Time to try again

I've been following four blogs ( readingthesigns/and velo-gubbed-legs and confessionsofapsychotherapistand michaelnobbs ) for the past six months and decided it's time to try and go back to blogging for myself again.

I feel frustrated and sad that I didn't manage to maintain it before. This was meant to be a space for me to be me without all the baggage of my condition (M.E.) but, inevitably, the illness got in the way and life became hectic and I just couldn't keep it up. I realise now (in part thanks to reading those blogs) that it's OK to be someone with M.E. and still write about other stuff: that one doesn't necessarily exclude the other. I can't escape the illness, even in a virtual world, so I may as well get on with it and be more honest with myself and about myself. All sorts of stuff has happened with regard to a diagnosis and many of my fears and intuitions have been confirmed in the last two years. This initially led me to a place of graet anger and frustration but I'm gradually coming to terms with things again.

Recently 'Reading the Signs' has been trying to find a way to express in words, through a poem, how it is to have M.E. Her recent comments inspired me ---- well they didn't actively inspire, they kind of seeped into my unconscious so that I woke this morning with this verse in my head.
I'm not usually taken to words like this - my head works more visually, but I know how I feel about the illness. Many people, paricularly women, seem to envisage the illness as some kind of seedy man who preys and stalks. I've been stalked in real life and it isn't that feeling for me. It's much more parasitical....................



Blessed curse,
No dripping blood for me.

Insidious lover
Attendant on my misery.
Hands that grab and prey and pull me down,
thrusting, clawing, pawing.

Drown.