It’s a funny thing.

It was also special that it was just my footprint in the sand. I was here by myself; without a chaperone, as it were. (My husband is inside the holiday house.)

I don’t get all that much ‘nice time’ to myself.

A lot of my time is spent at home alone, and loneliness does creeps in. I am unable to have regular visitors because of how costly social interaction and face-to-face or phone conversation can be. Hence my use of social media. When I venture out, I tend to have someone with me; that’s just how it works with me being too unwell to go solo most of the time. It is wonderful to have people around me who will always chauffeur me and be by my side.

But this is an entirely different kind of ‘alone’.

Here I can be on an actual beach by myself, without having needed someone to drive me here. I am free. Completely. To wander out when I choose to, and wander back when I want/need to. I’m in charge. I don’t need someone ‘babysitting’ me. I don’t need to keep an eye on the time for when someone is coming to collect me, or drop them a message when I can feel I need to get home to rest.

I am 34 years old. This is not a normal existence for someone my age, or perhaps anyone of any age. But I still treasure what I have, even ‘just’ 11 minutes, and I’ll try to bottle this feeling to tide me over until my next taste of freedom.