Usually winter is a very hard time for me with ME/CFS. It is typically the time of year that I feel the worst. This year though was not as bad, despite the horrible weather. I think it was because the kids are in school for the first time and I was able to rest. And the rest of the world kind of hibernated along with me this year. Less pressure, less to do. Don’t get me wrong, I still felt like crap most of the time, but I was more able to get by and the emotional toll of being unable to do things wasn’t as bad.
Typically spring and summer are when I start to feel better. The past few summers have been hard though which has been disappointing. And this spring is proving to be very difficult. I have been feeling dreadful for several weeks now and have been unable to do very much at all.
The rest of the world is moving though. Spring is here and the activities have started with a whrilwind. My family is busy, busy, busy. And I just can’t.
I am so weary of this stupid sickness. Of having to lay and do nothing all day, day after day. Of trying to recover from life. Normal things that take so much out of me. Of trying to figure out if I have the strength to shower today. Of needing. Of having to leave everything for my overworked hubby to do. It is very frustrating feeling like a waste of a body. Not feeling like I have much value because I have nothing to offer. Now if someone needed a couch tester, someone who could see how a couch holds up under constant use for years, then I am your woman. That isn’t a paying gig though. (I am happy to say our couch is pretty good.)
And there really is no comfort in knowing I am not alone. Nor is there any in knowing that there are others with this illness who are worse off. Because no one knows how they ended up worse off or how to keep from getting there. And the remission rate is so low. There really is, statistically speaking, very little hope that I will ever recover from this. But that is all I have to hold on to. That sliver of hope. That is all I’ve been given and I have to hold on to it because the alternative is just despair. Spending my days on the couch in despair is a horrible existance. And I must admit that some days I do. The hope feels too little and remote. But I am trying to hold tight to that hope.