Yesterday I spent most of the day in a bit of a state after leaving work because I was so tired it made me cry.

At work. In front of my boss. On a construction site.


Of course it got me thinking about having M.E. and not being able to accept it because it’s a fucking bastard of an illness which has no rhyme or reason.

It is never easy to accept things that make no sense.

The thing is that if something doesn’t make sense, my first response is to blame myself.

I realized I was taking the illness very personally. Any tired attack was being viewed as my fault and so I brought my thinking (albeit amongst many tears and gulped breaths) round to the idea that perhaps this wasn’t personal.

Perhaps having M.E. and suffering the symptoms is not my fault.



In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s not.

I realized that like any chronic disease there’s probably no cure that will work for everyone and that there is a lot to be said for learning to manage it.

Like Asthma, like Diabetes, like any other chronic illness that has to be managed so that it doesn’t interfere with your life too much.

I realized that I’m good at managing my Asthma because I was taught well, from a child. I didn’t have to figure it all out by myself.

I began to wonder about a CFS clinic – perhaps there is one in my area? I should ask the Doctor.

Acceptance doesn’t mean being happy with the fucker.

It also doesn’t mean stopping swearing at it – because by god it deserves to be sworn at.

Acceptance doesn’t take away the fear that I may become an old woman at 27, stuck in my bed unable to be with my friends.

It doesn’t stop me crying because I hate that I may have to contemplate giving up all the outdoor sports I love and do because I love them not because they keep me fit.

Keeping fit sucks.

Riding a mountain bike down single track through a forest that is whispering secrets to you while the wind rushes past your ears, filling you with a desire to whoop and holler is bloody good fun.

It makes my blood fizz.

I don’t want to have to stop. I won’t. So na na na na nah.

Acceptance does allow me to reason that I don’t have to do this alone and that I can learn to manage.

Gently I can allow myself to experience the inevitable learning curve that this will provide. I can look at the bad days and see that these do not represent failure but rather a glitch. A glitch which will pass and I will adjust.

Realizing this is a learning experience means I don’t have to be so hard on myself.

It allows me compassion when I’m scared by a bad day because bad days make me worry my world is ending.

Acceptance allows me hope.


2 Responses

  1. ohmyword, I LOVE this post! Acceptance is balm! But acceptance the way YOU describe it, not giving up acceptance (actually i guess THAT isnt’ acceptance anyway…it’s despondence)..

  2. @Square-Peg Karen – yes! That’s exactly what I came to realise. The reason I was resisting accepting this so much is that I thought that I would have to give in to everything and give up on everything in order to accept what’s going on. Then it became clear that actually it was more accepting that this was of course going to be difficult, and there would be a few hicoughs along the way and that was perfectly normal and didn’t mean I had to give up hope. That made it easier somehow. More real, more gentle and as you say – like a balm.

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