I’m tired. I can’t drive except for very short distances and even that scares me—my freedom feels severely impeded. Sometimes my body feels like lead and I lay in bed for hours. Literally like lead and it even hurts my arm to hold a phone to my head or type on the keyboard.
I’m tired. I can’t make plans. I want to do things. I have not lost my desire to be busy. I have not lost my capacity for pleasure. In my stronger physical moments when the weight of the chronic fatigue lifts for a short while I laugh and enjoy many things. But mostly, I simply don’t have the energy. My body hurts.
I have to tell my friends I’m only available the day of making a plan. And the plans have to be made within a window of a couple of hours or else I may lose my strength and even have to cancel that.
I’m tired. I miss my friends. Those I see in life and those I used to talk to on the phone. Long conversations are exhausting. Just as with plans in the outside world, a phone call can only be taken when I feel well. I often have to ignore the phone. Some people have stopped calling me.
I am useless around the house. I do very few chores. I try to cook and occasionally still enjoy that—it was always my favorite thing to do. I’m so good at it it’s the last thing I still do with some regularity. It’s like second nature and I know how to makes things simple and delicious. I can often drag myself to do that and enjoy the fruits of my labor. I love good food and as I’ve said, I’ve not lost the capacity for pleasure.
I miss the outdoors the most. The long half day hikes in the mountains I did three or four times a week. I’m tired.
I’m tired. And I miss my life.
I am in the moment missing my life.
I am in the moment exhausted.
Sometimes I’m afraid this will not pass and then I am no longer in the moment. I’m in a frightful future where nothing ever changes.