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

I doubt I’ll ever stop talking in Ifs.

If I wasn’t ill then I would…
If I was well I’d be there…
If I could do that I’d love it…
If you’d met me Before…
If I didn’t have plans for next week I’d have loved to see you tomorrow…

If if if if if if.

I just can’t seem to give a straight “No” as an answer. Because having to say No to certain things is so at odds with who I was; who I still am inside. Who I want to be. I would love to meet you for dinner! If I was well, I’d be there. But I’m not. So I can’t.

I guess in that sense, my acceptance will never be absolute.

I also carry the knowledge that the stigma of this illness, and other ‘invisible’, chronic illnesses, leads too many people to still believe it’s an issue of willpower and low mood. Perhaps that accounts for some of the longwinded ways I reply to certain things. Or certain people.

And then there are the “When”s and the “Before”s. “When I was able to…” “Before I got ill…” I can talk about my life before 2010 as if I was only yesterday. I still do it to my husband, who never had the pleasure of meeting pre-M.E. Anna. I look back at her through rose tinted glasses. But I must remember that this version of her, of me, isn’t worse; she’s just different because her capacity has depleted, and her personality can be diluted as a result. It physically pains me sometimes, that people don’t know the me I still see myself as.

There are never any “When I’m Better*”s though. Not anymore. That’s realistic; not pessimistic. There’s so much more peace in accepting that part. In my case, at least.

*by better, in this sense, I mean recovered to my pre-M.E. levels.