Confused.com

This is the first time I have ever really spoken freely about my illness outside of my immediate family. I don’t know if I like to talk about it always or not. It has become so normal to me that perhaps I see no need to talk about it. It is taken as a given that I feel poorly everyday. My symptoms are ever present, lucky me! I think I needed this outlet though. I did. I needed to feel that I could communicate freely with others who are in the same boat. We are in uncharted, rocky waters, but at least we are together. Even if nobody reads it, I think I needed to do it for myself, to get things out of my system…

Everything is a contradiction. We are told to listen to our bodies but to push ourselves too. We are told not to sleep during the day but to listen to our body. Well our body is screaming at us to sleep?! 
I suppose it is all about balance. Nothing is set in stone. Nobody, NOBODY has all of the answers. We are largely in the dark. I find the contradictions very frustrating. Very frustrating indeed. I have stuck at it but I have been very careful. You must always listen to your body. It is ultimately in charge when you have M.E. You do not want to make it anymore cross and grumpy than it already is. You ‘push’ it gently, and by this I think I mean that you persevere. When you suffer a setback or a relapse, you change the goalposts. It is hard. The hardest thing I have done probably, but it all just seems so normal now. It is comforting to know that I am not alone. My family are amazing. My real friends have stuck with me. My new friends are in the same boat as me. Most have been suffering for a lot longer than me. They are my inspiration. 

Don’t give up on us. Please.

I can understand that people want me to be the person that they knew and loved for 21 years. Nobody wants that more than me. But for better or worse, times change. With M.E. most things are out of our control. There is very, very little we can control. We will inevitably have to cancel plans because our brain has decided to be an awkward bugger for no apparent reason. It is no ones fault. You may not hear from us from time to time. We may not reply to a text. We are not ignoring you. We are poorly. Very poorly. We are not doing it on purpose. We are not pretending. Why on earth would we have chosen this life of invisible but constant illness? And nor are we depressed and lying around feeling sorry for ourselves, wallowing in our own pity. Depression can come as a result of our illness. M.E. has taken our lives, but it has not killed us. We are in some kind of limbo.

Who wouldn’t feel down in such circumstances; When you are too weak to make it to the toilet and so you wet yourself or have to have someone spoon feed you or dress you and brush your teeth for you?! Our 100% may not be nearly as much as the average persons 100%, but we do try to give all we’ve got to maintain our relationships.

Accept and Adapt

It is not the life I would have chosen, but it is the life that I’ve got so I try to make the best of it and smile at the simpler things in life. I believe that you have to give in to M.E. in order to recover. Let it win the battles in order for you to win the war. Giving in to it is not giving up. It is merely tactical. Like other illnesses, we cannot fight it. We have to work with it much as we hate it. I have had to accept that I am not, and cannot be, the person I was before I became ill. It has not been easy but I have started to adapt my life to fit my new limits. Again, this is not giving up. To maintain my independence I have had my hair cropped short so that I am able to wash it myself. My arms are too weak to manage anything longer at the moment. I would never have been brave enough to do it before. Not many people like it, but I have more important things to worry about than what I look like or whether people approve of my hairstyle. 



On the handful of times that I am able to venture out of the house, using a wheelchair means I can save the energy I would use walking for other things such as chatting to friends or cutting up my own food in a restaurant. It was not an easy choice. I never imagined I would ever have to make such a decision and with my legs becoming weaker, and my walking slower,  it was surely the sensible and best option. Of course my brain and body will still throw a wobbler afterwards, but the aftermath may be slightly less horrific than it would have been without the wheelchair. My friends find the wheelchair highly entertaining and feel the need to use it themselves if we are out together. Apparently it comes in handy to hang their bags on! Their ‘driving’ skills leave much to be desired, but I am a firm believer in laughter being the best medicine!!!


Just tired? We wish!

Fatigue is not tiredness.

It is hard to imagine how weak or fatigued you are with this illness. I’m sorry if you can imagine as it means you must be a fellow sufferer. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. 


Sleep does not improve our condition. In fact the mornings can be the worst for me. We never wake up feeling refreshed or rested as human beings should. We are often hit by night after night of insomnia. Staying up all night is not nearly as fun as I remember it being at university!!! We are not lazy louts who lounge around all day watching television. We are often too poorly to watch tv. It requires energy that we do not have. It is simply too much for our brains to process. With me, my vision is still affected by my M.E. and so this makes it difficult to read a book or magazine. If my vision was to behave, my concentration levels are not always up to the challenge anyway because of the overwhelming fatigue. 


To cut a long story short, our bodies are not able to produce energy like they once did. Our batteries are flat and nobody knows how to recharge them, other than to rest but even that only charges us to a fraction of what we’d hope for. 


To be too fatigued to speak sounds ridiculous I know. However, the muscles needed to do so are sometimes too weak. The energy required to get these muscles going is no longer there.

Next time you send a text message think about what you are doing. Your fingers have to be strong enough to press the keys even on a touch screen phone. Your brain must function correctly so that you can form proper sentences and remember the conversation that you are engaged in. The effort it takes to move your arm and head and neck to pick up the phone… 

The same applies when you make a cup of tea. You must first lift the kettle. Run the tap. Fill the kettle. It is now even heavier than it was before. You reach up to open the cupboard. Get out a mug. Put it on the work surface. Get out a tea bag. Get a spoon from the drawer. Walk across the room to the fridge. Pull the fridge door open. Bend to get the milk. Close the fridge door. Walk back to the kettle. You must also remember that the kettle is hot and you should not touch it. With a condition such as mine you have forgotten these apparently unforgettable ways of life like needing to wear oven gloves when removing something from the oven…your brain ceases to function as it should. 

So no, we M.E. sufferers are not ‘just tired.’ 

How are you?

People ask because they care. It is lovely that they care. We are grateful and thankful. I am incredibly lucky that so many do care. It is a question, however, that has begun to fill me with dread and unease. How on earth does a person who feels so poorly everyday, answer such a question? It is easier when I am talking with my M.E. friends as they understand that ‘fine’ doesn’t mean fine, it means ‘today I no longer feel that I need to be in hospital.’ I’m sure people wonder and worry about whether they should ask it or not. I know that I do with my M.E. friends. We now word it slightly differently between us: “I hope today is an ‘okay’ day” A good day for us is probably the worst day imaginable for a healthy person. 


As human beings we are apparently unable to stop ourselves from sugar coating things. We cannot seem to deal with the cold, harsh truth that invisible chronic illnesses such as mine present. If I was to answer the question of ‘how are you’ honestly it would probably make you uncomfortable. It would probably make me uncomfortable too. You may think I am feeling sorry for myself, concentrating on the negatives. You may wish you had never asked and may never want to ask again. No one likes a moaner. You would not know what to say. It’s a no win situation I feel. You ask because you care and I don’t answer honestly because I care too. It is a tricky one. One that I am yet to get my head around. You may be wondering what it is I want from you. In honesty I’m not sure. But I know that I want your understanding, rather than your pity. And maybe a hug.

“It’ll be okay” will not suffice because the truth is it might not be. To remain at the peril of this  condition is not okay. It is no ones fault. There are simply no words for a response so brutal and harsh as our truth. Ours, sadly, is a hopeless situation. We cannot get better by mere positive thought. There are no proven treatments or drugs for us. We are mostly forgotten. Out of sight out of mind. But we exist. We are here. We are fighting our own war despite our disabilities. We have a voice. 
This is not negativity. I am a ‘glass half full’ person by nature. I am merely talking about life with an illness that still carries a stigma, even in 2012.