If life's a race, I'm a straggler

Over the past few weeks I keep being brought up against my past. It's a past I don't like to dwell on; a past I've learnt to brush aside because it's too painful now. It's a past where I had a job, money, work colleagues, respect, loyalty, appreciation and felt a part of the world. It's a past doing a job I loved (most of the time), that I'd worked very hard to get and worked very hard to stay in.

First there was the job in the local paper --- a Development Worker for a project that I initiated seven years ago and working with someone who used to phone me for ideas and inspiration (this sounds big-headed but it's true). It was a project very close to my heart for personal as well as professional reasons. I'd love to do that job, love to apply. I even fantasised that I would. 'It's only 18 hours a week....I could manage that....'

Who am I kidding ? The last few weeks with the kids at home 24/7 has been a nightmare in terms of energy. I love my kids more than my own life. I fought hard to have them too but this bloody condition makes even enjoying time with them hard sometimes. Going back to work would be a breeze in comparison except that where I write 'breeze' I should write 'Force 3 hurricane' because the holidays have been Force 5 and you can't stand up in one of those and I can barely stand up now.

The second jog was going to the seaside at the weekend. We drove down and past where I had a beach hut ---given up 6 months after I got ill because I could no longer afford the ground rent and anyway at that point I couldn't even get out of bed, let alone go to the bloody beach. Even now it's nigh on impossible to get there because it crackers me. We drove past where I used to work every Monday afternoon (sessional work) and to a cafe we went to all the time and past a place where I made a film for TV in 1999. I could see myself...blundering through my peaks and troughs of energy even then, never letting on and determined not to be beaten by my health. Even then I was more ill then I realised or anyone else knew. All of that is gone. I cannot fight the bloody illness anymore in that way. I can't pull out reserves because there are none -- only the meagre wisps of energy that float about in my body like mare tail clouds on a sunny day; except none of this is sunny.

Jogs and bad luck always come in threes and the third came today. On Saturday, we're all meant to go to a big party for an old friend who I used to work with. God knows she has had her own health problems for the last year and I haven't actually seen her face to face for 6 years. I'm praying I can get there and I can't stand the idea of disappointing her because she's told me several times how much she's looking forward to us being together. When we both worked (she's taken early retirement now on health grounds) we cooked up all sorts of jolly things and made each other laugh and laugh. It wasn't like work but like a jolly day out. That's gone too. Then this afternoon after the friend had send a round-robin e mail with directions for Saturday I got a surprise e mail from another old work colleague who I haven't heard from since I first left work nearly 7 years ago. It was a really sweet message asking how I was and saying she is looking forward to seeing me too. She had moved miles away so that is why I have not heard from her but it also reminded me of all the other work colleagues who were, apparently so close to me and with whom I worked so closely (and socialised) and who seemed to vapourise about 2 months after I got ill. Suddenly they were too busy and I wasn't even able to talk properly at that point.

You can see I'm in a dip. I've had to work hard, over the past 4 years especially, to forget the hurt of 'friends' disappearing, the pain of having to leave a job I loved, of starting and then having to abandon things I'd started, to try to ignore avenueswhich call to me because I know I have the mental and emotional capacity to achieve them but not the physical strength or stamina. This condition can be like being in a straightjacket. I've had to learn to appreciate what I do have , appreciate the small things and find new ways of being. I've had to learn to try and forget things I would love to do, places I'd love to go, people I'd love to see, big ambitions because it's too difficult to achieve or would compromise my ability to attend to everyday duties and responsibilities.

What I also realise now is that, for years, undiagnosed and being told I was neurotic, mistaken, deluded, lazy, not trying hard enough, I tried all the harder to be like other people. It feels and always did feel like everyone else could go faster than me and I was lagging behind. I either couldn't keep up or kept up and suffered inside.

Now, some days, most days actually, I believe I've come to terms with how things are, how I am, and what is possible and what is not and where patience and pragmatism are better options than delusion and relapse.

Some days, the reminders are too strong and I can't keep up the pretence that this compromised life is bearable. Today is one of those days and I'm straggling behind everyone else.