It has been a fair while since I posted about my chronic fatigue on the blog, which I think is probably a good judge on how much better I’ve been doing. Whilst not back to ‘normal,’ whatever that is, I have so much better than I was twelve months ago. That is until this weekend.
Last week I didn’t feel one hundred percent. On the days the children were in nursery I slept until twelve and still had to force myself to get up, that’s after twelve hours of sleep. And for the other days I just felt utterly drained and had to resort to a full day at the in-laws, something which I haven’t needed to do for a while.
On Saturday Miss H had a bad night and ended up in bed with me, so I was bound to be tired on Sunday, nevertheless we decided we all needed some fresh air and a walk was in order. It has been nearly eighteen months since I had a walk, and by that I mean outside and longer than fifteen minutes. We donned our wellies and warm clothes and went to our local country park for a short walk.
We took it slow and steady, with the children bouncing around in puddles, exploring the wooded areas and enjoying trying to spot birds in the hides around the park. I knew I was possibly pushing it but I also refuse to accept that I can do longer do what I was doing a mere two years ago.
However since then I have completely crashed. In fact I have been in more pain than I ever have since I’ve been diagnosed. It’s quite frightening to me how little I’ve felt I’ve been able to do, even at the lowest moments of my chronic fatigue I have been able to pick the children up from nursery, yet yesterday felt unable to and so Mr H had to leave work early.
I hate it so much. I hate wasting my days away curled up in bed, my life flashing before my tired eyes. I hate looking in the mirror and seeing a pathetic version of myself looking back, no sparkle and flattened with dejection. I hate not being there for my children the way I always imagined I would – playing outside, taking bike rides, chasing around. I hate the way it affects my husband, knowing his never-ending tiredness is due to me.
For a time I was able to see a light, think I was overcoming it all. Now I’m not so sure. Maybe I’ve just been in denial this whole time. Imagining improvements because I wish for them so much. I don’t know, I really don’t. I just hope that hoping is enough, because right now that’s all I’ve got energy for.